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up-in-space-reading · 3 months ago

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Average Weekly Screentime - Chap 7: Another Not-Date

pairing: Jake Peralta x Amy Santiago

word count: 4208

warnings/tags: college au, texting, drunk texting, text fic (mostly, there's prose a few chaps in), bets, bisexual!jake peralta, jake peralta has adhd, parties, drinking and alcohol, sexual references, implied sexual content (nothing explicit, just suggested its going to happen/has happened), friends to lovers, swearing, mentions of cannibalism, lighthearted threats of violence (typical rosa stuff yk), fluff

read on ao3

Average Weekly Screentime masterlist

Story Summary: texting fic college AU with the squad! It's the beginning of the school year and while everyone else thinks it'll be the same as the previous year, Gina has a feeling things are going to be different and wagers a bet with Rosa and Charles. Told through all the various group chats everyone is in.

authors note: firstly! omg i got this chapter out so quickly i can't believe it but i've got my steam back for this one so we're jumping right in!! secondly! thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos, i'm giving each one of you a tender kiss on the forehead and a cup of your preferred hot beverage. thirdly! todays upload is gonna be a double upload, this chapter with jake and amy and the next chapter will be a short one with gina, charles and rosa that takes place at the same time as this chapter. i hope you enjoy both of them!

thanks as always for reading <3

Jimmy Jabbers

[08:10am, Wednesday]

Pineapples: its offensive im awake so early

Four Eyes: It’s not that early?

Pineapples: its literally so early

Queen G: hes right Queen G: waaay too early to be awake Queen G: but if i dont show up for jasons class he’ll kill me

Four Eyes: You need to stop calling your professor by his first name

Queen G: not until i get in trouble for it!

Mr Grapes: I’m just glad my classes haven’t changed rooms Mr Grapes: I’d hate to get lost… again

Pineapples: i would help u charles

Mr Grapes: Thanks jakey

RoRo: some of us don’t have classes until later and don’t appreciate being woken up by an annoying group chat

Queen G: mute ur phone like everyone else and stop complaining

RoRo: test me gina, I dare you

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[09:30am, Wednesday]

Cameron: Now that you’re more awake I figured we should discuss our study schedule? Cameron: If you still want to Cameron: No pressure

Ferris: ill probs fail if i dont so yes i do Ferris: im still good for all our usual days

Cameron: Great! I will see you this afternoon then?

Ferris: cant wait!

Jimmy Jabbers

[10:05pm, Wednesday]

Pineapples: 1 image attachment Pineapples: im begging rocks to not look edible

Mr Grapes: Oh yeah I’d eat that

Queen G: that rock is so gorgeous i wanna do more than eat it Queen G: wanna do unspeakable things to that rock

Pineapples: i like the way you think G

Mr Grapes: doing t h i n g s to the rock is probably a bit far for me but I’ll let you guys have your moment

RoRo: you guys fucking rocks?

Pineapples: and what if i am???

RoRo: i think I respect the attempt

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[10:12pm, Wednesday]

Ferris: r u asleep? Ferris: well if ur asleep u cant answer these messages to tell me Ferris: and if u were to answer then u would be awake Ferris: so idk what i expect here Ferris: but if i keep messaging i might wake u up which would then make you awake AND mad

Cameron: I’m not asleep and you didn’t wake me up

Ferris: sweet Ferris: sooo Ferris: what u up to?

Cameron: The usual, creating a study plan for the semester

Ferris: shouldve guessed

Cameron: What are you up to?

Ferris: practicing catching nuts in my mouth after throwing it in the air and watching spiderman

Cameron: Can’t you and Rosa do trick shots with donut holes? Why do you need to practice that?

Ferris: this is waaaaay more difficult ames Ferris: when rosa throws the donut hole at me i can calculate the landing Ferris: throwing nuts for me to catch is more difficult Ferris: less time to calculate the landing

Cameron: I didn’t realise there was a whole art to catching food in your mouth

Ferris: of course there is! Ferris: it isnt something u just get good at overnight

Cameron: Maybe you could teach me then?

Ferris: it would be my pleasure

Cameron: Unfortunately I have to go to sleep now though..

Ferris: aw damn

Cameron: Back to classes and in the swing of things, need to keep my schedule

Ferris: fair enough Ferris: goodnight ames

Cameron: Goodnight Jake

Unnamed Chat

[02:37pm, Saturday]

Jake: i need some advice and ur the most responsible person i know

Terry: Seriously?

Jake: yes Jake: and i cant tell any of my other friends bc they cant keep a secret

Terry: You think that I can?

Jake: idk Jake: can u?

Terry: Yes I can Terry: What’s going on man?

Jake: i miiiiight have a little crush on someone

Terry: Do I get to know who it is? Or do I have to guess?

Jake: uh idk..

Terry: Is it Amy?

Jake: well…

Terry: Got it in one, Terry can tell you’re head over heels

Jake: i wouldnt go THAT far Jake: ANYWAYS i need ur help

Terry: What for?

Jake: i like her!! Jake: what do i do???????? Jake: im scared to tell her, what if she doesnt feel the same

Terry: You don’t have to tell her if you don’t want to, but then you’ll never know if she even likes you back. You can tell her and risk your friendship, but then you’ve been honest with her

Jake: BUT what if she doesnt like me back terry???? Jake: she hasnt given any sign she likes me back

Terry: How do you know that?

Jake: idk…

Terry: So you just assumed she doesn’t like you back?

Jake: … Jake: i regret telling u

Terry: Haha, no you don’t Terry: Listen, what you do is up to you but my advice is to at least consider telling her, you never know what could happen Terry: If I hadn’t taken a chance I wouldn’t have Sharon, sometimes you gotta take risks

Jake: god i hate how much of a romantic u are

Terry: Put on some Taylor Swift and have a think about it

Jake: i do NOT listen to taylor swift

Terry: Did you know Gina has access to your spotify account?

Jake: im gonna kill her Jake: fine ill listen to tay and consider it Jake: thanks ter

Terry: Anytime! Keep me updated!

DDC

[03:02pm, Saturday]

Jacob: gina get off my spotify account

G: whats the big deal? G: u dont even pay for it, ur mom does

Jacob: yeah but thats MY account Jacob: get ur own

G: who even told u

Jacob: terry ratted u out

G: u were talking to ter?

Jacob: just needed his advice on something Jacob: and he let slip that i listen to taylor swift which is PRIVATE INFORMATION

G: hahaha yeah i told him that

Jacob: worst friend ever

G: what advice did u need from him???

Jacob: dw about it

G: okaayy

Dance Squad

[03:08pm, Saturday]

G-Hive: some suspicious happenings on this day

Scary: I probably don’t care

Charlese: Dish!

G-Hive: jake was talking to terry, specifically asking him for advice on something

Charlese: Aw why wouldn’t he ask us?

G-Hive: have a think boyle

Charlese: No way, you don’t think?

Scary: Gina i am begging you to get a life

G-Hive: this is my life get used to it G-Hive: and yes charles I DO think so G-Hive: i for one will be watching with great interest

[05:26pm, Thursday]

G-Hive: its been almost a week and nothing…

Charlese: Yeah I think we may have been a bit delusional with that one

G-Hive: i stand by it

Scary: you shouldn’t

Charlese: It’s possible that he was talking to Terry about what we think he was but he’s just not done anything or Terry gave bad advice

G-Hive: that is a possibility G-Hive: maybe i need to give him a pep talk

Scary: you give awful pep talks

G-Hive: so do u!

Charlese: I could do it?

Scary: no

G-Hive: no

Charlese: Fine…

Scary: no one needs to say anything because that’s meddling

G-Hive: UUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHH let me have my FUN

Scary: my fun is stopping your fun

Jimmy Jabbers

[05:02pm, Saturday]

Pineapples: movie night in my dorm? Pineapples: the specials tonight are princess bride and pizza

Mr Grapes: Count me in!

Queen G: me too Queen G: is the pizza free

Pineapples: absolutely not im not made of money

Queen G: ugh

RoRo: sure ill come

Pineapples: wonderful! Pineapples: @Four Eyes u in?

Four Eyes: Sure, I’m in Four Eyes: What time do you want us there?

Pineapples: whenever Pineapples: im gonna order pizza now so id say get here soon before i eat it all

Mr Grapes: Be there soon!!

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[06:04pm, Saturday]

Ferris: draft message: i think i feel the same way about you that westley does about buttercup

Cameron: draft message: I think I feel the same way about you that Buttercup does about Westley Cameron: draft message: I prefer you to Westley

Ferris: draft message: youre prettier than buttercup

Jimmy Jabbers

[06:48pm, Tuesday]

Pineapples: hey guys if terry asks u to work out with him say no Pineapples: for the love of everything pure in this world say no

Mr Grapes: What do you MEAN you worked out with Terry???

Queen G: that sounds like torture

Pineapples: i cant feel my body but also everything hurts Pineapples: he said if i keep going to the gym then it will stop hurting Pineapples: i dont believe him

Four Eyes: Genuinely, how did you make it through the session?

Pineapples: i was pretending to train for when the gays rise up against the rich Pineapples: obviously

Four Eyes: Obviously

Queen G: obv

RoRo: your level of fitness is concerning RoRo: but does terry have video evidence of this by any chance?

Pineapples: rosa no

Queen G: brb asking him

Sexy Bitches

[07:00pm, Tuesday]

Sexy: ter bear im begging u here Sexy: pls tell me u have video of jake at the gym

Ter Bear: Of course I do, it was a struggle holding back the laughter

Sexy: ur my fave person ever

Ter Bear: 1 video attachment

Jimmy Jabbers

[07:03pm, Tuesday]

Queen G: terry is my fave person in the world rn Queen G: 1 video attachment

Pineapples: HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME

RoRo: oh i almost feel bad for you

Pineapples: almost???

RoRo: you did this to yourself

Mr Grapes: Your face is a concerning shade of red in that video

Four Eyes: I feel bad for laughing..

Pineapples: never exercising again

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[01:32pm, Thursday]

Cameron: On my way to the library now, meet you there?

Ferris: derfinitely

Cameron: I’ll be at the usual table in the corner

[01:37pm, Thursday]

Cameron: Someone took our table.. Cameron: I’m at a table near the couches

Ferris: surely we sit on the couches today

Cameron: I don’t know..

Ferris: pleeaaassseeeeee Ferris: ill do work i promise

Cameron: Alright fine, be here soon though or I’ll change my mind

Ferris: sprinting as we speak!!!

Amy isn’t sure how they got so comfortable on the couches, or when the two of them got so comfortable with each other in the first place. In a surprising turn of events Amy is sat sideways on the couch with her back leaning against the arm rest and her legs in Jake’s lap, her laptop was perched precariously on her own lap while Jake used her legs as a phone stand – having abandoned studying for the day.

She had very quickly learned all of Jake’s quirks when it came to studying, even if they weren’t doing work for the same subject he worked better when someone else was around. He needed regular breaks to look on his phone which Amy didn’t usually need, but he also needed prompting to get back to it.

At this point in the afternoon his brain had decided it had had enough and wasn’t going to let Jake focus on anymore work, but when Amy told him she was going to stay in the library and continue studying he said he’d keep her company. They mostly sat in a comfortable silence, ambient noises of the college library providing background to their silence.

Every so often Jake would show her a meme he found funny, but otherwise didn’t bother her too much and Amy was almost disappointed he wasn’t distracting her as much as she’d like. So by the time it got close to 4pm Amy decided to follow Jake’s lead and finish up for the day, giving herself a break couldn’t hurt.

She closed her laptop and set it on the coffee table in front of the couch which currently had all their other books sitting on it. After packing up she sat and observed Jake for what felt like minutes but in reality was no more than 30 seconds, she noticed the way the corners of his lips quirked up when he read something funny and an intrusive thought told her how she would like to kiss him there.

Jake then noticed Amy had put her laptop away and looked up at her with a smile while she tried to hide how embarrassed she felt at being caught staring. He locked his phone but didn’t move to put it away yet, and Amy couldn’t yet bring herself to move her legs off his lap. So for a few moments they sat and looked at each other, and Amy’s heart lurched with longing.

She so desperately wanted to lean over and kiss him, to pull him closer and provide a warmth her jacket simply couldn’t. To hug him again without the feeling of needing to pull away, to laugh at bad movies and his worse jokes without the fear that it’s too much. She just wanted to be rid of the fear of rejection.

“You’re finished?” He asked just before the silence stretched on too long.

“Yeah, decided to take a break for tonight. Am I not allowed to do that?” She joked with a raised eyebrow.

Jake let out a small laugh in response.

“Of course you can, you’re a free woman” He held his hands up in a sign of surrender.

“Thanks, thought I was being interrogated for a moment there” She joked back, causing another laugh out of him – one which Amy joined in on.

“I know it’s not really dinner time but what would you say to a trip to Sal’s?” Jake asked once his giggles died down.

“Can’t say no to Sal’s, just gotta take my stuff back to my dorm first if that’s alright”

Finally, Amy moved her legs off of Jake’s lap and if she had been able to look at him when she did she might’ve noticed the disappointment flash across his face for a brief moment. She started gathering her books and laptop and packing them neatly into her bag.

“Yeah that’s fine, I’ll take my stuff back too” Jake responded while haphazardly shoving his books and notes into his backpack.

They both left the library and made their way back to their dorms, promising to meet back up in 20 minutes. Amy had 20 minutes to get changed and ready for what definitely wasn’t a date with Jake – they were just going to Sal’s, that’s not a date.

If it was a date he would’ve said it was a date, they’ve just continued to hang out after studying together. This is just what friends do, friends don’t ask each other on dates after studying together and then don’t clarify if it’s a date or not.

Amy was spiralling, hoping 20 minutes would come and go quickly so she could talk to Jake again and forget some of her anxieties about… Jake.

Did he just accidentally ask her on a date? How could he be such an idiot? But she didn’t ask if it was a date so it’s not a date, he doesn’t have to dress up super nice or anything because it’s just Sal’s. Why was he checking his outfit for the fifth time?

If it wasn’t a date, then why did he feel nervous? Too many questions and thoughts bouncing around in his head that it was quickly becoming overwhelming. Luckily for him, as he was considering changing his shirt for a third time his phone alarm went off telling him to leave his dorm.

He nearly ran to their meeting spot, not wanting Amy to be waiting on her own for even a few seconds and he ended up being successful. Two minutes after he got to the spot Amy joined him and they walked to Sal’s together.

This time Amy was rugged up in a large jacket and scarf, a handbag hanging off her shoulder instead of her backpack. She had let her hair out of the ponytail she’d had it up in earlier, now letting the loose brown curls fall to her shoulders.

She rambled on about a new topic she learned about in one of her classes that day and Jake decided he could listen to her speak forever, even if she was just reading the phone book. But especially when it was something she was passionate about, Amy let herself get lost in it all and Jake couldn’t help but to follow.

After the short walk they reached Sal’s, and it was only when they opened the door did Jake remember they had other friends he could’ve invited but pointedly didn’t. What his other friends didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, surely they didn’t mind if he and Amy hung out alone – Rosa and Gina hung out alone often, so did he and Charles. It was fine.

The Night Boys

[4:45pm, Thursday]

Sidewinder: Hey! Did you wanna get dinner?

It was not fine.

Charles had text him as he and Amy were on their way through the diner to a booth at the back. He panicked for a few moments about what to do; be honest and say he was out with Amy or lie to his best friend about being on a not-date with Amy.

Jake knew exactly how Charles would react to hearing he and Amy were out together to dinner alone, and Jake absolutely did not want to be dealing with that today. Amy sat down and began reading through the menu that was already placed on the table, although Jake knew she would get the same thing she always gets.

The Night Boys

[4:47pm, Thursday]

Deathblade: cant tonight Deathblade: not feeling well

Sidewinder: No problem, feel better soon

Deathblade: thnx

Yes, he felt bad about it, but nothing was going to pull him away from spending time alone with Amy. He savoured any minute he could get and once he put his phone away and looked up at her from across the table most of his anxieties melted away.

“What are you gonna get?” She asked him, looking up from the menu in front of her.

“Probably my usual” He shrugged his shoulders, why change his order when his order was perfect. Simple, but perfect.

“Cool, I’m probably gonna get-“

“The basic breakfast special but with a hot chocolate instead of a milkshake”

He finished her sentence without looking up from the menu, only making eye contact when he’d finished speaking. Seeing that Amy had a mildly shocked expression on her face, mouth slightly open and eyebrows raised before she schooled her face to one of less surprise.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna get..” She trailed off, still giving him a look he couldn’t quite read.

After being given 15 minutes to read over the menu, most of that time spent chatting about nothing in particular, a waiter came over to take their order. They ordered and were now just waiting for the food, making more idle conversation that would usually bore Jake but he was happy to make ‘chit-chat’ with Amy if it meant being around her.

“You know, its too early for dinner, I feel like a senior citizen” Jake joked, arms crossed on the table in front of him.

“It gives you an excuse for a midnight snack” Amy joked back, a small giggle escaping as she did.

“As if I need an excuse for a midnight snack” Jake waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, once again causing Amy to laugh.

As she laughs Jake thinks it’s the one thing he was put on this earth to do; sure he wants to be a detective but his life calling is making Amy Santiago smile.

Their food arrives and they take their time to eat, not worrying about studying or having anywhere to be. They sit and talk until the sun goes down, Jake tells Amy movies he’s been watching recently and Amy tells him all about the book she’s been reading in her spare time. Amy talks about her brothers when Jake asks about them and is filled with funny stories from her childhood, and Jake tells her about what he and Gina were like in high school.

They’ve ordered multiple drinks each and sat long enough for dinner to go down enough to order a dessert; more accurately, Jake ordered a huge dessert that he happily let Amy take bites from. The time has flown and Jake has never felt more content in his life, they’ve barely made physical contact since arriving at the diner but his skin feels as electrified as New Years Eve.

He never wants this feeling to go away.

Amy hadn’t even realised hours had gone by, but it was dark outside now and her and Jake were still in the diner talking. Making up new inside jokes and telling stories from their childhoods. There’s a warmth under Amy’s skin that she’s never felt before, a warmth not caused by a sweater or scarf but one that’s causing tingles from her toes to her fingertips.

She wants it to be like forever.

Unfortunately, it was dark, and she needed to get back to her dorm at some point. She knows her phone has been going off in her bag but has ignored it all evening in favour of talking to Jake, trying to make him laugh and smile to see the ways his eyes crinkle up when he does.

Amy is the one to burst the bubble they’ve put themselves into, worrying she’ll get lost in it and do something that makes Jake uncomfortable. When there’s a silence in the conversation she speaks up.

“I should probably get back to my dorm, it’s getting late” She tries to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“Yeah, me too”

When they go up to the register together to pay Jake covers the bill, he doesn’t give Amy a chance to argue until they’re out the door and walking back to campus.

“You didn’t have to pay” Amy says while wrapping her scarf around her neck snugly.

“I know I didn’t, but you’ve been helping me so much with studying that I owe you”

“You don’t owe me anything, Jake” She can feel her cheeks heating up even in the cold air.

“Just accept it Ames, nothing you can do now” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezes before letting go again and it causes Amy to giggle.

She wants to feel embarrassed at how he makes her giggle, she’s far from being 15 years old giggling at anything her crush says.

“Okay okay, I cover next time though” She points a finger at him in warning.

“Of course” He responded in a tone and with a smirk that made Amy think he wasn’t going to keep his end of the bargain.

The walk is as easy as dinner was, and saying goodbye is difficult but she knows Jake will probably text her in under an hour about something on his mind anyway. She’s excited for it, she’s excited to see him again and a part of her hopes he’s excited to see her again too.

During her elevator ride she decides that she is going to ask him out, it’ll be a risk and she’s full of anxiety thinking of the worst outcomes but she can’t just sit around doing nothing. The doing nothing part of it all is killing her, now she has to know if this was all just in her head.

If he says no then Jake will be cool about it, she knows that, he’s good like that. He cares about other people like that, he won’t completely ignore her and make fun of her for it – well he might a little, but not in a bad way.

Amy is going to ask Jake on a honest-to-god date, with a reservation and high heels and a waiter that doesn’t smell of cigarettes. It’s all going to be fine.

He has decided that if he doesn’t get to kiss Amy soon he’ll explode.

More importantly, he’s decided if he doesn’t tell her how he feels about her soon then he’ll also explode. He’s sure that everyone can tell at this point, it’s hard hiding how much he really likes her. If their other friends have noticed they haven’t said anything – although Charles has been saying it since the day Jake and Amy met which back then was weird. Nowadays it makes Jake annoyed for a different reason, he can’t believe Charles was right.

As Jake moves around his dorm getting ready to relax for the rest of the evening he considers whether or not to ask her out. He thinks back to his conversation with Terry who said he’ll never know if he never asks.

Jake is just unsure he’d be able to handle it if she said no. Not completely sure his heart wouldn’t just fall out his butt onto the ground and he’ll never feel anything ever again. At that thought, he hears Gina’s voice saying he’s being dramatic which is saying something coming from her.

When his head hits the pillow that night he smiles to himself, decision having been made that he will ask her out when he next sees her. He’d even wear a tie for her.

authors note: i rambled on in the beginning notes so i'll keep it short here - thank you again for reading and commenting and leaving kudos, it honestly makes my day getting those emails. love you all and read the next chap now!! <3

#alice writes #jake peralta x amy santiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #gina linetti #rosa diaz #charles boyle #fluff #college!au #bisexual!jake peralta #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #multi chap #average weekly screentime

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nabtime · 1 year ago

Text

Our Empty Graves VI

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 6: i’ll cover the mirror (til it shows me someone i can face)

Chapter Summary: Danny settles into being part of Red Hood's gang. Gets shot and almost bleeds out. Again. Red Hood doesn't let him and also makes grilled cheese.

Chapter Notes: title from I WENT TO HELL AND BACK by AS IT IS Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 7 // Spotify

Danny would often just drift about the apartment. Haunting it. He certainly wasn’t living in it. One would have to be living first, in order to do that. No, the safe-house apartment Red Hood insisted he stay in was a place he haunted. Shambling aimlessly unless called upon by Red Hood himself or the screams of someone in need within the Alley.

He’d been in the Alley, working under Red’s command, for three weeks now and he’d say he was getting pretty familiar with his surroundings now. Learning the layout, learning the people, learning the rules both known and unspoken. Learning more about the politics and about Red Hood’s hostile takeover.

He’d been right that Red Hood was a new Gotham Rogue. But he’d been wrong about the man’s character. He was ruthless, true, but only to those that crossed the line. He could be callous, but only to those that deserved it. Sure, the duffel bag of heads was probably a bit much and might even be considered needlessly cruel. But he’d done it with purpose. He’d done it for a good reason.

Red Hood was trying to take over the Alley and make it better. He’d seen the plans. The strategies in motion. Harm reduction. Protection. Housing projects. Assistance programs. All of these funded by his gang, run by the community, and controlled by Red Hood through his lieutenants. He was a Crime Lord in the sense that all crime within his purview was controlled and run through him. His methods were bloody and oftentimes vile, but they worked. Danny had come to really admire him in the few weeks he’d been running errands for the guy.

And he was, honestly, often just running errands.

“Go help this family move in, I know you have super strength. Put it to use.”

“One of the girls isn’t feeling well and Ms. Bajorek made her some soup. Drop it off for me. You don’t have anything better to do anyway.”

“Here’s a list of groceries and a tip for Mr. Nguyen when you get them. I’m making you and the Alley kids lunch today. Don’t argue, I know you haven’t eaten, Glowstick.”

When Danny asked, the man had shrugged and said, “Well, since you won’t tell me more about what a Fetch is I’m gonna take the name seriously. So, you know,” and handed him a list, “go fetch.”

For all that he was a Crime Lord that did Crime Lord things, there was also quite a bit of mundane managerial tasks he had to do to keep everything running. And he was so meticulous about it all. Danny would often watch him in awe, hovering over his shoulder as he ran calculations and mapped out routes. Patrol routes that would cover the most vulnerable areas, delivery routes that would hit the most in need, drug running routes that would ensure the product stayed clean from the source to the buyer and cutting down anyone that messed with it. Red Hood had plans upon plans upon plans. Take out an uprising here, build a clean shelter for the houseless there, plant a communal garden, shoot one of Black Mask’s men in the kneecaps. Everything had a time and a place and was leading towards a safer city. Even if his methods were less than desirable.

Red Hood did bring him on more serious tasks, though. Ones that needed doing quickly and efficiently and viciously. Ones where mercy wasn’t likely and back-up was needed for stragglers. Red Hood never ordered him to take a life, never made him cross that line he was reluctant to cross. It wasn’t that Danny had any compunctions against killing, but he didn’t think he had the stomach for it himself. Didn’t think he could live with a death so directly on his conscious when so many were already piled there. He didn’t want to think about the ghosts that might come back to haunt him. He admired Red’s resolve all the more for it. He was ruthless but he was practical. He didn’t shy away from taking a life that didn’t deserve to keep living, but he spared all those that could reform.

Danny was always there as his shadow, as the menacing monster he kept on a leash. He was starting to earn a reputation in Gotham’s criminal underground. Red Hood’s loyal dog. Get too close and he might bite. (He’d only ever done that once, turning his mask intangible and lunging, his fangs sinking into reprehensible flesh. The woman had been beating a child. She lost her arm for it.)

He was also known, embarrassingly enough, as a sweetheart among the girls and the kids. A mystery and most times scary and off-putting. But the girls still cooed whenever he came to their rescue and the kids insisted on following him around (the braver ones even attempting to climb him like a tree). He didn’t know how to feel about it. Most of the time he popped out of invisibility rather than mingle. He was supposed to be a monster. Just a ghost haunting the city. In Amity the people had fled at the sight of him, screaming even as he saved them. They knew what he was, knew to treat him accordingly. But- the people here- they- It was different. He tried not to think about it too often.

Communication was something he was working on. Red Hood seemed to be the only one really able to puzzle out his game of charades, the others taking ages to guess what he meant or giving up after the first few tries. He rarely went anywhere by himself unless Red Hood specifically sent him out or it was an impromptu rescue, so it wasn’t often a problem if Red could translate. One of the kids had given him a whiteboard and a dry-erase marker at one point, making it so much easier. He kept them phased in his suit whenever he went out. One of the guys that ran with the girls had offered to teach him sign, but the lessons were slow-going and sporadic. He’d only had two in the past three weeks. But maybe someday he’d get there. He didn’t try to ‘speak’ much anyway. These past three weeks had been the first time in years anyone had even tried to talk to him. Most Amity Parkers had seen him and run and the ghosts he fought just tried to kill him.

Again, he tried not to think about it too much.

There wasn’t much else to do, though. He drifted through the halls of the apartment Red Hood had shoved him into, only occasionally using the couch for naps when gathering ectoplasm wasn’t enough to recharge, and it left his mind free to wander to dark places. Places he didn’t want to visit.

It felt odd. To inhabit a space meant for humans. To have a place to sleep and eat and live again. Red had come by a few times with ingredients and cooked for him in the empty kitchen, saying he didn’t care what Danny was- he needed to eat sometimes. Danny would obediently eat when the man was there, but the leftovers often went to rot. He felt bad about it. That was food that could go to someone else, someone who needed it more. But he could never bring himself to eat without company. It felt wrong. Ghosts didn’t eat. Didn’t need to eat. Often he would open the fridge and just stare. Stare at the food that was made for him, the food that he was allowed and encouraged to eat. It felt like too much and he’d shut the door.

He’d been drifting through the kitchen when the walkie-talkie Red used to talk to him from a distance with crackled to life. They’d tried regular burner phones, but something about Danny’s whole- being, didn’t agree with good signal. So after pouring a little bit of his own ectoplasm into the radio, the walkie-talkie seemed to be the only thing to work.

“You there, Fetcher?” Hood’s voice was extra staticky through his mask and the radio, but at least he didn’t seem hurried or in pain. Starting a mission or patrol instead of in the middle of one, then. Danny really didn’t like it when Hood called on him because he was injured, hated seeing the man in pain like that even as he felt honored to be trusted.

Three taps against the speaker. Yes.

Danny couldn’t exactly talk into the radio and without working burner phones he couldn’t text. So they had a system of taps that Hood could hear instead. Three for yes, four for no. Two taps for help, and five for false alarm.

“Good. We got some fuckers trying to take back territory for Black Mask. Need you to help me scare ‘em shitless.”

Three taps. Pause. Three more. Hell yes.

“Good boy,” and damn if that didn’t give him a highly inappropriate shiver. “Meet me on the roof and we’ll plan our ambush from there.”

Well, here’s hoping for a fun night of bashing heads and shooting out kneecaps.

═════ ◈ ═════

Danny stumbled into the tiny bathroom of his apartment, clutching his stomach in a bid to stem the flow of toxic green blood, gloved fingers slick with the substance.

His free hand slammed down onto the sink counter for balance as he wobbled and he made the mistake of looking up. Looking up into the mirror.

He never looked at his reflection. Hated the sight of it. The reminder that he was no longer human. Would never be human again. The thing that gazed back at him from the surface of the mirror was a monster. With the lights off in the bathroom it was extra eerie. Black hooded figure blending into the shadows, nothing standing out except for the pinpricks of glowing green eyes- reflecting like tapeta lucidum from under his tinted visor. The outline of his breathing apparatus just barely there, like the maw of a beast just barely in view. The only other source of light was the glow of the blood dripping through his white gloved hand.

He turned from his reflection with disgust and tumbled into the bathtub, hoping to rest and soak in whatever ectoplasm he lost. Here he could just- lay down and also not make a mess. He’d hate to have Red Hood flambe another couch because of him.

He hadn’t meant to get shot. Honest. He’d gone intangible, he knew he did. The bullet should have never hit his abdomen. It should never have caused as much damage as it was currently doing. He was bleeding so much… Man he really hoped Hood didn’t show up while he was trying to heal in the bathtub. He didn’t need to face the man while delirious with blood loss again. The first time was embarrassing enough, he didn’t want a second.

The wound was healing so slowly… There was something about that bullet. About that gun. Something wasn’t adding up here.

It was like he’d been hit with one of his parent’s inventions all over again.

Black Mask wouldn’t deal in ectoplasm, would he? What use would he have for it? He’d heard something about a kryptonite shipment that Hood was planning to ambush, so maybe the rarity? It was from another dimension after all. Didn’t matter that the place where Amity used to be was still crawling with it and so was Gotham. It wasn’t easily harvestable for humans. The GIW or his parents might be the only ones with a good supply, and even then they couldn’t control what type it was. For weapons it might be useful, if it was combative ecto. Some people had adverse reactions; tingling, numbing, temporary paralysis. If you were a ghost or ghost adjacent it was worse. So much worse.

In the beginning, most Amity Parkers were fine if they got hit by a blaster, just annoyed and covered in goo. But as time went on and more and more people were exposed, more and more of them started becoming susceptible to the many uses ectoplasm could have. Good to use for healing with the regenerative ecto but also more likely to be hit by a stray blast of combative ecto and not come back up. His high school classmates had been particularly vulnerable, having been infected multiple times directly. The combative type would take them down and then the healing type would bring them right back up. It could take time, though, if you were human- time some of his classmates hadn’t had enough of.

They’d lost a lot of people before they realized they had to be more careful with their shots. Before they realized that the thing that was killing them could also bring them back. Stupid. It’d all been so stupid. It had taken so, so many times of him trying to frantically heal everyone hit before his parents arrived to shoot him indiscriminately, before anyone realized he was trying to help them. And even then they hadn’t trusted him. It was one of the last things he did before giving up on being human. The last time he’d pretended to be alive, just to sneak into his parent’s lab and leave them a sample of regenerative ectoplasm and a theory written in his dad’s handwriting.

It didn’t matter how careful his parents pretended to be with it- the suits, the breathing apparatuses, the heavy gloves and protective eye-wear- they still slung it around in the name of taking down evil ghosts. Shots firing every which way- hitting people and poisoning the land around them. Whatever got the ghost. Whatever “saved the day”. It’s not like it actually hurt anyone, right?

Ectoplasm was a funny thing. It’s what ghosts were made of. What they fought with. What they ate and used to heal. What the lairs they inhabited were made of. Goo but with feelings. Multipurpose soul juice. The thing that he was losing a lot of…

Man, he was starting to feel a bit dizzy. He sure hoped the wound would start to heal itself soon, before he fainted and couldn’t do anything about it… Would be a silly way to fully go out. Bleeding out in a bathtub.

Oh, his vision was going black.

Well, it was no worse than the first time he died…

═════ ◈ ═════

He could remember the initial disappointment the most. How his parents had deflated so completely when the culmination of decades of work had failed them at the most pivotal point. He remembered the uncertainty- they could live off the patents, yes, but they weren’t exactly bought all that often and they mostly got by on the grant money. And if the grant money was gone because none of their inventions or theories or anything ever worked- then how would they survive? He remembered the despair. He remembered the relief he felt when the portal didn’t work at first. Maybe without the portal in the way his parents would pay more attention to him, spend more time with him. And then the guilt because his parents just looked so sad. He remembered the discomfort, the whole family dressed in their restrictive HazMat suits. He remembered how suffocating the SCBA felt to breathe in and how hard it was to move in. How hot it’d been. He remembered his parents ushering them all back to the entrance to dress down in heavy silence.

He remembered his parents going back to the drawing board, however dejectedly, and learning to resent the portal all the more for it.

And then Sam had presented him with a challenge. A dare. Goading him into exploring the portal on his own. To look into the maw of the monster and place himself inside its jaw. This was a mystery in need of exploring and Danny was the only one that could do it.

They’d huddled together, the three of them, at the entrance to the lab. Sam eager, Tucker reluctant, and Danny… Danny had been scared. They’d snuck in after his parents had left, and they’d been alone in the lab when they really, really shouldn’t have.

Uneasy, he had donned the HazMat suit once again. Piece by piece. White with black trim. Specifically designed by his parents to deal with non-vapor ectoplasm. Not that they’d seemed to ever encounter it. He had prepped all his pieces, made sure his tank was full of oxygen. Checked for cracks and tears. His hands had shaken the entire time. He had pulled the mask over his face, pulled the overalls over his jeans and clipped them into place. He had snapped the nitrile gloves on, tearing one in the process and having to get another. He had then stopped to watch his hands flex under the gray material, trying to put off the inevitable. The hooded coverall had come next, slipping his socked feet into the strange material of the white suit. His socks had been mismatched- one red and one blue. Then the black boots with steel toes and shanks. Then the outer gloves. Then the tape to seal it all in. To seal him in his tomb. And lastly he had shrugged on the tank and connected it to his mask and turned the oxygen on. And with heavy, heavy feet, he’d made his way into the lab proper. To the dreaded portal.

He could remember the chill he’d felt, before he’d even stepped near. Remembered the sense of impending doom. He’d taken one last look back at his friends, taking in the hesitant thumbs up from Tucker and the happy shooing motion from Sam. She’d thought it all so cool. Thought that trying to study ghosts, trying to punch a hole in their dimension to do it, was all just fascinating. After though… After she couldn’t even think about ghosts without paling, without running. Running from him.

He’d seen the pale imitation of a reflection in the glass that sectioned off the entrance from the lab proper, face unrecognizable behind his mask and gaping hole of darkness set behind him. Translucent like he was already a ghost. He’d pulled the small flashlight his suit had within its pockets and had shone it into the abyss. Small glow piercing the sticky shadows. He’d felt the livewire energy beneath his feet when he’d stepped inside, but did not heed the warning. It was just wires and metal plating. Nothing more and nothing less. It was another of his parent’s failed inventions. He’d thought nothing more of it before diving further in.

The cables. The cables that his parents- his mother more- had been adamant about keeping tied away and neatly stored within the machine itself had been strewn about. A result of his father’s frustrated tinkering in the aftermath. And what had it mattered to him that he hadn’t placed them back where they should have gone? His prized invention was moot, anyway. There was no harm in leaving a mess when the mess was inert. When nothing was likely to happen anyway.

But Danny hadn’t seen them. His pen light had been facing above, checking the upper pallet of the monster he had climbed inside. Checking for teeth. And then he’d tripped. And he’d felt fear like he’d never felt before. Heart-stopping. He’d faintly heard the grumbling roar of a hungry beast, felt the eagerness like it’d been palpable around him. And his hand had landed on a button that shouldn’t have been there. The secondary on switch that had been forgotten about. Until that moment.

And after that it was nothing but pain. Burning, scorching, tearing. Fire and shock and blinding white pain like he’d never experienced in his life before. Like he was melting and being ripped to shreds at the same time.

And all he remembered was screaming and screaming and screaming. And there had been nothing but green and green and green until it all. Went. Black.

Anything that had immediately happened after his half-death was a blur. Stumbling out of the portal feeling wrong. Not even noticing that he was completely alone in the lab. That Sam and Tucker had fled with the flash and the screaming. He barely remembered doffing his gear, completely haphazardly and with no regard to the burnt and melting pieces. Collapsing on the bench and blacking out until he was being shaken awake by his sister. Jazz had been crying, taking in the lichtenburg scar that was less lighting through his veins as more burns across his skin in the same pattern. She’d been desperately shaking him awake. He remembered looking over and seeing his parents watching the swirling green of the functioning portal with gleeful awe. His mother turning with a question on her lips before it all morphed into concern. He remembered his mother and father being so worried about him as they had loaded him up into an ambulance. But he’d also remembered that the portal had come first. That the portal had always come first.

Scratchy sheets and thin blankets. Bland jello and plain broth as his vocal chords healed from being shredded by his screaming. Burn cream and bandages. Stress tests and neurological checks. Can you squeeze my hands? Breath deep for me. Look into this light. Can you raise your arms? Twitching nerves and bradycardia. Hands that would shake under stress and a temperature permanently low- no matter how many times they placed him under the heated air blanket- the bair-hugger. All he’d ever felt was suffocated. Overheated. Drowning.

Low, low, low. Everything had been low. Dangerously. Blood pressure check. Low. Alarmed Nurses and Doctors, checking and rechecking. Adjusting the cuff, moving the cuff, using a manual cuff. Low, lower, lowest. Heart rate check. Too low. Too, too low. Stand up. Sit down. Walk. Move. Please, please move. And it would get higher, just a little bit. Acceptable. But not for having just been forced to jog. Respiration check. Slow, slower, slowest. Breathing any faster had made him feel like he was going to panic. Temperature check. Freezing. Frigid. Too low, again and again. He’d never felt so cold in his life. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

But his heart was still beating, however slow. His lungs were still expanding, however infrequent. He was still alive. Mostly. Probably. Right?

Sam and Tuck never visited.

And then the changes began.

It didn’t happen until he’d been released from the hospital. Cleared only after meeting with every specialist under the sun and getting hesitant approval for outpatient care. Talks of pacemakers, burn treatments, and invasive surgeries in his future. And then he fell through his bed.

Not out of. Not on top of. Through.

He’d woken up in a panic underneath his bed- and holy shit had it been rank under there, he really needed to clean more- in the dark and in the dust, not knowing what had happened. He’d crawled out from under it and flopped back onto his bedspread, heedless of whatever grossness he’d dragged with him. He’d been too tired to think about why he’d woken up under the bed, but in the morning- bed sheets covered in dust- it had been harder to forget. But there had been no answers, not then. Nothing to even guess at, nothing at all to tell him that he hadn’t just died in that accident, but had become the monster under his own bed. Inhuman.

He’d woken up a different day, feeling heavy and like it was hard to breathe. He’d felt disoriented and out of sorts. Then he’d seen his hands. Covered in gloves. White, rubbery, chemical-resistant gloves. And with dawning horror he’d looked down and seen those heavy white steel-toed boots. And the bunched black material of a hazmat suit. The colors were wrong- he was wrong. But it was the same suit. The same one he’d almost died in. And suddenly he’d realized that maybe that almost wasn’t as almost as he’d first thought. That there hadn’t been an almost at all, just death. Just. Death.

And then he’d spiraled. Had he been pretending this whole time? Convinced himself and everyone else he was alive when he’d really been a wolf in sheep’s clothing? A monster just waiting to tear off the thin veneer of life he’d disguised himself with?

And then there had been a knock on his door and the surprise of the sound had shocked him into reverting back to human form. And from there the process had been slow and painful, but he’d learned. Learned of the word Halfa, the term Fetch, and what it meant for him. Learned how to fight, quick and dirty, in order to prevent himself and the rest of his town from becoming full ghosts. Learned that despite his heroics, deep down, he was still a monster. Other. He’d never been exactly normal, not with parents like his, but now it felt impossible to be comfortable in his own skin. Unsettling. Disturbing. Nightmarish. A creepy little boy with creepy little powers. It was all he’d become and all he’d ever be. Didn’t matter how cool the powers were on the surface, how much he distracted himself from the truth by playing with them. He’d still had to deal with the fact that he was no longer human. Not fully. And no one knew. Nobody would ever know. He’d seen to that.

Not that it mattered now. Not with everybody gone. Long gone. And it was all his fault.

═════ ◈ ═════

“Son of a bitch,” came the familiar static of Rad Hood’s voice, rousing Danny from his dazed state. “Don’t you fucking die on me you limp noodle!”

Danny wanted to groan. He could feel bandages tightening around his midsection, hands- shaking hands?- winding the fabric around a tender bullet hole, parts of his suit cut off and leaving his skin vulnerable to the air when it so rarely was.

No. Danny clumsily signed. It was one of the few things he could sign, along with- Good.

“No,” Red said angrily, “you are not good. I had to fish a bullet out of you, Fetcher!”

He sounded distressed. Or maybe that was just Danny still delirious from blood loss. Again. He really needed to stop doing that. He let out a calming trill, hoping that would get the man to relax and stop yelling. It did not.

“Don’t you make stupid noises at me, Jellyfish,” he reprimanded, voice terse. He was close, so very close, hands still busy wrapping up Danny’s abdomen. Red’s body loomed over his, crammed into the tiny space of the tub. He could see the tweezers and saline and suspiciously green bullet still sitting on the lid of the toilet next to them. “You’re a fucking dumbass coming back here and just laying in your stupid toxic blood. What were you planning to do? Marinate? Idiot.”

He wanted to protest. He signed another No. And even tapped out four taps for a No he would use for the walkie-talkie for good measure. He hadn’t exactly planned to keep bleeding into the bathtub, alright? How was he supposed to know the bullet would stay lodged in there? I mean, sure, he could have made an educated guess before passing out, but still.

“What kind of guy that can density-shift gets shot in the first place, anyway?”

Danny rolled his eyes and smacked Hood’s shoulder for that. Not his fault the bullets were phase-proof when they shouldn’t have been.

“Don’t you smack me when I’m trying to save your life,” he grumbled, tying off the wrapping and sitting up. “Asshole.”

Red crossed his arms and glared down at Danny, his bulk almost blocking out the light above them. His knees caged in Danny’s hips and they were awfully, awfully close. Damned blood loss again.

He sighed without making sound, his shoulders rising even as he felt a twinge from his would pulling. With the bullet out he’d start healing in no time. Not that Red knew that. He patted Hood’s thigh in reassurance and immediately regretted it. What the hell kind of juicy-ass thighs did this man have? What the fuck. He needed to focus, dammit.

He motioned with the other hand for something to write with, scribbling in the air.

“Don’t you carry a whiteboard?” Red asked flatly.

Danny pointed to the wrappings around his wound. He kept the whiteboard and marker in his chest. He couldn’t phase that out right now if he tried. He couldn’t phase anything right now. He was surprised to find that he was even still in his phantom form, probably thanks to Hood’s interference, otherwise his core would have retreated into itself and used all other available ectoplasm to heal while in “human” form.

Red shook his head and climbed out of the tub. “Alright, alright, jellyfish. H-up we go.”

How many times was Danny just going to be casually scooped up by this guy and carried like a princess? Twice was already too many to keep his dignity intact. Once again he was plopped onto the couch and left as Red rooted around for something to write with. Deja vu, much?

He came back with a legal pad and a purple crayon. Why crayons? Always crayons?

“Explain,” he demanded, handing off the utensils.

Danny grabbed a cushion and used it as a makeshift table of sorts to balance the legal pad on and began writing. At least this time he could use his hands properly. Even if they were shaky from the anemia.

Bullets didn’t pass through like they should have. Something is wrong. They shouldn’t be like that. Coated in something Black Mask shouldn’t have access to.

He flipped the pad around, Red grabbing the edge to keep it steady as he read.

“Well, kid,” he said, slowly. “Looks like you’re fucked.”

Danny flipped him off. Not helpful, Red.

“Any idea what this substance is that our number one enemy shouldn’t have is?” he asked, settling down to sit on the flimsy coffee table right beside the couch. Danny was surprised it could hold his weight.

The question made him pause, though. Did he tell Red Hood about ectoplasm? Risk the man finding out more about what, exactly, kind of monster he insisted on harboring in his territory? Risk his only ally ratting him out to the GIW?

He kept silent, hesitant. He trusted Red. He did. But not that much, not yet. If it became a bigger problem, became a problem that was going to hurt others, then he’d confess. But for now he shook his head, hoping Red would take his silence as contemplative instead of edgy.

(The incident with the knife that had left Red Hood himself paralyzed with a dangerously growing weakness, was far from his mind. He hadn’t seen the green sheen to the knife that cut the man. Had no reason to know that combative ectoplasm would have such harsh repercussions for him. The consequences of this were yet unknown.)

Hood hummed and Danny couldn’t tell if it was because he believed him or not but mercifully the man moved on. Unmercifully, Danny did not like the change in subject.

“You need more hand-to-hand if your powers are going to be useless. You rely on them too much as it is.”

Danny ripped a page from the legal pad and threw it at him. He knew how to fight just fine, thanks! Sure he’d learned it all on the fly, but still! He could brawl!

Red snickered as he caught the paper and threw it back. “Non-negotiable, jellyfish. I’m kicking your ass for almost dying on me tonight.”

Danny threw his hands up, exasperated. He hadn’t almost died! He’d have been fine! Probably. Maybe not. But still! No ass kicking required! He crossed his arms and tried to project the feeling of a pout. Maybe he could puppy-dog eye his way out of this. Red Hood was built like a tank and if he was the one that was going to teach Danny how to properly fight, then no thank you. He may be okay with the thought of dying by those thighs, but he’d rather not be bruised all to hell first. He also didn’t want to loose any more dignity and he was sure that sparring with Red would take all he had left.

“Nope,” Hood said cheerfully, ignoring Danny’s silent protests as he moved toward the kitchen and rummaged around Danny’s fridge. “No amount of sparkly-eyed looks will get you out of this, glowstick. I’m talking to Sandra in the morning and setting up a time in the dojo for us and that’s final.”

Danny waved his hand in a flopping motion, resigned. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Woe be unto him and all that. Death by Hood punches it was.

“Why do you not have anything in this fucking fridge ever,” he heard Hood mutter, along with clinks and bangs as he moved about. “I swear to Batman’s furry ass if you haven’t eaten since Friday you’ll be wishing I killed you earlier tomorrow.”

Batman’s furry ass?! Tomorrow?!

“Don’t act surprised,” he rebuffed, voice still distracted as he dug through cabinets and gathered any and all cookware that was only there because Red brought it in the first place. “If you insist you’re fine I’m gonna treat you that way. I know you have accelerated healing.”

Danny slapped the couch cushions so Red Hood would properly hear his protests. Ancients, he really was going to die. Hood was going to kill him. Kill him good and dead. He was not long for this world. Goodbye, all, there wasn’t anything good keeping him here anyhow.

“Well, shit, at least you got cheese and bread. Somehow. How have neither of these gone bad already?”

Ooh, does that mean grilled cheese is on the menu? Suddenly he found his will to live.

He popped up from behind the couch like a meerkat looking towards the kitchen, excited at the possibility of cheesy-bready goodness. The only thing missing was tomato soup, but he knew he didn’t have that in his cabinets.

Hood leveled a threatening spatula at him as he turned to face the living room. “You. Get back down. Losers who bleed out because they agitated wounds don’t get the good stuff.”

Danny huffed and fell back into the couch. Spoilsport. It’s not like it even hurt anymore. He was fine. Would be fine. Probably.

Oh man, he was really gonna hate tomorrow. But tonight- grilled cheese and witty banter would heal his heart and soul. And probably also the ectoplasm. But, the power of Red Hood’s grilled cheese was not to be underestimated.

#naps fics #dp x dc #Our Empty Graves #dpxdc

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uptoolateart · 1 year ago

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20 questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for tagging me @writer-rider-dirty-thirties

1. How many works do you have on A03?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

748,460 with a lot more drafted and waiting to be posted

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Miraculous Ladybug

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Breaking Free

Unspeakable

The Scarf

If I Let Myself Love You

Who We Really Are

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely all of them - it means a lot to me when someone takes the time to leave a message about my writing

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't normally do this - usually it's angst and drama along the way, but with a happy ending. There are two one-shots with unhappy endings, though:

'In Space, No One Can Hear You Die'

'Fade to Black'.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

As I say, I tend to give all my stories happy endings, no matter how bumpy the road is getting there. I guess 'Kitty Noir' is extra sugary, though.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have thankfully never experienced this. One person disagreed with my view on a certain character, once, but we were still friendly about it and they still read other things I've done. It IS possible to share different views and still be nice and respectful 😊

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No, I don't get graphic with these things

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I just started one crossing Miraculous with Jurassic Park / Camp Cretaceous, called 'Finding a Way'.

The craziest has to be 'Miraculous Bastard!!!' - a one-shot done because Bastard!!! is offensively awful and I thought it would be hilarious to have LB and CN put that guy in his place.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes - All That Is Necessary (a Miraculous / Gone AU) written with the fabulous @raspberrycatapult

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Adrinette

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I intend to finish EVERYTHING. I'm very committed.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm very fast. And I think I'm good at dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes take me flipping ages to complete - I can't visualise locations, etc. so those kinds of scenes are just so hard for me to piece together

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm sure I'd get the words all wrong and accidentally offend someone, so no

19. First fandom you wrote for?

In terms of stuff I've shared - Miraculous. But I used to write fan fiction and not share it anywhere. The first story I ever wrote down as a kid was fan fiction for these toy horses I used to have, called Fashion Star Fillies. They came with a leaflet showing all the other horses you could buy and their names. I got carried away and thought up their characters. I still have the notebook...and the horses.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I'm not really sure. They're all kind of different. I've got very immersed in my Breaking Free series, but I think Dreaming Wide Awake might be my best writing. I've had a lot of fun with the stupid Pancakes fic I keep adding to!!

No pressure tagging @raspberrycatapult @mysticraven20

#fan fiction #ml fan fic #fan fic #fan fic writing

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nalyra-dreaming · 1 year ago

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(Re your tags: absolutely^^)

Ok, I think there is a bit of a misconception of the intent of that change here... I did not think of that change as a way to absolve Lestat, rather I looked at the discrepancies and tried to come up with a logical explanation of the differences, given the background that an in-universe approach yields. (Also see the note re what that choice means in addition, story-wise, below)

Lestat is not "sweet sweet" and I think you know that I have been pointing that out again and again. He is someone who has force-fed, has raped, has cut off limbs for an effect. Has abused. Yes there is context to consider but the facts remain nonetheless, and Anne herself said it so clearly too, he's capricious and you wouldn't want to meet him because he might just kill you. I must say, I'm a bit taken aback by your insinuation that I would let him off that easily... I have spoken about this so often, have been friggin' blocked from both sides for it, too. You know that I don't see him like that.

But, and I will point that out here as well, as I have been doing in the comments and notes on the fic: the fic is from his POV. He would (obviously) see it differently at times. And he can be petty, and angry, and unfair, and yes, that does play into it all as well.

The visual storytelling (of Louis' POV) does indeed tell us about Lestat not giving a flying f*** about Antoinette. Juxtaposed to that is the story itself, and Lestat admiring her talents and returning to her over decades. I do find that a discrepancy. And yes, the cutting-off-finger is in fact to maintain the actual lie, but it is also a very pointed concession to Claudia and her habits with her victims. He yields to her demand, playing it as she might have done it - apparently.

Re Antoine I disagree, there was a tearful good-bye when Lestat had gone after Louis and Claudia and it had canonically been Antoine who didn't want to go with him then: "But he had been terrified to attempt such a journey. And he had left Lestat at the docks." And then, he had tried to get to Lestat at the concert but had been too late and he went to Louis and Armand despite being warned by Benji they would kill him and he was afraid they would do that so he stood outside and played the violin until they let him in (I think Sybille stopping her music and listening helped with that). And he did that because he wanted to reach Lestat. “I know that old story,” Antoine said, shivering, remembering those flames, those unspeakable flames. “But I have to reach Benji and Sybelle. I have to reach Lestat.”

“He was my friend, Lestat,” Antoine confessed. “He told me about his lover, Nicolas, who had been a violinist. He said he couldn’t speak his heart to his little family, to Louis or Claudia, that they would laugh at him. So he spoke his heart only to me.”

So I disagree, this is not how Lestat treats Antoine in the books. It does seem though as if he did treat her like that in the show. And I know that you have beleaguering the point (and I don't mean that as an attack) that the show fans should be allowed their own journey... and that is fine(!). But that is not my journey. And it is not how the fic was set up either (and from the beginning, I might add). And that must be fine, too, there must be acceptance of different journeys for fans, and people coming in with different base of knowledge. And I actually doubt that the characters are that different, Jacob himself has pointed out that Louis actually isn't. But that just as a note.

Re Lestat being not the reason for it... or taking the blame... I didn't mention it in the ask bc I didn't want to spoil too much (and I honestly didn't think this would stir up this response but I guess anything re Antoinette and Claudia will always trigger a lot of emotions (not a jab, just a note), but where would Lestat get the finger? So yes, I introduced another vampire precisely for that, namely so that Lestat can then kill her and use her finger... as he sees fit. I'm not sure how this is kind, or gentle in any way... as said before, I actually see that as quite narcissistic, and monstrous, but since the fic is from his POV he probably won't see it the same... And also, as said... he had the knowledge and must have thought about it. (Btw, that has nothing to do with being older: Eleni told him of Armand cutting off Nicolas' hands and also reassured him in that letter that these things could be reattached... so the Lestat in New Orleans knew about this, no matter his age).

And, again, you should know that I never said everything on the show is a lie, nor did I say that none of the gruesome or abusive stuff happened. But neither is it the whole truth and, to respond directly to your statement - personally I think that fans who think that none of it will be changed and everything we saw will be the truth... will be in for a rude awakening, too. And no, we probably won't see that much (much less all) of it. But that twist will come, imho, because it is an important twist in the books and the posters already hint at it too.

The show is a big mix-up... but it's still hitting the big emotional arcs and story points and I do not see any reason to expect that to change.

@wilsonsb4be replied to your post “Hi! I'm reading your ff and I saw you implied in...”:

Hmm, idk about this one because Lestat obvi. did not care enough about Antoinette to bother replacing her finger. And with this theory, you're essentially shifting this selfish and callous act from something Lestat does to maintain his lies into something Claudia does out of petty cruelty—thus painting Lestat in a more compassionate light by making Claudia more villainous. It's a bit of a cop-out. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Ok, I'm pulling this up because the replies got too long :)

I'm extrapolating behaviorisms from all the books, including the later books, the knowledge Lestat had here (and that Louis and Claudia do not know about yet). They wouldn't have known that body parts could be reattached. He did.

Calling that a cop-out in a fic is a bit weird, don't you think? This isn't a meta in the sense of the word, and it cannot be either, because we haven't seen the truth about season 1 yet, and especially not "murder night" and the happenings there.

And I really don't get why that would make Claudia more "villanous" or that act as "petty cruelty" - that was her finger in a way, he gave it to her, and she took it back off Antoinette because he... cheated. (And yes, he cheated and THAT was very selfish and callous, agreed.) Claudia does that to mortals all the time. Why is this different here? Yes, she hated Antoinette, but at the same time I'd say that Antoinette didn't even deserve her consideration in her mind, outside the necessary consideration to make her plan work that is.

These vampires are vampires. They kill and mutilate aaalllll the time. Hell, shortly before the incinerator scene Louis tore off someone's jaw. Claudia used the twins, poisoning them to fool Lestat (and Louis). I don't quite get why the finger would blip differently in any of that tbh. These... people are not human anymore, and in a very real way Claudia is more vampire than Louis or Lestat combined.

And re the not caring about Antoinette... I'm not so sure tbh. Season 1 was very... let's say shaped, Louis painted her as the Mistress, the one so beautiful and alluring she pulled Lestat away from him - and then, when she is turned she suddenly has wrinkles, she is ugly in his eyes... we'll see how the whole Antoinette-arc will hold up in the long run (as I said in my other post re Antoinette this could go either way btw, if she shows up in Paris it'll definitely get worse, lol), but as with all things on this show there is more to it.

And in regards to Lestat "only doing this to maintain his lies" - really? That is why he turns her? Why he keeps going to her over decades? This is why he (supposedly) says she will fit much better with him and Louis? Because he tries to maintain his lies? I really don't think so. I think there is much, much more to it, and (we know that we have only seen half the story....) as said before, I am filling in gaps with the context I know of from the Chronicles (and Lestat did care at least a bit more about Antoine there, even if he left him behind), and the chapters dealing with 5-7 might not align with what we've seen because I'm changing it to what might have happened (and what we might get to see yet)... as voted on. The fic is tagged as such, too.

#my fic #antoinette brown #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #book quotes #claudia de lioncourt #lestat de lioncourt #iwtv meta #antoine #prince lestat

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copperbadge · 3 years ago

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What on earth did the original Eugene Levy ever do to Apple/Tumblr to get banned? How many Eugene Levys ARE there? Are they all banned?? Are they banning everyone named Levy? Because THAT seems ever-so-slightly anti-Semitic. AND hella creepy. This has stopped being funny and is now really scary, Internet Dad. What do I do? What CAN I do?

Eugene Levy's only sin was being beloved. :D

I mean that, actually. I'm going to explain what's going on in extremely broad strokes, because I don't have specifics, but essentially this is an issue of data arguing with itself and poor Mr. Levy being dragged into it because we love him.

So, here's what happens. Pornbots, of which there are many on Tumblr even after they banned the nipnops, look at Tumblr and ask themselves, what are the most popular tags? ("most popular" could mean most frequently posted to, most posted to overall, most reblogged, I don't know what the precise metric is).

The pornbot says, lots of eyeballs on the Eugene Levy tag! Well, he is a comedy treasure. I'll drop some porn into the Eugene Levy tag! Eugene Levy, who almost certainly doesn't have a tumblr, is unaffected. These bots eventually get reported or removed directly by Tumblr, who presumably gathers data on their activity to better train its Porn Police, including the fact that SexyScamToGetYourMoney6969 is posting a lot to the Eugene Levy tag.

Then Apple comes along and says, "Well, you can't really be in our App Store club if you have porn." (They also include hate speech and a couple of other things you can't have if you want to hang out in the app store.)

So Tumblr now looks at itself, and it has all the data the pornbots had about what tags are popular, but it also, crucially, knows which tags ALL the pornbots were dumping the porn into.

So Tumblr says, we gotta get the porn out. Which tags does porn pop up in the most?

Porn pops up, and thus gets reported, in popular tags, including poor Mr. Eugene Levy's tag.

(Hate speech gets reported a lot in tags like antisemitism, because one person posts about antisemitism and then gets a faceful of it from antisemites and has to report it. This is Irony and not in a good way, but it's likely the reason antisemitism is now a banned tag.)

So Tumblr, who has got to get rid of the porn ASAP and it's like two days to Christmas or something, says "Down with alla these motherfucking tags on my motherfucking platform." It sorts by Largest To Smallest when it comes to "most porn in the tag", so the tags that have the most porn regardless of their real meaning float to the top. Tumblr then bans tags like "me" and "selfie" and "girl" and "Eugene Levy" because it's the fastest way to hide the porn, like alt-tabbing from porn sites to true crime sites when your mother walks into the room. It's not the best solution but it is the most immediate.

Some aspect of this may be malicious compliance on Tumblr's part, because the blowback from the tag ban has made it to the business news world and now all eyes are on Apple's rather puritanical demands. It will be truly hilarious if this time next year I can post that Giant Domino meme simply labeled "Tumblr bans Eugene Levy" at the small end and "The fall of Apple Computer" at the other.

And honestly, I suspect it's not that Tumblr is careless or stupid, they knew they were banning "Eugene Levy" and that they'd get shit for it. It's just that it was the fastest way to get rid of at least enough porn to stay in the iOS app store. Kind of like setting a bookstore on fire because someone complained that it was selling issues of TIME featuring Eugene Levy as Person Of The Year that were secretly skin mags. But also had interesting in-depth interviews with Eugene Levy.

It's all very, very tumblr.

#I don't even know what to tag this #if I tag it with the unspeakable name then it might not show up for those who need it most #Gene Who Shall Not Be Named

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ofalltheginjoints · 2 years ago

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is it late enough that i can say that i want grace v*n dien to do absolutely unspeakable things to me

#and when i say unspeakable. i mean i shouldn’t speak of them. bc someone i might have to look in the eyes might see it #but like… whew 😅#@grace u need a dog?? i can bark #among other things..#😳😳😳#no fr *** ** ** ****. ***** ** & **** *** ** **. **** ** *** **** ***** ** ***** **. **** ** ***** *** *** ******* & *****.#just a suggestion tho.#(censoring her name only bc she’s got a tumblr and i don’t want this showing up in her tag

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titlemewickedwonderland · 2 years ago

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Diamonds in the Coffee Beans (Jamie Campbell Bower)

Auth. Note: A while ago I had gotten a message from another user about a part two for Autumn Selfies; whether I would be posting a part two for it because they enjoyed it very much. So, Wherever you are love, I hope you get to read this!

Pairings: Jamie Campbell Bower x Reader

Prompt: What was supposed to be an innocent selfie with a celebrity turned out to be something else entirely!

You might want to Read This first if you haven't already!

There was an annoying buzzing coming from her phone. Somewhere within the darkness of the bedroom. A faint glow of a screen lighting up within the confinements some pants crumbled on the floor illuminated inches around its surrounding as if the faint morning light from the blinds that were inched open didn't allow enough light already. She gripped the pillow tighter to her chest and stared at the offending object within the pile of clothing on the floor as if it were a snake ready to attack her. Why had she done that? What good would it have done to post such a picture?! What the hell is wrong with her?! She'd done it in her haze of giddiness. Posting her selfie with Jamie on the internet that very same day not expecting that perhaps it would do more harm than innocent fun as the internet blew up. Social media blew up with reblogs of the photo that she had posted from her Instagram account as well as Jamie's version of their selfies on his Twitter. What was supposed to be nothing but an innocent picture turned into something far…far worse. People were thinking Jamie had a new lover; just like Y/n had warned him about and her phone wouldn't stop blowing up with strangers on the internet tagging her and notifications of others reblogging people's posts that had reblogged hers. It was a mess, a damned mess that had been going on for the past 3 days since her encounter with the rockstar movie star sensation at the coffee shop.

But that wasn't the worst part of it all. It wasn't just the internet that was blowing up over one celebrity and his fan. Her phone was brimming with missed calls, text messages, and voicemails from her family and friends; most of which were coming from her ex-partner and ex-best friend. They borderline everything from freaking out to calling her unspeakable names as if that kind of behavior would get her to answer them. She'd blocked them all out. She didn't have the heart to actually block numbers, delete messages, or turn off her phone. She wanted to enjoy the last few days she had left of her mini vacation here but she was starting to think perhaps it was going to be ruined. Why? Because a part of her was hoping that Jamie would call or text but was too afraid to actually grab her phone to check in fear she sees something that would hurt her feelings even more than what she had already seen on the internet. She couldn't run away from it no matter what she did; as long as she was on the internet or on some sort of device she would see something. Hell, even the TV had a social media TV talk show that was covering all the juicy gossip of everything new about the celebrities worth mentioning.

She couldn't run forever though because frankly, she needed her phone, and the notification pings going off left and right were starting to piss her off. Huffing, Y/n threw the pillow she had been clutching to her chest to the end of the bed and scrambled from beneath the tangle of sheets to dig her phone from her forgotten clothes on the floor. Her poor phone still managed to hold some resemblance of battery despite the abuse the system was getting from the flood of incoming data; it was a miracle the device hadn't frozen or short-circuited itself yet. She was going to turn off her phone or at least put it to charge when one of the messages caught her attention seconds before it disappeared from the screen in favor of another message popping up and knocking it down from the list. Feeling a slight panic she typed out her password to unlock her phone and searched her many notifications for that one text message she had seen from one of her friends who hadn't backstabbed her during the whole affair.

F/N: Check out Jimmy Fallon's show! NOW!

Y/n didn't know what the hell her friend was talking about so she quickly grabbed the remote and despite her better judgment turned it on; searching for the familiar channel that she used to watch Jimmy Fallon's TV host show on when she was bored. When she finally got to it she saw the familiar grinning face of the dark-haired talk show host who was in the middle of talking about something to a celebrity off-screen.

"-It's been blowing up all over the internet; kind of hard to miss man. When will we get the scoop about what that's all about? Everyone seems to be on the fence about who the lovely young woman with you is in this photo."

On the large screen behind him was the enlarged photo of the selfie Y/n and Jamie took together; the one of him pressed cheek to cheek with her as she sat on his lap. It looked even more intimate on the screen for all of the audience to see and Y/n could now see how people could easily mistake them as lovers from their point of view. She felt her cheeks flush at the memory of sitting on his lap in such a familial way while he took a selfie with her; she knew deep down Jamie wouldn't have done that with just any fan. He was sweet and perhaps a bit flirty but not to the point that she experienced; she never pegged him to be a physically forward person to that extent with any other fans even those who he might have thought were cute. It made her wonder and a part of her deep inside that wanted to fangirl and gush preened at the idea that perhaps Jamie liked her a lot more than just any ordinary fan.

The TV screen popped up with a very familiar face who was grinning in a shy way as a heat of a blush graced his tanned skin and Y/n couldn't help the flutter in her belly at that look as the very same Jamie Bower sat comfortably on the couch wearing all black entire that made him look oh so devilishly handsome. His bottom lip disappeared between his purely white teeth as his blushing face attempted to hide behind his long blonde hair as he laughed. The audience cooed and cheered for him making his bashfulness deepen as he attempted to pull himself together and come up with a reply.

"I can assure you there is nothing going on between me and her. It was purely by chance that we met actually; we just happened to meet at the same coffee shop and I bought her a coffee since she forgot her wallet. We sort of just started up a conversation after that and I found out she was a fan of mine so we took selfies together." Jamie replied trying to play it off but Jimmy was one who did enjoy a good teasing as much as he was curious about the entire thing.

"So you're telling me you take selfies like that with your fans often then?" there was a joking tone in his voice as he pointed to the screen behind them

"Well, no but um, we're friends." Jamie licked his lips thoughtfully trying not to give anything away as much as he was trying to keep things comfortable.

Y/n gripped the TV remote a moment longer before she tossed it aside in favor of finding her phone beside her and began scrolling through the misses texts realizing that...in her neglect of everyone else who deemed it necessary to blow up her phone she had indeed missed a few of Jamie's text messages. Guilt slammed into her as she looked back at the live recording video of Jamie speaking with Jimmy Fallon and without thinking she began typing out a message to reply to his messages. It took a few minutes but she found a sense of enjoyment when Jamie's face shifted when he realized his phone had just gone off in his pocket which was announced by the rather loud pinging sound. An embarrassed flush crept up his neck as he apologized for the interruption mumbling something out in a joking manner that he had forgotten to silence his phone; that cute blush of bashfulness clear on his face as he dug his phone out to shut off the sound only to laugh in a way Y/n could only describe as boyishly giddy as he realized she had texted him.

"Funny, it's actually her," Jamie said flashing his phone screen briefly. "She's watching the live show right now as we speak." the blonde gave a cheeky little wave to the camera which made Y/n grin at his silliness; her previous nerves were forgotten by his adorable antics.

Damn that man even after all that he still managed to get her attention. A thumbnail disappeared between her teeth as she continued to smile at the screen as she watched the rest of the talk show; Jamie not bothering to reply back to her text message for obvious reasons if not for manners and she found she did not mind his lack of response as his interview continued and likewise dragged her into it like a good TV show. Jimmy was just hammering down on this particular topic for most of the show making Jamie all flustered; something that Y/n enjoyed seeing more than she cared to admit. Might as well since he'd made her all flustered during their initial meeting -karma and all! But when it went straight for commercials it only took a few minutes before her phone suddenly began ringing with Jamie's number flashing on the screen. Her bright grin of excitement was lit up by her cell as she clicked the green answer button.

"Hello, good sir! Long time no talk stranger. Funny, I was just thinking about you." she teased feeling a bit bold as she imagined Jamie's smile on the other end of the phone.

"You little minx! You leave me unread for days and suddenly you decide you'll send me a text message right as I'm interviewing?" Jamie's accented voice was lilted with a laugh and Y/n couldn't help but smile despite the twinge of guilt she felt.

Looking down at her bare toes she played with the chipping nail polish there. "I know. I'm sorry, I normally wouldn't do that but-"

"Aye, aye it's alright love! I was just joking." Jamie's voice sounded concerned on the other end. "You deserve the space after everything. I assumed you saw what was going on on the internet about those selfies huh?"

"Yeah," her voice came softer as she bit her lip. "It's awful Jamie! Fucking awful, my phone's been blowing up. Friends, family, strangers. All of them won't let it rest. I knew those pictures would cause a fuss."

"I can delete them-"

"No!" she rushed to say feeling her heart constrict. "Absolutely not! Look, it wouldn't do any good since it's floating all over the internet now...But I'd like to at least take some control back into our hands, somehow." she breathed out a sigh.

There was silence on the other end for a moment before Jamie spoke to someone away from the phone. "Look, I got to go back for the show but I'll call you straight after. We can talk about it then, yeah?"

"Yeah...Okay." she sighed hearing the click on the other end. She sat through the rest of the talk show until the very end but as she awaited the call from Jamie she was disappointed to find that it never came.

She wanted to feel mad that Jamie hadn't followed up with his promise of a return call so that they could talk about what was going on and what their next steps would be but she found that instead of anger that she felt it was pure disappointment. Not that she expected the great actor to pay her much mind after everything as she was just a fan; this social media stuff would blow over soon enough with a new scandal that will allow Jamie to forget about her. Or so she thought.

It was her last day in this city before she had to return back home for her job and her home to face all the people back there. But instead of hiding away in the little nook of her rented apartment, she chose to brave the world beyond by dressing for the warmer weather that Autumn had managed to gift them and taking her usual stroll down the street a few blocks towards the familiar coffee shop. The sun was just setting behind the tall buildings in comparison to just rising as her usual early morning walk was now in the evening. The busy streets were less crowded than it normally would have been so she had no problem with making her trip to the coffee shop. It was almost completely empty except for maybe two or three customers; checking the wall clock made her realize that it was near closing time for Louis and his sons so she made sure to make her order quick. Stepping in line behind one of the customers she slipped her hand into the back pocket of her jeans to make sure she had her money on her this time as she sidled up to the front counter.

"Good evening my dear!" Louis's weathered face greeted her with a tired smile and a pang of guilt tugged at her heart as if her presence was making his day a little harder.

"The usual please Lou." she gave him a warm smile that curled at the corners of her lips and she dug her money out of her pocket to hand it over.

Like deja-vu, a hand reached around her slighter frame with a credit card and tapped the card to the screen of the card reader; paying for her order. Y/n turned her head in surprise to find the familiar blue eyes and charming smile gracing her line of sight as the tall musician leaned over her frame; the heat of his body damn near plastered to her spine but the coolness of the evening air ghosting against the side of her face with every chilly breath he exhaled that smelled like fresh mint. She couldn't help the way her lips pulled up into a slow smile as she met his eyes. Until she realized that he was actually paying for her drink yet again and she quickly snapped her head towards Louis who was watching over the rims of his thin glasses with a knowing smirk that made his bushy mustache tilt.

"Oh not again!" she cursed under her breath but the transaction had already gone through so instead of paying for her drink the woman grabbed all the cash she had in her hand and shoved it into the tip jar with a triumphant smirk of her own as if that would solve anything.

Jamie laughed as he withdraw from her space and with a warm hand on her back led her towards the end of the counter to wait for her drink. The woman rocked back and forth on her feet as she bit her lip giving him the side eye

"Is this going to be a new thing for us? You staring at me like you want to say something?" the man placed his hands in his pockets with a playful smirk.

"I don't know, is this going to be a thing for you paying for my coffee? Last time I checked, I owed you a coffee not the other way around." Y/n replied back with a scrunched-up nose and playful twinkling eyes.

"Only if that means there will be more of this."

Y/n grabbed her cup and led the way to her favorite booth and sat down. Her fingers wrapped around the warm paper cup as she studied the vapor of steam escaping from the top of her cup.

"You know I leave for home tomorrow. Tonight's my last day here; I leave early in the morning," she said softly not meeting his eyes.

His tall frame leaned back against the comfortable booth and studied her across the table; the way the fading light cast its golden glow across her skin and made her eyes twinkle and highlight them. Her words slowly registered as a heavy weight on his chest the longer he replayed them. Sure he knew she wasn't local here and that she would go home eventually. He had hoped though that they would have a little more time together; he blamed his duties as a celebrity with all the interviews that he had to do the last three days that kept him from physically being with her.

"I suppose you do have to get back to reality huh?" his smile twitched slightly as he met her gaze from across the table. "But perhaps it doesn't have to be so hard to acclimate to."

"What do you mean?" a frown pinched her brows as she raised her cup to take a sip of her coffee.

"I'll be leaving soon as well to head back for filming but I feel bad for the way things went between us and the lack of time we have." Jamie watched her tongue peek out to lick the foam off her lips "I was wondering if you'd be up for a little adventure?"

"Adventure? Jamie last time we had a 'little adventure' the internet blew up. Which by the way you have yet to talk to me about." she pointed a finger at him.

"Well, I'm talking about it now." the stuck his tongue out at her and leaned his arms on the tabletop. "I know you don't want to go back home to face everyone there; so don't go back. Come with me. I'll pay for everything -including the time missed at work."

She would have to spit her coffee out of her mouth if she'd taken a sip at that very moment but instead her mouth was thankfully empty when her jaw went slack in shock at the proposal. Such an idea was something Hallmark movies created on screen, not something that happens in real life. It was so fantastical and crazy at the same time; something that no rational human being would do.

"Are you serious? Jamie, I can't do that?! W-we're just...shit, I don't know what we are but we aren't anything that would give you the right to propose something like that...I mean that's cool and all but..." she ran short of words and looked down at the table trying to gather her thoughts. "I'd love to run away like some fairy tale but this is reality Jamie...you have obligations to do that don't involve a fan you've barely known a few days in your space."

The actor frowned slightly but he had to admit she was right. It was a preposterous idea. But he didn't want their time to end. So instead he reached out to slip her smaller hand into his larger one and gain her attention. "You're right. I'm sorry." he smiled slightly.

"At least, can we keep in touch? Perhaps we can meet up again if I'm in town or...fly you out to me whenever you're comfortable enough to visit? I don't want our time to end so soon. I like you, you have an adorable personality that's very infectious." he confessed making her resolve to crumble a little.

"Thanks. You're kind of infectious too." a slightly flush graced her features before she gave his fingers a squeeze. "But I'd like to keep in touch. Gives me a reason to remind myself meeting you wasn't a dream." she laughed a bit.

Jamie gave her a cheeky little grin before tugging at her hand. "Well, if you'll be leaving in the morning miss cinderella why don't I treat you to dinner before you disappear?"

Y/n did laugh then. A laugh that took the stress of the world off her shoulders at that moment. She did not know if what she and Jamie had would lead anywhere but she did know that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see where every fangirl's dream could lead. Even if they parted ways or stopped talking down the road Y/n would take all the moments she could with this man.

"You know what? I'll take you up on that offer. I'm getting a little hungry." she mused tilting her head

The man rose from the seat and pulled her along with him. Hand releasing hers just so that he could wrap his long arm across her shoulders and pull her frame into his side. A grin so magical it was blinding graced Y/n's vision as she looked up at him and he down at her.

"But I'm paying this time Jamie."

He chortled squeezing her shoulder. "Not a chance darling."

Thank you so much for reading! This was a long time coming! I hope you liked reading this as much as I liked writing it! :) If you did enjoy please feel free to share this post with your friends! Much love!

#jamie bower x reader #jamie bower oneshot #jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie campbell bower #jamie bower x you #titlemewickedwonderland #british celebrities #fanfic #fanfiction #jamie cambell bower x you

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laporcupina · 2 years ago

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911 meta: what do you want?

This started off as an expansion of @extasiswings expansion on the tags of @evandiaz ‘s post and you should read that here but I’m (a) running long and (b) very aware that hijacking other people’s meta with your own is not always cool, so I’m branching off. They start with Buck and I end with him because I went from ‘easy’ to ‘difficult.’

---

One of the constant questions the show has asked of its main characters is "What do you want?" and it has been answering it bit by bit over the seasons. Usually by forcing the questioner into a position where they can't escape having to answer -- or to question the answer they think they have.

Bobby knows what he wants and the answer never really changes, but the circumstances do. Ultimately, Bobby wants to not be in pain. He may have wanted something different before the first accident that wrecked his back, but everything after that has been guided by a desire to be released from pain. First it's physical pain and that leads to his addictions, then after he loses his family it becomes spiritual. He wants to suicide, a devout Catholic who wants to commit a mortal sin, because that will end his immediate pain even though it will likely lead to eternal suffering. When he decides he can't after the blood tests, his initial reaction is to see this as a punishment that will ensure his continuing pain. Chim taking him to see the baby born from his blood gift is the first step in forcing him to actually think that there might be more to his life than pain, that he might be able to escape it. And to consider for the first time in a long time what the rest of his life is going to be like because there will, in fact, be a rest of his life beyond the list of names in his book. And in the end he chooses to find release from pain by actively living, by building new families at the 118 and with Athena.

(And when the pain returns after Jonah, when he is so distraught at repeating past failures, at destroying his family – the 118 – once more through his own weakness, that he turns to old remedies... Eddie turns up, as Chim once did, to remind him that he has saved lives through his actions. Everyone at the 118 has now gotten a chance to save Bobby from himself.)

Chim has to rethink his answer to “what do you want?” a few times, but I’d hazard a guess that what the actual answer is “to know who I am.” He is in flux before becoming a firefighter, unsure of his place in the world: his citizenship has changed, he's not hacking it as an entrepreneur, and he's not comfortable in his family life (as either a Han or as an honorary Lee). He becomes a firefighter and he thinks that should answer things but it doesn't: he's miserable as a probie and then the unspeakable happens and he loses Kevin and cuts himself off from the Lees. Even when things get better at work and he finds some measure of comfort and satisfaction under Bobby's leadership, he's still not who he wants to be: he builds up this pretend life with Tatiana and then there's his anguish after he returns from the rebar accident because he had a life-altering experience and he's not significantly altered – he is still incomplete. Maddie is ultimately the key to those missing pieces, the life-altering experience that the rebar wasn’t, but she comes to him as a result of his patience when he’d been impatient and frustrated before. Maddie doesn’t change Chim, he changes himself, but the work he puts in for this gets him the answers he’d needed: he builds himself a family with her, with Albert, with the Lees, and finally with Jee-Yun. He finds his place in the world and when the time comes for him to fight for it, he knows how.

Eddie is introduced as having it all: he's handsome in a way that gets pointed out in the text, he’s got a great kid, he super-competent and everyone immediately forgets he’s a probie, he is a good and kind man who fits in seamlessly into the 118 family. And yet we spend the next few years watching Eddie suffer – Shannon's death, the well, the fight club, the shooting, the panic attacks, the hostage situation, the breakdown – and watch him assume all of his pain is due to him for his failures. He was a bad son, a bad husband, a bad father, a bad soldier, a bad boyfriend, and if he hasn’t proven himself a bad firefighter yet just give him time. Therapy has been getting him to accept that most or all of this is not true.

Eddie is a riff off of Bobby, which Bobby very obviously recognizes, but with a key difference. We are given enough about Bobby’s pre-LA life to know that he was in a happy marriage and had the love and respect of his children and was honored enough by his peers to have them try to save his career and vocation. Bobby didn’t have to work on figuring out what happiness would mean for him once he’d accepted it as something he could have; he’d been a happy man for a long time Before. Eddie, on the other hand, honestly has no idea and can’t start figuring it out until he can stop hating himself for his failings. Eddie’s answer to the question “What do you want?” is to be at peace with himself.

Hen, through 6x01, would tell you that she had her answer to “What do you want?” and was working toward it quite successfully. She would also be conveniently forgetting her history of self-sabotage – Hello, Eva – that reared its ugly head in 6x02. Hen is arguably the only member of the 118 family who thinks about what she wants in life. Her ‘Begins’ episode showed her in a life coach’s office because she had trouble actualizing her vision, not having one in the first place. Hen wants to improve the lives of others, even if she’s changed her mind on how best to do that professionally to go from lifeguard to pharma rep to paramedic to med student. And Hen wants her actions to not be undone by stupidity, be it dumbass doctors who undermine her care choices once she hands the gurney over or Child Protective Services who are going to hurt Nia by taking her out of the only home she remembers. Hen thus ultimately wants the power to effect meaningful change because she has the confidence to make those changes.

All of this leads to 6x02 because Hen absolutely thinks she is the best choice for interim captain and can’t stomach the idea of letting someone else do it. She pushes for it despite her med school career hitting a crucial milestone: the end of her coursework and the beginning of clinical rotations, the effective end of her time to be both a full-time paramedic and a medical student. She didn’t need Karen to tell her she had to choose; she has been facing down this choice for a while and the decision she made to push Bobby to name her interim captain was her making that choice. “What do you want?” turns out to be answered not by “to be a doctor,” but instead by “my 118 family” and possibly “to rise in the ranks of the LAFD.”

Buck... Buck will tell you he knows what he wants, but he doesn’t. Buck 1.0 would tell you that he wants to be recognized as a hero, he wants his life to be a good time, and if you caught him on a day when he’d been reading stuff on the internet, he’d say that he wants “a connection” without quite being able to express what that means. Buck 3.0 would say that he wants to not be alone, he wants a family that loves him without conditions, he wants to be happy and he wants the people he loves to be happy. Nowhere in there is anything about creating an identity for himself that’s not a reflection of what other people see. Buck post-Taylor is not really much better off than Buck post-truck explosion in this regard: he still doesn’t know who he is outside of being a firefighter, not really. He is Christopher Diaz’s emergency backup guardian, which is something, but he’s also no longer the foremost expert on Maddie, which is not nothing. He goes bananas about Bobby not picking him to be interim captain because he sees it as a referendum on his quality as a person during a time when that’s an especially sore topic. And he’s back to seeking the wisdom of strangers who are in terrible moments of their own, part of a general flailing about for ready-made answers to difficult questions. Buck isn’t lazy, far from it, and he’s not trying to get out of doing the work. But he nonetheless has some very... immature notions about how to be successful at personhood despite bearing witness and serving as support to some very complicated and messy efforts. He has watched Maddie and Eddie fight like hell to be able to live with themselves and yet he’s going to buy self-help books and take internet quizzes rather than face the idea that he might have to do what they did to be happy in his own skin. He’s still looking without for answers, looking to what other people found for themselves, and trying to apply that to his own different situation. Hen was right, of course, and this is something Buck is going to have to do his own homework for instead of crib off someone else’s paper. But neither of them were in a frame of mind to recognize that.

#911 #911 meta #evan buckley #hen wilson #chimney han #bobby nash #eddie diaz

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in-ky · 3 years ago

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Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex 🥵 thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

#negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan x you #negan smith #au!negan #the walking dead #twd smut #twd negan

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sitp-recs · 4 years ago

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i saw your recent draco!pinning and oblivious!harry rec and wondered if you knew any either-pinning/other-oblivious rec with a lot of angst. buckets upon buckets of angst. thank you so much!!!!

Hello there! Oof this was hands down one of the hardest lists I’ve ever made. Angst can be so so subjective and I second guessed my picks for a long time, until I said “fuck it” and decided to include all stories that speak the most to me. I’ve read lots of angst over the years but these are the ones that come to mind when someone says “buckets of angst”.

I’m naming this list “angst with a (in 98% of the cases) happy ending” 😂 all of these hurt damn good and have lots of pining. I tried to include different flavors of angst too, so that everyone can find something for their tastes. And I left a few suggestions at the end - of fics that didn’t quite work for me but might be someone else’s jam. Hopefully I did a decent job. Enjoy!

Closure is a state of mind by @quicksilvermaid (2020, E, 12k) - bittersweet ending

After Harry's husband Charlie is killed, his Mind Healer recommends a Polyjuice therapy company, so Harry can see 'Charlie' again and find closure over his death.

Kissed by @potteresque-ire (2015, M, 12k)

Draco Malfoy was attacked by a rogue Dementor on the night of his Azkaban release. He self-exiled to Muggle London and opened a late-night chocolate shop called Kissed.

Voices From The Fog by @noeeon (2010, E, 13k)

After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

And I Know the Spark by @firethesound (2014, E, 15k)

All Draco cares about is keeping Potter alive, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

I'll never be your chosen one by @andithiel (2019, E, 15k)

Draco doesn't know what exactly he’s doing with Potter, he doesn't know how their unspoken agreement even started, and doesn't know where it will end. The only thing he knows is: he's not in love.

you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (2018, M, 20k)

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

In His Nature by create_serenity (2015, M, 20k)

Harry agreed to have sex with Draco once a month in order to keep him alive, what he didn’t agree to was Draco popping up all over the place and disrupting his life in more ways than one.

Tuxedo Angel by tryslora (2013, E, 25k)

Harry and Neville are looking for the infamous Dragon Lily, a Dark witch active throughout Europe and Asia. Instead, they find the Tuxedo Angel, a beautiful witch performing in Rome.

Exposure by GallaPlacidia (2020, M, 27k)

When Seamus uncovers Draco Malfoy's camboy profile, he, Harry and Ron decide to anonymously book a private show so as to humiliate him later.

Stain of Silence by brummell (2013, E, 28k)

After the war, Draco serves out his sentence in Harry Potter's house.

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (2014, E, 30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way.

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Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

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Draco will die in six months if he can't get Harry Potter to fall in love with him. Since that's not going to happen, he might as well spend his last days working through his Bucket List.

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All Roads by @korlaena, Saulaie (2019, M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out.

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Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life.

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Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite.

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (2013, E, 82k) - tw: major permanent disability, this one is sad af

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration.

Balance, Imperfect by bixgirl1 (2017, E, 91k)

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Bonus 1: short fics!

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hear me (with your whole body) by @teacup-tai (2020, E, 9k) - bittersweet ending

He would give it a go. See what it was like. He could always say no, right?

Bonus 2: other fics that suit your requirements. Mind the tags!

Unhook the Stars by jad (2012, E, 70k)

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A Big Black Sky by AlexMeg (2019, M, 90k)

Draco leans his head closer, biting the quiver out of his lips before he breathes a laden and shuddering exhale, and he whispers, "You are my star in a big black sky."

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Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him.

#anon #asks #drarry reclist #angst with a happy ending #pining

197 notes · View notes

renegadewangs · 3 years ago

Text

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 7

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Back to the second game we go for The Return of the Great Departed Soul! (Part one, this is another two-parter case)

Episode 2-3: The Return of the Great Departed Soul

So now, chronologically, six months have passed since The Unspeakable Story. Susato returned to Japan at the end of the first game and hasn't returned yet. Ryu was reprimanded for all the perjury and the questionable McGilded defense, so he had his right to stand in court revoked for now and instead had to focus on studying English law some more. He's done so quite patiently and now he feels he's ready to return. He just needs to get Stronghart's permission first. Meanwhile, the Great Exhibition is happening in Hyde Park, pulling in visitors and scientists from all over the world. Exciting! (S)Holmes hands Ryu a newspaper with an article on the exhibition, talking about how the brighter things shine, the darker the shadows cast behind them. By now, Ryu is fluent enough in (S)Holmes speak to know this means he should flip over the newspaper. There, we find an article of an entirely different sort.

So not only was Van Zieks apparently attacked, Ryu shows horror and concern at the notion. No hard feelings from our wholesome boy! (S)Holmes explains that London's finest criminals often find ways to get acquittals from trials through bribery, threats, sham witnesses... We saw this in McGilded, of course, so we know all too well how dangerous that can get. But since the Reaper and his curse are immune to such tactics, when a ringleader or fellow ends up being 'taken' by the curse, retaliation can occur. So it's established that this isn't the first time Van Zieks has been attacked by a group of thugs. Fortunately, Van Zieks is an “accomplished combatant” who doesn't take these attacks lying down. Unfortunately, the thugs were carrying guns this time. Uhoh.

This warms my heart, it really does. Van Zieks has been a terrible scumbag, but Ryu doesn't think he's gotten his comeuppance at all. He's genuinely concerned for this man and intends to find out more about his condition. So since he was planning to meet with Stronghart and ask for attorney permission anyway, it's the perfect opportunity to also ask about Van Zieks! Iris decides to tag along because she wants to visit the Great Exhibition. Let's shove the newspaper in Stronghart's face as soon as the game allows it.

The phrasing of “number one prosecutor” is interesting, but then... We never learn of any other (living) veteran prosecutors in this country, so of course Van Zieks would be number one. Stronghart says there's no need for concern; Van Zieks would not be so easily dispatched. Street ruffians are no match for him, since he's a very capable fighter. Seems like that sword he carries around isn't just for show after all. As for why he was attacked this time... Well, a month ago Van Zieks prosecuted a leader of a criminal organization. Nice to know he didn't just return to retirement and instead got back to work like a normal person without cherrypicking his cases based on what Ryu's doing. The defendant was acquitted, no doubt thanks to large sums of money being shifted around behind the scenes, but he still met a dramatic end just yesterday during an accident at the Great Exhibition. The man in question was Odie Asman, and the one now being detained on suspicion of murder without a defense attorney is Professor Albert Harebrayne. Albert's case has just been assigned to Ryu, so we're sure to find out more about Asman as we go. As as final touch, Ryu asks Stronghart why he continues to use Van Zieks as a prosecutor. Since the criminals are becoming fearful of the curse and attacking him, it's dangerous to Van Zieks himself. Stronghart explains that he has two reasons: Firstly, Van Zieks is the best prosecutor in the capital, bar none. And secondly, any deaths that have occurred outside the courtrooms after his trials have nothing to do with him. (S)Holmes alluded to the same thing, saying that Van Zieks had a rock-hard alibi for each and every mysterious death.

“So he will continue to prosecute on behalf of the Crown. ...Unless he wishes otherwise, of course.” With that, Stronghart admits he needs to get going since he's already 11 hours late to his next appointment (fsdkjfls). Ryu asks where he might be able to find Van Zieks and is told to head to his office. So even after being told that Van Zieks is just fine, Ryu is still concerned and wants to discuss the matter with the man himself. Let's gooo! Naturally, the first thing out of Van Zieks's mouth when he catches Ryu and Iris in his office is to wonder what the heck they're doing here.

So there's several things of interest in the office, with the game automatically addressing the biggest one: Van Zieks has an apprentice now! It's a mysterious, rigid dude wearing a hood and a mask who is absolutely not familiar to us, nope. We don't know him. Gosh, what a mystery. Van Zieks doesn't seem to know who he is either, instead just referring to him as his apprentice and nothing more.

Ryu sees this as an opening to ask about the attack on the Reaper that was in the newspaper. Van Zieks admits that he too is very interested in the true identity of the Reaper. “Assuming, that is, such a fabled fiend genuinely inhabits our great courtrooms.” The conversation halts for a moment so we can examine the office and this is the best opportunity for humanizing traits we've gotten so far, so LET'S DO IT! The enormous portrait in the back is the first thing to peek at.

Iris says whoever painted it exaggerated the subject's handsomeness, which in turn is reminiscent of Napoleon ordering the painter to make him look more attractive. That's super vain and not an attractive quality in a person at all. I laughed the whole way through that bit of dialogue and Van Zieks, who was in earshot the entire time, gets his feathers ruffled.

When Ryu asks who it is then, Van Zieks doesn't reply. BACKSTORY ALERT! Examining the chalices and bottles on the left leads to Van Zieks explaining the hallowed bottles are filled with the finest grapes from the finest vineyards he visits (so it is grape juice!!!) and he personally oversees the chalices being made by the finest crystal craftsmen in the world. Right, so not only is he filthy stinkin' rich, he's a perfectionist. Iris points out that Van Zieks throws the chalices and bottles around like they're worthless, to which Van Zieks says:

“Before you open your mouth next time, you should consider the poor artisans whose work you defile.”

As it turns out, passive aggression is contagious now. Ryu replies with a “So it's my fault? Silly me! How could I ever have thought otherwise?” and honestly I love that he's got enough guts to say this out loud. Our boy is growing a spine. Examining the wine casks has Ryu and Iris theorize about how there might be dead bodies in there, which once again ruffles Van Zieks's feathers.

Snrk. Examining the big diorama in the middle of the room has Ryu and Iris wonder whether Van Zieks can't go to the Exhibition in person and this is his way of dealing with that, which has Van Zieks snap that it's obviously an investigative aid. He even has pets of sorts in his office, in the form of a couple of bats hanging from the curtains. Alright, so the game's definitely humanizing this poor man now. No matter how many crazy stories Iris and Ryu come up with about him, there's usually a very innocent explanation to debunk the eerie myths. Something particularly interesting happens when Ryu shows Van Zieks his defense attorney armband. Van Zieks asks what the reason is for showing it to a British prosecutor, to which Ryu admits that he doesn't quite know. Van Zieks is silent for a bit, then says that he understands. “There's merit in reminding yourself of who helped you become what you are today.”

As he says it, he reaches for his prosecutor's badge and if you're aware of the backstory, you'll know he's thinking of Klint. More importantly, this conversation puts Ryu and Van Zieks on the same level. Ryu is always thinking of Kazuma, who 'helped him become who he is today' and the armband signifies this, along with the sword. Similarly, Van Zieks lost someone very close to him and he's walking the path of prosecutor in his brother's memory. Ryu thanks Van Zieks for understanding and it's very significant that Van Zieks understands in the first place. Remember, in the first game he was under the impression that a Japanese person could never understand a British person and vice versa.

Showing Van Zieks the newspaper article has him looking a bit embarrassed, pointing out that a reporter must've been nearby and he'd been careless to let himself get photographed. Either way, all the thugs responsible have already been apprehended. The investigation into Odie Asman's activities meant that their arrests were already imminent anyway, and some hoped to kill Van Zieks before that happened. Much like McGilded, Asman used his wealth to buy his way towards an acquittal in court, but “he got his comeuppance in the end.” Which is strange, right? Very suspicious. Van Zieks asks whether Ryu believes he has some sort of divine ability to make an accident like that happen. Ryu admits that would be far-fetched, and thinks to himself that even if Van Zieks were the Reaper, he'd have to be innocent of this particular death. We also learn that Van Zieks is familiar with Professor Harebrayne, the suspect in the Asman incident. When told that Ryu will be taking on the defense, Van Zieks is shocked.

Van Zieks goes on to explain that he knows Albert quite well. They were at university together. While he's lived in Germany for quite a few years, Albert is actually from a respectable British family. And despite Albert being in the science faculty and Van Zieks in law, they got along quite well. Now he's in pretty hot water for that Asman accident.

Hm. I don't quite know what to make of this reaction. I think what's going on here isn't that Van Zieks is rattled because Albert is being defended by a Japanese person, but because he's being defended by a rookie attorney who was just disbarred for six months for accidentally encouraging perjury, false witness and crime scene tampering in a court of law. Yes, Ryu has won his trials every single time, but it came at a price. Aside from this, there's one other thing Van Zieks knows about Ryu: he'll pursue the truth, no matter what. This means that if Albert indeed didn't succeed at inventing teleportation, it'll be revealed in court because exposing shams is Ryu's whole deal.

We learn that Van Zieks will be the one to prosecute Albert tomorrow, which is curious to say the least. Ryu wants to know why he'd do something like that, with Iris pointing out that so long as the Reaper is the prosecutor, Albert is doomed. Van Zieks replies that he's a Crown prosecutor and a mortal like any other; he's no demigod. In other words, he doesn't believe the curse to be a real curse. Iris points out that everyone who's been prosecuted by Van Zieks has died (which is already objectively wrong), to which Van Zieks replies that he usually prosecutes the vilest wretches of society.

… Harsh. Ryu points out that Soseki wasn't a vile wretch though, with Iris chiming in that Gina's also turned her life around and she's working very hard now. Van Zieks admits that things have changed ever since meeting Ryu- which of course has to do with Van Zieks's need to face Ryu in court even in mediocre trials rather than pursue his usual corrupted targets- but the point is that if any of those vile wretches died in mysterious circumstances, it was “at the hand of their own kind”, not Van Zieks's. So basically, he believes that they were killed because they were dubious people engaged with dubious activities, not because of the Reaper's curse. Not only that, but ever since the rumors of the Reaper began, the number of serious crimes in London has decreased significantly. Even the most hardened criminals can be made fearful of their lives. Therefore, if his pseudonym of the Reaper can serve a useful purpose, he'll “adopt it gladly and with honour”. Ryu repeats that which he already told Stronghart; that it's putting Van Zieks in danger.

He really is a prosecutor on the edge with nothing to lose, huh. So what Van Zieks is basically saying is that he doesn't care if he dies, so long as he spends the rest of his life serving the 'useful purpose' of carrying the Reaper moniker to intimidate the vilest of society. But is that really all there is to it? (Spoilers: It's not)

There's a bit more talk about the mysterious apprentice here, with Van Zieks explaining the man was placed in his care under Stronghart's orders. He's wearing a mask on Stronghart's orders and also doesn't speak to anyone from outside the office on Stronghart's orders. HM. Van Zieks claims that Stronghart isn't one for “meaningless follies”, therefore he must have a good reason. This implies that Van Zieks believes in Stronghart's judgment almost blindly. To round up the conversation, Van Zieks asks about “that Nipponese man. The one arrested twice in succession six months ago. With the stoop. And the moustache. And the jitters.” Looks super offensive at first glance, but I gotta admit, after six months I wouldn't remember Soseki's name either. Better to describe him than to guess the name and get it wrong. Still though, just because it's not super offensive doesn't mean it's not offensive. Just saying “the one you defended six months ago” would've done the trick. Either way, Ryu says he's doing just fine and a letter from him arrived by post just the other day.

So this is interesting. Earlier, Van Zieks claimed in his own words that he doesn't believe in the curse and those who died had it coming to them, but he's still inquiring after Soseki. Perhaps not so much because he's worried about Soseki himself, but because he's curious whether this man has successfully escaped the curse so far. He would know that for a fact about Gina, but the only way to verify Soseki's status is to ask Ryu about it.

Time to leave this glass cage of exposition and meet the defendant in person! Albert spouts a whole lot of dialogue about how his machine is treated differently depending on whether the case is treated as an accident or as murder. If it's murder, it can be examined up close and that's what Albert doesn't want. It has to be treated as an accident so that it'll be protected from prying eyes through The Special Dispensation for Scientific Equipment Act (wow that's a mouthful). Of course, that's not entirely what we're interested in. Let's ask about his friendship with Van Zieks! Ryu asks what he was like back in his university days and the answer surprises him.

HAH, wonderfully written exchange, this one. Albert goes to describe him as “the little darling of the Van Zieks family, with all its great aristocratic origins”. So Van Zieks has some very noble blood in him. We could've already guessed this from his title of Lord, but apparently it's a bit more serious. I could derail here with wild theories about his family originating from the Netherlands and having migrated to the UK around the time the first king of the Netherlands, Willem I van Oranje Nassau, rose to power in 1813. Willem changed the way nobility works to some degree in the country and not all noble families would've agreed with his way of doing things. But anyway, point is, Van Zieks is a big shot. Albert says that it was kind of a shock to him when he came back to Britain and discovered 'what Van Zieks had become'. He heard that there was 'a very big event' that completely changed Van Zieks after his graduation, but doesn't know what it was because he was already in Germany at the time. So here we have some more traces of that backstory and we have enough pieces to start sticking some things together. We know Van Zieks was once betrayed by a friend and we now know he was a very modest, pleasant gentleman when he was young. Whatever happened must've been very harsh indeed to turn him into such a sour lemon. Either way, Albert doesn't seem to know yet that Van Zieks will be the prosecutor and Ryu doesn't have the heart to tell him.

So let's investigate the crime scene! Here, it's confirmed that Gina Lestrade is indeed just fine and now in training to become a detective with Gregson. Cute! So eventually we get to talk to Gregson about Van Zieks and how he's acquainted with Albert. Gregson is overdramatically shocked to find out that the two of them are old buddies.

Remember when Van Zieks took a five year hiatus and nobody had to mysteriously die from the Reaper's curse? Those were the days, eh Gregson? Now he's even prosecuting his own friends willy-nilly. Gregson states he has no idea what goes on in Van Zieks's head (a sentiment we've heard before in 1-4) and goes on to bring up the newspaper article about Van Zieks being attacked. When told that our good old pal the Reaper is just fine, Gregson utters a very uncomfortable “glad to hear it” which honestly had me wondering whether he'd preferred Van Zieks to die.

Up until a certain someone gets killed and stuffed into a suitcase, I'd reckon. Gregson says that Van Zieks is a top class prosecutor, but not even he can always push the right verdict through. “Sometimes justice can't win.” Gregson explains that naturally, Scotland Yard suspected Van Zieks at first and assumed he was taking matters into his own hands. There was a very thorough investigation and the outcome was that Van Zieks was in no way related to the mysterious deaths. So that's three people now who all insist Van Zieks couldn't possibly have committed the murders. Gregson says he's willing to stake his reputation on it, even. Of course, Gregson would know for sure, wouldn't he? But the narrative is telling us over and over that Van Zieks himself isn't the Reaper, with even Van Zieks himself implying he'd like to know just who the Reaper is. There's a conspiracy happening that Van Zieks is the centerpiece of, with the narrative really pushing the mystery aspect of it. The writers want us to care about the truth of the Reaper for sure.

OOOH that's meta! Ryu, being nosy and overly invested in Van Zieks's life, asks Gregson whether he knows about the 'incident' which changed Van Zieks after graduation.

Okay he clearly knows. Even a first time player can tell from this single reaction that Gregson's lying. The mystery thickens! At the end of the conversation, when Gregson's gone off, Iris recommends asking (S)Holmes about it instead. Safe bet, since (S)Holmes continuously knows more than he's letting on. To the house of wax we go! When asked about it, it's clear that he does know something (and is described as suddenly clamming up), but before he can explain there's a distraction in the form of Madam Tusspells and we have to sit through a mostly-unrelated Joint Reasoning segment. It leads into a conversation about a mass murderer known as the Professor. Ten years ago, there was a series of murders which rocked the capital right around the time Van Zieks graduated from university. Five people were killed before the man was caught and executed. This fifth victim was Klint van Zieks, Barok's older brother.

I really, really dislike this phrasing because Van Zieks was already studying law to begin with. He'd just graduated as a prosecutor; his brother's death had nothing to do with him pursuing that path. Anyway...

OOOH that's meta! So remember way back in the first essay when I said the backstory is optional? Well, here it is. The Great Ace Attorney is going all in for it. It's being tied to the ongoing plot, just as pretty much all the main prosecutor backstories are. Edgeworth's backstory is tied to Von Karma being the final boss, Godot's backstory is tied to the Fey lineage, Klavier's backstory (I say this lightly) is tied to Phoenix's disgrace... Now Van Zieks's story is tied to the serial killer who ruined so many lives a decade ago. And technically, we already have all the puzzle pieces we need for the next twist; we know Van Zieks was betrayed by a Japanese person who was his friend. So really, we can now say with absolutely certainty that the man arrested and executed back then was a Japanese buddy of Van Zieks.

The investigation segment is pretty much over, but the game has one more scene for us. This is something Ryunosuke won't witness, but the scriptwriters deemed it so important that we're ignoring Ryu to focus solely on the two characters involved. And cutting away from our main character is something that usually doesn't happen in Ace Attorney. Even when characters like Phoenix or Ryu are out of commission for whatever reason, a new 'main character' takes over for a second and we see everything from their point of view. I can think of only one other scene viewed without Ryu there, which happened in 1-5 just before Susato had to leave London. So what we have here is a very private moment between Van Zieks and Albert.

AWWW... The scenes in the office were great and all, but this right here is perhaps the most humanizing exchange we'll ever see with Barok. The reason for that, I think, is precisely because Ryu isn't there. He's alone with an old friend now, which means he can let his guard down more than he usually would. Even so, it's worth noting here that he doesn't look directly at Albert. He stands with his back to him the entire time and I'm certain this is intentional, because they could just as easily have rotated him into that sideways view that's often used in dialogue and courtroom scenes. He made his way down to the gaol to speak with his friend after ten long years, but is reluctant to look right at him. The conversation itself feels rather distant as well. Albert is delighted to see Van Zieks, but the sentiment isn't returned vocally. Van Zieks points out that they're meeting again “in prison of all places” and that the court will decide Albert's fate tomorrow. When Van Zieks raises a warning, Albert says he already knows his friend will be prosecuting and doesn't appear bothered at all at first. He does try to raise a question in the form of “Are you really...?”, but ultimately drops it and says that he knows Van Zieks has his best interests at heart. Van Zieks says he wouldn't entrust the trial of his friend to anyone else, and Albert thanks him for that. So my first guess upon taking in that dialogue is that Albert wonders for a brief moment whether Van Zieks really is the Reaper/really is cursed, only to shake it off because he considers the man his friend. Van Zieks seems to know it's risky to prosecute Albert, but deems it more important to handle the case himself than to let someone else do it. This, as we learn later, has to do with the Special Dispensation for Scientific Equipment Act and the protection of Albert's scientific secrets.

Next day, we're at the Old Bailey! In the defendant lobby, Ryu is once again told by Albert that the true goal to aim for in this trial is to protect his scientific hypothesis. So hypothetically speaking, the ideal outcome here would be to prove the death was accidental and that the kinesis was a success at the same time. (S)Holmes and Iris don't believe Albert's theory to be sound though, instead saying it couldn't possibly be done. In the courtroom, Ryu faces off against Van Zieks once more for the first time in six months! The judge is quick to point out that Odie Asman is a name familiar to him; a man who was prosecuted only a month ago by Van Zieks. When he asks whether this death is the work of the Reaper, Van Zieks instead describes it as “divine retribution”, but also “a direct result of the actions of the accused, Professor Albert Harebrayne”. The prosecution asserts that the instantaneous kinesis demonstration was a success. He himself can't say for certain whether it's a sound theory, but it's being investigated by the British government since it was deemed to have potential and the prosecution's case aligns with the notion that there was indeed instantaneous- You know what? Let's just call it teleportation. That's easier to type.

Unfortunately, Van Zieks doesn't want to follow the accident angle. Instead, he outright accuses his old friend of murdering Asman using the totally-functional-teleportation-machine-which-totally-worked to be the sole benefactor of a scientific grant. Harsh. Very harsh. I don't entirely understand why he didn't pursue the accident angle instead, but then, I don't quite know enough about law. My guess is that as the prosecution, he's not allowed to. Scotland Yard found enough evidence at the scene to substantiate a murder plot, especially that damning screwdriver that Ryu so graciously handed to Gregson, so that's what the prosecution has to go with, maybe? It's up to the defense attorney to debunk that down to an accident, then, so in essence Van Zieks is counting on Ryu to 'defeat him' and prove the murder aspect wrong. It would align with the conversation Albert had with Van Zieks in prison, where he said that 'it was a terrible accident and the young Eastern man acting as his defence assured him that he can prove it'.

So speaking of that screwdriver, Albert tries to discredit it himself by saying that if he had stabbed Asman on the stage, there would've been a whole lot of blood. Van Zieks pours himself a glass of wine and 'congratulates' his friend on a good rebuttal.

“Here's to you, Albert!”

Albert laughs it off sheepishly, saying he's nothing compared to “Barok” (awww, first name basis), but a chalice is immediately flung. Van Zieks says Albert neglected to mention one crucial possibility, which is that the lack of blood is explained by the notion that the screwdriver remained in the victim's chest to plug the wound. Therefore, since the demonstration was totally a success, the screwdriver was teleported along with the victim. Ryu thinks to himself that he had no idea the victim had been stabbed and wonders whether Van Zieks kept that information to himself to keep the upper hand on purpose. This whole thing jars me a little, because the screwdriver is brought up relatively early in the trial during the very first cross-examination. Is not mentioning it during the opening statement and waiting for Gregson to bring it up three minutes later really the same as 'keeping it to himself to gain the upper hand'?

Either way, Ryu counters, saying that the screwdriver was found at the stage and therefore didn't teleport at all, with Gregson serving as an official witness to this location. It's pretty clear from the next dialogue that Gregson never told Van Zieks where that screwdriver was found.

“That you contravened the Special Dispensation for Scientific Equipment Act?”

Gregson is immediately up in arms, but it's fine. There was no investigation needed to find a screwdriver lying in plain sight. So now Ryu decides to tighten the screws. He claims that if the prosecution can't explain the inconsistency (the screwdriver being found on the stage but no blood being there so clearly it must've plugged the wound), the testimony is unreliable. Van Zieks doesn't reply and Ryu thinks to himself that he looks stumped, but uh...

He just looks annoyed to me. The person to object next is not Van Zieks, it's Albert. He says that metal can't be teleported with the machine, so it only makes sense the screwdriver stayed behind and there's no inconsistency at all. Van Zieks suggests: “Clearly we should hear the accused's explanation. … Or should I say, this brilliant scientist's explanation?” And I think here in these two sentences we have the crux of the issue. Albert wants to be treated as a legitimate scientist above all else. Even if that means he's branded a murderer, so long as his hypothesis is protected and the confidentiality stands, it makes no difference to him. This was likely discussed with Van Zieks the night before as well. Albert is apparently willing to die for the sake of his scientific principles and... Well. I'm sure Van Zieks can understand. He's willing to die for the sake of serving the Reaper purpose. In a way, this means the defendant and the prosecution are in cahoots together, which is another first in Ace Attorney history. The two of them are fighting to keep the hypothesis of teleportation intact and if Ryu manages to prove that it was an accidental death, then great! Unfortunately, the second that screwdriver was discovered, the chances of that became slim to none. It was murder, plain and simple. On a sidenote, I found this little gem:

I'm counting this as humanization, because the underlying sentiment here is that despite his haughty better-than-thou attitude, Van Zieks is still friends with someone so very scatterbrained, his name is forgotten sometimes. Even Ryu is taken aback by the purity of the friendship.

Heh heh... Time to cause some more havoc by informing the court that Asman's metal-rimmed glasses were still on his face and since Albert already said metal can't be teleported, his hypothesis is a load of tosh. The jurors go up in arms about it, saying the machine should be stripped down and examined. The game gives Ryu the option to either raise an objection or 'wait and see', but this is another one of those fake choices. Waiting and seeing just leads to a bit more dialogue between the jurors before Ryu steps in of his own accord. He says Albert would have no reason to build such an elaborate fake machine and put on a public display for murder, but Van Zieks counters with the very good reason: Money. The jurors are even more outraged, calling him a fake scientist who's only in it for the guineas, and Albert begs them to believe that his science is built upon a sound hypothesis. Van Zieks comes in to 'save the day' (sort of).

“The fact remains that the victim was transported instantly to the Crystal Tower. Which means that the experiment... was a success.”

And I gotta say, this next bit is just very enjoyable to me. The way it's written is so great.

HEH HEH.... Van Zieks has some more witnesses to summon who saw the incident from some 'very special seats', but let's end the essay here for now and pick it back up next time!

#dgs #dgs spoilers #tgaa #tgaa spoilers #barok van zieks

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southslates · 3 years ago

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still with hearts beating

for the @grishaversebigbang reverse mini bang 2021!

i was lucky to work with the amazing @erandraws and @fricklefracklefloof :)

tags: nina/inej, sleeping beauty inspired

summary: The girl raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t strike me as one who’s keen to abide by rules,” she teased. Nina blushed. The girl was right— she typically wasn’t. “I don’t know how to get to the palace,” she said. “Well,” the girl smiled, “I’m here, and I do.”

ao3 link

Nina grew up with Grisha. She loved them and all their edges— life with them was strange, but she was one of them, and she knew she belonged to their ways. She could not control the air like Zoya Nazyalensky, nor the earth like David Kostyk, but she learned from the orders of the hearts and heads, and she learned of blood and life and human features.

And yet she always knew she was different from the rest. While the others might have been content to live in the outskirts and cottages of Ravka, practicing in harmony and ruling a secret kingdom, she longed for more. But Zoya had told her, from a young age, that the life of the ordinary mortals at the palace was not for her.

Nina felt uncomfortable in her own skin sometimes, uncomfortable in the cottages. There was more written in the stars for her than she had, she knew this. And she felt that Zoya and Alina and Genya knew this too— she could feel their heartbeats when they hovered over her at night, whispering underneath their breaths. She could sense their eyes on her back, the way they paid her just a bit more attention than the rest of those her age.

One day, Nina had a dream— a dream about a girl wearing purple and a knife to her throat, and of leaving the Grisha’s cottages and houses and going to the palaces and towns of the normal humans. The girl made her heart race, and she woke up after it with stars in her eyes.

The next day she turned sixteen, and she was in the forest. Malyen had led her out to it, to show her the animals of the forest. He always wanted to convince her to hunt, but she could not hurt innocent animals. The rest of the Grisha were throwing a party for her in the cottages, she knew. They’d wanted to distract her by sending her out amongst the foliage.

Their plot worked. Nina left Malyen with his sticks and stones and wandered across to the streams of the forest. She loved sitting in the middle of them, feeling the life in the trees and on the earth all around her.

“I feel like they’re all anticipating something,” she said aimlessly into the woods. “They’ve never celebrated a birthday like this before, even if it is my coming-of-age.” She paused. “Do you think they’d let me go now? They seem to be in a good mood.”

It was at that moment someone dropped out of a tree. Nina shrieked before that person placed a warm hand over her mouth. “Don’t say anything.”

Nina moved her eyes up and took in the figure that had just jumped up on her. It was a girl who couldn’t be much younger than her, with deep Suli skin and beautiful eyes. She was wearing a purple gown and had the slightest smile on her face. Nina knew, immediately, that this was the girl from the dream.

She nodded a bit and the girl removed her hand from Nina’s face. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, “that you’ve never gone to the palace or the towns before.”

The girl let her hand drop until it was clutching Nina’s, almost as though she was about to kiss it. Nina didn’t know why her heart was racing. “I haven’t,” she said.

“Why?” the mysterious girl questioned.

Nina shrugged. “I’ve just never been allowed to.”

The girl raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t strike me as one who’s keen to abide by rules,” she teased.

Nina blushed. The girl was right— she typically wasn’t. “I don’t know how to get to the palace,” she said.

“Well,” the girl smiled, “I’m here, and I do.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Nina swallowed.

She only received a slight wink back in turn. “And why should that stop you?”

The girl’s name was Inej. She bounded through the forest like her feet were made of water and fire all at once, her hand clutched in Nina’s. Nina didn’t know why she was following a virtual stranger out of all she’d ever known, but she couldn’t think straight around Inej.

In half a day’s time, they came to a road. The large palace was clearly in sight from it, and Nina looked up at it in wonder. “I had no idea it was so close.”

Inej murmured something Nina couldn’t quite understand and then tugged her closer. “You’d like to go, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Nina said.

The streets were empty on the way to the palace, a walk which took them quite a few more hours. Nina questioned why, and Inej smiled at her. “The King and Queen are awaiting the Grisha today.”

“For what?” Nina questioned.

Inej shrugged. “I don’t quite know. But there’s a big celebration planned for the evening. We’ll run across it soon.”

Eventually, they did run across it. Plenty of peasants and nobles alike were in front of the palace— a festival of sorts was taking place. Inej walked Nina through the crowd definitively, but Nina held back after a moment.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To the palace,” Inej said.

“But why are all these people here?” Nina asked. Inej’s beautiful face suddenly creased in worry.

A shop vender had heard Nina’s last words, and bent next to her and laughed. “The Queen is sick. Supposedly she can be healed by only one of ‘em Grisha-witchies, that’s been hidden for years from the druskelle, yer know.”

Nina looked at the shopkeeper with wary eyes. “You mean a Healer or Heartrender?”

“Yeah, yeah,” they said. “Not really liked around here, yeah. Plenty of druskelle trying to get into the city. They don’t like the Ravkan Queen, they don’t.”

Nina knew enough of the world to understand what the druskelle were, and she was intelligent enough to put the pieces of this puzzle together. “No,” she whispered, looking at Inej, whose face had fallen. “Is this why you’ve brought me here?”

“I’m sorry,” Inej said, and the last thing Nina knew there was a man standing over her and the world went black.

Nina dreamt.

She dreamt of the druskelle, of large men with dogs.

She dreamt of a palace and of Inej, a girl with knives.

In her dreams, Inej wore black armor and a cape and went into armor. She saw the druskelle attempt to come to Ravka— she saw Inej bring them down, with four men at her side; one with a cane and a frown, one with an angelic face and bombs in his hand, one a pale druskelle standing against the odds, and the last a Durast she had never seen before.

And then one day, Nina woke up.

At her bedside sat Zoya and Alina and Genya, and to the left was Inej. The first thing she did in her sleepy haze was raise her hands and move the blood in Inej’s veins. “What have you done?”

“Nina!” Zoya said. Nina let Inej fall and fell back on her bed. “Leave her.”

“She brought me here—”

“She saved us,” Zoya said. “All of us.” At Nina’s confused stare, she rolled her eyes and continued. “All of Ravka has been asleep for the past however many years— it was Inej who brought the fight to the Kerch and got rid of the druskelle and whatever strange magic they had used to keep you entranced. We must be thankful for her crew.”

In the next minutes, the entire story unraveled. Alina and Genya spoke of what had occurred in the time past, and Nina’s heart softened for the girl who had betrayed her— who had truly just been forced to do the unspeakable under a terrible, terrible contract. Inej looked at her with soft eyes.

And then Genya tugged the other women away. Nina sat up a bit and stared at Inej. Inej looked at her with the slightest hint of a dark blush on her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“I know,” Nina said.

She wasn’t sure who initiated it— all she knew was that a moment later they were kissing, Nina in the bed and Inej to the side. Inej tasted like freedom and secrecy at the same time, and Nina wanted to be in that moment forever.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said earnestly. “And Ravka.”

Inej nodded at her and pressed both of their hands together. “I would hope we can get reacquainted in better circumstances.”

“Yes,” Nina laughed. “Most definitely.”

#gvbb21 #gvbbminibang21 #grishaverse mini bang #gang 10 #i think #ninej #nina zenik #inej ghafa #wlw #sleeping beauty #six of crows #shadow and bone

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therenlover · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome Home (Part One of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.

Tags: Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Slow Burn, Post-Wandavision

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language, References to Ralph Bohner

Word Count: 2400~

This fic has already been posted to my AO3, along with the next two parts! I’ll be continuing it on both platforms.

-------

“So… Ralph Bohner?”

Peter looked up from his mug, the tea inside having gone cold long before. His eyes had been fixed on the floor, his leg bouncing far quicker than what should have been humanly possible. It had been a little over 24 hours since the Hex had disappeared, and Peter was firmly of the mindset that he was taking it all very well.

Even to himself, he was a terrible liar.

“Ralph?” His new keeper spoke again, voice soft in the quaint kitchen of the brownstone that Peter would be calling home for the foreseeable future.

It had all been so strange. In one moment he was reorganizing his new attic and trying to figure out how to work the damn DVD player, and somehow in the next, he was a prisoner in his own mind, backseat driving as a witch used his face and voice to torment Wanda. Not his Wanda, though; a new, strange, grieving Wanda with unfathomable power at her fingertips. Thankfully, that didn’t last very long.

After just 2 weeks in this strange new reality, Peter missed the X-Men. He missed his dad, no matter how absent and strange he was. He missed his friends, and his sisters, and the strange normalcy that came with being a part of the team when the world wasn’t in danger. Peter found himself wishing that things would just slow down enough for him to catch up and figure out what the hell was going on. That was a new one for him.

At least he still had his speed. If he had lost his powers in the freak accident that sent him into another universe… well he didn’t want to think about that.

Despite this, the FBI guy who had dragged him out of Westview and across the river to New York had given him an explicit warning not to use his powers while civilians were present. Peter didn’t mind Agent Woo, he seemed like a good guy and treated him with more decency than most government lackeys would have back home, but it was gonna be completely impossible for Peter to avoid using his speed in public. It wasn’t like Agent Woo would even be around to stop him anyway. The only person who could possibly protest was the poor sap that the F.B.I. called in to babysit him, and they would never be able to keep up even if they tried.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

Fuck.

His eyes shot up to meet hers, “You aren’t supposed to know that name,”

“I’m not supposed to know a lot of things,” she replied almost nonchalantly, “but neither of us is known for doing the things we’re supposed to do, are we?”

Peter chuckled, and for the first time in a while, he cracked a genuine smile. “I guess not,”

The smile seemed to please the woman across the counter. Smiling back, she wrapped her hands around her own mug and sat down on a tall stool, leaning towards Peter. “Now, first things first! I want you to ignore whatever rules the FBI gave you while you’re here. My house, my rules, and despite the fact that you’re in witness protection I doubt anyone unwanted will come knocking at the door to snatch you up,”

As she spoke, Peter really took her in for the first time. She was a small thing, in shape and stature, but soft, all rounded edges and gentle touches. Despite her young face, there was an age to her, too. Looking deep into his memories, he realized she had the same haunted look in her eyes that he had seen all too often in the older members of his team. It was the look of someone who has seen unspeakable loss and survived to tell the tale. He decided at that moment that maybe staying with her wouldn’t be so bad.

“So about that rules thing,” Peter tapped his fingers against his half-full mug, doing his best not to speed up and break it, “I don’t exactly do well with rules. They aren’t my thing. I can’t promise that the cops won’t show up at the door, and I especially can’t promise that they won’t be there because of something I did that I knew was against the rules,”

When Peter met the woman’s eyes again she was still smiling, not a hint of displeasure on her face.

“If I had a problem with you being you, Peter, I wouldn’t have offered to take you in. Besides, as long as the cops that show up are human there won’t be a problem,”

Peter paused. “What?”

“That’s a question for another time,” The woman took a sharp turn then, hopping off of her stool and walking her mug to the sink where she proceeded to rinse it out. “Next, even in public, I refuse to call you Mr. Bohner. Ralph I can do if you care about staying anonymous, but I won’t be acknowledging any part of your… chosen last name,” Even as she shuddered, there was humor lacing her voice, “Bohner, though? Really?”

“It’s funny!”

She turned back to Peter with her face scrunched up in faux disgust. “Maybe to a middle schooler,”

“I had just been pulled out of my room, sucked through a portal, and thrown onto the steps of goddamn Quantico, so excuse me for not being on top of my game. Besides, Bohner wasn’t even my first choice. They wouldn’t let me go with Jack Ingoff,”

That was enough to send them both into a fit of giggles.

“Jack Ingoff?” She wheezed, “You tried to get the F.B.I. to give you the legal name Jack fucking Ingoff? That’s just so you,”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re both an idiot and the funniest person I have ever met,”

“I’d better be,”

As they continued to laugh, Peter found himself completely enthralled by this strange woman’s face and it occurred to him that she was incredibly beautiful.

It wasn’t as if she was a supermodel, though in Peter’s eyes it wouldn’t have taken much to make her one. Every part of her just seemed to glow as she gripped her stomach and stifled laughter. She was pretty in quiet ways, in soft glances and gentle touches and unrestrained joy. In the way that everything around her felt like it was full of life. In the kindness that had never wavered while Peter had sat at her kitchen counter, even when he had come through the door swearing at Agent Woo and demanding that he didn’t need a babysitter.

The longer he looked, the more beautiful she became, in actions and words and features combined, and Peter suddenly became aware that if he hadn’t taken the time to really see her, he never would have realized. He was glad he had slowed down for once.

Somewhere down the line, her laughter quieted.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “what’s your deal?” The cold mug in his hands was suddenly extremely interesting.

Across the counter she stilled, frozen in place for a moment. When she spoke, her voice held an edge of… fear? “What do you mean?”

Peter did his best to backpedal.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I was just wondering what you did to get stuck with me, that’s all. I doubt they would stick my annoying ass with just anybody, especially after… well everything that went down in Westview. Plus, I’m not just a normal dude. What average New York socialite would take in a kleptomaniac who just so happens to also be inhumanly fast out of the goodness of their heart?”

As he spoke, her shoulders relaxed and she loosened her grip on the edge of the marble countertop. “Oh, my deal,”

“Yeah. There’s more to you than what meets the eye, I can tell,” Something in the way her face flushed at his words made Peter’s heart fill with pride.

“I… well I had a unique upbringing,” she responded, voice careful and measured while she watched the floor, “I’m not a mutant, not like you, but I have a little bit of power at my disposal that makes me useful to heroes and hero adjacent agencies. I’m not a part of the team, my skills aren’t usually helpful when it comes to fighting, but they keep tabs on me just in case I’m needed. This was one of those times,”

Peter snorted. “Sounds like a pretty shitty deal,”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have to have the government breathing down my back, I wouldn’t, but after I worked with the Avengers they pulled up my file and found out I shouldn’t exist, so they’ve been keeping a pretty close eye on me ever since,”

“Ah… well, next time just don’t get caught,”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being able to dodge bullets and outrun law enforcement, Peter. Besides, I like this house and I’m not quite in the mood to have to abandon it just yet.”

He shrugged. “To each their own. Now how the hell did you get stuck with me? Were you just the closest or did everybody else refuse,”

“Well, actually I offered to take you in,”

Peter choked on the air. “Why the hell would you do that?”

She was quick to defend herself, and in a way him too.

“Because Jimmy is my friend, and when a friend needs a favor I try to help them out. It’s more than that, though. I won’t lie. I’m fascinated by you, Peter Maximoff. I find you wonderful exactly how you are and I couldn’t stand to let any of the other assholes in New York try to stomp out your personality. Here with me, you can just be you, and knowing that you’re able to be comfortable until we find you a way home was more than enough of a reason for me to volunteer to take you in. Besides, if you weren’t with me you’d probably be in the tower’s holding cell, and believe me, that wouldn’t be any fun,”

It took Peter a minute to fully digest what he was hearing.

He wasn’t going to be a burden. There would be no curfews or screaming matches or long lectures about his chosen pastimes. She wanted every single part of him there and had already gone out of her way to assure him that even the worst of him was welcome under her roof. Even during his time at X-Mansion, he had never been treated like this.

Sure, he had been himself there. People would yell or try to stop him from doing what he wanted but their efforts were futile. He couldn’t be tamed. At best the other members of the team had just tried to ignore him until his powers came in handy. He was an annoyance at worst and the household funny guy at best, and yet now a total stranger wanted him around. It took all of Peter’s small reserve of restraint to not take a victory lap around the block there and then.

Being wanted was the best feeling in the world.

When his head cleared, he smiled again. “You know, when Agent Woo brought me in here I was fully prepared to wait for him to leave then make a run for it, but I’ve decided to save you from the F.B.I.’s wrath and stay for a while instead. You’re welcome,”

He expected a snappy retort, but instead, her words came out strangely genuine, almost a whisper. “Thank you for saving me, Peter. I appreciate it,”

“Any time,”

Slowly the flush from before crept back onto her face.

“I know you’re not the type who likes to be tied down, so I won’t keep you here much longer,” she said, before taking Peter’s mug to the sink, “but there are just a few more things I need to tell you before you go off to do whatever it is you do on a Thursday morning.”

He would never admit it but Peter felt anything but tied down. Instead, he just nodded.

“Go for it,”

She washed the mug as she spoke. “Alright, well first of all what’s mine is yours. Unless I specifically ask you not to use something you have free reign over whatever you need. You can come and go as you please, I keep odd hours and don’t mind a little noise even when I’m sleeping. The house is pretty simple layout-wise, you can explore whenever you want, but the room at the end of the hallway to your right is my bedroom and I’d prefer if you didn’t go in there unless you need to. Your room is the first door at the left of the stairs on the second floor and… well, I think that’s all,”

There was a sort of sorrow in the woman’s eyes when she stopped, placing the now clean mug on a drying rack before turning to face Peter again. A yearning. It made Peter want to… well, he didn’t quite know what it made him feel. He just wanted to do whatever would ease the strange pain that resided in his new friend.

He went to speak but nothing came out.

“Is everything okay Peter?”

It was Peter’s turn to flush, face red with shame. “I...uh, well, I wasn’t quite paying attention when the agent introduced us. I’m gonna need to know your name if I’m living with you,”

It came as no surprise when she laughed gently, making her way across the kitchen towards the living room, passing Peter at the counter on her way. “My name is Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you, Peter,” The strange sorrow was still present, reflected in her words, but it seemed lighter than before, more manageable.

“Nice to meet you too Y/N,”

“I’m heading to work,” she pulled on a light jacket as she spoke, “so feel free to explore at your own leisure while I’m gone. I’ll hopefully be back by 5, but sometimes things run late. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

Peter shook his head no. “If I can’t find something I need I’ll just run out and grab it myself.

Y/N laughed again. “Just don’t get caught, you won’t know the number to call from jail yet,”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,”

She paused, halfway out the door. “Oh, and Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Welcome home,”

----

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! I have 3 1/2-ish parts of this series written, but the plan is for it to be a long haul where each part is a connecting oneshot. I hope you’re excited!

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thanks!

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #evan peters #quicksilver #x-men #quicksilver x reader #marvel #wandavision #ralph bohner #fanfic

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

Text

Perfect Opposites

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1843

Find it on AO3

Tagging: @today-in-fic

It’s jealousy that fuels all the gossip, and the unkind comments. Jealousy from the men because she’ll never so much as give them a passing glance, and jealousy from the women because they feel inferior in her presence. Because thanks to her, Fox Mulder is no longer a prize to be won by new recruits. Gone are the betting pools about which young, sexy new agent would successfully take him to bed (the tall brunette always had the most bets), and numerous are the men who boasted to their buddies that they would be the one to get her number, to take her out, to fuck her, with nothing to show for it. She didn’t even bother to reject them, just ignored their attempts at small talk and walked away with a tight lipped smile, leaving their egos bruised and “ice queen” on their lips. They called him Spooky because as whacky as his ideas were, he could still charm their girlfriend into a weekend fling with minimal effort and they knew it. They were all jealous, from the seasoned senior agents to the ones fresh from Quantico. Every last one.

I’ve always taken a special interest in them, Agent Mulder and Agent Scully, given my history. I noticed Agent Mulder and Agent Fowley too, before, but I knew it wasn’t anything special. I didn’t see myself in them the way I do when I watch him with Scully. I picked up on the difference right away; how he looked at her, and touched her casually. I saw something familiar in his gaze, the sadness and the longing. She seemed oblivious to it for the first few years, always so painfully poised and professional, but eventually she caught on. While everyone else called her “ice queen” behind her back, I saw how she leaned into him when he whispered in her ear, and the quirk of a smile that played at the corners of her lips. That same sadness and longing in her eyes when she looked at him, stealing glances while he was focused on AD Skinner at the front of the room. Sometimes they’d touch the other’s knee under the table and exchange a knowing look. I can’t see through tables, but if you know what you’re looking for, you’ll find it. And I knew she wasn’t cold and without feelings. She just didn’t allow very many people in, but she allowed him in.

When Agent Fowley came back, I immediately thought of Agent Scully and how she might be feeling. She’d probably be threatened, and jealous, though she really didn’t need to be. Agent Mulder never once looked at Agent Fowley the way he looks at her, even when they were in a relationship. Even when they lived together. I guess Agent Scully doesn’t know what I know, because I saw how upset she was by Agent Fowley’s presence. The set of her jaw, the way she crossed her legs and leaned away from Agent Mulder, putting distance between them both physically and emotionally. She was protecting herself, or trying to. It’s been painful for me to watch, though I know I’m biased in wanting them to be together. I’ve told myself over and over not to get involved, that she probably doesn’t even know I exist, much less will she listen to what I have to say. She’s a private person, she would never talk to me about something she likely hasn’t even admitted to herself. My resolve crumbled, though, the day I saw her crying in her car in the parking garage.

I can’t know for sure that’s why she was crying, I will admit as much. But because I’ve been there and walked that path, and because I’ve been watching them for so long, I feel so strongly that she was crying over him. Over her, Agent Fowley, stealing Agent Mulder away. She doesn’t need to worry, but she does, and it just hurt my heart to see it. I told myself that if I ever happened to be alone with her, I would say something. I can’t recall ever having been alone with her before, so if it happened by chance, it would be a sign.

Imagine my surprise when I was washing my hands in the bathroom and she came out of the only other occupied stall, eyes puffy and the final sniffs of a covert crying session still crinkling her nose. It was only she and I in the bathroom. It was the sign I was looking for.

I said “hello” and she looked at me startled, like she hadn’t even realized I was there. That happens a lot lately, I’ve noticed. While I was once the young hot thing at the bureau, my late 50’s haven’t been especially kind. You become invisible, as an aging woman. Someday she might know what that’s like too.

“Hi” she responded, curtly, but not without some warmth. She wasn’t rude, but she also wasn’t looking to chat.

“Agent Scully, I realize you probably don’t know me from a hole in the wall, but-“

“-Agent Hansen, right?” She forced a smile. I didn’t do a very good job hiding my surprise that she knew my name. I nodded, and barreled on before I lost my nerve. She’s even more beautiful up close than she is across a conference room table.

“Right, Agent Hansen. Um, I don’t mean to be nosy, and I’m not asking you to share any personal information or anything, but I wanted to tell you…”

She was watching me suspiciously by way of the mirror while she washed her hands. Just get it out, damnit.

“…I just wanted to tell you that you don’t need to worry about Agent Fowley.”

She straightened up and turned to face me while she dried. If I thought she looked suspicious before, I didn’t know how many flavors of suspicion she possessed.

“How do you mean?” She asked me, and I knew she was curious even more than she was uncomfortable.

“I mean, you don’t need to worry about her and Agent Mulder. He’s not in love with her.”

She balked.

“What? Why would you say that to me? Agent Mulder is my partner. Nothing more.”

Sensing that she was about to bolt, I went for it.

“Agent Scully, just hear me out, okay? You don’t have to say anything, but please listen. I was like you once. I’ve been with the bureau a long time, and when I was in my late 20’s I was assigned a partner who was nothing like me at all. He was tidy and methodical and I have more of a ‘bull in china shop’ approach to life. But we became very close, and after several years we became…involved. He was the love of my life, and when I see you and Agent Mulder together, the way he looks at you, it reminds me of the way Harry used to look at me. I was here when Agent Mulder and Agent Fowley were together, as partners and as lovers, and I can tell you that he NEVER looked at her the way he looks at you. I know that she’s intimidating and it’s got you all out of sorts, I can see that, and I just wanted to tell you that you don’t need to worry.”

Her expression was rapt but also quite emotionless.

“You can see what? What makes you think I…that Agent Fowley bothers me?”

I shook my head and waved my arms to indicate that she didn’t need to worry about THAT either.

“No no, it’s not obvious, Agent Scully. I know you work very hard to hide it. I only notice because, well this sounds creepy I’m sure, but I’ve always taken an interest in you, because you remind me of myself. It’s only because I’ve observed you so much with Agent Mulder that I can see how much she bothers you.”

She let out a breath of relief, then looked around the bathroom, as though it had just occurred to her to make sure no one else was in there.

“So, you and your partner, you got together?” She didn’t look at my face when she asked. She was embarrassed to even be curious.

“Yes, we did, about 8 years after we were assigned to work together.”

“And, um, what happened? At work?” Curiosity got the better of her after all.

“We were split up, and he was reassigned to VCU. I’ve been here in the bullpen ever since. We got married, had two beautiful daughters.” Because I know her expressions so well, I caught the almost-smile that she quickly suppressed.

“Is he still in VCU?” The wrinkle in her eyebrows told me she was trying to figure out who he was. All the guys down there these days are pretty young.

“He passed away a couple years ago, from a heart attack. But he worked up until the day he died.”

Her hand reflexively went to the cross at her neck, her mouth falling open in an “I’m so sorry” look that I’ve become very familiar with since Harry died. I kept talking to save her from offering condolences.

“It’s sad, yes, but we had 20 wonderful years together. Harry said we were ‘perfect opposites’ and that we each made half of a whole person. So you can see, then, why I can see my own story in you and Agent Mulder. Maybe you’re not ready, yet, to take that next step, and that’s okay. It took us 8 years. But I see how much you’re bothered by Agent Fowley and I just promised myself that if I ever had a chance, I’d tell you that you don’t need to worry. Agent Mulder is in love with you.”

She looked at me then, shocked, like I’d said something unspeakable. She opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it, looked at the floor and said “thank you” so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.

I left then, pretty sure I had done all I could. I told AD Skinner I wasn’t feeling well and took the rest of the day off, and stopped by the coffee shop around the corner to get two drips; one black and one with cream and sugar. After that I drove out to the little cemetery to visit Harry, and tell him what I did. As always, I poured his black coffee into the ground for him, and sipped mine while I updated him on our favorite star-crossed agents, the other set of ‘perfect opposites.’ I wish that he had lived to see the day they finally get their heads out of their asses, but if they’re anything like us, they’ll need plenty of time to accept the obvious. And if they’re anything like us, once they finally come to their senses, they’ll wish desperately that they hadn’t wasted one minute on this Earth not loving each other, because forever is never as long as you think it will be.

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pluto-art · 4 years ago

Text

Softly - PatB Fan Fiction

Type: Hurt/Comfort Rating: PG Summary: Baby Brain has known little but pain and misery in an unloving world, but when he gets paired up with a new lab student things change in a way he didn’t expect.

This started out as a mini story in a Discord server and got... a little out of hand. What you see here is how much I typed out in the server.

He hadn't been there long. Two... maybe three weeks? The cold metal had finally become familiar beneath his feet, and the strange blocks, though generally tasteless, kept him alive. There wasn't much that made his new living quarters interesting; there was only so much one could do in a pile of aspen shavings day after day. Occasionally, they would hook up to his cage some sort of liquid that wasn't his usual watery fair. He could never decipher or make heads or tails of the words on the sides of the bottles, saying things like D-D-T or S-N-I-P-P-L-E. The only distinguishing feature to him was that sometimes they tasted terrible, sometimes quite flavorful, and sometimes they tasted like nothing at all. Almost all of them turned his stomach. Driven to thirst, however, he'd play their cruel game. Choice was not something that existed in this crisp, sterile world; at least, not from a personal standpoint. When it did exist it meant the difference between a shock and a treat; a yellow light or a red light; a warm room or a cold one. Choice was manufactured.

He still cried almost every night. He tried to quiet the tears, but they didn't always listen. The others heard him. One or two laughed cynically. Most said nothing; they'd shed their own fair share and would again sooner than later. A single kind soul, a mother rat some doors down from him, occasionally whispered to him a lullaby or two when everyone else but them were asleep. They were songs she sang to her own children to quiet their tears, and she had no less compassion for this unfortunate soul, who was even worse off than her own brood -- he didn't even have any parents to nuzzle up to. Had she her way, she would have mutilated every last living human being in the facility. It was bad enough that they were tested on mercilessly as adults. To do so to children was simply insidious. Alas, she was simply a rat, and so could only dream of days when she wasn't.

Not that BR-41N (that's what they called him; no one had real names here) hadn't tried to be friendly with his captures. Aside from a particularly nasty poke from some long, thin, prickly object inserted into his thigh the first day (it had stung; oh, it had stung...) the proceeding couple of days had consisted of simple maze runs and treadmill exercises. Nothing too elaborate. As a child, he'd been used to running around a lot in the field, and sifting through the labyrinths reminded him of the long grass he'd play hide-and-seek in back home, except at the end of them was a tasty prize: a piece of cheese. He liked cheese. In the wild, it was hard to come by, but here they gave it to him generously, provided he finished the courses, which he always did. The fourth day followed in much the same way, but the fifth day brought something different: a sudden shock and a broken tail. That had changed his view of things. Perhaps the harsh awakening wouldn't have been so terrible had it not been followed by other unspeakable things -- poisoned food; friends made that, the next day, would never be seen again; more shocks given as punishment for choosing an incorrect panel; injections that made him see things he'd never seen, monsters and strange colors and other scary things that kept him awake at night; loud noises that came out of nowhere; and often, quite often, the terrifying echo of squeaks, barks, and meows that made up the daily music of Acme Laboratories. He hated it. He hated all of it. More than anything, he wanted to go home. He missed the warmth; the love; the soft whisper of the wind that traveled through his ivory fur. He wanted all of it back. But life? She was a harsh mistress. And no amount of crying, screaming, or pleading, seemed to ever make her turn an ear.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks... months, more than just a tail was broken. Trust was broken. Hope was broken. Spirit... was broken. If there was any love, if there was any future, it wasn't here. Kindness had proved unfruitful, and patience had run its course. He didn't find reason to be willing, nor show charity, towards those who made his life a living hell. What reason was there? What profit was in it? Time had told him, quite bluntly, there wasn't. It had taken him a full month to admit defeat, but admit it he did, and cynical he became, 'til every hand that reached in to grab him was ripe to be bitten, every shot that punctured his stomach was the unwelcome norm, and every newcomer that tried to strike up a friendship was easily ignored. The latter-most was simply wasting their time. He could read the colors on the cages now. He knew that a red mark meant "death". He only wondered why he, as of yet, had never been given one himself. It was as if life itself was laughing at him -- keeping him as witness to the horrors that went on inside the dragon's cave, yet never giving him the satisfaction of death.

And so the third month dawned, chilly and barren, or so the scientists said. Autumn had come. Not that any of the residents within the thick, cemented walls could see it. But the laboratory personnel spoke of it -- gold and crimson leaves, hot chocolate, dried wheat fields. He could almost smell the corn; could almost feel the breeze.... Days passed. For the first time, they gave him a cage mate. E8-WN, they called him. He was kind, but BR-41N had little love left to give. Besides, he had the red tag. It seemed they had only placed him here temporarily due to a lack of space. The next day he was taken to the back. The tiniest shred of pity nipped at BR-41N as he watched the little peach-furred mouse be carried into the surgical room, a curious look on his face. Another emotion was also present within him: jealousy. On the 17th day of September, a new thing happened -- a thing that, for the first time in a while, made the little mouse turn his head.

The school year had started, and, as such, fresh meat was welcomed into the laboratory in the form of fourteen college students looking to continue pursuits in medical science. They were all very quiet during the tour, one or two of them occasionally lifting a hand to ask a question about course materials or contact information. They were each, it seemed, to be given a subject: an animal from the laboratory to study, train, and conduct experiments on. Rats, mice, and hamsters had already been picked out for them, and each was given a black-coated subject or a brown-furred captive to take charge of. Each student's rodent was to be kept in the lab at all times, and specific instructions were given them as to the proper handling of the creatures. At least two experiments were to be conducted on them daily, three if possible. They could spend as much time with their charge as they wished, so long as they got their homework done. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents. Four months to finish their work. Simple.

As it stood, however, there had been a miscalculation. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents.... No. Not fourteen. Only thirteen. There'd been an error. They'd forgotten to set aside an extra subject. The unfortunate student without a charge was a college girl named Rachel. All other rodents were going through tests conducted by various personnel in the lab, set aside specifically for said conductions that couldn't currently be tampered with. All except one....

"So, um, Rachel," their teacher said, checking his student list. "You may have to share with... Peterson.... You know what? We might... actually have an extra for you. Hold on. Let me ask...."

And he departed into another room, calling for a "Jackson".

"Jackson! Can she use BR-41N? I don't think he's going through any rigorous testing.... Yeah? Okay. Yeah, that would work out perfectly. Thanks."

He turned back to his brood, many of whom looked quite eager to jump in to these intriguing studies, others looking downright bored.

"Okay. We have one for you. His code name is BR-41N. He's not going through any major testing, and he's generally given the usual works -- labyrinths, shock treatment, all that. But, um... he bites. Really bad. So... you'll have to watch it, all right?"

"Okay," Rachel nodded, looking a little nervous.

"All right. Umm.... Good. Yes. So, let's head back to the main campus, and... we'll start your work tomorrow."

And they left.

BR-41N had only heard part of all this, and had understood none of it. He shivered in his cage, taking a moment to drink some water out of the bottle that hung there. While the arrival of such a large group intrigued him, especially since it consisted of a much younger set than normal, it also made him nervous. Was it a sign of good things to come... or bad? Or just more of the usual fair? One could only wonder. For now, he was simply grateful that the cheese they'd given him today was, for once, not laced with drugs.

She came by on a Tuesday.

It was an hour after a cosmetics test that he heard a knock on the table. His skin still burned. He was cowering in a far corner, and looked back over his shoulder hesitantly.

Rachel stood there, smiling at him.

"Hello, little one." He stared at her, nonplussed. "I guess you're my charge. You gonna say hello?"

And she opened up the door of his cage.

He shuffled back further. He knew all too well by this point that the opening of a door meant one of two things: food or torture. Considering the fact that she didn't smell of food, he had to assume it was the latter.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Well, hopefully not...."

Although he didn't understand a word of what she said, her tone was calm; soothing. No one in the lab ever talked to him like this. He couldn't help but stare curiously.

She held her hand up to the entrance and made a soft, squeak-like sound with her mouth. He frowned at her. As if that was going to convince him. He turned away.

"No? I don't blame you," she replied, taking a look at his clipboard. "BR-41N. What kind of a freak name is that? Mind if I call you Brain? Or Brian?"

No response.

"We'll go with Brian. Brain sounds kinda weird."

Brian it was.

She kept the door open, and he braced himself. Any moment now, gloved hands would be protruding into his enclosure to wrap themselves firmly about him, not tight enough to choke him, but secure enough that he couldn't escape. But the hand didn't come. If anything, she pulled up a chair, sat down, and rested her arms upon the table on which his cage sat. She was... giving him a choice? He stared at her, unsure how to react.

"Come on, sweet heart," she cooed, rubbing her fingers together encouragingly.

But he wouldn't budge. If this was some new trick, it wasn't going to work. He wished she'd just grab him and get it over with. Sooner or later, she'd have to. It was only a matter of time. And so he waited....

She sat there for a full twenty minutes, trying her best to get him to come over, but he refused to budge, and so she gave up. As expected, she still ran him through a maze, but instead of reaching in to grab him, she found a clear tube and scooped him up in it, covering both ends before depositing him into the run as such. It was... odd, but less invasive than what he was used to. He rather wished the others would do it that way.

Via the same method she returned him to his cage at the end of the test. As usual, he took to the corner, assuming his usual cowardly pose, but he turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Sorry about that. Nice job, though. See you tomorrow."

And so went the next day... and the next, always with the same introduction: She'd open his door, pull up a chair, and offer her hand to him. After twenty minutes of nothing, she'd scoop him up in the tube, deposit him in the maze or whatever other test he was to perform that day, and return him in the same manner. This went on for four whole weeks, always with a kind word, never coupled with a harsh prod or poking of his skin. He came to somewhat look forward to her almost daily visits, not because he trusted her (the one time she had tried touching him [with gloves on, of course], he'd given her a fair warning in the form of a bite), but because it was the only two hours during the day in which he knew he wouldn't be fed poison, given a shot, or made to inhale cigarette smoke. The other students joked with her. By far, she had the unfriendliest mouse out of all of them, and they found her kind advances a waste of time.

"Just pick him up!" a tall boy said.

Most of them had no problem with handling their subjects by the tail; at least, the boys generally didn't. The girls were kinder, but even they didn't take the time to get to know their animals intimately. They also were given the harder tests to conduct on their critters and so tried not to get attached.

Whereas most of the rats, mice, and hamsters given to the students would eventually be killed in some way or other at the end of the semester, via through vivisection, gassing, cancer, or some other method, BR-41N, or... Brian, as Rachel now called him, was not scheduled to be offed anytime soon and so could not undergo such rigorous experiments. As such, she got both the easy job of conducting very simple tests on him, and also the hard job of trying to work with the most hostile mouse in the entire facility.

"He's never gonna warm up to you," one of the other students said.

Rachel took it as a challenge.

"Watch me," she said.

But Brian was proving to be a much tougher can than expected. By the sixth week, he still hadn't even bothered to venture near the cage entrance when she sat near it, even with tasty treats in hand. He simply didn't trust anyone. Not anymore....

October came and went, to be replaced with a frosty November. Whenever Brian saw Rachel now she had a cup of tea in hand, the better to ward off the coming winter chill. Still she tried; still he refused to relent. Until the 9th....

It was late. She hadn't been able to get to the lab until 8:00 PM due to unfortunate series of events that involved a fender bender, two appointments, and a last minute essay. When she got to the lab she was tired... and not at all in the mood to deal with Brian's B.S., and he knew it.

"'Sup?" she asked him wearily, setting down her things in a huff. Only a handful of other people were still in the facility at this hour, none of them students. Fine by her. She preferred the quiet anyway. "We're gonna do something a little different today, bud."

Indeed.... He perked his ears up at her exhausted tone and the fact that, for once, she didn't open the cage door. But she did still slide the chair up to his table.

On the opposite side of the room was a television on a rolling stand. Normally, this was used for surgeries and other experiments. Once in a blue moon, however, someone would use it for recreational purposes -- to watch the local news when there was time to kill. Most fortunately for Rachel, it also came with a VHS player. Into it she popped a tape, before sitting down in the chair and grabbing her hot cup of peppermint tea. Despite himself, Brian took a whiff of the tea, whose scent had wafted into his cage and tickled his nose. It smelled good.

The film began to play. Brian didn't know the name of it, but whatever it was it was made up of very pretty pictures and featured a lot of dogs... and snow (at least at the beginning). It was rather soothing. Still, he didn't move from his spot, save to grab a lab block at one point to munch on, more to pass the time than anything. His stomach was still a little unsettled from earlier. Privately, he was a bit ticked off at the girl. Had she been a bit earlier he might have avoided the shock treatments. Not that they would have withheld them regardless.

It wasn't until the second song that his attention was at last caught.

"La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...."

Sweetly did the animated woman sing her little song, and Brian, captivated, perked his ears. He looked up at the television. She was still singing. He stepped forward, bit by bit, until he was right up to the closed door, two little paws coming up to grasp at the bars of his cage as he stared, entranced, at the screen.

"La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper, La la lu, La la lu, La la luuuuu."

And so it ended, all within the span of a minute, if that, but something had stirred with him -- a remembrance of home, and warmth, and what it was like to be loved.

He was still clutching at the bars when he noticed that Rachel was smiling at him, and he promptly sped back to his corner, embarrassed.

"Atta boy," she whispered, still grinning softly at him.

He refused to look at her. He wasn't touched by it or anything. He wasn't....

"It's okay. Don't be embarrassed," said the girl. "I like that song, too."

Brian stayed in his corner the rest of the movie, but the song never left his mind.

---

The next day proceeded as normal. Once again, Rachel sat by his cage. Once again, she had brought a treat, albeit one he'd never seen before, nor smelled, for that matter. It was small... and white... and fluffy, and it smelled sugary and sweet. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it so very badly. But nothing that ever came from the fingers of a scientist, even a soft-spoken one, was innocent. And so he refused, his back turned to her.

"Stubborn butt," said Rachel, and by her tone alone Brian could tell that it was a snide comment. He ignored her.

"Here."

As had occurred many times before, she left the treat in his cage near the entrance, closed the door, and sat to watch him. His eyes shifted towards the treat. It sat there, staring at him, mocking him. Eat me, it said. No, he thought. Oh, but it smelled so good....

Rachel sighed. So did Brian. She rested her head in her arms, exasperated. Maybe it really wasn't worth it....

Brian licked his lips. Perhaps....

He took a step forward. Rachel remained where she was, head in her arms, not looking at him. He moved another step. She was still as a stone. Patter patter patter patter patter... GRAB. He swooped back to his corner as fast as possible, marshmallow in his mouth. Rachel looked up... and chuckled. Brian dug into the treat, enjoying every second of it as teeth sunk into the savory delight. He'd never tasted anything this good before. It was better than mother's milk; much better than lab pellets; better than cheese....

"Silly little thing," Rachel giggled, smiling as he filled his cheeks with pleasantness. "Wait 'til you see what I bring you tomorrow."

Tomorrow, he was to find out, brought a piece of a doughnut, and the day after that a waffle. He'd never been this darn spoiled before. On the fourth occasion, he was, for once, already at the door, waiting to see what she'd bring. Lady and the Tramp and sugar, it turned out, were the keys to his heart, although he still wouldn't let her touch him. If her hand so much as brushed his fur he was back to his corner in a rush, although, this time, he didn't try to bite her first.

Rachel laughed when she saw the two little paws clutching at the gated entrance.

"You like 'em that much, huh? Here ya' go."

He stepped back to allow her access to the gate, and watched carefully as she placed something savory and smelling of salt inside. He sniffed, investigating as she closed the door. He took a tentative bite. Mmmmm. Yes, this was acceptable. Grabbing it, he rushed back to his usual corner and chowed down.

"Good. A fellow bacon appreciator," Rachel nodded, satisfied.

He ate the entire piece, licking his lips and proceeding to clean himself afterwards. That had been a bit messy. Good, but messy. If there was something he still valued, it was cleanliness. He could at least retain some form of dignity. The state of his fur was one of the few things he still had control over. Unlike some of the other unfortunate chaps, he'd never had to endure surgery or a shaved stomach.

Two little pink ears perked up as his cage door was opened yet again. More treats? No. Just Rachel, hand offered to him once more. Brian sighed. She just wouldn't give up, would she?

A second glance made him aware that she did, in fact, have something in her hand -- another marshmallow. Hmph. Sneaky. And yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it....

"It's okay, little one," Rachel cooed, hand still outstretched, that plump marshmallow beckoning ever so tantalizingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Brian sighed. He looked down at the floor, then over at her hand.

Rachel's eyes widened a touch, but she otherwise didn't reveal her surprise as Brian moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, towards her hand....

He stopped at the entrance, debating. Dare he...? It was a risk. He'd never willing done this, not since he'd been captured. It was a stupid decision. Stupid. And yet....

Her hand shifted a touch, and Brian shifted nervously with it. Rachel waited with bated breath.

He stepped forward....

In a flash, he'd grabbed the 'mallow from her hand and retreated to the back of his cage, not daring to even think about what he'd just done. It was foolish. It was dangerous. And yet, she hadn't tried to grab him, or even pet him. She'd just... given him a choice. And he'd taken it. Somehow, for some reason, he'd taken it.

Rachel smiled.

"Atta boy."

---

Perhaps it was the mere fact, the tantalizing realization, that he had a choice in the first place, that drew him back, but over the course of the next few weeks, things changed.

It had started slow at first. A light brush of the whiskers here; a sniff of the hand there. But, eventually, Brian, of his own accord, stepped into her hand. And she didn't close her fingers about him harshly, or strangle him, or pick him up by the tail. She simply... let him be. It was kind. It was unobtrusive. It was respectful. And he appreciated it.

No longer did the other students make fun, or joke that she'd never gain his trust. If anything, they questioned her.

"How the heck did you do it?" they'd ask, curious.

Even more confused were the scientists themselves. Not that anyone had tried very hard to gain the little mouse's trust. He was, in their opinion, not worth the time.

But he was to Rachel.

December came, and with it a complete turn-around in Brian's behavior, albeit towards one particular individual.

He eagerly rushed into her hand now. No need for the transportation tube. She could carry him on her shoulder to the maze area and pick him up with her bare hands as she placed him in the labyrinth, although she still made sure to let him take the first step and would, more often than not, simply offer a hand instead of plucking him from her shoulder. He still appreciated this.

Every weekday was now a day to look forward to. Sure, he was still tormented by the main personnel, but for two or three hours, two or three sweet hours, he didn't have to worry about anything. On the days he suffered from a stomach-ache, she'd hold him close to her chest and do her best to rub the pain away, offering him tea to ease his suffering, and if he fell asleep on her shoulder and woke up, shaking, from a bad dream, she'd rock him back and forth, singing "La La Lu" to him until the nightmares went away. On those rare nights, when she could only work late and no one was around, she'd bottle feed him. He'd been hesitant (and a little embarrassed) at first, but any reminder of home was difficult to ignore, and so he ended up embracing each form of love and affection with open paws, clutching tightly to her chest some days, as if this hug would be his last. For all he knew, it could be. He'd gotten used to her visits, but what if she left and never came back? He didn't want that love to leave....

December 14th.

The end of the semester was approaching. Rachel had told him, time and again, that she was leaving soon; that she would miss him; that she'd try to come back for the next semester. Brian understood none of this. He was a mouse, after all. Human language was foreign to him. The most he could understand was the occasional word -- his name, Brian, and various names of foods and tests -- and basic inflections that he knew signified concern, happiness, or contentment. But he didn't understand "leave", or "semester", or "miss". He could tell something was wrong, that she was sad, but as to why, he did not know.

A week from the last day of the semester, she brought a surprise: a movie. It had something to do with a rat, and food. He liked it for those things. He wished he could understand the words. It seemed interesting. He sat on Rachel's shoulder the entire time, at least until the end of the film, during which Rachel offered her hand to him. He accepted. She brought him up to her chest, nuzzling him close.

"I'm going away for a while, but... I'll try to be back next semester."

She petted him gently. He stared up at her, curious and concerned. Why was she so sad?

"I'm going to miss you...," she whispered. And, for the first time, she kissed him on his fuzzy white head. "I love you...."

He didn't understand the words, but he understood what they meant; how they felt.

Slowly, gently, he nuzzled close to her... and licked her fingers. It was the first time he'd shown genuine affection outside of nuzzling since he'd been captured. I love you, too....

He didn't understand it, but... there was something in the air that told him something big was coming. Something new. Something was going to be different....

December 18th came just like any other day. The semester was coming to a close. Many students had already finished their courses and gone home for the holidays. The occasional class still lingered on, including the medical science class. Most all had completed training and experimentation on their subjects for the season and were simply spending the next few days filing reports and filling out last minute essays. Some of the rodents wouldn't live to see the new year. Others had already been subjected to vivisection by their handlers and were far from the lab by this point. Subject BR-41N was one of the few who'd been given the same sheet on their clipboard day after day, week after week: a run of the mill of the usual, simple, non-invasive tests, along with an injection or two. But today was different.

As Rachel stepped up to Brian's cage, sipping at a hot cup of tea and smiling as her charge ran up to the bars to greet her, she frowned as she pulled up the clip board. His tag was yellow. Not the usual blue, but... yellow. She set down her cup, ignoring Brian's squeaky pleas to be let out as she looked over the sheet carefully.

Subject Reserved for Project B.R.A.I.N. // Invasive Study -- Cognitive Psychology, Neuroscience Psychology // 4:00 PM - Dec. 20

There was a pause, in which the dip in Rachel's brow furrowed ever deeper, her eyes roaming about the page scrutinizingly, before she slipped the paper out of its holder and headed back out the way she'd came, Brian looking curiously after her.

She marched all the way to a back office, in which sat one of the laboratory heads: Jackson. He looked up over his square-rimmed glasses as she knocked upon the exposed inner door frame.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Hey. Um.... I think you gave my subject the wrong paper."

"BR-41N?"

"Yeah. He got a yellow."

She stretched out her arm, offering the paper as proof, but he didn't take it. Instead, he looked up at her, fingers meeting at their tips, and said:

"No, I gave you the right paper. That's for BR-41N. His procedure is in two days."

His tone was flat and laced with a thin layer of poison, as if her daring to question him was a challenge.

"But... I thought he was just doing mainly labyrinth tests."

"Ms. Field, I thought you were told...?"

"Told what...?"

"He's been scheduled for this procedure for months. We wanted him fresh and so have eschewed more invasive tests until now. Frankly, you've been spending a little too much time with that mouse. He's gotten too friendly. We're not in the business of developing attachment here."

He said all this with a straight face, completely emotionless. Rachel swallowed thickly.

"Sir, I've... been going over this test. It's... very dangerous."

"Yes."

"It could kill him...."

"Yes?"

Rachel simply stared at him, uncertain of what to say next. He wasn't working with her here....

"Look.... What did you expect? You're studying medical science, correct?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well," he continued, a small chuckle of sarcasm escaping his lips as he said it. "Y-You have to realize that... this is a laboratory. We can't keep every subject. And these tests come with a lot of risks."

"Could you possibly do the test on another subject...?" Rachel asked, choosing her words carefully. "Brian is still kind of young, and..."

"Brian?"

Shoot.

"Sorry, I mean... BR-41N."

"You can't start... naming them, Miss Field. That's when you start getting attached. Understand?"

"I know...," Rachel mumbled, cheeks reddening as she looked down at her shoes.

"And the whole point of using him at this age is because his mind is younger. He's fresh."

"But he's just a baby..."

"Yes? And? A lot of the other students are working with infants."

"This one is...," Rachel began, than stopped. Already she'd said too much.

"Miss Field, if you don't prepare him for the procedure, someone else will. Now, you can either do your assignment or lose your credits. It's your choice."

Rachel sighed. Still holding the paper, she let her arm fall dramatically to her side.

"Fine...."

And she turned to walk off. But...

"Miss Field?"

She looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Sir," Rachel replied, after a hefty pause, and headed back to her charge.

---

Brian didn't understand why Rachel was so quiet that day, nor why she cuddled him so much. She whispered to him something about "breaking out" and "night", but he didn't understand what those things meant, although he heard the urgency in her voice. As a result, he was a little more uptight the rest of the afternoon.

Before leaving, Rachel kissed the top of his head again, before setting him back down in the cage and hooking the door. Her good-byes were all but gibberish to him, although he recognized the word "tomorrow". So he'd be seeing her tomorrow. That was good. At least he had a time frame. He was naive to the rest....

---

December 19th 9:15 PM

BR-41N cleaned his whiskers, pondering.

She hadn't shown up today. Strange. "Tomorrow". She's said "tomorrow". Today was tomorrow. Why hadn't she come?

To his left, in a far corner of the room, someone sneezed in their cage. Brian frowned sadly. It was that hamster again. Whatever they'd given him had put him into a sneezing fit for an hour. Now and then he relapsed.

He yawned, stretched, and made for the food dispenser, when he suddenly heard a sharp click of a door being opened and abruptly snapped shut. He turned in the direction of the door. A light flicked on. Brian smiled.

Rachel's feet slid across the floor in haste. Instead of her usual student lab coat, she was decked out in her normal clothes, complete with backpack. Her hoodie was up, obscuring her hair, save for a few strands that stuck out here and there, as well as part of her face. She moved with purpose, albeit a little covertly, looking over her shoulder every now and then, as if expecting someone to grab her at any minute.

Set in a wall above the entrance to the room, a camera followed her. Rachel's eyes shifted at the sound as she moved towards Brian's cage. She knew she only had five, maybe ten, minutes at best.

Opening the cage door, she held her hand out for Brian to step onto. He hesitated. Something didn't smell right....

"Come on. We're busting you out of here, dude," Rachel whispered.

Brian cocked his head at her questioningly.

"Listen, they're going to put your through that splicer if we don't get you out of here, so come on."

There was an urgency in her voice that, despite his misgivings, compelled him to move forward. He trusted her too much by this point.

"Atta boy," she praised him, tucking him in her shirt pocket.

He peeked out, paws clutching at the edges of the pocket interestedly.

"Let's go," Rachel whispered, turning back to the door and stopping as she realized that someone was already standing there....

Framed in the metal doorway was a woman, thirty-five... maybe forty-something in age. Her arms were crossed, and the expression on her face seemed as taught and firm as the scrunchie tightening her poofy auburn hair. Her long lab coat was still settling; she must have only just gotten there. Rachel recognized this woman. Lana, her name was -- she was one of the head managers at the facility. Jackson had obviously tipped her off.

"Fancied a night stroll?" she asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Rachel remained frozen in place, a hand subconsciously cupping her shirt pocket. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You know you're risking a lot for this. That's all your credits down the drain."

"He's worth it," Rachel answered, resolute.

"He's not. You take him and they'll just get another subject."

"At least I'll have saved this one."

"We'd still rather you not take an asset that's been reserved for months for this procedure," Lana nipped, taking a step forward.

Rachel took a step back. Her eyes shifted to a door to her left. It led to several other testing rooms and then back out into the main hallway. Some of the doors had security locks. It was the long way around, but if she was fast enough....

"Rachel...," Lana spoke, tone threatening as she advanced. "Put him down."

With each step Lana took towards her, Rachel moved two back. She could feel herself starting to perspire. Gosh, this was a stupid idea....

"Rachel...."

With a hand cupped over her shirt pocket, Rachel darted in the direction of the door, opening it up in a flash and slamming it shut behind her. Already she was racing for the opposite end of the room, where another door stood.

Brian jumped as an alarm went off, followed by red lights that flashed all throughout the facility. Rachel was already in the next room, her heart racing. She could hear the panicked footsteps behind her, mimicking her own, and hoped upon hope that she was faster than her pursuer.

Rachel picked up her pace as she entered the next room. This one, she knew, required an employee badge to open. All of the students had been given security badges, of course, primarily for general access to the entrance and main rooms. They worked on some doors in the facility. Some, but not all. She'd never been in these rooms. Privately, she prayed that they'd open for her.

Slamming her badge up against a wall panel, she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet nervously.

"Come on. Come oooon! Take it!!"

It did. The door unlocked, and she swung it open in haste to make for the next locked door, which also granted her entrance.

She was faster than Lana, but it didn't mean the woman wasn't hot on her heels. Brian shut his eyes tightly, huddling against Rachel's chest on the inside of her pocket as she darted about, her hand still cupping him securely. He knew, somehow, that this was about him. His ears rotated this way and that at the duo of clicking feet racing down the linoleum flooring. Who would win? Who was he most valuable to?

It wasn't until the fourth room that Rachel started to panic. Yet again, she'd reached a door asking for proof of access, except this time... her badge was not accepted. She shook the door handle feebly, knowing it wouldn't open; knowing this was the end of the line. Despite himself, Brian peeked out of the shirt pocket, just in time to see Lana as Rachel swiftly turned around to face the woman, who stood at the opposite end of the room, hair askew and chest heaving as she glared at Rachel and her tiny charge.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Lana huffed.

"Why do you need him?! Just let me take him and get another subject!" Rachel bit.

"We let you get away with it and you'll set a precedent! You know that!" Lana snapped right back. "And we don't want to waste any more time. We've spent too much money on this project."

"He's just a baby!"

"All of them are meant to be expendable! Hand him over!"

"No!"

Brian's ears flicked. Rachel held her breath. Was it just them, or did they hear... more footsteps?

"You won't have a choice," Lana said flatly, expressionless as she was joined by not one, not two, but five other lab hands, one of the them Jackson, all of them full-time personnel.

"Rachel.... Hand him over," Jackson said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Rachel glared daggers at him, even though she was fully aware of the impossibility of the situation. Like the mouse she was trying so hard to protect, she was trapped, her back against the wall, literally. They were going to take him. They were going to take him and there was nothing she could do about it....

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Jackson continued.

"Please...," Rachel pleaded, breathing heavily. "Please, let me take care of him. I'll train another in his place as compensation, I swear. Just... don't hurt him."

"And then you'll grow attached to that one and try and kidnap it. We've seen it before. You're not the first," Jackson reprimanded.

"Good," said Rachel. "I'm glad I'm not."

Privately, she wondered why she'd ever signed up for this in the first place. She wanted the degree. She wanted it badly. She also loved animals, and knew that following her passion came with sacrifices. What she hadn't counted on was how difficult it would be to accept that. It wasn't feasible, she realized. In fact, it was darn near impossible.

She looked down at the infant trembling in her pocket -- at this little creature that had captured her heart and locked it away, far away from any hopes and dreams of graduating in the medical field of her choosing. "He's not worth it," Lana had said. Was he not? Brian looked up at her, those glossy little eyes staring at her expectantly, trustingly. She smiled sadly at him and, for the last time, cuddled him close, before looking up at the troop across from her.

"If you want him, come and get him," she challenged. They weren't getting him without a fight.

And they rushed at her.

She tried to escape. Oh, she tried... and failed. They grabbed her by the arms as she wrestled against them, cheering Brian on as he somehow managed to escape from her pocket and slip underneath one of the shelving units in the room. But Lana caught him, Brian squeaking as his tail snagged between the beaker and the small metal panel she'd captured him with. He stared at Rachel, his desperate, panicked expression the last thing she saw before being knocked out.

-------

- Two Years Later -

The plan had failed. Rather spectacularly, he might add....

It was the first time in Brain's memory he could ever recall being caught red-handed by any of the personnel at Acme Labs. It was a miracle he and Pinky had managed to escape, but, despite his best attempts, they'd been separated in the process.

He made for a facility some yards away from the main laboratory, sweating as he squeezed under its front door and immediately hid under a cabinet to his right. Lights flashed now and again beyond the windows, desperate voices accompanying them as the scientists searched here and their for the escapees. Brain silently prayed that Pinky had somehow found a suitable hiding spot.

In his position under the cabinet, he backed up against the wall and slid down it, a paw clutching at his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he gulped, sniffed, and buried his face in his knees. Stupid. Stupid.... He'd jeopardized their whole mission. What if they'd captured Pinky? What would they do to him? And even if they did escape, where would they go? He'd ruined everything. Everything....

In his haste to remain undetected, he'd neglected to realize that this room... was not entirely devoid of life. It was a small area -- a security office, to be exact. Numerous monitors took up space on a desk, at which someone sat. They slid out of their chair and stepped over to Brain's hiding place. He noticed... and shivered.

Whatever, whomever, it was got down on their knees to peer at him from just outside the dresser.

"Hello...," they said.

It was a woman. Her voice was soft, and kind, but Brain turned his head away from her prying eyes. Typical. In an effort to not get caught he'd inevitably been ratted out. He immediately considered making a run for it, but, for some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't.

"Hey.... Shh. Shh. It's okay, little one. It's okay," cooed the woman. "You wanna come on out...?"

And she held out a hand to him. She didn't try to grab him, or scare him out. She simply... gave him a choice.

But it had been too long. He didn't recognize her, neither she him... until she noticed the tail. Then she knew.

"Brian...?" she breathed, eyes growing wide.

He stared at her, nonplussed, still shivering.

"Brian, it's me. Rachel," she beckoned, her hand still in place. But he didn't move. If anything, he frowned at her. "Brian"?

And she tried everything -- talking to him soothingly; offering him a treat from her pocket. Nothing worked. Brain simply hid his face once more, willing her to go away; to leave him be; to, hopefully, not report him to the authorities if they came to call.

Rachel sighed. She sat up for a moment, thinking, and blinked. Struck with a sudden idea, she rested her hands on her lap... and began to sing....

“La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...“

Brain blinked... and lifted his head, ever so slowly....

“La la lu, La la lu, Little soft fluffy sleeper, Here comes a pink cloud for you...“

He stood up... and walked forward, right to the edge of the cabinet. She was still singing.

“La la lu, La la lu, Little wandering angel, Fold up your wings, Close your eyes...”

His mouth was fully open now, his round eyes glossy and getting ever shinier. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her face.

“La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper...

La la lu, La la lu, La la lu....”

Rachel stared at him, smiling. He had completely stepped out from under the cabinet by now, his little body trembling slightly.

"Hello, little star sweeper," Rachel whispered to him.

Breath hitching, Brain ran onto her lap, up her shirt, and clutched tightly to her chest, only a second or two going by before he felt those familiar hands hold him gently, securely.

"Oh, Brian...," she choked, kissing his head. He didn't even flinch.

"Why didn't you come back?" he asked, unable to hold back his tears.

"I couldn't," she answered honestly. "But I was able to keep an eye on you from here."

He sniffed and pulled back a little to look around the room. It was, indeed, a security office, and a fairly high end one at that, decked out with all the works.

"I'm an artist now, but in my part time I take the night shift. They at least let me come back for that, probably 'cause Jackson and Lana are gone now," she chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you this time...."

Brain looked up at her, suddenly understanding. All that time they'd never been caught; never been reported. All those months and years that the camera had simply turned a blind eye to their antics. He thought it was simply negligence. Now he knew why.

"Thank you...," Brain whispered. "And it's... Brain now."

"I know," she smiled. “I still watch tv, ya' know. I just still remember you as my 'Brian'. I'm sorry, Brain."

He couldn't help but smile. All this time....

"Come with me?" Rachel asked him.

"Where?"

"Back to my place. I'll hide you. You can have the guest room, if you'd like."

A sharp knock at the door startled them both, and she quickly ran to her desk, Brain in her hands. She lifted him up and under the desk.

"There's a hidden panel in the roof! Get in it!" she whispered to him urgently.

He found it, albeit with a little difficulty. He pushed at a little area that looked as if it had been cut into... and down shifted a small cubby in which she kept an assortment of odd bits and bobs that were probably not supposed to be in her possession -- special looking keys and badges, among other things. He slipped into it, and Rachel pushed it closed before walking over to answer the door....

Another barrage of bangs thundered at the entrance as Rachel opened it, a hand on her hip as she held the door ajar, doing her best to look as ticked off as possible.

"Sheesh! Gimme a minute to finish pouring my tea! Gosh...."

Outside stood two gentlemen, both in lab coats, looking frantic.

"Have you seen a mouse?" one of them said. He was taller and appeared to be the leader. "White. Large cranium. He was with a companion."

Rachel shrugged.

"Is that what you guys have been looking for?"

"You haven't seen them on your cameras?" the second man asked, panting a little.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen anything."

The men exchanged glances.

"We'd better search the place, just to make sure," the leader said, and without further ado they barged in and began searching every nook, cranny, drawer, and trash can they could. They failed to find the hidden cubby, however. "Can we ask you to roll back the footage?"

"Sure, but you're not gonna find anything," Rachel shrugged again.

They did as permitted, scrutinizing every bit of film captured within the last ten minutes. Although they managed to catch one or two glimpses of the mice leaving the lab, as expected, they couldn't find hair no hide of them on any other roll. Behind their backs, Rachel smirked. Smart little guy. Even on the run, he'd purposely made sure not to walk in the path of the cameras.

After several more minutes of scrutiny, they finally gave up, heading for the door in a huff.

"Sorry for your time. Report to us if you find anything," said the leader.

"No problem," Rachel said, shutting the door with a snap behind them and sighing deeply. Yeah, right..., she thought.

Going back to her desk, she pushed open the hidden cubby. It lowered down and Brain immediately jumped into her hand, breathing rather heavily.

"Sorry, little one," Rachel apologized. I can imagine it's pretty stuffy in there...."

He gave her a look, albeit not a very harsh one. He had no reason to complain.

She raised her hand, allowing him to jump up onto her shoulder.

"They'll be back later to go over more footage," Rachel warned, sitting down at her desk and leaning back in her chair.

"I know," Brain said, licking at his paws and smoothing out his frazzled fur.

Rachel jumped a little and stared at him.

"Heh. I forgot you guys talk now...."

"Is that a problem...?" Brain asked, a little nervously.

Rachel smiled.

"Not at all."

She reached out a hand to scratch at a spot behind his ears.

"What are you...? Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho...," Brain melted, reeling a little at first before giving way to a goofy smile and a thumping foot as he pressed into the touch.

"Still got that little sensitive spot, huh?" Rachel chuckled, her scratches evolving into a head massage.

Brain practically fell off her shoulder, Rachel catching him in her hands and raising him up to eye level, the better to get a good look at him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. How demoralizing.... But Rachel simply beamed at him.

"You know... I really missed you."

"I... wish I could say the same...," Brain confessed, shuffling a foot. He imagined he had thought of her often, as an infant, but over time the memories simply... faded.

Rachel didn't look upset, though.

"I understand. It's okay. I still love you."

"I...," Brain began, then stopped. No. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Even with Pinky he couldn't ever admit such a thing, and he loved Pinky most of all.

"You don't have to say it. I know you do in your heart," Rachel said, and she kissed him tenderly on the top of his head.

His ears flattened as she did it, and he almost immediately smoothed out the area where she'd kissed him, but he couldn't hide the blush tickling his cheeks and ears. Her behavior was cheesy as all get out, but privately he knew she was right. He did care, even if he'd never admit it.

Just then, something, or... someone, slipped underneath the door. A white-furred, lanky somebody.

"Pinky!!" Brain yelped.

Brain leapt off of Rachel in a flash, landing hard on the floor and limping a little as he ran into Pinky's outstretched arms.

"Brain!!" Pinky shouted right back. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!!"

He twirled him around in a circle or two before Brain became aware of what he was doing and promptly pushed himself out of Pinky's grasp, clearing his throat, once again embarrassed.

"Y-Yes, well.... I'm... glad you're safe, Pinky," Brain replied awkwardly, patting his companion on the head.

"Ohhh! Who's this, Brain?" Pinky asked, pointing up at Rachel, who still sat in her computer chair, smiling down at them both.

"Umm.... Pinky, this is Rachel. She's... an old friend."

"Nice to meet you, Pinky! I've heard a lot about you. Well, maybe not heard, but... I've seen you guys on the tv a lot!" Rachel said, beaming.

"You have?!" Pinky gasped, clasping two paws to his face in surprise. "Did you hear that, Brain? We're famous!!"

"Pinky, we've been famous many times, all of them never lasting as long as I'd like...," Brain recollected.

"Well, yes, Brain, but never to a friend!"

Rachel smiled and leaned forward a little.

"I have a proposition for you guys."

"For both of us? Is that legal, Brain?" Pinky whispered to his cage mate, looking concerned, to which Brain facepalmed.

"Proposition, Pinky, not proposal."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Well, that's different then, isn't it?" Pinky said, nodding eagerly to Rachel.

"How would you guys like to come room at my place? Just for as long as you need until you can get off your feet."

Once again, Pinky gasped excitedly.

"Can we, Brain?!"

"Well...," Brain pondered, hesitating. The offer, though generous, made him feel rather... helpless and awkward, as if he was intruding.

"You're welcome to any of the food and stuff. I've got havarti," she smirked.

Pinky gasped again.

"Oh, please, please, please, please, pleeeeaaaaase, Brain?!?" Pinky pleaded again.

"You're... sure you wouldn't mind?" Brain asked. "I'd hate to intrude...."

"My house is yours," Rachel said genuinely. "And it comes with a pool table," she added, winking at Pinky.

Pinky was doing his utmost to contain a squeal, biting his lip and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Brain rolled his eyes.

"Oh, all right...," he relented.

"YAAAAAY!!" exclaimed Pinky, jumping into Rachel's outstretched hand, followed by Brain, as she lifted them up onto her shoulder.

"You'll have to hide in my backpack on the way to the car," she said. "The next guy is about to swap out with me."

And she pulled her backpack up from off the floor and plopped it onto the desk, opening it up. Pinky sprung off her shoulder as if it was a diving board, plunging into the depths of the backpack, which, by all accounts, wasn't very deep. Pinky didn't seem to mind, though. He had fun "swimming" around amongst the snacks, car keys, pencils, wallet, and little sketchpad all the same. Brain simply shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. What an idiot.

Rachel was as good as her word. They were given the guest bedroom, along with access to the rest of the house, food included. Provided they didn't draw too much attention to themselves, they were allowed to tinker and plan all they liked within the safety of the back room, and lie low they did, for Acme Labs was on the hunt for a good number of weeks before they gave up on finding them entirely.

Pinky was quite fond of the seemingly unlimited amount of cheese available in the fridge, along with the plethora of movies Rachel had at her disposal. He was often to be found in front of the television, and if he wasn't there he was by Brain's side almost constantly. Brain was most grateful for the space in which to concoct experiments and conjure up plans for world domination, although he had to improvise more often than not, seeing as he didn't have all of the lab's equipment at his beck and call anymore. It was something he sorely missed, but he couldn't say he minded the warm bed and good food that came with their new living quarters either. It was... nice.

Once in a blue moon (which ended up being once a month), Pinky would request Lady and the Tramp for movie night, not just because he liked it, but because of Brain's unusual reaction to it. He liked to watch him subconsciously lean up against Rachel as they sat next to her, eventually breaking down into a fit of silent tears as "La La Lu" danced around the room. Sometimes Rachel would pick him up, holding him close and massaging his head as he calmed against her chest. Oftentimes, Pinky would join them, cuddling up next to Brain as they nuzzled together in Rachel's warm hands.

"I love you, Brain," Pinky would mumble sweetly, giving him an extra squeeze.

"I love you, little one," whispered Rachel, petting him softly.

I love you, too, said Brain in his own little way, holding them both just a tiny bit tighter, a smile creeping its way up onto his face. It was nice, being loved....

~ I love you, too. ~

The End

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

The ending of this is meant to be sort of an alternate to Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain. What if they'd ended up there after running away from Acme instead of at Elmyra's?

I didn’t realize until after writing this that it makes no sense for Rachel to be cool with Brain talking one minute, only to be surprised by it the next. It’s a glaring error on my part, but I left it in as a reminder to myself that I need to be more careful. Lol.

Technically, this whole thing is a self-insert, although the name of the girl is not my real name. It’s actually the cognomen of my very first rat. Ha-ha. But the personality of the character is me -- how I talk; act around animals; and most likely what I’d do if put into this situation. The exception is the chase scene. I don’t think I’d act that... panicked? Who knows, though....

This is kind of a way I show compassion for Brain, seeing as I cannot, of course, give him an actual hug. I love Brain more than any other fictional character I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching on screen. It’s not a romantic love or anything. Certainly not. It’s more... maternal. The desire to love and protect is strong. That combination of: individual with a tragic backstory + laboratory setting + main character who happens to be a mouse = the perfect concoction to turn my heart to mush. I owned rats for many years and have a great love for animals, and tend to get attached to certain fictional characters, so here you have the result. He’d be as averse as ever to physical affection, but if I could hold Brain in my hands, plant a kiss on his head, and tell him he’s loved. I would. Thank God for Pinky.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

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