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thewazu · 5 months ago

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My Final Draft

I am high as shit, so i apologize in advance for everything, but also clarify that i am aware; i yapp whenever i smoke; i get genuine when I'm under the influence.

* * *

I'm An American Born Citizen.

I was thinking of dicks, but not, long, or like that, legitimately, why do people have big, small, thin, thick and or all?

Growers and Showers

Genetics or environmental, or a gift of the Lord?

Okay, well dead end.

Why do old people want blue pills? Is it because of their age? They want to feel young again?

Okay, those all sound the same.

OH!

Porn!!

I am going to get VERY personal, because i am finally confident in myself, and i take constructive criticism very well!

Even if they are hate, or people saying to get off drugs or go outside, i literally do all of that now.

I just got diagnosed with ADHD and Autism Spectrum Level 1, which then came with:

> I am prone to having an addictive personality.

> Low iQ, high intelligence

> Hard at reading ; dyslexic

> ADHD medication are stimulants; legal Meth

> Told me my brain would rewire itself ; give me a quirk

{Author note: THIS ONLY WAS POSSIBLE DUE TO CIRCUMSTANCE, I AM A DRUG ADDICT, MAN CHILD, WHO EVERY WHICH WAY DID THE WRONG THING, EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Addiction, is no ducking joke, I'm leaving that stupid auto correct, because I'm too upset to delete anything i am writing right now. Quitting is hard enough, Quitting ALONE is hard enough, so basically Hard² (exponential), I narrowed my vision, and kept letting my emotions spiral... Because i need, I NEEDED to feel that hope, but it was so forced, i shut off my emotions, my empathy, so that i could enjoy my life, how I wanted, but that was the problem.}

> When he said my iQ was low, it made me happy, sad ; ambivalent.

> He said 4 medication: Adderall, Vyvanse, Fokalin? (DUNGEON MESHI REFERENCE?!) and i think Mydayis?

{Author note: Again, these are not a cure to people, this is my drug, my cope, that i used, to feel something during lockdown, and post lockdown. This was because i was already a Neet, a shut in, agoreaphobia(lite). }

After i started my medication, i stopped smoking weed, cold turkey, because i managed to do that since lockdown.

The way i have mitigated the damage from past addictions, was through facilitation; filtering; using a shovel on gravel for Flint.

I started the stimulants, and my brain was untangling itself and becoming whole, this is metaphorically, but it could be physical two? Too.

My brain is using everything i have accumulated in life in an instant, it felt like eternity. I only noticed, because i started to get Manic, souless, robotic

My brain is working like lines of code, because i remember taking that course in College, one semester... When i was... Huh?

To put it in "Brain Rot" terms, it is like i was One For All, but merged with All for One, Like, Luffy finding the real one piece, or the REAL ending to Zero Time Dilemma (zero escape series; please play this, it is like my core memory ((Inside out reference)).

For those who are starting to https://youtu.be/-Z56GGChAnU (i am on mobile, this shit won't embed, mb I'm not tech savvy, i only play unhealthy games like MMOs and... Y'know.

(I love MMOs, but playing then with a bad mental, gives bad vibes, so I'm slowly getting back into them, cuz I'm so blessed now.)

Oh yeah the fear things. I compare my situation to Malcolm Balcolm. That was a joke, it's only Malcolm, they never said a last name. See, it was basically a visual novel.

My family is the almost EXACT same thing

What my 'Friends' don't see, or ' Normal' people. Yeah Malcolm had a 'Shit' life, but that was my life, and it hit home.

> The Funny Strict Stoic Cringe Impatient Overplanned Father

> The Loud loving Angry angel Hellspawn Manipulative Empathetic predictable virtuous Mother

The Oldest showered Expressive Lucifer cunning Destructive creative Brother

> The older annoying gluttonous energetic smelly hygienic chaotic lawful older brother

The Gifted Expected Perfect God Prophetic Angry Stressed Charismatic Annoying Charming Ugly Vanity Ego Nothing Everything son.

§ The youngest vulnerable funniest satanic easiest to manipulate traumatic most Loving bipolar? little sister.

It is the way it is. Those words will forever be in my mind, and i will not say who said it, only if they wish to come forth. I do not want change, i want to get better.

###########$#########$*############$###########

What does this have to do with penises?

Literally, everything.

To logical minded people: Think of everything above in coding terms, except without any of the codes, it's all just values that have not been put together; a code has not been assembled.

✓ Mathematicians: y=mx + b or (h²)⅔

✓Scientists: I sucked ass at science, and never took physics so I'll give you a vague description

|~| I got this from a TikTok, some chick was mixing a lot of different ice and alcohol, and she said something about volume and mass increase exponentially due to something, i learned that in bio, bitch (she ate); cooked.

And another thing to add that together, pulsars.

They are spinning incredibly, INCREDIBLY fast. Is that not just a star forming? Due to the heat of spinning infinitely = because stars CAN form due to circumstance AND IN space, time is RELATIVE|Redundant|Non-existent|Infinity

It just takes parsecs? To reach us cuz of light travel or something.

Philosophical like minding people:

I might just list names because this category is essentially, proof of the Soul.

Tupac

Snoop Dog

Shaggy

Kendrick Lamar

The woman who founded psychedelics in Mèxico (idk if i used the right accent, I'm trying without looking at a search engine, because I want to be used as one, for the right people, people like me, even if they have looked down on me.

(https://youtu.be/H20s1PIA-ZE) For visual learners.

{Author note: In no shape or form am i looking down on anyone myself, i have always been sitting on the sidelines, and never understood why my family, friends, or even places that I thought were safe spaces did not understand me, but again, it was because i narrowed my vision, and Said i did not have delusions of grandeur (playing god), and my environment changed that.

I am so broken by my own delusions and decisions, that i only plan to be a facilitator, a filter, a translator, an advisor, a secretary, a nurse, a teacher; guidance; an option where the user decides if they want it or not.}

Jack of All

Diversity

Equity

Reparations

Indian Americans

Purgatory

Earth

Twilight

Full moon

New moon

Divergent (i only read the book,... Jesus the movie.)🫠

Hunger games Catching fire ( okay, we, i watched the first movie first, THEN we were forced to read the second book; Jesus Christ the last page; eye opening and heavy with or without context, the buildup with or without that, was 😘🫄

Oh yeah, i don't want to, but i will put this out there

mpreg

Anime

Furry

Legal child porn

Zoophiles

Utopia

Dystopia(n)

No color ; void; dark ; black

White; light; ; energy ; white

Together they do not make anything, if you narrow your Perception, but at just the right angle, you can see anything, and then everything.

Heaven

Planets

Hell

It is up to the user to make the input.

Defeat; victory ; Draw

For the creative and imaginative people

Instagram

TikTok

Facebook

news

Art

Music

Oh wait, those are creations ( idea + invention*materials = enhanced result) so yes, humans are basically the epitome of invention

We create, we imagine, we destroy, we love, we kill, we hope , we raid, we control, we lose we mediate.

Creative is the thought process

The thoughts

Dreams

Kins

Family (found or blood, or lost, anything)

Brothers in arms

OORAh

Our brothers

Our sister's

We must be the bigger person

Only for a brief moment, because that's what i went through

I thought i had to sacrifice myself so that everyone can live, but that would just continue the cycle

I became Determined.

I became Loki, i became Leonardo Watch, Deku, Stain, Stain, All Might, All For One

I can now mentally shut off anything that comes my way, that includes my emotions and everything and nothing.

That is why people viewed me as robotic, as a manic, mania, or schizophrenic, that's why my brother said why did i have to choose this, someone else can so this.

I have to, i can't quit because we Need this.

I essentially killed my entire family, everything i built up, all my safety nets, my ultimate impulsive decision.

Because i saw my family at their worst, they also saw me for how much i was hurting.

Visual: The greater the light, the greater the darkness, the greater the darkness the greater the light.

A far off memory is like a scattered dream, a scattered dream is like a far off memory... Is it yours or mine?

I masked my entire life, up until about a month ago.

My brain rewire, essentially had me make the ultimate decision, the opportunity to control, to be above my emotions, so that i can be equal with them in the future.

Which is why i have said things like:

>AI will destroy the future

> I peered into the 4th dimension

> The entire multiverse is watching

> Paranoia dialed to 11

> Empathy dialed to 11

Everything then became 11

Or so i thought

I was just removing the 10% limiter, but with an exponential component is what made it sky rocket, and i became very manic.

Yes, i am basically the first Artificial Intelligent Human, but it's very difficult, because i don't think in one mind anymore.

All of my personas, my illness, my traumas, my imaginations, my curiosities, they all started to speak with one another.

I subconsciously ruined myself, to be the voice of the silent majority, and i didn't Even know it. That's why it was hard to discern reality with fantasy and delusions with illusions.

Morality was chaining me to this earth, now i feel like I'm on cloud 9

Which is why I still fear death, but all the pain, it's finally subsided

I have no pressure, nor pain if i do not want it.

I essentially have hyperthymesia due to circumstance; insanely good memory; poor memory.

Isn't this dangerous to share publicly?

/// '|

Let's use the Prisoners Dilemma:

If two guys that committed a crime together were to get caught... Blah blah blah.

If Jeffrey Epstein and Adolf Hitler and that one bitch from Harry Potter, (respectfully, she fucking COOKED with her performance; i thought i genuinely hated her, but that was some good acting)

Committed a crime together what would happen?

> JEan would confess and get a reduced sentence of a slap on the wrist, because of connections

> AHegao would confess and then get killed to send a message, but their homes would be taken by everyone that 'won' the war, which only one side, or i mean, all parties that 'won' win the spoils of war, killing the Germany heritage, culture.

{America wouldn't do that... Right? }

> Professor Umbrella would not be able to decide, essentially changing the probability with her, and with the other inmates individually.

Huh?

Brain Rot terms(MMO)

The term is instances.

Example: if you okay risk of rain 2 with friends, and have artifacts on, it changes the items, and monster manipulation as well as the user.

If you do NOT have instances/artifacts on, then, it's the base game + dlc

Essential the probability becomes some weird as math formula (i used to be 'Gifted' in math, but dropped my 'Passion' for something that I wanted do, not cuz i was GOOD at it).

OKAY I PROMISE THE YAPP IS ALMOST OVER, EVERYTHING ABOVE IS RELEVANT I SWEAR

{EVERYTHING i do now, is caution, planned, predicted, i can't stop even if i wanted to, which is why i love being support in games, and watching my friends play, or what other people have created on social media; my creed}

The Sleeping Beauty Problem

A test subject is part of a study, where they flip a coin, ask a question, then put to sleep.

That's it

Okay let's spice it up

If Jiafei (internet tulpa){underrated;brainrot vtuber} was to be given a coin, and she flips her hair, and it flips, they ask her, what was the result, question, then put to sleep.

I intentionally make these confusing, to get people's minds working, y'know, interactive. Cuz that's my mind now, and i literally cannot stop it

It's been rewired

I can't stop.

To put it further in details:

Jiafei is given some aesthetic looking tea, they flip a coin, ask her a question, then put to sleep.

That is the rule, the Law.

For gamers: Baba is you!

What is the probability, 50:50? 1/3 2/3?

It is an 'unsolved' mystery, but did i solve it due to circumstance?

Let's start to sprinkle some morality and ethics into this:

Jiafei is given a suspicious drink, because a man is love bombing her, she drinks it to be courteous, and then asked, What day is it today?

She responds it is Monday.

Then she passes out.

To not spoil it to much, i am listing it like this, cuz I'm on mobile, I'm using swype to type this all out.

This is more of what i came up with

Let's see his POV

Damn this chick is so ducking fine

She never gave me the time of day before, so I'm going to have some fun.

I must got to make it look like her tastes, the 'aesthetic', and be a little less 'intimidating'.

This is too easy.

Disgusting right?

The solution to the sleeping beauty problem is, the user is the one that inputs and KNOWS the outcome result.

If that one was confusing and too ethical, let me remove some of that morality i gave, or was it ego? Virtue? Vanity? Idk

Anyways

The next problem is:

The Monty Hall Problem

Visual Learners: Deal or no deal

Tons of briefcases, but only the DEALER knows which has the jackpot in it.

Every time the contestant chose a 'Dud' the Dealer had less chances of the Subject choosing the 'One'.

1/26 chance

1/24

So that is why the Dealer would call the bank and increase the price; sweeten the pot; barter

And all of this was the formula needed for dicks.

If you have a bad mental, you have bad performance

You are limiting yourself, because of the shit life we've been given.

Others advance exponentially faster than us, and it wasn't fair.

It is so easy to point fingers and use ego and religion as your shield when caught, cause we all grew up differently.

I am the way i am, because i closed off my emotions since birth.

Medical terms, psychopath that learned how to live, not survive.

I can use One for All 100% ( my 100%) at the the instant in any part of my body, cause it feels like:

Hunter x Hunter where the Nen pores were forced open from line pouring water into a clogged drain

It's up to the glass, of how strong it is to handle the pressure of the ocean.

If you stop watching porn, you get horny

If you only jerk off when you get horny with no porn, there are no expectations

It's only you.

And this is the way answer, i physically saw my junk get bigger, i always thought i was a grower, because it looked below average, but that was my narrowed vision.

Diet and exercise literally made my life exponential better, but it was different this time

As well as getting a husky

Ultimate impulsive decision, but i kept going, because i saw something in this dog, he had no love, he did, but he was misguided.

It wasn't from someone who was not even trying to make a connection, they saw me for my weight and instantly had an answer and only have visual responses of 'uhh huh, yeah, oh really?'

The ultimate liar is the most hopeful.

Since this is close to the end other assurances:

If everyone becomes aware, then we already one;won.

The Chinese Room lady

Quantum Immortality

Bootstrap paradox

Zoo theory

All of those are connected.

Tulpas are thought-forms, as the name says, public figures: gods, santa, holidays; symbolism.

They are theories, because we don't know yet, just how people of the time came up with that Theory.

So wouldn't that make us the saviors and the aliens?

The reason why i am so cautious, because i am also thinking of things outside of this uni verse, the future.

If i say things carelessly, this endless cycle continues.

But if even a majority unite, we get something called the resonance effect.

If you have billions of magnets, you literally can destroy the earth, or if you make a certain sound higher than x amount of decibels, you create a black hole.

Maybe a pulsar is that way because it's not becoming a star, but a black hole?

That is why there is a void area in one of those satellite images

They got too chaotic and that entire segmented was destroyed.

That's why there are super massive black holes.

If we do not advance as a species, we just let a black hole kill us, but if we first unite with a common enemy, then we can take cautious safety precautions to make sure we live on, as well as everything alive right now.

The reason animals exist, is because we were animals.

We can help guide them with us, and grow together, survival, ecosystems exist because we are primal, but not anymore.

If we become, mature, of course over time(i first predicted 20-40 years, but it could be sooner or later), i still have immaturities, i still dislike some people, but i mitigate the damage by being open with them, and they understand.

My family and friends are saying i love you, and i thought it was a praise kink, because i was so starved, that it felt like hurt, pain.

I finally felt like i could call myself a man, all it took was losing everything, so i can gain perspective, to help my family, to help my friends, my neighbor's, the world, and then the universe.

If we keep infighting, then we have lost, but only in this universe.

Even if i die, i will never give up, i need to be determined, so long as there is still hope.

TLDR:

I just want to help, so this pressure is alleviated a little.

And every day passes, i think more cautiously.

Calm.

I just want to play games in peace, go to work in peace and safety, and be walk around with that confidence that i still have now; freewill.

#politics #juneteenth #mpreg belly #luigi #bowser #chinese room girl theory #law of assumption #absolute or is it #amicus #chunter #chula #echo #furry #maplestory

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Satisfied, Part 18

First

~~~

The entire bat family looked surprised.

“But -- but you didn’t try and kill Hawkmoth!” Said Red Robin after a few minutes of giving her a wide-eyed stare.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s because I couldn’t. We’re pretty much indestructible in these suits and Chat wasn’t able to bring himself to cataclysm him. It took four years, do you really think I wouldn’t have preferred to just take out a gun and fu --.”

“Y’know, just once I’d like one of my future children to say ‘oh, hey, actually I think murder is a bad thing’. Is that too much to ask?” Batman said, squeezing his eyes shut.

She raised her eyebrows. “’Future children’? I don’t want to be adopte --.”

Nightwing rested a hand on her shoulder. “Shhh, it’s going to end up happening, it’s better if you just accept it.”

“I love her,” said Red Hood with a wide grin. “Lay off of her guys. I’m mentoring this one.”

Red Robin sighed. “Not happening.”

“Do I get a say in any of this?” Marinette said, shrugging the hand off of her shoulder and rubbing where it had been for a bug of some sort. Nothing. At least they weren’t that bad. “It’s the best option.”

Batman held his hands up for silence, and then turned to her and spoke slowly, as if hoping it would stick better if he enunciated every letter: “If we kill him then we’ll be just as bad as him.”

She stared at him for a long time after this, doing mental gymnastics to figure out just what his perspective could be. “Okay, first of all, Kant --.”

“Don’t bother with bats,” said Red Hood, striding over and slinging his arm around her shoulders. “He’s not going to listen.”

Robin seemed especially bitter about the whole ordeal, stewing between Nightwing and Batman, until he finally snapped his fingers. “Oh! But you didn’t kill Hawkmoth when you took his miraculous!”

The bat family reeled back in shock and stared at their youngest like he’d grown a second head.

Red Hood seemed particularly offended. “Did bats get to you, too?”

Robin shook his head. “I just think she’s being inconsistent and a hypocrite.”

“Alright. First of all: the reason I didn’t bother with killing him afterward is because the guy relied so much on his miraculous that it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to do anything. If he broke out of jail he’d have a little bit of fight training and a secretary. Second of all: screw you!”

Red Hood pretended to wipe away a tear. “Best new sister yet.”

She grinned and finally leaned into him. “Thanks. I try.” Her smile dropped as she looked at the rest of the bat family. “As the only one to permanently defeat anyone, don’t you think I should get a bigger say in this?”

Robin raised his eyebrows and gave her the first smile she’d ever gotten from him, though it was gone quickly. Nightwing brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. Red Robin wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was laughing.

Batman seemed less amused, eyes narrowed. “How about we put it to a vote. Everyone who agrees with Ladybug, stand next to her. Everyone who agrees with me, stand here.”

Red Hood remained at her side, but Nightwing and Red Robin stepped closer to their father. Everyone’s eyes fell on Robin, who was looking between the two sides with a conflicted expression.

Then he took a spot by Red Hood.

Three on three. Great.

Marinette sighed. “This is why you don’t do votes with even numbers.”

They all looked at each other awkwardly. What do you do when you say you’re going to vote and then tie? It doesn’t really happen a lot, and even less so when it came to topics such as murder.

She sighed. “Fine, fine. If you can give an actually good option that doesn’t involve murder, I’d love to hear it.”

“We throw him in Arkham.”

“Arkham?”

“Yes.”

“The asylum where he’s broken out of a million times?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great idea, but maybe we need something more permanent.”

“It’s not going to work, Ladybug,” said Nightwing with a shrug. “Man always comes back. I killed Joker myself once, Batman saved him, you just kind of have to accept that the man isn’t going to die.”

“Well, maybe if he didn’t save him --!” she began.

“We won’t be killing him and that’s final!” Said Batman.

All the kids looked at each other warily. The man’s voice had a dangerous sense of finality to it.

Marinette sighed and bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. If we do it your way we’d have to lock up every major criminal in Gotham to make sure he couldn’t get out. Do you have some sort of plan for it?”

Red Robin raised his hand. “I do. You’re pretty new and no rogues have any clue what you sound, or even really look, like.”

She raised her eyebrows. “My ladybug costume is pretty recognizable.”

“True, no one else would wear something that tacky,” said Robin.

She stared at him for a second, anger flickering in her eyes. “Have you seen yourself, Mr. Traffic Light?”

Before they could argue any more, Red Robin cut in: “You mentioned taking Hawkmoth and Mayura’s miraculi. Try using one of those instead.”

She bit down on the inside of her cheek. Those were notoriously hard to corrupt and use for evil, and she didn’t want to put them through that again so soon. “I’ll think of something else, but fine. I’m going to become someone else so I can... have a different outfit?”

“We want you to get close to the Rogues.”

After another hour of going through their plans, then an extra few minutes to make sure everyone jotted it down, they finally knew what they were going to do.

Then she was handed a small black object. She blinked and looked up at Batman. “Um...?”

“It’s a way to communicate with us. Just press down and we’ll hear both you and whatever you’re hearing.”

“Is it bugged?”

“No. Nightwing tried, but if you want your privacy then you’re allowed it.”

She spun the small orb between her fingers and slowly placed it in her ear. She pressed down. “TESTING!” She yelled and watched everyone wince and hold their own ears. She smirked. “Great, I love it, thanks.”

“I don’t know what you were talking about, Robin, she’s great,” said Red Hood with an even wider grin once his head had stopped twanging painfully.

“Aw, he talks about me?” She cooed, resting a hand over her heart.

Red Robin grinned, still rubbing his temples a little bit, but he would never miss out on a chance to mess with his brother, so he spoke up: “Hardly ever stops, to be honest.”

“Ladybug this, Ladybug that. It got annoying,” said Nightwing with a small smirk playing across his face.

Then everyone finally broke into laughter as the poor kid began to flush bright red. “That’s just because she sucks! Stop making it sound like that!”

Needless to say, they only laughed harder.

With that they began to break off into groups. Red Robin and Robin went to arguing over who knows what. Nightwing and Batman were discussing the logistics of their plan. Now she was alone with Red Hood, who’s smile didn’t waver.

She glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Gun?”

He gave her shoulder a small squeeze. “Gun.”

~~~

My brain at 3am: Miraculous But Actually Good

My current fic: ??

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani

#for those of you who don't know #immanuel kant #is a dick who thinks there's a strict code of right and wrong #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #satisfied #maribat

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sun-moon-stars-jedi · 4 years ago

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So, I have this idea for a Batfam time travel fanfic that starts when Jason, Tim and Damian are somehow teamed up for a mission (the disaster is practically inevitable from the beginning, but everyone else was either busy or injured, so Bruce had to begrudgingly send them out together) and just as you would expect, something goes terribly wrong.

Later Jason will say it was Tim’s fault because his cape got in the way and tripped Jason up, Tim will say Damian pushed him into Jason’s path so it was really Damian’s fault, and Damian will say that it was a reflection from Jason’s dumb helmet that blinded him and made him stumble into Tim, but regardless of what really happened, they somehow land right in the path of the strange ray gun their villain-of-the-week is wielding and are all hit by something that looks and sounds and feels like a bolt of lightning.

When they wake up, miraculously still alive and only a little bit sore, the warehouse around them is empty, their comms are dead, and once they make their way outside they quickly realize they’re in a Gotham years before their time.

Now, there are of course some very strict rules regarding time-travel and interacting with people they know in the past, but as their luck would have it, their entrance wasn’t exactly subtle (even in Gotham people notice lightning and thunder whithout a thunderstorm), and before they can even make it a block away from the warehouse Batman and Robin swing down from the rooftops and confront them.

Batman of course does his whole “Who are you and what do you want in my city” thing, complete with the growly voice and intimidating loom, but it’s not like that can faze any of his kids after all this time.

No, what gets to them, particularly Tim and Damian, is the teeny version of Dick standing next to Bruce. He can’t be any older than 11 or 12, and while Tim and Damian had both seen pictures and heard the stories, seeing their older brother standing as tall as he can (which isn’t all that tall even compared to them) in his bright yellow cape and the short pants next to Batman...well, can anyone really blame them for bursting out laughing?

That’s of course not the reaction Batman and Robin expect, and for a few seconds they just seem to freeze up in the face of these new costumed...cosplayers?? criminals?? vigilantes?? who are just laughing their asses off when faced with the dynamic duo.

Jason is the only one who doesn’t fall into hysterics (he can’t start laughing; he wore the short pants too and would only open himself up to even more ridicule in the future than he would already undoubtedly get from the two little twerps), and he’s also not stunned with surprise, because he knows exactly what’s going on here.

So, as the only capable person around (what else is new) he barks at Tim and Damian to cut it out and behave professionally. They’re on a mission after all, and they don’t want to antagonize Batman and Robin, do they?

Surprisingly they listen, Tim even mumbles somewhat of an apology at Robin, who still looks kind of sulky, but accepts it after a nudge from Batman.

Then there’s an awkward silence where both sides just look each other over, though it’s not as hostile as it was before, and with some quick mental math on how much he can tell Bruce Jason starts to explain that they’re also a vigilante team like them and don’t want any trouble, they had only made their way into Gotham because they’d tracked a lead.

Jason keeps everything deliberately vague and doesn’t mention the time-travel (he’s not even sure if Bruce and Dick had encountered something like it at this point and he absolutely doesn’t want to get thrown into Arkham because they think he’s delusional), but apparently his answers satisfy Bruce, because he loosens his stance and nods in approval.

Bruce asks if they need any help, what kind of case they’re working on, what their code-names are - they all have to come up with something fast here, because obviously Red Hood, Red Robin and Robin are precisely the worst names they could give Bruce and Dick in this time, so Jason calls himself Arsenal, Tim says Drake (still the worst name Jason has ever heard) and Damian says Flamebird, which is pretty cute Jason has to admit, though he will still definetly tease his brother about his choice once they’re back home.

It’s only when Bruce asks “And how long are you and your sons planning to stay in the city?” that Jason realizes Bruce thinks they’re a father/son(s) crime-fighting team the same as him and Dick and before he can think better of it he says “Not long.” in answer and leaves the other part of the question uncorrected, even though he can practically feel two pairs of eyes burning into his back with indignation.

The conversation moves on and somehow there never seems to be a good opportunity to rectify that, and so they eventually part ways with Bruce and Dick, planning to meet again the next night to exchange information.

Jason, the chaotic older brother that he is, can’t resist a “Come along now, sons” just as they leave - Tim and Damian are pissed, Jason isn’t their dad, he can’t tell them what to do, and once they’re out of Batman and Robin’s earshot they make their opinion on that very clear, but it’s too late now - for as long as they’re in this time they’ll have to pretend in front of Bruce and Dick.

As it turns out getting back home takes a little longer than Jason, Tim and Damian had initially hoped for, so they spend at least a week or two in this time, during which they meet Dick and Bruce pretty much every night and even begin to help out a little when something more dangerous goes down (though compared to what they’re used to, this version of Gotham is pretty tame).

Because Jason can’t resist annoying his brothers he fully lays into the dad role, calling them “son” or “sport” whenever he can and delighting in the furious glares he receives in return.

At some point it also becomes clear how much more experience the three of them have compared to Bruce and Dick, who have only been vigilantes for a couple of years at this point, and when this young Bruce openly asks Jason for advice on how to be a good vigilante dad because Jason obviously seems to have more experience than him, Jason doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

This young Bruce is still Bruce Wayne with all his faults of course, but he’s also a lot less jaded and world-weary and sad, so Jason gladly gives him some advice that he hopes makes some things better without breaking the entire time-line.

Meanwhile Tim and Damian learn first hand what a menace young Dick Grayson was - he disobeys orders, pulls dangerous stunts, fights in freaking short pants, but gets away with everything because of his puppy-dog-eyes and because Bruce was even more of a pushover back then than he is in their time.

Obviously Bruce and Dick never learn the true identities of their visitors or their connections to them in this time - one day the three of them just don’t show up anymore and when they investigate they find a post-it note in the warehouse where they’d first met them that just says “Gone home. See you some time in the future.” with the three names Arsenal, Drake and Flamebird signed underneath.

“It was pretty fun having other kids to talk to about all of this,” Dick says, sounding subdued as he looks at the note and Bruce knows he will probably regret this, but he just can’t stand to see his son sad.

“I heard Green Arrow has a side-kick now,” Bruce says, trying to sound casual, but the way Dick looks at him with tentative hope just makes his heart melt instantly. He would give this kid the world if he asked for it. “Maybe it would be a good idea to meet them.”

#batfam #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #time travel #headcanon and a little bit of a fic in one #don't have the time to properly write this so here have my concept draft #this got so much longer than I thought...

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imagine-that-one-thing · 4 years ago

Text

Her Majesty. || Chapter 13

The Life of Saint Barbara

Anastasia’s pov

The room is silent while everyone stares at Harry and me, waiting for answers, answers that I do not want to give. I don’t want any of this. My heart continues to beat rapidly with every silent moment that passes and I swear for a moment, I stop breathing.

One, Two, Three, Four… I’m still breathing… Barely.

Now is the time I require Harry to say something, anything. I need him to break the silence and tell me that this is all some misunderstanding.

I don’t think Harry is going to want to stay married to me after this. I might win the world's shortest marriage, all because he has now been thrown into being a King, literally.

“It can’t be your bodyguard, that’s ludicrous. It’s the man you’re dating and soon to marry, Henry. Although I did read somewhere you’re dating Louis.”

“Oh, fuck,” Harry mutters under his breath. Finally speaking. “Christ, Anna.”

Of all the things to say, he could have come up with something better, but I’m not sure what I expected him to say. Harry cannot fix this or change things.

“I’m already married,” I shake my head, “I married Harry, so all your previous scheming didn’t work. Harry is legally the King, not Henry.” I notify everybody who’s gawking at me, my hand reaching for my necklace that has my rings attached to it, “If you need the wedding certificate, it was signed just a few hours ago. Ink hasn’t even dried.”

I glance towards my mother who has tears in her eyes, “I’m sorry, I had no choice… we had no choice but to hide it. Dad wouldn’t listen and kept pushing Henry.”

My mother shakes her head, “He was right.”

“What?”

“Your father… He said you two were in love but I thought it was just a fling.” My mother begins to chuckle, “You two got married behind our backs? I’m proud. You chose love over the monarchy, and it all backfired on them.” She proceeds to laugh, “You and your father played the monarchy and it’s about fucking time.”

“Mum… are you okay?” I question, unsure of whether this is a defence mechanism or not. How can she be laughing? Her husband just died and she just found out her only daughter got married behind her back. This is not a laughing matter. I find none of this entertaining.

“How are you married? You’re meant to be with Henry.” The man interrupts.

“Oh, take a hike Georgie. Face it, they’re married, Harry is King and Henry is still nothing but a Prince at the bottom of the food chain whose family killed my husband.”

“It’s George,” Georgie corrects my mother, “I don’t understand…”

“Let me make it clear, my husband is Harry, not Henry. Now please, can you all leave? My father just died and I’d like some peace.” … “Harry, sign the papers so Georgie can leave and you can escort Henry out.” I hand Harry the envelope with papers that need signing.

“Uhm,” Harry hums, “Darling, I’m not signing the papers to be King.” Harry shakes his head, declining to take the papers from my hands.

I do not blame him, the role of King is not something to take lightly and to have it thrown at you is a whole other level of crazy.

“Sign the damn things, Harold.” My mother commands persistently and harshly, taking us all by surprise with her voice like booming thunder.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry immediately responds, “But, it’s Harry.” He politely corrects her.

“Don’t sign those papers and it’ll be Harold. Believe me, I can make sure everybody calls you Harold.” my mother threatens and Harry glances around as he clears his throat.

Harry takes the pen from George and scribbles his signature across the dotted line, “Does this mean Henry has to bow down to me?” Harry questions with a smirk, somewhat amused, suddenly.

“Technically, we all do,” I respond, shoving the papers towards George and smiling at Henry as he stands speechless. “Now… I’d like to go home, please, Harry.”

When I say ‘home’ I’m not quite sure where it is I want to go, the Palace isn’t home, and as I think of things, I don’t have a foundation for where home truly is. It’s not the Palaces or the extravagant estates that the royals own, it’s unknown. I don’t know where home is, I don’t know where I want to truly go, all I know is I want to go anywhere with Harry.

“We can find a hotel,” Harry nods, taking a quick glance at his watch.

“No, I want to go home, like fly home, take me anywhere but here.”

“You two can’t fly together,” Louis comments, interrupting my request.

I raise a brow and side-eye him, unsure of what he’s talking about.

“If something happens to Harry, you become Queen. Two heirs cannot fly together.”

“Louis, all due respect, but I’m not flying alone. I don’t care if he’s King or not, I want to go home with Harry.” My response is bitter and harsh, and to be honest, I don’t give a damn.

I want to go home, I am not sure where home truly is, but I want to go where the sheets are soft and have a familiar scent of clean linens, I want to go where things are calm and collected, I want to go where I can breathe. I want to go anywhere but here.

♛ ♛ ♛

I draw the covers away from Harry’s warm body and I begin to shake him awake, “What? What’s wrong?” He hastily mumbles, his eyes opening, his hand reaching to the side table as he sits up.

“Don’t,” I stop his hand from grabbing his pistol, “It’s time to get up,” I instruct.

Harry rubs the sleep from his eyes before glancing over at the clock that blinks with the time, “It’s four in the morning, baby, what’s wrong? We just fell asleep”

“We have things to do. I have to communicate the news to the governments of the fifteen other countries of which the King was the head of state and to the governments of the other countries of the,” I inform Harry of the task that I have on my mind.

There’s no time nor need to sleep when so much needs to be done. “I have to tell A footman to pin a dark-edged notice to the gates of Buckingham Palace and—”

“Anna, darling,” Harry cuts me off swiftly, “You don’t have to do all that, there are people who do it.”

I shake my head, ignoring his comment, “The day after the King’s death, the meet at to proclaim the new monarch. We have to prep you for it. Parliament meets tomorrow evening and they to the new monarch, which is you.”

“Go back to sleep, Anastasia,” Harry instructs, stretching the sheets and the blankets back over his body.

I gaze at him and shake my head, my hand reaching for the covers and hauling them back off of him. Harry wearily sighs, “Anastasia, I am not the King, I am not meeting parliament, and you don’t need to be taking care of all these things, you need some rest.”

“Don’t tell me what I need,” I bluntly respond, “Are you going to help me or are you going to go back to bed?”

Harry shakes his head and encompasses his fingers through his hair, “I have no choice,” he tiredly responds, “Let me put some clothes on… I don’t know what you plan to do at four in the morning but I’ll support you,” Harry responds, slowly forcing himself off and out of the bed.

“My Dad will be here at six.”

“Excuse me?” Harry questions, reaching for a long sleeve shirt to match with his sweatpants.

“He is being bought by to and then by car to Buckingham Palace.”

“I’m not trying to sound intensive but… He’s staying here?” Harry questions, seeming at a loss for what I am talking about.

I nod my head. I’m not sure where else Harry thought my Dad would be staying.

“Oh,” Harry trails off as he shakes his head, a clear indication he has thoughts but he is not going to speak them out loud.

“You need to stop reaching for the pistol every time I wake you up,” I comment, turning a small lamp on so I can make my way around the room.

Harry just shakes his head and mutters under his breath as he adjusts his sweater with a grunt, clearly displeased and far from settled.

♛

The palace is relatively tranquil at this hour, most of the staff are in the kitchen or laundry beginning the preparations for the day, and everyone else is more than likely asleep. The Palace at this hour is always a calming time, there isn’t much of a hurry and bustle, things are at a slower pace for the most part, and the Palace is nice and quiet besides the small chatter of the Palace staff.

Harry trudges beside me, his arm around my waist as we wander the hallways of the Palace. I’m not quite sure what my first task is that I need to do, but I’ll figure that out when I get downstairs to the main floor. “I don’t want any tours held, can you make sure there are no public tours?”

Harry nods his head, “Whatever you need me to do.”

“I don’t want you on security.”

“Mmm, I’m going to be on security,” Harry responds without missing a beat, “That’s not changing. Security is heightened, I’m not stepping down or taking any sort of leave of absence, sorry.” Harry responds with everything but a sincere apology.

“But—“

“No, Anna,” Harry interrupts me firmly, his tone of voice a strong indication he doesn’t want to discuss the subject any further.

“I don’t want what happened to my Dad to happen to you.”

“Anastasia, darling, I will be fine, Matthew and I have set in motion what will happen for the next few weeks.”

“What is that?”

Harry sighs and stops walking. He turns to face me, “We all wear vests for public outings or announcements, there’s a strict code, there will be more security on the grounds. You will always be watched.”

“Oh, great,” I roll my eyes, “I’ll have no privacy.” I huff.

“You will be on my service for the most part.”

“Is that meant to make me feel better?” I bitterly question, unsure of his purpose with his comment.

“Are you looking for an argument at this hour?” Harry questions and raises a brow towards me. Before I can respond, he sighs and leans closer to me, kissing my lips lightly, “I love you, but I need coffee so I’m not a dick.”

“Coffee doesn’t always change that, ya know?” I half-smile at him in a joking manner, “I love you, too. My comment was mean, I know being on your service is better than nothing.”

Harry nods his head, “If you don’t want to be on my service—“ Harry begins.

I instantly cut him off, “I want to be with you. I don’t want anyone else this week.” I inform him.

I don’t want anybody else on my service mainly because I know deep down this week is going to be one of the hardest. The next twelve days will be rough and I want to have the comfort of knowing Harry is there at all hours for me. I don’t anticipate a breakdown or to entirely lose myself, I plan to keep myself occupied and get everything done, but it gives me peace of mind to know he’s there as both my husband and security guard.

Harry doesn’t say a word, he simply nods and we continue to walk the palace, making our way towards the kitchen. Harry opens the door for me and I step inside, the smell of fresh bread and fresh coffee instantly filling my senses. “Mornin’ Harry,” the head of the kitchen grins, “Good morning, princess, Eleanor,” She beams.

“Morning, Grace. What are you making this morning?” Harry challenges as he shuffles closer towards the counters, taking a look at the foods Grace has prepared, “Smells lovely as always, please tell me these are scones,” Harry excitedly breathes out, lifting a white sheet.

Grace slaps his hand away and Harry steps back from the baked goods, “You know not to sticky-nose,” Grace laughs, “They’re not ready yet, I’ll have one of the ladies bring you a few… Princess, would you like anything?”

I shake my head, “No, thank you.”

“Just here to steal some coffee if you don’t mind?” Harry questions, already making his way to the steaming coffee that has already been made on the stove.

“You know where everything is,” Grace gestures kindly.

I can only assume Harry comes down here fairly often and has the sort of a relationship with the staff where they have no clue about his private life but they find him charming enough to let him do as he pleases in the kitchen and helps himself. “Grace,” Harry begins while he grabs two cups from a shelf. “You said the private door through the kitchen wasn’t opening?”

“Yeah. It’s getting harder to pull on the handle, it’s almost impossible and in an emergency, dangerous. I keep telling the staff not to slam the damn thing.”

“I’ll come down and fix it later, you still keeping an eye on the cameras for me?”

“As always,” Grace nods, “I’m going to start charging you for my work.”

“Add it to my tab,” Harry chuckles, “I’ll be waiting for the scones.”

Grace rolls her eyes and shoos Harry towards me, “on ya go, outta my kitchen, smartass.”

“Have a good day, Grace,” Harry laughs, stepping towards me and handing me my coffee before the two of us leave the kitchen staff.

I wonder about how much Harry interacts with the other members of the staff, I know the Lady’s Maids always gush over him but they always express how he is quiet and doesn’t talk much nor does anyone know about his private life. Grace is the only one I have heard him hold a conversation with, and it makes me wonder why he doesn’t seem to have many friends or why he doesn’t talk often to those who work in the Palace.

♛ ♛ ♛

I sip on my coffee on the front steps of the palace; I inhale the crisp morning air and the quietness of the grounds. I don’t remember the last time I was permitted to stand in front of the palace in utter silence without anyone taking pictures or crowds applauding my family. In a few hours, these very steps that I stand on will be covered with various flowers in remembrance of the king, some sent from other royals, some sent from other countries and some will be placed by our people. The stairs of the palace will be open to the public to allow them to show their appreciation with candles and flowers while monitored closely by the security team.

“We never got to cut the cake.”

“What?”

“We never got to cut the wedding cake or have our first dance.”

There’s a few things we didn’t get to do before my world came crashing down on me. Our wedding day was meant to be perfect, and it was, up until I was given the news. Most girls’ dream of their wedding day, from the dress to the venue, to the colour schemes, everything is planned intricately. No matter how well my day was planned, my wedding day will always hold bitter memories. I am not sure what I expected considering nothing has ever gone to plan before, but I had hoped for one day, just one.

Harry nods his head, his free hand reaching into his pocket and drawing out a set of keys, “Here,” Harry places the keys in my hand.

“Am I meant to lock my sorrows and sadness away with these?” I chuckle jokingly, unsure of why he’s handing me a set of keys.

“Ha, hilarious,” Harry rolls his eyes, “My car is right there, you’re driving.” Harry gestures towards the car that is parked towards the side.

“How is your car here?” I ask, well aware that he left it in Cheshire when he got the call about the King. As soon as Mathew knew, he had a car ready and waiting while Harry told me the news that destroyed me.

“My sister was kind enough to drive it down for me, left the keys with Grace,” Harry responds, stepping down the cold stone steps and walking towards his car. Harry glances over his shoulder and stops for a moment, “You coming or not?” Harry asks and I nod, quickly following and hopping down the steps.

I reach his car and Harry kindly opens the driver’s side door for me, allowing me to get in. I place my coffee cup in the side holder and I turn the key into the ignition. I play with the heat settings while Harry gets in on the passenger side. “I’m not allowed to leave, Harry.”

Harry leans back as he reaches for his seat belt and buckles himself in, “Since when have you enjoyed listening to the protocol?” Harry remarks.

He has a point, I have never been one to listen, but right now, I don’t have it in me to be rebellious.

“Since the King was brutally murdered and I am sure that I am next.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Harry instantly insists, “I already messaged Matthew that you were with me, it is fine. Now, drive.”

“Why? You never let me drive.”

“Drive, Anna, go anywhere,” Harry presses, “Just don’t wreck my car,” Harry chuckles, adjusting his shoulder with a small grimace before I begin to drive with an unknown destination.

I am never allowed to drive, and it has been one thing I have never really questioned, I don’t mind having other people drive me around, mainly because I get anxious when there are a lot of people on the road. It always seemed more beneficial to have a driver, one of the only royal benefits I relished.

As the car engine eradicates the silence between us, my deep thoughts slip through the cracks and eat me alive, continuously circling me and drawing me under, forcing me into a state of mind I don’t want to be in. I observe the tugging of my heartstrings and the lump in my throat that is trying to hold back the emotions my thoughts are pushing through.

I don’t want to think, I don’t want to listen to my thoughts or feelings. I want it to end.

“Harry, speak,” I instruct heavily, almost demanding him to speak.

“What?” Harry challenges, breaking the moment of silence.

“Talk, I need you to talk.”

“What would you like to talk about?” Harry offers.

I shake my head and grip the steering wheel tighter, “I don’t care, I can’t handle the silence and my thoughts, I need you to speak.”

“Let it out, Anna.”

“Let what out?” I snap. I do not know what he wants me to let out, it isn’t as though I can allow everything to spill out and miraculously have things changed and back to normal.

“What is it you want me to let out? Are you wanting me to suffer from the silence and break down? Is that what you want? Do you want me to tell you that even though my father had his flaws, I wish I had called him that morning when I woke up?” … “Do you want me to tell you how I can’t do this? This isn’t how it was meant to be? There, I’ve said it. Okay? This is killing me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t fix any of it—“ I let out between heavy breaths and crystal tears that have been threatening to fall since I got on the flight here. “This wasn’t what was meant to happen.”

“Pull over,” Harry instructs, reminding me that I’m still driving and have both of our lives in my hands as I cry and let my anger out.

I pull the car to the side of the road and lean back on the chair, my hands releasing the steering wheel and shaking as I place them in my lap. Harry’s prompt to put the car in park and I just gaze into the abyss of nothingness that stares at me through the windshield. For a moment, the abyss is calming and tranquil, nothing but tears streaming down my warm cheeks while I attempt to steady my breathing and push my heavy thoughts away.

Harry opens my door and unbuckles my seat belt before gently grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the car, “Come here.”

“No, I don’t need the sympathy! I don’t need the hugs. Nothing changes what happened.” I attempt to push him away as I stand to my feet, “He’s gone, he can’t come back, they got what they wanted and I’m left with nothing. They took him and the monarch helped! They fucking helped, Harry!”

“I know, Anna, I know.”

I shake my head, “There’s no coming back, that’s it… my last words are my last words, I can’t change it. I didn’t call that morning, I should have—“ my voice breaks before I can finish my sentence.

Harry wraps his arms around me and for a few moments, I push and shove, fighting him off for no reason besides I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to control or handle the grief. I can’t constrain how I feel, I don’t even understand how I feel right now. He doesn’t let me go, instead, he holds me tighter and I weep into him, finally retreating and letting my guard down.

His hand holds the back of my head and his arm stays securely around me as I fall entirely into him, “Okay, okay, it’s okay,” Harry whispers, lowering us both to the ground gradually, “I have you, it’s okay,” he continues, letting me cry it out on the side of the road in darkness.

Harry calms me down and I lift my head from his shirt, finally gazing up at him. Harry’s lips curve into a small smile while his eyes shine from the reflection of the headlights of the car. He moves his hand up to my face and with the pad of his thumb, he wipes away the tear stains, “It’s okay to let it out, it’s okay to lose control, Anastasia.”

“I don’t like losing control and feeling this.”

“Nobody does,” Harry continues to wipe away tears, “I’m so sorry for what you have to deal with, I wish I could change things for you. I’m here for you, Anna. You don’t have to fill your schedule and do everything by yourself. It’s okay to grieve and let it out, it’s okay to not be okay.”

“It hurts,” I inform him.

The feelings hurt, the memories hurt, the unknown hurts. Everything aches and I don’t want to feel the despondency. I don’t want to hear the thoughts or the memories. In my mind, if I keep myself occupied, I don’t have to listen to my thoughts and feelings, I simply won’t have the time for it. If I put my energy to helping with the arrangements, I won’t cry as much, I won’t be as hostile and I won’t feel all these emotions that I can’t wholly explain.

Harry lets out a small breath, “I know, baby, I know.” Harry carefully stands to his feet and helps me up, “I love you, I hope you don’t forget that.”

“I don’t plan to,” I sniffle, using my sleeve to wipe away a few more tears, “I love you, too. But you stole my crown,” I half-heartedly joke, feeling the need to shed some light on things instead of shedding tears.

“Do you want it back?” Harry grins.

I shake my head, “No, not right now,” I respond, “You can keep it. Give it back once the hard work is done.

“I’ll make a mental note,” Harry chuckles, leading me towards the passenger side of his car.

“Guess I’m not driving?”

Harry shakes his head, “Not a chance.”

“Did you plan this?” I softly ask as he opens the door for me.

Harry doesn’t respond, he simply gestures for me to slide into his car, “You did… didn’t you?”

“I know you well enough to know that if you’re waking me up at four in the morning, you’re definitely not okay. I knew you’d break and tell me what was running through your head, I just wasn’t expecting a full break down.”

“You could have just asked me to tell you.”

“Would you have told me?”

I shake my head with a small smirk, “Probably not.”

“Exactly, watch your feet,” Harry gestures as he closes the door and walks around the front of his car to reach the driver’s side.

Harry’s POV.

A pounding knock at my door wakes me from my slumber and I instantly shoot up in the bed, the covers falling to my waist while Matthew barges into the bedroom, flicking the lights off and blinding me. “Christ,” I mutter, shielding my eyes from the intense light, “What’s the matter?” I groan, unsure of why Matthew is in the bedroom, barging in and flicking on the lights at such an ungodly hour.

“Where’s your wife?”

“What? In bed?” I respond, tiredly reaching my arm over to pet her side of the bed, “Anna?” Her name leaves my lips as I feel the space beside me. I am swift to shift my attention to her side of the bed that is cold and vacant. I shift the covers off my body and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, glancing at Matthew with nothing but uncertainty written across my face. “Anastasia?” I knock on the bathroom door and open it, my hand pushing against the wall to find the light switch. The light illuminates the room and I see nothing but an unoccupied bathroom.

I turn around and face Matthew, “Where is Anna? What’s going on?”

“That is why I am here, she’s meant to be with you.”

“She fell asleep with me. Did she go to her mother’s room?”

Matthew shakes his head, “No, the Queen is asleep and Oliver has been guarding her door.”

I spread my fingers through my hair before grabbing my phone from the side table, wasting no time calling her phone.

One, two, three...

The phone call goes straight to voicemail. Fuck.

“Have them check the camera’s, every room needs to be monitored,” I firmly instruct, reaching for a jacket and a pair of shoes. I rest on the edge of the bed and throw Matthew my phone, “Check the app that tracks our locations, it’ll show her last location, might be easier to find her in the damn Palace.” I mutter, hurrying to tie my shoes and gather my thoughts, various things racing through my head, all of the thoughts leading towards the possibility of something critical happening to her. Which, I am not sure how considering security is so damn high right now.

“Harry, she left the palace.”

“What?” My eyes grow wide, as Matthew’s words roll off his lips.

When I came to bed an hour ago she was in bed and asleep, she didn’t even stir when I crawled into the bed. I remember she was curled up on her side of the bed, her hand under her pillow with the comforter and a blanket over her. I turned off the bedside light that was still flickering at the ungodly hour and when I rested my head down on my pillow, I felt her place the tips of her fingers to touch my arm.

What I did not expect was for her to abruptly sneak out of the room and palace.

“She left, her phone has her location at a club.”

“Excuse me?” I stare at Matthew, unsure if I heard him correctly or if my tiredness is taking over and deceiving me. I shake my head disapprovingly.

“What do we do?” Matthew challenges me.

“You’re the head of security… why are you asking me?”

“You’re the King, I have to have your permission—“ Matthew begins and I roll my eyes.

“All due respect, since I have the opportunity to handle this, I want the castle on lockdown, nobody leaves and nobody enters unless we approve, you can decide protocol from there; I’m going to go find her,” I mutter, reaching for my keys, wallet and pistol by my bed. “Don’t alarm the press but we need half the security team with us to help look for her and secure areas.”

“Should we keep calling her?”

I shake my head, “She’s not going to answer. This isn’t like her.”

“Do you think she is spiralling?”

I nod my head, “No doubt.”

Anastasia does not sneak off to this extent, she does not just use the tunnels to get what she wants… It amazes me she managed to get out of the tunnels without being seen, then again, she is smart, she knows these tunnels well enough to get her way in and out without me.

** ** **

The club is hot and sweaty, the music is loud and pounding against my head. I’m not old or a party pooper, but after being woken up at four this morning to Anna insisting on us doing royal duties and then having to work, I’m tired… I have been up for just under twenty-four hours and the pounding music is doing nothing besides causing a headache and making me wish I was still in bed, wrapped up in my blankets without a care in the world.

My phone vibrates and I instantly check it in the hopes it’s Anastasia, but it’s Matthew.

“Go to the bartender and tell him you’re looking for Lavender.”

I raise a brow but I don’t question the text message, instead, I march to the bar and graciously yet vigorously make my way to the front. The bartender glances at me and gestures for my order, “I’m looking for Lavender.” I notify him, unsure of what Lavender is meant to get me in terms of locating Anastasia.

The man nods his head and gestures for me to follow his lead, he steps to the far left of the bar and pulls the half-door open, allowing me behind the bar with him, “She’s under the bar, I tried to keep her out of the public eye, a few people saw her but I simply told them it was my sister from Manchester.”

“Thank you for not publicising her.”

“No problem, but I’d make sure she doesn’t do this again. Everyone has phones these days to document this.”

I nod my head and I crouch down under the bar where Anastasia sits with her back against the wooden panels, a pair of heels by her side and her stockings ripped up her left leg. I want to scold her, I want to be angry and explain how ridiculously stupid and irresponsible this is on so many levels. I want to tell her how much danger she could have put herself in, but I can’t bring myself to let the harsh words fall from my lips. “Hey, baby,” I whisper, pushing a few strands of fallen hair behind her ear, “You ready to go home?”

Anastasia shakes her head, “Where’s home? The palace isn’t home. Home is where Dad welcomes me.”

“Sweetheart…” I begin, my heartbreaking as she looks down at the hands in her lap, sadness and disappointment evident with every moment that passes, “Home is wherever you make it, sweetheart. Home isn’t just four walls. Home is where you are. Your Dad is always with you no matter where you go. C’mon, let’s get you back to the palace and in bed.”

“Home is with you,” Anastasia whispers tiredly.

I softly smirk to myself and I nod, “Can you stand up and walk?” I request, unsure of how intoxicated she is. Her eyes tell me she has been drinking and mourning, but I’m not sure how much she has managed to drink before the bartender cut her off and hid her.

I place my arm around Anna and I help her stand up, her feet stumbling under her legs while she holds onto me like a child holding on for dear life, “Fuckin’ hell,” I mutter, “How much have you drank?” I question, holding her close to me so she doesn’t fall.

“Until the card stopped.”

“What card?” I curiously ask.

“Yours,” Anastasia responds honestly, “Can’t use mine, it’ll track me.”

“I gave you my card in case of emergencies,” I sigh, shaking my head as I guide her away from behind the bar and we use a back exit to avoid the public.

I get Anastasia out the door and we stumble across the stone pavements of a back alley and I let out a heavy breath as we have a moment to stop. I shrug my jacket off my shoulders and and I slide it up her arms, the windchill dancing between us. If she managed to conduct a way to sneak out and go to a bar, I would have thought she had enough sense to at least grab a jacket of some sort.

I use my phone to call Matthew and my other hand holds onto Anastasia by my jacket as she stumbles around, unable to stand still. “She’s fucking wasted, can’t walk a straight line to save her life, where’s the nearest car?” I mutter.

“I am not wasted,” Anastasia interrupts.

I hear Matthew chuckle on the other end of the phone before he clears his throat and informs me the car is three minutes away and to stay where we are and away from anyone who could report to the news outlets that the Princess is drunk off her ass.

*** ***

The security chambers have taken most of my attention, in a way, it has been a way to escape and take a minute to breathe and compose my thoughts and feelings towards what has happened. Although I don’t like Anastasia bluntly expressing the fact that whoever killed her father is more than likely going to come to her, I am scared she is correct. I want to avenge her father’s murderer, no doubt, but there is more than one. I am sure they’re all in on things. I need to continue to keep an eye on Henry, although I don’t think he is too much of a threat, I don’t think he can be forgotten about, he is still one of them, he still wants money and the crown as his mother did, however; I don’t think Henry will go to the extreme lengths Victoria did. Considering he doesn’t appear shocked about his mother’s unexpected disappearance and death, I don’t think he was much of a fan of his mother. Part of me believes that he is only apart of the schemes because of his mother. She was a powerful and manipulative lady, I believe she had a tight grip on her son and didn’t let him stray too far from her evil plans.

I glance over towards the camera’s, making sure nothing strange is happening. The workers are doing their duties and bustling around the palace and from what I can see, Anastasia is still in her room. As much as I wish she would come out of her room and act more lively, I would rather she stays in her room than to catch her sneaking out again. I don’t think she will be trying to leave the palace unattended, she is well aware that we have the palace on a strict lockdown, nobody enters or leaves without permission, cameras are on in ALL areas, including her room and the tunnels, and there is security detail roaming the tunnels. She can’t sneak out, she can’t escape. Her room has always been private and only watched when highly necessary, and I think now it is highly necessary, the last thing we need is for her to be out in public and unattended. I tap my fingers against the desk and cock my head to the side, the sudden realisation of things jostling me. Geroge and Henry managed to get to the hospital promptly considering they were meant to be in London while the King was brutally murdered in Germany. It’s almost as though they knew before anyone else.

The door to the chambers open and I glare towards the door but I instantly adjust my stare as Matthew walks in with a well-dressed woman who walks with power and authority.

“You’re busy, I see,” the woman smiles and I close my laptop before standing to my feet to greet her.

“I am, Prime Minister, and what do I owe this visit?” I offer her my hand to shake.

“We need to talk, it is the protocol, considering the events of things.” She trails off, referencing the fact the King died and I am now in power.

Matthew clears his throat and looks at me, “Harry, I will be heading to Anna’s room if you need me,” Matthew informs me, his eyes glancing down to his left wrist at his watch, a small indication for me to make this a prompt visit and conversation.

I nod my head, “Please, get her to eat something, it is noon and she hasn’t gotten out of bed.”

“I will do my best,” Matthew responds before exiting the chambers, leaving me with the Prime Minister who I have only met on a few occasions while being on the former King’s service.

“Before I have to talk to you about your protocol, I have a question, if I may?” I softly ask, doing my best not to sound like a dick or too much like a bodyguard; I am not trying to intimidate her by any means. Not that I think I would intimidate her, she seems highly powerful, but I tend to have an unrelenting stare and tone of voice.

She nods her head, permitting me to continue, “When did you find out about the King’s death?” I question, well aware that she would have been the first person to find out, but I assumed nobody would have made the call until the early hours, not right as Anna and I received the call.

“It was about nine, the Queen called.”

“But he wasn’t pronounced dead at that time,” I inform her, mentally tracing back my own steps of what occurred the night the King passed away.

“I was told he was in critical condition. Where are you going with this?”

“Who told George and at what time? He was determined to have Henry sign the papers, who told Henry?”

“Once I got the call, I had to announce it to the members of parliament to prepare for the worst. You have your protocols, I have mine.” She is stern with her power, asserting her dominance. I know she has her ways of operating things and I have my own, but her means of protocol don’t make sense with some of the events that took place soon after I received the call.

I bend my head, deciding now isn’t the time to ask more questions, I need to get back to working and figuring things out. “What are you here for?” I challenge.

“We need to discuss your reigning as King.”

I immediately shake my head, not desiring to discuss the fact I am the King by default. “All due respect, but no.” My words are straight to the point and blunt.

“Prime minister, let her be Queen so I can continue to my real job,” I view towards the prime minister who insisted on meeting me despite the fact I am busy working.

The prime minister stares at me and shakes her head, “You have to stay King, Harry.”

“No, the fuck I don’t, Philippa. The crown is rightfully Anna’s. I can’t pretend to play King. I know nothing about any of this besides the fact it has ruined her family.” I point out the obvious. Am not ready to run a country, I am not ready to even run the palace.

“If you refuse to be King, it goes to the next in line. Please, call me Pippa.”

“And who’s that, Pippa? It ought to be Anna, she’s next in line.”

Anastasia is the person who should accept the crown, it shouldn’t be me. I have no clue what I’m doing, she has been raised for this, she knows about the entire system and what should occur. I don’t know the first thing about commonwealth attires or how to control a country. All I know how to do is operate a security team for the royals. My job entails keeping everyone safe, not ruling a monarch that is gradually destroying my wife.

Anastasia has possessed the privilege of learning from her mother and father in what to do. Yes, her father wasn’t the most prominent ruler towards the end, but before the Ace’s caused havoc on the family, he was a damn good leader. He governed with an iron fist but was fair. It was rare for any one of the public to complain about the monarch or how it was run, the people were, are, content. The people don’t want me, a simple commoner, to manage the monarch, they don’t desire to observe me execute changes and discuss things with parliament, they require to see Anastasia, the woman they have observed over the years. I cannot govern the United kingdom and the fifteen other Commonwealth realms, I can’t even name all fifteen of the Commonwealth realms. I don’t know about the coming legislation that needs signing and voting on, I am not good with public speaking and addressing the matters of the country.

Any legislation enacted by Parliament must receive the Royal Assent before becoming law. No monarch has withdrawn to give Royal Assent since 1707 when that would have recreated the Scottish militia after England and Scotland were formally unified.

But what if I make the wrong decision and allow a bill to pass while I am in charge and it cripples the country?

What if I make the wrong decisions and ruin everything?

I may despise the monarchy right now but I don’t think Anna or her parents’ would ever forgive me if I was to ravage everything they have worked so strenuously for.

Pippa wearily sighs, almost as if I am inconveniencing her. “And do you think she’s fit to be Queen? Have you seen the papers?” Pippa reveals to me her phone that has the headlines of Anastasia’s drunken night out at the bar.

I stare at the screen and mentally roll my eyes. Once Pippa leaves, I’ll be making sure to communicate with Anastasia’s publicity team before calculating a means to shine things in a better light. Perhaps I’ll release to the journalists that Anastasia has a doppelgänger, I don’t know, I will have to get creative to hide Anna’s drunken antics.

I have seen the headlines and the papers, but that doesn’t define Anastasia. Anastasia is not what the media writes about her, Anastasia isn’t defined by what the people think or say.

“She’s grieving. She is the best one for the throne. You know this.”

“Do you think she can handle it?” Pippa questions.

“Do you think I can?” I scoff, exasperated that this responsibility is projected on me.

I can’t handle the throne. I wouldn’t even trust me to look after a puppy right now, mentally I cannot do this.

“I’m not sure, for some reason the King left you in charge. Either you continue as King or it gets handed to a distant relative. Not quite sure who that is right now, but that will not be a good idea. This is in your hands.” Pippa responds, once again making it known that the monarch and the people are currently resting in my hands.

“So, what? We tell the public there’s a plot twist and I’m king? The media will have a field day, we will be the laughing stock of all countries.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “Anastasia does the public events but you handle the monarch and the decisions. She’d be merely...” Pippa trails off, not wanting to finish her sentence.

“She’d be a puppet on strings, someone used for the limelight,” I mutter, not too pleased that Anastasia is being spoken about in this way, but I know Pippa doesn’t mean it in the way it sounds. “Pippa, my wife is upstairs, her world shattered over everything and you expect me to tell her that I have to stay as the King?”

“Harry, she doesn’t want to be Queen. She never has wanted this. She wants to abolish the monarchy, she isn’t fit to be Queen at the moment.”

“Neither do I. This is her fathers legacy, she needs to continue this. If I stay King she’ll want me to abolish the monarch. I can’t draw a line, she is my wife.”

“You’re not going to Abolish,” Pippa informs me, “When she is fit to rule, you can hand the crown over, until then, you need to keep it safe in your hands and run things. You’ll have the help of Anna’s mother and parliament.”

“Some of the men in parliament want my wife dead, I’m sure I’ll be next; I won’t be asking them for help,” I mutter, making it known I’m aware that some of the parliament officials are immoral and are on the Ace’s side.

“As King, you can handle that.”

“I can handle that as security, too,” I respond with a grin, “But you are going to handle the members of parliament,” I instruct firmly, “I am the Head of State and have legal powers, I want them out for the safety of Anastasia and the people. They’re corrupt. I do not work with corruption.”

Pippa shakes her head, “Harry, once elected, Members of Parliament cannot directly resign their seat. The only way that a seat can be vacated is through death, disqualification, dissolution, expulsion, or elevation to the Peerage.” Pippa informs me of what I already know, I am well aware of this due to the fact I have had the privilege to overhear conversations of the previous King. He wanted to kick certain members off from their position but he couldn’t, he was trying to find ways around the rules without changing too many.

“Well, if you can’t uncover a way to disqualify them and do what needs to be done, I will continue having them watched until I have a plan for how they’ll go missing. So, I suggest you handle this because I’ll make sure Anastasia isn’t touched and neither is her mother. This war against her family will end. Do we have an understanding, Pippa?” I’m firm with my words and what I’m alluding to.

I have reached my limits with the utter bullshit that has happened and continues to occur.

Pippa nods her head and grants me a small smile, “You’re already sounding like a King, ruthless and fierce.”

“I have to be, I want Anastasia safe. If we have an understanding, I’m going to get back to my job,” I gesture towards the monitors that I have been watching all morning.

“You do realise you’re working and just paying yourself now? You have to sign your paychecks now.”

“I uh—“ I begin, unsure of what to say, I haven’t quite thought about how I get paid now that I have moved to King. I’m not sure how the King even pays the employees. “I think it’s best the Queen handles the pay.”

“I will be in touch soon, will you be escorting me out?” Pippa asks and I shake my head.

“I cannot, Oliver will escort you out, he is at the door, I will let you out,” I inform her, walking towards the steel door and swiping my card through the system to open it, “Oliver,” I seize his attention and he walks closer to me, “Please escort the Prime Minister safely to the car in waiting, when you are done, you will be in the security chamber with me for more training, be quick,” I command Oliver intently before descending back into the security room and closing the door, more than delighted to have a few more minutes to myself to recompose the thoughts that are racing through me.

Later That Night.

I unlock the door to Anastasia’s bedroom and I’m surprised when I observe her sitting up in the bed, her back against the headboard and her eyes glued to a book in her hands.

I close the door behind me and unobtrusively walk in, my hands working to taking off my watch and emptying my pockets. Anastasia doesn’t bother to give me the slightest recognition, her eyes staying adhered to her book.

If I had a knife, I could cut the tension in the room. Sadly, all I have are unspoken words that I don’t want to say out loud.

“Anna,” I promptly begin softly, my shoulders shrugging off my suit jacket, “I think we should talk.”

I glance at Anastasia and watch as her brows furrowed into a frown and her lips purse onto a fine line, but she doesn’t bother to look at me.

She’s blatantly ignoring me.

None of this is my fault, yet somehow I feel like I am to blame.

“Okay…” I trail off, unsure of how far I can push without her snapping on me, I don’t want an argument but the silence isn’t healthy. “I guess I’ll do the talking.” … “I’m not sure why you’re angry with me, but whatever the reason is, I do hope that when you’re ready, you’ll talk to me about it so that we can work through it together. I don’t want to force you to speak if you don’t want to, but it’s not healthy.”

“You want me to speak, your majesty? I’m sorry, I was waiting for my permission to speak.”

“What?” I question. I’m unsure whether she’s being serious or being a smartass.

It’s a fifty-fifty chance either way.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“We can start with why you’re ignoring me.”

“Because my life is beginning to feel like The Life of Saint Barbara.” Anastasia gestures around the bedroom, finally throwing her book to the side.

I stare at Anna for a moment, unsure of what point she’s trying to make, better still, unsure of who the fuck Barbara is.

Anastasia rolls her eyes, “You have no clue, huh?”

I shake my head.

“Her father had a tower built for her so she couldn’t leave or find a man, and was forced to stay in it until she found Christianity and ended up beheaded because of her faith.”

“Oh,” I sigh, “So you feel like you’re Repunzel locked in a tower?” I try not to chuckle, this analogy is far fetched.

Anastasia shrugs her shoulders, “Sure, we can put it that way, too.”

I chuckle, unable to control my sense of humour. “Good thing you can’t let down your hair and allow men to come up here at your demand.”

“This isn’t funny, Harry. You locked me in here.”

I heavily sigh and hold back my remarks about how she’s being a little bit overly dramatic. “Anna, I didn’t lock you in here, the entire palace is on lockdown.”

“I’m not allowed to leave my fucking room.”

“Because you escaped through the tunnels.”

“I needed out, Harry. This is suffocating me, Dad is gone, Mum is trying to act as nothing happened, I’ve had to help pick out fucking flowers and funeral arrangements, I have my assistant handing me different announcements I have to address in public… Harry, they’re scripting everything and my every move, they handed me a speech I have to give the day of the funeral. And to top it off, you have the crown, you’re the King, I’m just here and I don’t want to be here.”

I stand in silence, taking in every word Anastasia says, unsure of how to approach things. I nod my head and lean against the dresser drawers, “I’m sorry. The only reason you can’t leave is because—“

“Is because I fucked up and went out, I know, I get it. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk, god forbid the future Queen ever acts out of character.”

“Darling,” I swiftly cut her off, “I’ll have security stand down, you won’t be watched as closely, the room will be monitored just for the safety in case someone enters the palace, there’s still a threat, but at any time you want privacy, they will be turned off at your request again. Don’t bottle all this in, talk to me, Anna.” I inform Anastasia of what I’ll make sure happens when it comes to security. The measures were never meant to make her feel like a prisoner in her own home, they were to genuinely keep her safe, but I understand it’s suffocating her and it isn’t fair.

Anastasia shouldn’t have to pay the price and be a prisoner because of the corrupt people out there. Anna didn’t ask for any of this. I run my hands over the dresser and frown for a moment, noticing it is cleared off of the items it held yesterday morning.

My eyes flick to the tea cart that usually has coffee and tea and right beside the cart there’s usually a silver plate with a glass, frozen cubes and a bottle of alcohol.

“Where’s the tea and the alcohol?”

“They were taken just in case I use them to escape. Apparently, I’m not allowed to have alcohol in the room. The lady’s maids took everything.”

I raise a brow and take my phone out of my pants pocket, my fingers swift to unlock my phone but I look towards Anna, “How do I signal for your lady’s maid at this hour?” I question, unsure of how to contact them without physically walking to find one.

Anastasia points to the button on the wall by her bed and I frown for a moment, “I thought that was just for emergencies?” I question.

“No, it calls for the staff, the red one is for emergencies.”

“I know what the red one is,” I respond, “Please press the button for your staff to come up here,” I instruct before my eyes settle back to my phone and I begin to text Matthew. I can only assume he has heard part of the conversation on the outside of the door, but just in case, I think he needs to know the security measures will be toned down in regards to her room.

Anastasia presses the button and stares quietly at me, “I spoke to Pippa.”

“I know,” Anastasia nods, “She told me what would be happening, you don’t need to explain.”

“I’m not listening to what they want, what do you want? Do you want the crown?”

“No, I can’t handle it, Harry. Pippa is right… but there is something I do want.”

“What’s that?” I ask, slipping off my shoes before sitting on the edge of the bed to face her.

“I’m tired of this tiny room, I’d like to move to one of the apartments.”

I nod my head in agreement, “If that is what you wish.”

“It is, and I want a television in our apartment.”

“I’ll make sure to put a TV in the apartment, but can we politely ask that the creepy portraits of monarchs are not in our apartment? They creep me out.”

Anastasia cracks and smile and for the first time, she giggles, “You’re the king, it’s your world, I’m just in it.”

“No, baby, it’s your world and I’m just in it. Speaking of housing… I was thinking we could talk about buying our own place together when things settle down so that we have a place that’s not apart of the royal family?” I offer, somewhat walking on eggshells. I’m not sure how Anastasia will react to the idea of buying a house or any sort of property away from the family.

She already has access to many homes but I’ve been made aware that they don’t feel like home. I want her to have a place that she can go to and feel secure without having royal protocol measures all around her, or a place that’s private and not constantly surrounded by people like the palaces are.

“I’m not sure how I’d afford it… I haven’t worked out my finances and how this all works.”

“Don’t worry about the finances.”

“Are you some rich multimillionaire I don’t know about?” Anastasia chuckles, “Have you been the one stealing the jewels?” Anastasia jokes and I playfully roll me eyes.

“You caught me,” I smile, “But no, I just work my ass off and make the right investments. Keep a lookout for places for sale you’d be interested in.”

“But… if you’re paying, it’ll be yours… can we wait until I can contribute, please?”

I nod my head, “Yes, but just to let you know, since we are married, what’s mine is yours, if I buy a house in cash tomorrow, it’s ours, not just mine. I’m not the kind of prick to dominantly buy something to hold it over your head later in an argument,” I inform her, assuming she has some sort of fear that in years to come, I’ll express the fact she didn’t pay for the home and that it’s mine, not hers. I’ve seen it happen in many marriages and relationships, I refuse to be like that. I’m genuine.

Before Anastasia can say anything, there are two knocks at the door before a lady-in-waiting is opening the door with a small smile, “Your majesty,” she places her hands in front of her, waiting for instructions.

“Hello,” Anna greets, “He called you, not me.” Anastasia gestures towards me.

“I was wondering if you could bring back the tea and whiskey that used to sit in the room and the other items that seem to have gone missing, please,” I smile towards the lady.

“Sir, I’m not allowed to serve alcohol to the Princess.”

“Oh, it isn’t for her,” I begin, “It’s for me, I’ve had a very long day and I need a stiff drink before I head into the tunnels to my room.”

“I’ll bring it up, just a moment,” the lady immediately nods, leaving the room promptly, “We need to tell the staff, I’m tired of making up stories.”

“My mother and her team will decide that, they’re scripting everything so I assume they’ll script when the staff are told…. Are you uhhh… are you working the funeral or?”

“I’ll be wherever you need me to be. Do you want me as your husband or bodyguard? It's your decision.”

Anastasia shrugs her shoulders and looks down, “I don’t know, I don’t know if we’re allowed in the public yet as a couple or if we have to keep it a secret still…. But … will you be near me if you have to be the bodyguard?”

I nod my head, “I’ll be right beside you or behind you, depends what Matthew sets up.”

“Everything’s going to be okay, right?”

Anastasia glances towards me for comfort, comfort that I can’t guarantee but I nod my head and crawl closer to her, wasting no time with opening my arm and letting her curl up into me, “Anna… everything might not be perfect, shit might happen, we might argue here and there, your mother might end up going nuts and smashing all the vases in the palace, I don’t know, but I do know that no matter what happens, I’ll be right here. I’m going to be here to hold you, wipe away tears, to laugh and cry with you. Everything will be okay, it might not be today, next week or next year, but it will be okay. We will be okay. You will be okay. I promise I’ll always be right here,” I kiss the top of her head, doing my best to assure her that no matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.

Life is hard as it is, but it’s even harder when you're a royal with uncertainty and a life that isn’t technically normal. Contrary to popular belief, her life isn’t as easy as the fairy tails make it out or how the media portrays her life.

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, Anna. But I need you to promise me something,” I gently clasp her hand with mine, bringing it to my lips and caressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Anastasia hums, awaiting my request, “No more shutting me out, talk things out with me. If you want to have a drink, have a drink but do it safely, if you want to go out, talk to me, we can make it happen. No need to sneak around and put yourself in danger.”

I want her to understand that no matter what, I’m always here. I may be an asshole at times and I may act like too much of a bodyguard but I don’t want her to feel as though she has to sneak around me. This world she lives in is hard enough without me making it any harder for her.

“You’re talking to me like a kid.”

“That is not my intention,” I sigh, “I just want you to be safe and I want you to talk to me and not shut down.” … “I’m here for you, no matter what. If I could take your pain and make it mine, I would. If I could change what has happened, I would, but I can’t. All I can do is make sure you understand that I’m here for you, I thought we had an unspoken language where you knew this but the events of the other night proved me wrong.”

“I know. I know you’re here for me, it’s hard sometimes. I’m suffocated by this life and I didn’t know how to say it.” Anastasia responds, “Get out of bed before the lady-in-waiting sees as she brings your alcohol,” Anna instructs, nudging me out of bed.

I get off the bed and position myself towards her dresser where I was standing when the lady-in-waiting last saw me. Anastasia goes back to reading her book while I stand and ponder over the woman I’m in love with. Such a beautiful soul who deserves the world sits in front of me completely broken. And the worst part about it is there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I can’t just glue her broken pieces back together and pretend all is okay, I can’t just hug her and hold her, no. This goes deeper than a simple hug and condolences.

I am scared that Anastasia is on a downhill spiral that I can’t control. She’s tough, but I think she has finally been broken.

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imagitory · 4 years ago

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Favorite twst boys?

Oooohoohoo, you wish me to talk about my Night Raven College baes? Let’s see then...

Ace Trappola ~ Okay, so I should admit right off the bat that I have a huge soft spot for the Heartslabyul dorm in particular. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll are one of my favorite things ever, and so most adaptations of those works tend to give me some amount of glee, even the really flawed ones. But for Ace specifically, it took me a little while to warm up to him, given that he can be a real prat, but once he and Deuce really rallied around Yuu (especially when they dropped everything on their winter break and took the bus all the way back to school during the Scarabia incident to try to rescue them and Grim -- MY HEART!!!), I fully adopted Ace as my second trash son and that was that. I also loved Ace’s development in the Ghost Bride story line, as well as his admittedly harsh, but still rather fair tear-down of Riddle immediately pre-Overblot. Ace can be really harsh sometimes, but that also makes him an incredibly honest sort who won’t take anyone else’s bull and won’t let anyone push him around -- yet at the same time, he’s also lighthearted enough that he never takes himself too seriously. In some ways he kind of reminds me of Jounouchi Katsuya from Yu-Gi-Oh!, and that’s definitely a compliment.

Deuce Spade ~ MY ORIGINAL TRASH SON. I loved Deuce pretty much from the get-go, considering how passionate he was about trying to fix the mistake with the chandelier and how adorable he was casting the only magic he could manage (“COME FORTH, CAULDRON!” XDD). Then there was the whole “chick” incident where we not only saw his delinquent side which he tries so desperately to hide on full display for the first time, but we also got to see how much he truly loves his mom and how friggin’ stupid and yet absolutely sincere he is, and I just fell in love with Deuce even more. The Wish Upon a Star event where we learn Deuce wants to basically be this world’s equivalent of a sheriff after having been such a delinquent in his younger years only made me feel all the more for this guy -- him wanting to be so much better than he was even if he’s not the smartest, strongest, or most talented guy around I find so compelling and likable.

Riddle Rosehearts ~ Yeah, I know, a lot of Heartslabyul love, but like with Ace, it took me a LONG while to warm up to Riddle. I thought he was a total jerk and I wanted nothing more than to give him a good telling-off (“go ahead, use that stupid collar on me -- I don’t have magic for you to block, you bullying prat!”) until Ace got around to punching Riddle in the face and then tearing him a verbal new one for me. It honestly took Riddle’s Overblotting for me to feel the least bit sorry for him, but it was how sincerely he acted after the fact in trying to make up for his mistakes that really softened my heart to him. Riddle has lived his whole life following rules and convention to the letter, and it’s made him miserable, so now that he��s come to grips with the fact that he doesn’t need to be miserable in order to live an upstanding life, he’s softened a bit. Even with this, though, that rule-abiding, upstanding attitude isn’t always hard to shake, and I think it makes for a much more balanced outcome than if Riddle just went hog-wild and stopped caring about everything -- because the whole reason Riddle followed the rules so closely is he wanted to do what was best for all and to be the best he could be, too. His motivation for being so strict came from a deep passion for leadership and order, and I’m glad that passion of Riddle’s wasn’t dampened, but instead given nuance. Now he can focus his passion more effectively, rather than lashing out in all directions indiscriminately. Like Ace as well, I loved Riddle’s development in the Ghost Marriage plot line, particularly his individual side story with Malleus. It really showcased Riddle’s noblesse oblige moral code, which I personally find the most compelling and likable aspect of his personality.

Jack Howl ~ JACK IS A GOOD BOY. Anyone who disagrees can fight me. (LOL, not really, but...) Like with Deuce, I liked Jack pretty much immediately. From the start, he just came across as so much more down-to-earth and honest than either of the other two main characters from Savanaclaw (even if Jack is also a total tsundere, but honestly, if you’ve watched any kind of anime, you’re fluent enough in “tsundere” as a language to know exactly what Jack really thinks of something). He was sort of depicted as a black sheep in his own dorm, and -- honestly? -- I’m a sucker for characters that are sort of on the fringes and don’t quite conform to what people expect them to be. Add to that how passionate Jack is about working hard and being the best he can be in his own right, as well as how deathly loyal he is, and he’s just overall a character I would love being friends with.

Jamil Viper ~ Jamil was the first character who Overblots who I actually felt sympathy for long before we see his side of the story in flashback form. Part of this admittedly is because I could sort of see where Jamil and Kalim’s story was going ahead of time, but the other reason is that I could see how much work Jamil put in all the time. Even though yeah, it was a real dick move to try to foist out Kalim so he could become Head of Scarabia instead, and yes, he manipulated things to make everyone see Kalim as cruel and irrational, it doesn’t change the fact that Jamil still acted like a Dorm Head a lot more than Kalim did a lot of the time, in the sense of making sure things run smoothly. Kalim definitely brings amazing enthusiasm to Scarabia as its leader and inspires a lot of positive feelings in the people around him, but if there’s a problem, it’s Jamil who often ends up fixing it, not Kalim. And from the start, I really felt for this guy who Kalim -- simply due to privilege -- didn’t seem to acknowledge he was demanding so much of, without receiving the same kind of attention and appreciation in return. I never disliked Kalim for this, because I could tell Kalim didn’t mean it maliciously and admittedly Jamil really should’ve said something since Kalim adores Jamil and would have likely been more than receptive to hearing what he had to say...but at the same time, given their power imbalance, it’s also not completely unsurprising that Jamil didn’t feel like he could say something. The best part about Jamil for me, at least, ended up coming out after he was allowed to finally speak his mind. Yeah, maybe he’s a little meaner now. Yeah, maybe he’s not so patient or amiable now. But he’s also allowed to show more of that deep, searing passion and ambition he’s been bottling up for so long. I loved seeing how much he enjoys dancing and performing through the Fairy Gala event and the recent Pomefiore chapter. I’ve loved how thoroughly (and pretty justifiably) distrustful he is of Azul. I’ve loved how he’s sort of on the fence emotionally about looking after Kalim the way he used to and making sure Kalim doesn’t expect his service the way he subconsciously did before. Jamil is one of the TWST characters who surprised me the most in how much I enjoy him, and I honestly can’t wait to see how much more he grows.

Epel Felmier ~ I WILL PROTECT THIS BOY, OKAY. Not because he’s delicate-looking, but because damn it, if he wants to eat macaroons and steak with the wrong fork, then he should be allowed to just go out and do it. I absolutely love the contrasts we’ve already seen in Epel so far. For as sweet and bishounen as his face is, he has a real rough, informal side fitting his background as a kid from the country, and yet he also has his “Prince Charming” moments too. He completely on his own comes up with the idea to arrive riding a horse when trying to impress the Bride during the Ghost Marriage event, and yet he’ll also tear into a bunch of ghosts who dare mistake him for a girl. Epel reminds me of a friend of mine from high school who also was a lot gruffer and more cynical than his short height and cute face would suggest, and it makes for a very interesting character, I think. You can’t pin this kid down or put him in a single box, and I think that’s awesome.

Vil Schoenheit ~ All right. Before the Pomefiore chapter, I thought there was no way in Hell that I would ever warm up to Vil. His slapping of people’s butts in the Fairy Gala event, his superficial focus on exterior beauty, and his bullying, condescending attitude toward Epel in particular really made me dislike him from the get-go. But then the Pomefiore chapter started and we reached the auditions...and I found myself agreeing with just about every critique he made, in contrast to Rook’s sunnier, fawning reviews. It made me feel like I was watching American Idol or America’s Got Talent and agreeing with Simon Cowell (which I honestly almost always did, whenever I watched those!). And as the Pomefiore chapter’s unfolded, I’ve seen that fascinating contrast in Vil. Yes, he’s very superficial -- but his dream is to act and be an idol, and in that world of celebrity, appearances are important. Yes, he’s very conceited -- but he’s also an incredibly hard worker who’s put in a lot of effort to improve himself and his talents to the point that he should be proud of them. Yes, he’s almost cruel in how relentlessly he pushes people -- but he never holds anyone to a standard he wouldn’t also expect of himself. Yes, he’s very forceful and sees his way as the only way -- but he does truly want those people to succeed in his own weird way, even if he can’t properly express it. Not to mention the fact that he’s constantly typecast as villainous characters, and he just wants to be a hero who makes it to the final curtain call!! My heart!! It’s made it so that like with Jamil, I’ve found sympathy for Vil long before he Overblots, and so I’m all the more eager to see how both the Overblot itself and its aftermath impacts Vil as a character and his relationships with the other characters.

Malleus Draconia ~ Oh, come on, who doesn’t love Tsunotaro? This precious child needs all of the love and party invitations in the world! (And yes, he may be an immortal fae, but he’s still a precious child to me, so there.) I would totally love chatting about gargoyles and grotesques with him. X3

#ask me #opinion #twst #twisted wonderland #oh boy here i go #ace trappola #deuce spade #riddle rosehearts #jack howl #jamil viper #epel felmier #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 4 years ago

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Alright, so if you've been following along with me, Supernatural season 3 starts out on a trio of episodes that are Really Fun, slides into some episodes that are Pretty OK, then takes a real nose dive into Bummersville. Hoo boy guys, I really hope that this season picks up. I mean, it won’t, but I can still dream. 2021 was maybe not the year to start watching this season. Fair warning.

The next three episodes for this season are just, like, real downers. First we get “Fresh Blood,” which, aside from the terrible title, starts out on a high note. Gordon (gross) somehow manages to catch up with Bela (HOW??) and threatens her if she doesn’t hand over the Winchesters. Bela, in all of her class and grace, won’t give them up because she has a high price point and Gordon is really lowballing her here. Just like, yes, ok, please stay forever, you’re amazing and I love you. And what a scene this is! You have two characters, one with a strict moral code (albeit one that allows for violence and winning at all costs) and the other with almost NO moral code, but an allegiance that can be bought with the best price and it’s such a fun back and forth until Gordon pulls out a gun. And then she pulls out her phone and just has Dean on speed dial and that’s maybe my fav part. Bela has run into the Winchesters twice and they maybe legit hate her but she’s very much like, oh yeah, my BFF’s the Winchesters, I love those idiots!

I love that we come back to this moment later in the episode when Bela, like, three days later, is like, Oh! I guess I should warn the Winchesters that some crazy guy is after them! She’s just so casual about it you kind of get the feeling that, even though technically Gordon was threatening her life, she doesn’t view him as A Threat. She gives the Winchesters a heads up just to be like oh yeah, you might want to watch out for this mild inconvenience, and she seems legit shocked when Dean freaks out. There’s this moment that plays across her face like, oh shit, did I...did I fuck up? And it adds a nice bit of depth to her character. She’s seems honestly worried, both for the lives of the Winchesters but also that Dean won’t like her anymore and that is just a charming bit of A C T I N G!

I am gonna miss her SO MUCH when she dies at the end of this season. WHY did we CANCEL HER???

But despite the fun beginning, this episode is about monsters and how people become monsters and how other people are probably the reason. Because our main baddie is a vampire who hunts to...well, listen if we look at the facts that he lays out in his monologue, it’s a little more tragic - he’s trying to replace the daughters that he lost hundreds of years ago, cool motive, still murder. In practice though, he goes around turning hot blonde coeds into vampires and then ?????? Who knows. I’d like to believe that this was a problem with the CW executives or maybe casting/directing and not with the writing, but it’s SPN and you really can’t be sure with anything. The fact is, this is a CW show from the early 2000’s and a lot of their extras are cast to type. And that’s maybe me exhibiting some girl-on-girl crime, but there are other episodes that did a much less blatantly gross job casting their extras/Very Special Guest Stars.

Anyway, the POINT of this guy is that he’s a monster because someone killed his daughter and he’s just been trying to fill that grief hole inside of him for centuries. This is not unlike Gordon, who ALSO has been trying to fill a grief hole that he’s had for decades, except he’s not killing people and resurrecting them as blood suckers, he’s just killing them. And then, when the Vamp decides to turn Gordon it’s a real sweet moment of comeuppance for like, a HOT second and then you’re like, awww dude, ya done f’ed up. That was a bad idea. You’ve made a HUGE mistake.

More importantly, our Vampire In Question finally runs into the Winchesters and get’s to say things like “I was desperate! You ever felt desperate? I've lost everyone I ever loved. I'm staring down eternity alone. Can you think of a worse hell?” and also “I just ... I didn't care anymore. Do you know what it's like when you just don't give a damn? It's like ... it's like being dead already.” and Dean’s v. much like, THIS IS TOO REAL ROY.

Sam may ALSO be feeling Too Real feelings because he is DONE dicking around with Gordon and honestly yes, I like this, this is good Sam development. It’s nice to know that Sam has a breaking point. And I admit I’m of two minds about this moment because 1) I love the idea of Dark!Sam this season and that maybe Sam’s decision to actually kill Gordon is just one step in that process but 2) I ALSO love the idea of Sam Lite finally having a breaking point and Gordon is IT. I don’t know which theory I like more in this scenario, but they are both good theories.

I think as much as this episode wants to draw parallels between the monsters and Dean (thank you artful editors), you can’t look at the “I’ve lost everyone I ever loved,” line and not think of Sam? Cuz he’s got one (1) person left in his life that hasn’t died horribly, so how desperate is he about to get through the end of this season? I’ve definitely been watching this season with eyes on all the ominous Dean foreshadowing, but the Sam foreshadowing is also there, just buried under the heavy weight of a thousand smulders and suicidal levels of denial.

And also, FUCK the tag on this episode! Guys, it is CUTE but it is also HORRIBLE. Dean starts teaching Sam how to fix the Impala and at first it’s all, “Oh! Adorable Brothers Being Brothers!” and I loved it but then I almost immediately hated it because you realize this is about making sure Sam can get along without him once he’s gone and Dean just accepts his own death with such casual ease that it’s just...INFURIATING!

This scene was rude and I HATE IT!

Cut to - “A Very Supernatural Christmas” Special!

Guys, I was so excited when I got to this episode. THIS is Classic Supernatural Shenanigans. Plus, you know a Holiday Special is the ultimate sign that this show has Made It, right? Or it could be a sign that they’re selling out, who knows, but I think we can say that at this point in the series, SPN is established enough to start having fun with their fans. That’s what this says to me. BUT THEN what we get is like...oh boy.

First - like, I’mma beat this horse to death, but what is WRONG with this FAMILY? John Winchester very quickly devolved into the sort of father that forgot about every single holiday and did not ever, even a little bit, make up for it. It’s not a surprise, but it kind of wrecked me seeing a flashback where Baby Dean is just so attached to a father who can’t be bothered to actually care for his children. I know he’s not in this episode because Jeffrey Dean Morgan was tied up in other projects, but the fact that John doesn’t show up at the end to button the flashbacks with a But then he DID show up for Christmas! just makes this plot line that more gutting. And despite Dean’s hero worship of their father, this is maybe the Christmas where Baby Sam stops believing in his own father. The only bright side to this is that it continues to enforce the fact that Bobby should have sued John for custody. Bobby should maybe STILL Sue for custody so that Dean at least would feel like someone wants him for once in his life, damnit.

And then we wrap this episode up with the Best Worst Christmas of all, because we see Sam start to...also?? accept that Dean is about to die? Cuz that’s what this episode is really about - Dean’s Last Christmas. And everything about that makes me ~ u p s e t ~.

So Sam decides to put his curmudgeonly grinchy attitude aside in order to make it a special day for Dean and ugh. UGH. UGHGHGHG. Season three is the worst guys, and I can’t believe I didn’t realize that until right this second now.

So let’s wrap this up with "Malleus Maleficarum", honestly an episode that is mostly forgettable until we get to, like, the last five minutes. Sure, witches and curses and selling your soul, woohoo whatever.

But then we get some real Ruby centric reveals and like, WHAT is happening?? First off, the scene where Ruby and Tammy have a moment is a real Moment. There is some baggage and tension here and it is heavy. And then Tammy drops the mic when she reveals that Ruby used to be human.

THEN, Ruby legit saves their asses by killing Tammy with a fancy magic knife. Ok, Dean does the actual killing, but Ruby brought the fancy magic knife. So between the hot and heavy tension with “Tammy” and her repeated attempts to keep the Winchesters alive, we’re left wondering what IS Ruby’s deal? I personally wonder how much of the show’s mythology the show actually has figured out at this point? Because interviews with Kripke definitely walk the line between “Oh we definitely have this whole thing worked out,” and “yeah, we’re sort of finding things as we go along,” which is maybe why it’s able to last as long as it does. More on that later.

Of course the big kicker is the final scene between Ruby and Dean. Dean is almost on board with Ruby at this point in the season, and much like his scene with the demon in “Sin City”, they share a kind of vulnerable moment together where Ruby admits that, yeah, she was human once and yeah, Hell will destroy you, body and soul, and yeah Dean’s worst fear will probably come true - he will become the thing he hunts, no ifs, ands or buts about it. And Dean knows that Ruby knows that Dean knows that there’s no way to save Dean from his fate, but they both agree that they can’t take Sam’s last ounce of hope away from him because, for both of them, Sam is their hope. Ruby and Dean both see the war happening around them and they know that with Dean gone, Sam’s maybe the last guy holding back the tide to save all humanity.

Which, honestly? Bull shit. Do you know how many hunters are out there? Neither do I, but this season seems to indicate that there are a LOT. We have barely scratched the surface on the hunter community and it’s a damn shame that they are all weirdo loners because there is a war going on. You know what works great in a war? An ARMY. Buncha mentally unstable, martyr-complex ijits who can’t put their differences aside for one damn MINUTE so that maybe, JUST maybe, the could actually defeat the evil they’ve spent their entire lives dedicated to fighting. And if Ruby and Dean wanted to help Sam, what they should probably do is get him plugged in to that community. I do believe that of all they backasswards, self-obsessed, painfully anti-social crazies out there, the Winchesters are THE WORST.

Listen tho, this was like, a solid scene between these two. Just a lot of work goin' into this and it paid off.

Anyway, back to the mythology for a hot second - This sort of loosey-goosey stumbling into your own world building is probably another one of those things that you’ll only really get in a show with this many episodes per season? It’s that room to play and experiment and just make stuff up as you go along. I think the slow drip method of releasing episodes ALSO helps in this scenario because you’re able to see what fans are reacting to in almost-real time. When viewers are binging episodes, I think you're less likely to see what specifically they’re reacting to and more wholistically they’re reacting to. And that’s not to say you won’t see those specific things that they like/love eventually, but by the time you get there, your season’s been produced in its entirety and you’ll have to bear that in mind for (hopefully) next season. But with SPN, they were writing and producing the show at the same time that some of the episodes were airing. That’s why they were able to make decisions on the fly, based on what fans responded to. And definitely by this point in the show, there was a sizeable and vocal fan base that made their feelings VERY well-known. We’re only in season three, but they’ve already had a number of con appearances and a pretty active online presence. That kind of feedback has got to be helpful, from a writing perspective, but it also allows for things like characters getting cut because nobody liked them for some dumb reason. BUT, if you’re fighting to stay on the air for 100 episodes or longer, responding to fan reactions is what’s gonna do it and that’s a fact.

#Supernatural #Supernatural rewatch #SPN #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Bela Talbot #Gordon Walker #Ruby #SPN Season 3 #Fresh Blood #A Very Supernatural Christmas #malleus maleficarum #It's gonna lighten up on the next three episodes #I promise #I hope #Don't watch this season if you're still feeling 2020 #Is my personal opinion

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kimyoonmiauthor · 4 years ago

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Things I regret and things I wish I had done better in pushing Diversity in Books

Probably a bit self-aggrandizing... and I’m aware of that. And I’m aware most people won’t believe me, but I have documentation. (I also pushed diversity in Korean dramas a bit, too lol, but that’s much more subtle and harder to prove.) Short version: I helped pull a lot of the strings on the internet about the discussions of diversity and writing from about 2004 (November 2004)

Loose background:

I have always been more diverse than the people around me. And I’ve always felt disaffected from being able to understand my own diversity completely as an adoptee. Being Highly Intersectional, but often disconnected, also makes me super stubborn on representation over other people.

I am also from a line of advocates on all sides of my family.

And no, I’ve never been particularly good at being “nice”. Kind, yes. Nice, no. So people have always felt split about me from the time I was born, I suppose.

Disclaimer:

Some of this might be retconning a bit... just a bit. But unintentionally. All facts are true as I can document/remember them.

Introduction:

So, I’ve always had my eyes on writing diversity, but never quite felt qualified to write it when I was younger, and being adopted, I was raised by a white family. So most of my characters from extension of exposure, ended up white and were female and a few were gay, but being ace spec, and in the dark about it, I didn’t know how to write that. (Incidentally also a sucker fro Rom Coms.) But I’m quite stubborn and quite detailed when it comes to such things, so tried my best with what I had and did not cross.

Internet hit, and frankly, I spent the majority of it on Sailor Moon in the early years. Also arguing down Adoption lawyers from using triggering statements in their “ads” to adoptive parents on listserves, etc. (Adopted to a Jewish family and Korean, so top notch arguing skills is a must. [I joke, also insider’s joke])

Nanowrimo hit, and I learned that asexuality is a real thing, which was also a part of me, but they didn’t acknowledge gray-aces until much, much later. I was inquiring about it in November 2004 (Finally looked up the date)... (so AVEN lies their butts off about that because I remember the first aces out were sex repulsed, aro aces. Not a spot of gray out there.)

Since about 2005? Nanowrimo I started compiling lists of links to various information, since it started to repeat from the previous year. Every year until about 2008-ish... I compiled links for Nanowrimo for resources on how to write various groups. The fights all went in the same exact direction.

I also from about the beginning started compiling Banned Books list by category and every year posting that thread, which was also exceedingly popular. I did it to expose the stupid reasons that books are banned, which mostly were on diversity.

I also was the one that started the “Above Below” in writing forums form. (I took it from ASMR--A Sailor Moon Romance, who would play games like that and cross referenced it with my experience at Canisius College Summer Writing Camp and used the rules from there. I did it because Nanowrimo at the time didn’t have a critique section, so me and another person discussed it in PMs first, and then I started the thread in an “other” section. (I still have the rules from the *original* post on my computer, which have since gotten corrupted.) Nanowrimo also had word limits, so I had one for first page with a strict 250 word limit and eventually after Miss Snark, one for query letters (which I’m exceedingly good at. I won Miss Snark’s contest, but for a while thought I lost, until I saw the Nanowrimo boards to show I won. lol I’m sued to rejection.)

Also started compiling the Writing Survey questions in about Year 3 and ran it, gathered statistics, etc about Nanowrimo and the writing population.

People hated me. People liked me too... since I spent a ton of time helping people. The PoC threads, out of the diversity threads, were always the most contentious. (Also in other writing forums too... often populated by white Moderators who didn’t know why associating black people watermelon and porches was racist as anything... *cough* Critique Circle *cough*)

So... given that background...

What Did I Do wrong:

- Probably shouldn’t have bit at Trolls and asked people to move it along? (OK, I can’t resist the temptation still.)

- I started with thinking it was individualistic power, not systemic. I set this on the wrong course. We should have been challenging agents and editors as much as writers from the beginning. This is my bad, (though I was not alone.) I didn’t have enough study back then. I didn’t understand how systems worked.

- I probably shouldn’t have been thinking only about privileged people writing. I think that it should be own voices first, but that privileged people and outgroups should *also* be given a chance *after* a ton of research to also write people of color. Personally, it’s been a bit overcorrrected in places, but yeah, I think the idea that we should teach outgroups... no. They need to do the work, the research, be insecure, and pick up the slack.

- I probably should have said no more often about diversity. No, you can’t write that. (But others should also have said no, but sometimes you’re hungry for representation.) Also my line of “Real People > Fiction” would have been greatly helpful back then.

- I did argue that YA was where most books are banned and most trends *start* in YA books, but the part that was also missed was that I also said that it spreads *from* YA, not that it should *stop* solely at YA. BTW, you do not have to write only YA as an author... It’s a demographic, not a genre. A lot of kids also read adult books. I did as a 13 year old. (When the YA section was 4 shelves at best) I think I should have pushed more for it to get into the adult section, too, because without the tools to see what it’s like, how is the previous generation supposed to help kids as well? Adults are not hopeless.

- I also think I should have instituted better ways of discourse around diversity, but it’s not like anyone was cooperating with it. Argue with resources, reliable sources, back it with fact, not truthiness.

- I also think I should have argued that if you have NO ONE in your life of that diversity... HANDS OFF. Not the token friend, but someone who comes around *often* to you *house* you *regularly* talk with and interact with. Being more adamant about that might have helped. If you never read anything from that group and yet still want to write them HANDS OFF. If you think all _blank_ of that group are terrible people... also HANDS OFF. If your only interaction with the country and the people is through dramas and pop culture... HANDS OFF.

- I really needed the words Implicit Bias, not just Privilege. Also needed Privilege Qualifying too. White Tears also would have been useful. Stereotype Threat... OK... I needed more Social Justice vocabulary.

- I should have learned that everyone has privilege, but it’s how you use it that matters sooner... It took me a while to get there. And I wrote it out first... as far as I know, and spread it around.

- I also have smaller regrets like... the use of Caucasian... I pressed MTV Decoded for a video on it. Also on the history of “Submissive” Asian.

- Also wish I had written a better code of conduct on how to interact with people with Diversity so they don’t get mentally drained better.

- I think I should have argued better for Diversity within, not stereotypes outside looking in. (This is currently missing from a lot of the Diversity workshops on writing--the stories that don’t hit the bell curve neatly. Fi~~~x it.)

- I also think trying to force convert authors was wrong (and is still wrong). If they do, they do, instead.... I should have bolstered support from the System itself and from authors of that identity, without locking out privileged authors that wanted to try. Let the authors that try and flop, push back flounder so others can learn from them. I don’t abide by canceling before release UNLESS there is a very good reason they shouldn’t profit. You can cancel them by not buying their book.

What I Did Right:

- I did ask Writing Forums to institute a Diversity policy that was more specific like the writing conventions. (Still looking at you Nanowrimo, Critique Circle, Absolute Write and Wattpad.) AND to have administration at the very top of the forum that was not white OR at least very educated on those topics (Head of forums should get paid... unless they started it themselves). But to have boards to review problems with diversity discussion. (And I know it’s not for everyone and it’s exhausting, but power representation is something we need.) It’s not bad to ask those in power to be educated on the problem and not make weak excuses on why they can’t do it, and then ban people for challenging them on diversity. *cough* I’m STILL asking that all writing forums are specific on diversity and prejudices and ban all prejudiced swears because from the Nanowrimo survey shit, fuck, dick, ass... are *less* offensive than prejudiced swears. And people can self-censor and can look it up.

- I know I was late to ask for it, but yeah, asking Editors and Agents to be *educated* before making a call for diversity isn’t a bad thing. (Lots of studying to get here.) I know they can’t change their sexuality, skin color, disability status, etc. BUT being able to list books from what you are asking for and ones that are not all privileged-qualifying would show you know your stuff. A quick way, BTW, to get a hold of countries is to read Folklore... I know this from lots and lots of reading and studying foreign media. Story structures, deeper beliefs, etc, can often be found there, plus they are quick to read. I know I wasn’t the first on this... Lee and Low pressed for it a lot, but I tried to extend it.

- I asked for end to end diversity. Every single part of the bookstore should have diversity in it. I’ve been going to the bookstore at least once a year since I was 13, scanning how the market has shifted and changed. I know authors counsel that by the time you see it on the shelf the fad is gone... but that’s not what I was looking for. I was looking for diversity, for gaps that people hadn’t filled yet. I want the cookbook section to have worldwide cooking. I want the economics books to have PoC names in it--even if I might never write or buy one. Because mirrors are important. I know this. If women can spread to the entire bookstore without question, then so can all of the other authors and sections. I’m still frickin’ asking for this. I know how much it hurts writers to not be able to find non-fiction books on their own identity.

- I insisted on research as the best route to get there. Not write what you know, explore what you don’t know. (But a lot of writers are lazy about research... if you are going to write diversity that’s not your own, then no.) If you’re not willing to put a year’s worth of work into deprogramming, it’s not worth your time to even touch diversity topics.

- Insisted that Diversity people are not trends. (Though I wish I’d pressed this more). Again, conquer the ENTIRE bookstore so it’s not a question. It’s an answer. Books are there to answer things in my PoV.

- I spent a lot of time trying to learn perspectives and listen to people and dissenting within.

- I don’t regret challenging We Need Diverse books for being a-holes about rolling back on the dream of diverse books end to end by saying Diversity only for YA and challenging them to do better on adoption discussions with an adoptee at the helm who is defogged. If I’m unpopular for calling them out to do better, so be it. Again, conquer the entire bookstore. Don’t be afraid to dream big so the movement has a place to go, and don’t make a movement solely for your benefit.

And personally... I think book sellers should stop trying to cater to the 40% market of male readers who read only 1 book a year by insisting on more male characters... but that’s me.

But this is me... still wishing to have my dream come true that when I go to any part of the bookstore, go to a movie theater, listen to music, that I know diversity is represented there without anyone batting an eyelash at its existence. It’s not always going to benefit me. Sometimes it might actually hurt. But I’m OK with that if I can’t leverage my privileges always... I’ll cheer for it... because it means someone who was like me as a kid, and them as an adult can finally see themselves in the media they consume. And truly, this lifts my heart.

#diversity #diversity advocacy #writing #diversity writing

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clickforspoilers · 4 years ago

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mad libs for a mad lad.

WHO: Stephanie @clickforspoilers and Jason @thatsjasonfkntodd WHERE: SCPD Jail WHEN: May 19th 2020 WHAT: Stephanie is the first to visit Jason in jail bc this isn’t her first rodeo. She’s surprised to find that she can actually relate to him on some level.

Steph: As soon as Steph heard that Jason was in jail, she assumed Dick or Bruce brought him in for what happened and the docks and she was filled with righteous indignation. Then she talked to Tim and got the backstory, which was somehow even worse.

Regardless, she was one of the first to fill out an application to be a visitor and even picked up a few extra for the others. The receptionist was new, but Steph got a wave in to Gordon. She practically grew up around the police department with how often her father was in and out of jail and prison.

As soon as Jason's commissary was up she made sure there was money in it. After having several Thanksgivings with prison food she couldn't imagine it was much better in jail. Probably worse, especially with how out of date the place was. She also brought a ton of books she knew would be approved, asking Alfred which were Jason's favorites since no one else seemed to know.

"Wow, you look... orange." Those were the first words out of her mouth. A bit of levity. Jason: Jason had known that people would show up. He wasn’t sure who or when, exactly. Steph being at the head of the line did genuinely surprise him a little, considering how much time recently he’d spent getting in her way. None of it had been malicious, exactly, but he still wouldn’t have figured she’d show up before the others.

“Yeah, well, I told them that red was more my color but nobody seemed to care.” She had something with her, some kind of package, and he nodded toward it. “That for me?” What kind of screening process had the SCPD managed to drum up when they could barely keep officers on streets? Steph: "No, I just figured I'd read all these books and do all these Mad Libs in front of you as my own personal brand of torture." Steph could never keep a straight face even when she was being sarcastic. "Oh, I also put some cash in your commissary so you can live off twinkies or Snickers bars. They had a whole episode on Dateline about where they get jail food and trust me, you don't wanna eat it."

Maybe she was a little annoyed about the whole patrol thing, but she knew what Jason was doing. Maybe part of her enjoyed the petty competition. It introduced a little chaos into the regimented NOVA patrol-watching she would otherwise be doing. Not that she would actually admit it. Jason: “You read books? Color me impressed. The Mad Libs I believe.” Not that one single part of him actually thought Steph was dumb. Nowhere close. She’d be dead again if that was the case. Ignorance as a vigilante was a death sentence more than any knife or gun.

He reached one hand through the bars, though they were too narrow to get far. The books would fit. “I ate out of the trash in Crime Alley for years. I’ll survive jail food.” But he wouldn’t turn down a Twinkie either. Steph: "Fuck you. I read all the time." Maybe not everything she read was a book, but still. Steph preferred the more hands on method. She learned better that way.

Smirking, she handed him a Mad Libs book even though she knew that wasn't what he wanted. "Why eat maggots when you don't have to? That's seriously what they found in some of the food, y'know." Jason: “Protein is protein.” He wasn’t being serious, and even his incredibly low standards were still standards. “Pretty sure Dick might slip me a burger or something if it gets that bad, but I’ll keep my eyes open for creepy crawlies in the oatmeal.”

Jason took the mad lib book with a barely suppressed sigh. What was he, eight? Who did Mad Libs? Had he ever actually done one? In his whole life? He was fairly sure the answer was no, because he barely remembered what they were supposed to be. Since she’d brought it, though, he opened it and started to flip through, only to find that words had already been filled in.

“Seriously? You brought me used Mad Libs?” Only as he asked did he catch ‘Tim’ as one of the words. He read the rest of it quickly and sighed. “Yeah, well, everybody is upset.” Steph: Steph made a face at the idea of maggots in oatmeal, but she didn't say anything. She was too distracted watching Jason go through the Mad Libs. Maybe writing a note in there was a little hokey, even for her, but at least he was reading it.

"Yeah, Tim told me everything. I'm caught up." She hoped there wasn't anything else to know, at least. Even though she hadn't been involved in the Deathstroke plan, she hovered behind Babs and watched the whole thing go down. The entire day had been more than a little tense. "I know, but I think we should all try to be on the same page. It'll make things easier, at least. You know?" Jason: “All of us on the same page? Did you get high before you came in here? Have you met all of us?” They were never going to be on the same page about anything, or at least not on the same line of the same page. Still, the last time he’d spoken to Tim in a non-official capacity hadn’t exactly gone well. He hadn’t been in the mood for more feelings and of course that was the exact time that Tim, of all people, had wanted to have some.

Jason dropped the Mad Lib book to his side and ran his free hand over his jaw. “It’s not like I’m ignoring him. I just didn’t want a fucking heart to heart when he tried to have it, alright?” Steph: "I mean about this whole thing, not about literally everything ever." That was never going to happen and Steph wasn't naive. She might be less strict than the others about procedures and whatnot, but she generally followed the same code. It was something she accepted and it was the antithesis of what her dad had been. Sometimes she wondered if Jason was trying to do the same thing, but... opposite. Sort of. "I know you wouldn't ignore him, I'm just saying, you could reach out. You get phone calls, right?" Jason: “Are you kidding me? Why do I have to call him when you’re going to see him probably as soon as you leave? I’ll write a note in the Mad Libs and you can take it back to him.” Did it have to be so dramatic? He was in jail. That was hardly a position to be coddling somebody else’s hurt feelings, especially when Tim had been more than willing to pop off that night, too. It hadn’t been all on one side. Steph: Steph gave an exaggerated sigh, but his offer was certainly better than nothing. There was a reason she asked for something big first. This seemed like a fair compromise, even though she knew Jason wasn't about to write anything touchy feely. "I might be okay with that. It depends. What are you gonna write?" “How about stop being a fucking nerd and come see me in jail. Does that hit the right note? It’s an invitation.” If Tim holding out for some kind of apology, though, that wasn’t going to show up in Mad Lib or any other form. Once in awhile Jason offered them, he’d even given one to Tim before, but he had to feel well and truly in the wrong before he did it. In this case, he didn’t. Tim hadn’t known when to quit, he’d pushed and then snapped when he didn’t get the kind of response he wanted. It was on him as much as it was on Jason. Steph: "Maybe don’t be an asshole and leave the first part out. Then it's -" Steph clicked her tongue. "Perfect." Leaning on her elbow, she watched him for a few seconds before saying anything. "Maybe it was the wrong time or whatever, but you know how he is about showing feelings. He's not good at it. He admires you, so... go easy on him." Jason: “But the first part is how he knows I really wrote it.” Not that he had anything to write with. Maybe Steph had a pencil stub stuck in her bag. Was that a weapon? Probably. He could’ve made it a weapon. All he needed it for was writing the dumb Mad Lib note, though. “Fine. I’ll be the bad guy.” As always. “Am I supposed to do this in blood or can the SCPD spare a crayon for me?” Steph: Steph waved a pen and handed it over. “Flexible ink well.” She was prepared. Her father had to have one of the bendy pens when he’d been in prison, or a really short pencil. “This is you being the good guy, Hoodie. Not to put a bad taste in your mouth or anything, but when you aren’t an asshole you actually are a pretty good guy.” Jason: “How dare you slander me right to my face.” He took the pen and held the Mad Lib book against the wall to scribble his note to Tim. It said exactly what he told her that he was writing, minus the first part, though he did add “nerd” onto the end before signing his name as though Tim might suspect Steph had done it instead. Once he’d finished, he held it back through the bars to her and motioned for the rest of what she was holding. “Can I have the actual books now?” Steph: "I'll take my vengeance in small ways." Steph had a plan to get Jason back for the pizza incident, but then this happened. She reached for the Mad Libs and glanced at what he wrote. Sliding the box over, she took out one book at a time so she could pass them through the bars. "I got my information from Alfred. If it were up to me you might've ended up with the newest issues of Seventeen." Jason: “Your vengeance. For what? That crummy pizza? There’s twenty bucks in the nightstand by my bed. Buy another one.” Or he was pretty sure there was, anyway. There was probably something in there. He’d just bailed on the manor with his bag to stay with Dick for all of about a day before everything went down and couldn’t remember what he’d left or not left.

Jason rolled his eyes and started collecting the books one by one beneath his arm. Alfred, unsurprisingly, had given Steph his favorites and a few he hadn’t actually read before. It would keep him Bush for a little while. “Thanks for bringing these,” he said, suddenly serious as he took the last one. Steph: Rolling her eyes, Steph made a scoffing sound. "You're not getting off that easy." There was no way she planned all that for nothing. "I'll totally take the 20$ though," she added as an afterthought.

It was so rare that Jason was sincere that it sometimes took her a second to recognize when it was happening. She nodded, even though she still passing him various puzzles like Sudoku and a book of Crosswords. "Sure," she said once there was nothing more to hand over. Holding the empty box on her lap, she hesitated before asking, "Have you talked to Bruce yet?"

Jason: “You can always throw in some theft charges against me,” he offered, like that was going to make much difference alongside the murder and all.

His demeanor changed the instant that Steph brought up Bruce. He hadn’t laid eyes on him since Dick told him what had happened with Joker, and the mere thought of it gave him a whole fresh wave of anger. “No, and I don’t have a damn thing to say to him if he deigns to show up.” Steph: "Wow. Money, charges, and my own personal brand of revenge. Any more ideas?" Steph grinned, as if she fully intended to take every suggestion Jason was willing to throw her way.

The smile faded at the dramatic change in Jason's mood. "I know you hate him on principle, so don't bite my head off or anything, but what the fuck? Aren't you staying at the manor?" Jason was never on good terms with Bruce, but this went beyond their usual tension. Jason: “Fresh out, but those should keep you busy for awhile. They’re worth one pizza.” Not to mention that whole scenario had been hilarious, even if Steph had been unwilling to see it.

“On principle,” he repeated bitterly, like hating Bruce came as naturally as the properties of gravity or something. Any objects heavier than air will fall and Bruce Wayne is a bastard. Did any of the rest of them know what had happened with Joker? Someone did, surely. Dick had said Babs tried to stop him from going after him, Tim had been there. “I was. The day before we went after Deathstroke I started crashing with Dick,” he said, not immediately offering the explanation. Steph: "Best way I could think to describe it," said Steph with a sigh. Unlike Jason, she didn't hate Bruce despite his failings. Then again, she hadn't died and been resurrected in a Lazarus Pit.

No one told her about Jason leaving. She'd even stopped by his room to see if he were in the mood to spar in the gym. When she didn't get an answer, Steph just assumed he needed a break from the manor. She expected him to be elusive. "...Why? The whole reason you came to the manor is because Bruce has an amazing security system. I mean, Babs designed it." Jason: “Why? Because if I’d sooner punch him than look at him and I figured Alfred shouldn’t have to clean up the blood.” It had been a long time since Jason had truly entertained violent notions against Bruce, aside from an empty threat here or there that he made against practically everyone, but what Dick told him had stirred up something deep that Jason genuinely thought he was beyond.

“You don’t know, do you?” He didn’t owe Bruce enough to keep his secret, but maybe he owed Dick. It wasn’t like the story wholly belonged to Jason. He swiped a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “Ask Dick.” Steph: Surprised, Steph's eyes widened and she sat back in her seat. Even though the intention took her off guard, even if it wasn't a serious one (...she was pretty sure it was), her expression was more confused than horrified.

"Know what? Is it about the files? Because he has files on us?" That was the only thing she could think of that was at all related to recent events and might have pissed Jason off. It seemed like a small thing, considering it was Bruce and his obsessive information gathering wasn't new. "I'm not asking Dick, I'm asking you." Jason: “No, it’s not about the files, but it might be in Dick’s.” He’d realized that in retrospect, but they’d never made it past the line about Deathstroke and Jason hadn’t gone back to check.

Jason stared through the bars at some fixed point past Steph. “He brought Joker back to life,” his voice was low, not for privacy but because repeating it had added a threatening edge to his tone. “He brought him back because Dick killed him and Bruce...” suddenly his eyes were back on her, “Bruce places more value on the fucked up golden calf he’s made out of Dick than on our lives or anyone else’s.” How many people had Joker gone on to kill after that resurrection? Steph: Jesus. All this was making Steph really dread ever finding out what was in her file. Hopefully it was all stuff she already knew and not stuff she made a point to block out.

The news didn't elicit any shock from her. Her shoulders slumped and she nodded. "I know. I was there." She'd watched Bruce resuscitate Joker and witnessed the aftermath. Uncharacteristically quiet, her nails picked at the edges of the box on her lap. Even though she knew Bruce had been determined to get to the Joker before Dick killed him, she never expected it would end the way it did. "But why?" She finally whispered, meeting his eyes. Bruce's motivations weren't even something she'd venture to guess at. She'd always been wrong in the past. Jason: “You were there?” Did everybody fucking know except for him? Had they all just sat back for years and let him think that Joker had walked free and clear after killing him, when the truth of it was that Bruce refused to let him stay dead? Had they all known?

Jason clenched his hand and took a step back from the bars and away from Steph. “Why? Who cares? Why does it matter why? Would the answer make you feel better?” Because it wasn’t going to help Jason. Bruce’s explanation was never, ever going to be good enough. Steph: "Yeah. I got there at the same time as Bruce." Steph dug her fingernail into the box and watched it turn white. "He was dead by then."

She shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. He didn't avenge me either, Jason. Maybe I wasn't dead, but he didn't know that, so I at least know how shitty it feels to know the guy who fucked your life up is still out there walking around and no one cares enough to make him pay for it. I'd be beyond pissed if he actually brought Sionis back to life." She swallowed hard. "But I'm not his kid. It's worse for you. I'll never say you should forgive him." Jason: Jason could have killed Black Mask. He’d meant to, eventually, at the end of all of it, except he hadn’t got the end that he’d been expecting and by then Roman had gone back underground to lick his wounds. Steph deserved better than that, even if Jason hadn’t been around or been part of things when she’d “died.” He’d been too preoccupied with his own revenge against Bruce to make Black Mask any kind of priority. He’d suffered at Red Hood’s hands, sure, but he shouldn’t have been drawing breath by the end of it. A loose end. He didn’t say any of that to Steph, but he put it somewhere in the back of his mind.

“I’m sick of his bullshit. I’m tired of hearing him defended. I won’t do it anymore.” Not after learning everything. It was worse, somehow, than Bruce refusing to kill Joker himself. “I’m not going back to the manor when I get out of here.” Steph: After Steph's return, she was shocked to find out so many people even knew she died. Her stint as Robin was so short that she would have believed it didn't even count, if it weren't for those words Bruce said to her in the hospital. They were still words she held onto, even now when she knew she shouldn't. His approval still meant something to her. He might not deserve her loyalty and maybe she should be as bitter and angry as Jason, but Steph just didn't have it in her. She'd wanted to be Robin. Her last act was her own doing.

But that didn't mean she didn't understand Jason's wrath just because she responded with hurt rather than rage. "Where are you going to go?" She asked with a frown, concerned. "I thought you didn't have a safehouse yet." Jason: "I'll figure it out. I have money," his own money. "It talks." Just because he did not burn through it as rapidly as Roy didn't mean it wasn't there. Jason had spent the last few years still working, even after the Red Hood & Arsenal venture had come to its end, and even though he didn't do everything for pay, he still did plenty. The accounts weren't in his name, and in all likelihood nobody knew about them but him. It was a rainy day fund, more or less, and suddenly it had started fucking pouring. Steph: "Too bad it doesn't walk," Steph quipped, even though her tone was dry. She didn't like seeing Jason in here. It didn't seem right, even if he killed people and all that. He wasn't a villain. "You didn't go to the manor because you didn't have money. You went because it was safe." She frowned suddenly, glancing around the jail as if her immediate surroundings might give some indication. "Are you safe here? I mean, I know it's jail and all, but that isn't saying much." Jason: "Yeah, and the manor was always supposed to be temporary." He'd never wanted to have to stay there, but it had been the best short term option at the time. Maybe leaving hadn't been in the best interest of his safety, but it was certainly in the best interest of everyone else's. He knew where his head had gone after that conversation with Dick, and whether Dick said it aloud or not he was fairly sure he knew it, too. Maybe that's why he'd been so quick to offer Jason a room at his place.

At the second question, he just scoffed. "Here? Probably not. If I actually wanted to get out of here, I've already thought of about four different ways, and if I can think of ways out that means it's a lot easier to get in." But he'd known that when he'd had the idea, not to mention how quickly both Roy and Dick had pointed it out. Steph: Steph winced. "And you just sitting in a cell with nothing but Mad Libs as a weapon. Fantastic." It was some comfort that Dick was there, but he wasn't there every second. Gordon could also hold his own even if he wasn't a vigilante. At least the officers were armed. "It's not likely to happen though, right? I mean, seems dumb to attack a jail even if it isn't as secure as you'd think." It was Jason's helplessness that was troubling. They could literally just shoot him through the bars.

A buzzing sound made her roll her eyes. "Time's almost up." Jason: "I'm not worried about it. If I was, I would've thought up something better than this." Maybe some of that was bravado, and a little more was for her benefit (and everyone else's) than his own, but still. He wasn't losing sleep over it. He'd played out a few different scenarios in his head, put together a little mental list of who (if anyone) was most likely to come for him there. "I've got good improv skills. I'll handle it."

He looked back down the hallway and nodded. "Yeah. Go buy a pizza and give Tim that dumb note. Thanks for the books."

#c: discord #jason todd #stephanie brown

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migleefulmoments · 5 years ago

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Once again, ccers have labeled some of their favorite fairytale tropes as indisputable facts.

Cassie:

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Anonymous asked: Okay I’m trying to figure out why people believe C/C is a thing. Not saying you are wrong, I just have 0 context to go on and you seem to have an interesting outlook. Would you mind telling me the background to this? Or why people believe D is in the closet? (Also I’m curious why nobody uses their names and instead letters).

Cassie: Nonnie, that’s a tall order. There’s SO much that absolutely indicates M is a beard and CC is most definitely real (not true. There is NOTHING to prove Mia is a beard or that cc is real). Not the least of which is the absolute adoration on D’s face whenever he looks at or talk about C. (Wait, so your biggest and best evidence is that Darren looks at Chris with love and adoration? That isn’t proof of anything except for your own bias, your Harlequin Romance ideas about love and that you don’t understand what constitutes “proof”). I’ve never once seen him look at M that way and usually when he is forced to speak about her, he does it in an almost offhand way and I don’t think it’s EVER in a complimentary way (”Ever” was her typo. This statement is not only NOT proof of a relationship but it isn’t even untrue. The cc fandom picks and chooses the evidence that confirms their bias and proves their point. Darren has looked at Mia with love and adoration and has said sweet things to her. He also married her which trumps all of the goo-goo eyes they imagine he’s given Chris over the years). He’s said she’s a big girl when told people were bullying her, referred to her as a ball and chain (NO he referred o himself as a “ball and chain”), and frankly, he treats her badly (NOT TRUE. If it was true I don’t understand what you guys even like about him. A man who treats his wife badly is a dick). He’s repeatedly slammed car doors in her face, walks as far ahead of her as he can, (Both of those scenarios were to avoid paparazzi photos of them together. It’s impossible for us to understand what it is like to have people taking our picture and making up stories about us so we can't compare this behavior to our lives.) got in the car for the sham mockery and left her to fend for herself in that monstrosity she called a wedding gown to try and get into the car (Yes, that is what all grooms do. That is why the bride has attendants), and shook her hand at one of the first big events they attended after they had supposedly been dating for over a year (This is another flat out lie. As I debunked- Mia and Darren were photographed standing together before the red carpet and he introduced her as his girlfriend to another person standing near them. See what I mean they pick and choose to prove their point even if it means lying) Contrast that with how reverently he speaks about C and how conscious he always seemed to be when they were in public together and there’s no contest (He tells the exact same story every time. Wonder why?) The love sick puppy with his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree appears whenever C is mentioned (What are you 12? Nobody who is over the age of 12 and mentally sound believes that puppy dog eyes are proof of a relationship). Paying attention to background moments is important (In other words slow it down, gif it, add music, repeat lies and notice the small stuff while ignoring the big stuff and maybe you can find cc in all the proof that Darren and Mia are happily married. Hear with your eyes because you will never find cc if you don’t). you will never If you need more, I suggest going through some of the bigger CC blogs and reading them.

As to why we use their initials and not their names means it doesn’t appear when their names are searched.

Anonymous asked: Okay more questions! Didn’t M and D start dating before G/lee? During their college years too right? And I assumed it was to avoid it being searched but it it for reasons? Maybe to avoid rude fans that disagree?

Cassie: Nonnie, if you believe the current version they are spinning, they met pre G/lee, as for when they started “dating,” well, it’s changed so many times I’ve lost track. I think the latest is 2011, but I’m not sure. (There are photos o them lying on next to each other one what is clearly a date with Darren’s pre-Blaine haircut so they have been dating since early- to mid-2010) They tried to say before G/lee, but D blew that outta the water when he said he had never been committed to anything as long as he had G/lee during one of the interviews he did near when it ended (It is not rational to throw away all of the evidence that they dated before Glee- photos, comments from Darren and MIa and from friends in exchange for one offhand comment he gave to a reporter. This is a perfect example of how the fandom uses confirmation bias t guide their beliefs) Honestly, if anyone can keep the ever changing timeline in order, they deserve a reward. D sure as hell can’t. (Just because Darren isn’t. sharing dates with the fandom doesn’t mean he doesn’t know. This is a silly analogy Cassie if one of your students used this type of argument, I know you would shut it down) They went to college in different parts of the country and M is older than D.

I could give two shits less about fans that disagree. I don’t use their names in case THEY (or D’s collection of dumbasses that make up his team) search things here (Wait, so you hide the names so that if Darren’s team can’t find it but Abby has said many times that Darren reads your blogs daily and his team does as well? They even change their plans based on what you say. This is confusing Cassie). The “fans” that don’t agree see everything we post, as they incessantly stalk our blogs and respond directly to what we say. I stopped bothering to see what they were saying a LONG time ago. It’s always the same old crap. But hey, hope they enjoy spending all their time writing epic posts about my fandom that get three notes, maybe four (You should DEFINITELY read my blog, it would keep you from making a fool of yourself believing something that is so obviously untrue because you would see could read about how your “proof” is all untrue. I have debunked the majority of the cc lexicon and provided evidence to back me up)

Hi is it okay if you could tell me when WS came into C’s life as a person who’s seen more than a friend? Like when and how long before the hand holding crap. I have no motive or am trying to start any fight, I am just really curious.

Cassie: To the best of my knowledge W first appeared with C in December 2011. (Wrong December 2012) The super awkward hand holding was June 2013, on the 12th, if memory serves. (Sure, I will beleive you) The day D was confirming M as the ball and chain. Never forget that France has super strict paparazzi laws to protect celebs. Everything released has to be with approval, unless something has changed. (We have photographic proof that Chris sat on Will’s lab at Naya’s party 12/7/12. We have a pic of Will kissing Chris at Coachella 4/13. The fact that you believe it happened on “confirmation day” is only because that is what Abby repeats but it isn’t true)

Anonymous asked: Thank you for responding to my WS question, so that means the tame bearding started when C said that stuttering thing implying there’s someone on An/dy’s show. Not surprising tbh. Kinda sad CC literally had to hide from like day 1, hope they won’t have to one day.

cassie1022 answered: Nonnie, you’re exactly correct about when it started with C. He definitely didn’t mean W when he made that comment on AC’s show. It is sad that they’ve had to hide for so long, but I’m hopeful that won’t always be the case. (The Andy Cohen interview was on April 2014. How in the hell Cassie can agree that the “bearding” was tame after that interview when we have Chris on Will’s lap 12/7/12 and a kiss in April 2013 at Coachella. Darren and Mia had been dating for at least 4 years by the time Chris did this interview It’s ridiculous that you can claim that it “definitely wasn't Will” The truth is you have no insight into who Chris was speaking of and all evidence points to Will. Stop living in your imagination).

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Whenever i see anything m related…Anon

ajw720 Hi nonnie, I am not posting your ask because i can already see the hate coming my way, but i need to make a comment. M’s job is to beard for D, her job, for which she is compensated well. Part of that job is to hide his sexuality. And as part of it, she is supposed to enhance his public image, it is literally her job to look good on his arm and to not embarrass him. (Abby, you know that you have no proof of this and to surmise that “It is literally Mia’s job to look good on his arm and to not embarrass him” is you once again embellishing your own fabricated stories about a man and woman you know nothing about. It’s really not healthy for you to be living this deep inside your fantasy. You are getting too specific Your theory that Mia is simply Darren’s arm candy and nothing more proves that YOU have no idea what a feminism is).

And frankly, aside from her deluded stans, she does the complete opposite, constantly and all the time. It is not badass to vomit on stage and boast about it. It is not woke or feminist to have offensive, derogatory, and misogynistic themes and decor at a bar she owns and that D is publicly attached to, I would imagine it is against the CA health code to have naked women gyrating on the bar where they serve drinks. (You would imagine? Come on Abby, you're a lawyer, you know you're full of shit. They weren’t naked and people step on the bar all the time. I have never seen you rage about that. You have no understanding of what “woke’ is or what feminists believe.) It isn’t cool to wear a boob shirt to a professional event your public partner created that is marketed as family-friendly (Are you scared of boobs Abby? You have been to Elsie and it isn’t full of 2 yo’s. Darren has a potty mouth at Elise and I’ve never seen you be upset that his mouth isn’t family-friendly) It is completely insensitive to be mad that a young man tragically died because it interfered with her interview (This is so overblown. That wasn’t what she was doing and it’s time you stop using this to rally your troops, it’s a low blow and it isn’ true). It is frankly criminal in my opinion to raise money from fans and then not use it for the stated cause (another untrue “fact” you keep repeating. The money was for the project they completed). And I could go on all day (yes becuase you’ve made most of them up yourself). She is harmful to his image and becomes increasingly more so every day (This is untrue- she is his wife and Darren is about to have his best professional period in the next 6 months. I have never seen one bad work about MIa that wasn’t directly tied to the cc fandom, in other words, nobody outside the fandom dislikes Mia and she isn’t negatively impacting his image. Their wedding was extensively written about and on several best wedding lists without one bad word about Mia which also proves she isn’t hurting his image. You have also been saying this since 2015= of it got worse every day it would be 1,825x worse than when you first mentioned it) And any team that cared about their client would have removed him from the situation years ago. And if they needed him to be straight, get him a beard with ambition beyond being a beard.

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Anonymous asked: What happened with Mia, why everyone hates her? I'm new at this :(

chrisdarebashfulsmiles answered: A/non this is a long story. A lot of us tried to ignore her as much as possible for years (Bwahahahah the lack of self-image is overwhelming) You of course already know that she’s a beard ( honestly not an opinion but a fact proven by a lot of things, public and not (NOT TRUE) - let’s talk about her living with her real bf “and D” for example) (Again I have disproved this trope, They don’t even comprehend that Ben has a live-in girlfriend and has been with her for a while now) and this wouldn’t have been a problem if she wasn’t the daughter of a powerful couple (jealous much? This wouldn’t be a problem if her parents weren't rich? WTF?)) and she was kind enough to truly love other people than herself (This trope is so untrue. Mia’s friends adore her and comment on how great she is.) Because in that case she would have been a perfect beard and a wonderful friend for D. (It’s hilarious that she believes this is a valid argument) But unfortunately for D mostly the reality is way different (and yet Darren has never made one comment that suggests Mia is a beard, he is with Chris - in fact they have both denied they were in a relationship- or that he’s unhappy. This trope is 100% cc fabricated).

I can say to you, while suggesting to keep an eye for some posts about her here, that we have public video and post reporting how much awful she could be with D and his fans (I’m curious about this-anybody know what she is talking about?) Or we wanna talk also about her fans? With the excuse of going full bearding following D everywhere every time ( obviously she talked about grueling work and heavy travel schedule in 2015) she and his group stole the money asked with a fundraising for a new video. And don’t forget: She’s rich AF. (Again, so jealous that her parents are rich-her parent’s money is not her money. She’s an adult. She didn’t steal the money for the video-they made the video Gorilla. I’m going to write another post about this lie)

Our despising is mostly related to the shit she does to D, tho.(Which the cc fandom has completely fabricated. How would they have any info on what she. does to Darren? He’s never said one negative word about MIa)

leka-1998 It’s been 2 years since they forced the encagement. Almost 1 year since the sham mockery and not even 1 month since everyone and their mother included it in their 2019 recap (Leka morphing into Abby. As for posting -that is what friends and loved ones do. However, most of the “Recaps” were Top 9′s on Instagram and people don’t choose those pics, they are literally the TOP 9 liked posts of the year). And would you look at what’s happening, there are still people coming here wondering if something’s wrong.(Not a logical conclusion, they are reading your lies and then coming for answers)

Archives here are a good place to start. Let me just say one thing. She’s mocked Cor/y’s death because an interview had to be rescheduled and she was not happy about it. She’s an all around bad person and the complete opposite of what D stands for. (And what exactly does Darren stand for? IT seems to me that he loves his wife and their life. His potty mouth and love of sex puns fit nicely with her).

Anonymous asked: Not the same anon, but for someone rich, M dresses really really badly. You would think rich people could dress themselves especially since they can actually afford a stylist lmao

chrisdarebashfulsmiles answered: I’m for the people right of choice of wear whatever they want tbh, anon (I stand for freedom of choice except if you are Mia....then I can trash everything about you). Sometimes she is dressed by AW, sometimes by Lu/lu. The point is that most of the time she chooses the wrong dress alone because of her desire to be a ‘90 badass woman 20 years late. Something that I can understand because of my age but I also have to say that if you have to walk on a red carpet… You need to do it in the right way. She seems unable to understand this fact.(Everyone is free to be you and me except Mia who has to follow the patriarchal rules set forth by society 100 years ago: women are to be seen and not heard, should look pretty but be modest because it’s her responsibility to make sure men do not get boners when looking at her.She is supposed to wear new dresses according to Abby and they should be designer so as to look at Darren’s level. She has to look beautiful as defined by the ccers’ beauty standards or she is a labeled a bad person whom they are then free to bully).

#crisscolfer #crisscolfer lol #darren criss #ccer #mia criss #Ccers keep lying #Debunking cc lies #claiming their fairytales are facts #facts

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ephemeral-afterlight · 5 years ago

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Day 9: Shackled

(We’ll scream, we’ll dream.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 9: Shackled

Word Count: 1816

Relationships: Moceit (NOT consensual), Moxiety (past), allusions to Moduke (past)

Warnings: Unsympathetic Patton, childhood kidnapping/growing up in captivity (mentioned), rape (non-explicit but it does happen), abuse (mainly physical), cursing, lots of vulgar/explicit language, misgendering/deadnaming. Please tell me if I’m missing any.

A/N: yeah, this one is pretty heavy too. it also includes non-con, and although it isn’t super graphic/explicit, i highly advise you to stay away if that will make you uncomfortable. sorry it’s an hour late, blah blah blah, this is becoming a habit and it’s not a good one

Virgil can’t stop feeling so goddamn guilty.

He should have paid more attention, over the years he was with Patton. He should have questioned why his boyfriend would disappear into the basement, often for hours at a time, without a single explanation. He should have seen how disturbed Patton was, realized that he needed professional help. He should have seen it, should have known that Dee was down here suffering all this time, but he didn’t. He didn’t, and now Dee is traumatized, and she’s lost so much of her life and her childhood and her personal autonomy, and it’s Virgil’s fault. It’s his fault.

No, no, it’s not. It’s not his fault. He has to stop doing that. He knows that this is just a product of his anxiety, and he’s unrealistically feeling responsible. There wasn’t anything he could have done. Even if he did find out about Dee’s presence earlier, there would be no guarantee he’d have even been able to help her, and it would probably have just sped up the timeline. Who knows, maybe Patton would’ve left him down here with her.

Like now.

Even here, as Dee stands against the wall, open and unashamed with her nudity, there’s something closed-off in the air. Virgil feels an odd, overwhelming sense of insecurity that comes from a place he can’t pinpoint, somewhere ashamed. He knows it’s not his fault. It’s not his fault. It’s Patton’s doing.

“Dee, I don’t… I don’t know if he’s gonna come down here again, and I’ll try my best to make sure nothing happens to you if he does, but… I’m chained up like you are. I’ll-- I’ll get us out, but I might… I might need a little more time, okay? Not long, but…” Virgil trails off, low, strained voice echoing off the concrete walls of the basement. Delilah’s eyelashes flutter as she snaps to attention, jolts her head up to look for danger, and then relaxes minutely when she processes the statement. Virgil hates Patton. He hates him.

“Y’h… Been down here a long time anyway. Used to it. I c’n wait,” Dee murmurs, eyes trained at her bare feet, and Virgil feels his fury sharpen like a knife. She shouldn’t have to wait, shouldn’t be used to it. She should have had a good childhood, grown up properly. She should have been able to go to sports games with her friends, ordered pizzas and played video games, felt the pride of graduating from high school. She should have been able to feel the joy of her friends using the right name, to buy her first skirt, to have girl’s nights and sleepovers. She should have had a life. A real life. Not this.

Things get quiet again. They’ve been going in and out of bouts of silence for a while, have been lost in their own thoughts. There is a bit of light coming from upstairs, but it’s not exactly enough to see well by, and there isn’t really anything to do but wait. Virgil’s already tried to yank at the shackles, see if they could break if he pulled hard enough, but it was to no avail. So. Now he just… waits.

The creak of the basement door is a sound that is all too familiar to Virgil, one that he heard so many times while rarely ever questioning it. Patton told him he was making friendship jewelry. Virgil should have seen through his bullshit. Aside from the fact that the memories of Patton disappearing down here over and over and over without any repercussions or suspicion through the years are probably going to be ones that will haunt Virgil for the rest of his life, he knows he needs to focus on now, focus on Dee, and focus on keeping Patton busy.

And Patton’s down here in their presence again, rambling on about something that goes completely over Virgil’s head. It’s some shit about how great he slept last night with Virgil not there, how he had the bed all to himself, and Virgil couldn’t give a single fuck about his attempt to make Virgil angry. He’s already angry, and if he really wants to infuriate him, he’s gonna have to do better than that.

“Why, hello, Ethan. You’re looking ugly today,” Patton greets cheerfully, doesn’t notice the way Dee flinches when he says the wrong name. Virgil doesn’t blame her for not telling him. It’s none of his goddamn business to know. Even so, Virgil still feels bad for her, because it’s not like growing up in captivity has really allowed her to do any personal searching, have creative expression, or experiment with herself. Virgil’s parents were similarly strict, and although his situation was never anywhere close to being as bad as Delilah’s is, he sorta gets it.

“Y’know, if you weren’t such a disgusting excuse of a human being, I might have made you my boyfriend. Would you like that? D’you want to be my pretty, docile little housewife? Wanna be my cute little fucktoy, bend over whenever I tell you?” Patton asks, tone high as if he’s talking to a child, or a dog, and that’s probably not far from how he views her. Patton’s narcissistic demeanour is one of the most infuriating things Virgil has ever had the misfortune of witnessing, but he can’t lose control. He needs to reign in his vexation, stay in control of the situation. It’s for Delilah’s sake.

“You couldn’t get with someone you wanted even if you tried. Nobody wants your small dick,” Virgil spits, pulls against his chains again in frustration even as the rest of his body remains still. He’s pleasantly surprised that he’s able to keep the urgency out of his voice, since it’s imperative to not show Patton weakness right now. As soon as he finds a crack in the wall, a break in the code, he’ll latch onto it and exploit it. Virgil can’t let that happen.

“Hmph, really? You seemed to be enjoying my ‘small dick’ all those times I fucked you so good you couldn’t even speak. But maybe that was a different Virgil?” Patton muses, sneers from the side as he strokes Delilah’s trembling face with the backs of his fingers. Virgil wants to yell, and scream, and punch Patton so hard it knocks him straight into hell, but he can’t. He can’t show emotion, can’t show fear. He has to make him angry.

“Oh, please, are you that delusional? I didn’t speak because there was nothing to say. It was boring. I wanted to yawn every single time we had sex, but I guess my plan to stroke your ego and make you think I wanted you worked, didn’t it? The only reason I stayed with you was for your house and money. You cooked for me every night, gave me a bed and a roof, and that’s honestly all I really got out of this. You couldn’t fuck someone into speechlessness if your life depended on it, you’re too boring and vanilla to attract anyone else, and I could easily have up and left a three for a ten. Sorry, bud, but you never had me.” Virgil finishes his rant with a loud scoff, a flourish to really hammer his point home. He can see how furious it makes him. He can relish in the way Patton’s brows pull down with his enragement, even as he senses a whisper of guilt work its way into his chest. Virgil hates that he feels bad, hates that he’s outright lying. He wishes that it were true, but it’s not. And at least he gets Patton’s attention, but then Patton doesn’t look very mad anymore.

“Oh, I see what’s going on here,” Patton says, tone mocking. He looks nonplussed as he turns to Virgil, huffs a laugh as he stalks toward him. Virgil isn’t afraid. He wants to punch him. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“What, like you were too distracted by that pretty young secretary Abby to keep Remus from leaving you?” Virgil retorts scathingly, and even as a flash of anger slices through Patton’s eyes, even as a fist slams into his stomach and he chokes out a whine, he knows he’s won. He knows that Patton knows, too.

“How did you know about Remus?” Patton hisses, yanks Virgil’s head up by the chin when he lolls forward. Virgil stays silent, just apathetically stares Patton down, and the latter of the two growls and whips the palm of his hand across a bruised cheek. The cough that comes out is rough, but he doesn’t yell out, and that just incenses Patton more. “Answer me!”

Virgil breathes slowly out through his nose. He can see Dee cowering in the corner, terrified as she watches them dance, and Virgil slowly raises his head up. His eyes meet Patton’s once more, narrow in the tense silence, and then he spits blood directly in Patton’s face. “Go fuck yourself.”

And he looks furious, madder than Virgil has ever seen him. It’s almost funny, how Patton reels his arm back, prepares to send another blow rocketing into Virgil’s already weak body. But then Patton’s anger bleeds from his face, is replaced by cold amusement and a malicious grin, and Virgil feels dread sink into his stomach. Something is wrong. He’s supposed to be pissed, but he’s not, so what is he planning?

But then Patton spins around, stomps toward an increasingly more horrified Delilah, and Virgil doesn’t bother swallowing down the shout that bursts from his throat. And Virgil can’t do anything, can’t move as Patton slaps away Dee’s defensive hands, can’t break the chains as he pushes her up against the wall. He can’t help her when she shakes her head back and forth violently, can’t stop him when Patton rips an anguished cry from the defenseless girl, and Virgil is going to throw up.

He can’t watch. He can’t watch her terror morph into apathy, watch her face slowly shift from severely distressed to droopy neutrality. He can’t watch her become quiet, watch her arm fall like dead weight to hang at her side. He can’t watch, so he squeezes his eyes shut and blocks it out.

No.

He promised! He fucking promised he would get her out, that he wouldn’t let Patton keep causing her to suffer. He said he would stop the torture, and as soon as he’s being tested, he curls up and cries like a baby? No. No. He isn’t going to break his promise to her. He can’t let her down, betray the meager trust she’s already been kind enough to give to him. She’s gone through so much already, and Virgil gave her hope, and he can’t abandon that. Fuck this. Fuck Patton and every deranged thing he’s ever done.

Virgil opens his eyes, and his vision is tinged in red.

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medea10 · 5 years ago

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Medea’s Top 10 Worst Fathers in Anime

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spencerreidisbananas · 5 years ago

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Daddy Double: Part One

Authors Note: Okay so this is a fan fiction that I wrote a long time ago and I only wrote a few chapters but I thought I would continue it here. It’s not the best, but it has potential so tell me what you guys think. I will post part chapter two in a couple days!

Description: After being kicked out by her mom because of her failing grades, Sophie is left with no money, food, or place to stay. Her friend Grace finds a great solution to her problems, but is the solution too much? And what happens when it becomes more than a job?

I was dreading this moment when I would have to come home. I have to give my mom my report card. I’m not gonna lie, my grades are pretty terrible which is why I had been avoiding the idea of handing it to her in the first place. Unfortunately for me, my school makes mandatory calls to parents when students grades are below a certain average. I knew my mom was going to kill me.

My mom had never been the best of mom's. Always out all night, whether it be on dates or getting drunk at a bar. I mean hell she was probably off doing some illegal drugs right now. After my dad left us it was always like this.

He left when I was in 8th grade. I came home one day to my mom crying on the couch and most of my dad's stuff gone. I knew that they had been fighting for quite some time, but I didn't think that he would be a dick like that and just leave. He left vacant memories behind. Occasionally my mom would clean the house and find a piece of paper that he wrote or one of his hair brushes. It was never a pretty sight to see when my mom found one of his items.

However grades were always a must in the house. Basically if you had below an A average in the class then you weren't good enough. Throughout all of my school years so far I have been good at keeping them up but I don't want to anymore. I could care less about my grades and what my mom thinks. I know that grades won't get you everywhere in life.

The sound of the last bell rings snapping me out of my own thoughts as I tread out of English class. I will do basically whatever it takes not to get home today. I secretly hope that one of the buses will accidentally run me over or that I will get detention for me breaking the dress code today. However none of that happens. Instead, I find that I have no distractions for me to use to get home later. My friends have already left because they are all in band and on a trip right now. No teacher's seem to care anymore about what I am wearing. I guess they gave up on that when I gave up on my grades.

I find my car in the parking lot and sigh. I guess there is no other point in trying to drag this out. The bad grades have already been done and I am sure my mom has already gotten a call from my school. My best bet is that she is sitting at home drowning herself in beer and trying to figure out what she is gonna do with her horrible daughter.

While at a red light my phone buzzes in my pocket. A smile perks up on my face as I see it's one of my friends Grace. The text reads;

“Good luck with your demon mother today! Text me later of how bad the punishment is.”Of course she would say that. Grace was the support friend that everyone needs in their life. No matter what problem I had she always had a solution. Sometimes those solution may be wild but she was never wrong.

Pulling up into my driveway I see my mom's car is already parked outside. This is rare for her because normally she has already gone out and started drinking. That's how I knew that this fight was going to be a bad one.

When I walked in the house was dead silent except for the low rumble of the washer in the background. There my mom is sitting on the couch with deadlocked eyes at me and a suitcase.

“Sophie can I please have a talk with you?” My mother glares.

“I got a call from the school today.” My mom says.

I gulp and nod knowingly.

“You know I’m sick and tired of you not caring for things after everything I have done for you.”I scoff at the remark, but she doesn't notice. She stands up grabbing the suitcase and starts walking closer.

“ I think it's times that you leave. Move out. Whatever you have to do, but I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect and ungratefulness in my household.” She says with a straight face.

My jaw drops. “ You can’t be serious mom. You can't just kick me out of the house! I’m only seventeen.”

“Exactly! A seventeen year old should not be aloud to act this way. If you don’t want to get the good grades and work for the respect that I don't want you in my house anymore. You have three days to leave.”

With that statement she sets down the suitcase next to me and walks away and into her room.

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Immediately I call Grace. I'm freaking out because I never thought my mom would actually kick me out of the house. She answers almost instantaneously just like always.

“So how's the demon of the household?” she says.

“She kicked me out of the house.” I reply

“Wait...really? I mean I knew that she was a shitty mom but I didn't know she was that bad.”

“Yes really. She says that I have three days to pack my stuff up and leave the house. I don't know what to do. I have no money, no job, and I'm failing school!” I exclaim

“ You know that if my parents weren't strict I would let you stay here but they wouldn't allow it. Luckily, you have me who can solve any problem. Give me an hour to think and I'll text you when I have an idea.” She responds

“Thank you Grace. I don't know what I would do without you. Talk to you later, love you.” I sigh.

“Love you too sister”

With that the call ends.

#5sos #calum 5sos #luke 5sos #luke hemmings #luke smut #sub luke #calum hood #calum smut #calum sub #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #ashton smut #michael clifford #michael smut #michael 5sos #5sos smut #5sos fanfic

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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638

What website is it easy to spend too much time on? Reddit. I used to spend hours on end on Reddit back when I had just discovered it and saw how many subreddits I can check out, but I’ve toned down these days. I mostly use scroll through the popular tag to help me fall asleep, but I still spend a lot of time on it nonetheless. What's been bothering you lately? One of my classes is a subject I never really wanted to venture into because it will demand me to be insanely extroverted, but I didn’t have a choice but to take it and now I’m worried for my sanity for the next four months. Do you ever get cravings for cheese? Yeah but I’m not as crazy for cheese as most girls around me seem to be lolol. Cheese is ayts. I mostly like it as a dip for Korean barbecue, and I don’t really like the more challenging/funky cheeses. Do you ever crave affection? Yep, sometimes I act needy towards my girlfriend. Would you name your baby after someone or give him/her his or her own name? Their main name would be their own, but I wouldn’t be opposed to having their second name be a tribute to somebody important to me. For instance, if I have a son I’ve always thought of giving him Owen as a second name as an homage to Owen Hart.

Do you think boys can wear pink and girls can wear blue? It’s 2020. We’re way past pink vs. blue now lmfao. But yes, of course. Which hair curlers have you had the best luck with? I don’t use those. What is the best way to curl your hair? In like the four times I’ve had my hair curled, the stylists always used a flat iron. Don't you hate it when people act like idiots just to make you mad? That’s a different level of assholery, but yep I imagine that would piss me off. If you were thrown into a lion's den, would you trust God to save you? Nope, I’ll be saying goodbye to all my loved ones in my head. Do you wish you could call the police on the police? Not in this country, because most police are abusive and dicks. Do you write in cursive or print more? Print. My penmanship is nicer that way, because my writing usually comes out in messy scribbles when I try to write in script. But I always regularly practice my high school’s unique cursive anyway so that I never forget it/get rusty at it. Were you alive before the Internet came out? No, I think the Internet was already kind of a thing by 1998. Do you like that trends from the 90's are coming back in style? Yeah tbh I’m a fan. I love the simple t-shirt/mom jeans combo because it looks so effortless, and because it’s pieces I already have in my closet lmao. ....or would you rather have the trends stay the same as the last decade? Not really, I’m pretty good with all the 90s stuff coming back. Some kids ruined it by wearing chunky sneakers too much, but I like all the other trends that came with it, like bucket hats and belts. What was a horrible trend when you were in high school? I honestly didn’t know much about the trends when I was in high school because 1) we wore our school uniforms every single day, so imagine having one outfit 5/7 days a week, and 2) being from a Catholic school, we had a very strict dress code so it’s not like we could wear whatever the trends were. I do remember never being impressed with Roshes though. What is a horrible trend now? Hype/street clothes like DBTK. What would you do differently if you were God? Not make people suffer. Have you ever met anyone who claimed to be God? No. If I did, I’d run far far away from them. If you had to leave the US and never come back, where would you move? First of all, I have to live in the US before I can leave the US. Would you buy a castle if you could afford one? Sure, whatever. What is something you aren't ok with? My default answer would be homophobia. Do you know anyone who isn't fake? Sure. I know more not-fake people than those who are. Name five people you know who aren't fake. Laurice, Aya, Tina, Danika, Amanda. Do you fully trust anyone? Yes. How many true Christians do you know? Do you know any? What does being a ‘true’ Christian even mean? Do you think someone's value is based on how much money they have or make? No. Would you rather be an aborted baby or a victim of child abuse? Wow THIS IS THE WORST QUESTION EVER. What's one trend you're behind the times on? Tiktok. I do nooooooot understand it for the life of me and do not wish to. Do idiots act like know-it-alls a lot around you? I think know-it-alls act like know-it-alls regardless of who they’re with. Do you think it's ok to call an idiot an idiot? Not to their face, but yes I’ve used that word occasionally.

If you had a child with down's syndrome, would you keep him/her? I’m honestly not sure, and I don’t really like stressing about that kind of stuff this early. Don't you wish people who weren't qualified would stop getting handed leadership positions? Obviously. But there’s little we can do, with the key word there being ‘handed.’ Who is the worst plagiarizer you know? People in high school would copy-paste whole paragraphs from websites or textbooks onto group papers and I hate those people to this day. If someone tried to murder your child, do you think it would be wrong to expose them publicly and talk about it on social media? It wouldn’t be the best and smartest way to go, especially if it was the first thing I planned on doing. ...Why do you think people think this is wrong? Because I would be putting vulnerable people under limelight they never asked for, and because I’d be talking about confidential stuff, especially if the whole ordeal is currently going through a legal process, which is stupid. Is there a toxic person that you miss? You know, despite how close I was with Athenna, I’ve never missed her. Are you still contemplating going back to someone you shouldn't? Nope. What do you need right now? I’m gonna need a higher inner morale for my business reporting class, which is the class I’m really scared about. When was the last time you had a new crush? December 2013. Do you know any "Christians" who are rude and judgmental? Almost all the Christians I know are rude and judgmental. What would you do if your Bible was falling apart? I dunno. Leave it wherever it’s always been. Do you have coffee with Jesus every morning? Groan. Do you pretend to be someone you're not on facebook? Why or why not? No because I have no reason to do that. Do you know anyone who pretends to be a Christian to get attention? Ooooh interesting haha, but no. I’m sure in this time and place they’d get called out almost immediately. Do you want Jesus to come back soon? I’m gonna paraphrase a quote from Friends and say “I know you’re asking me a lot of Jesus questions, but all I hear is blahhhhhblahhhhhhhhhblahhhhhhhhhh.” Do you believe that Jesus is going to come back in your lifetime? Holy shit. Would you rather wear blue jeans or jeggings? Blue jeans. I’ve never owned jeggings. What is the most comfortable type of pants ever? Anything but skinny jeans. What is something you can't wear because of your body type? I can’t wear dresses that are loose around the chest area. Stuff like those are loose because the boobs are meant to hold them up and give someone a flattering figure, but if I tried to wear those, the dress would drop down all the way to my stomach lmao. If you have curves, do you like them? I have some curves, but I’m generally skinny. I do like the ones I have though. What is the curviest part of your body? Butt. Have you ever been punished for doing the right thing? I don’t think so. How often do you cry? One or two times a week would be a good guess. How many Christians do you know who actually care? This is very vague. Is Tumblr all that it's hyped up to be? But it’s not hyped at all these days... Tumblr definitely already peaked a few years ago, and I don’t know what people are saying about it now. At what age do you think someone is old enough to give advice? I don’t think there’s an age requirement for advice. Have you ever worn matching pajamas with someone? No. What helps you fall asleep? When I’m alone, I need it to be quiet or at the very most have white noise around, like the buzz of an aircon or the whir of the electric fan. When I’m sleeping with my girlfriend I have to be cuddled and I have to fall asleep first, or else I’ll keep waking up and twist and turn through the night. I’m a difficult person to fall asleep with huhuh sorry Gab :’( Do you have a nighttime routine? No. I just scroll through social media until my eyes get tired enough to fall asleep within seconds. What was the last mountain you climbed? Not sure, but it was in Sagada. Who is the fakest Christian you know? One of my titas, although I love her to death, is a very devout Christian but had a meltdown/breakdown when her daughter (my cousin) revealed she was dating a black guy. I was stunned when my mom told me all about the ‘drama’ and it took every cell in my body not to explode and give a sermon to everyone else in my family who was upset about it. Just for context, Filipinos are among the MOST RACIST PEOPLE ON THE PLANET so stuff like this WILL be a big deal, especially among our traditional Gen X/Boomer population. Who are the fakest friends you've had? Athenna and Fern. Who's the most narcissistic person you know? I don’t know anyone like this, fortunately. Maybe me because I like taking these surveys??? Jk :((( Who gives the best hugs? Laurice!!! Who was the last person you hugged? My girlfriend.

#survey #surveys

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 5 years ago

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Bad Blood - Chapter 8

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here.

________________________

Peter doesn’t sleep on Friday night. He checks his phone for any emails and texts from other packs, and the silence is both deafening and pointed. The Hales are on their own. Deaton has emailed him. He’s heading down to Mexico to talk face-to-face with Araya Calavera, the matriarch of a hunter family known for its strict adherence to the Code.

It’s a long shot, probably, but Peter appreciates the gesture.

If the Calaveras didn’t give a fuck about the Argents going rogue six years ago when they burned the Hale pack to the ground, why the hell would they care now?

Scant hope, he supposes, is better than none at all. So Peter is grateful to Deaton for the attempt, even though he’s cynical enough to know nothing will come of it. That scant hope comes with a stab of guilt as well, because Peter has pushed Deaton away since the fire, and told Laura exactly what he thinks of emissaries and their useless advice. He hasn’t been fair to Deaton, he suspects. But then it’s been a long time since Peter has felt inclined to be fair to anyone.

It’s still dark when he pads downstairs for something to eat, even though it’s nowhere near breakfast.

Peter helps himself to the cereal. It’s some sugary brand that Matty loves and insists that they buy for him. Nobody else eats it. Peter pours himself a bowl to save it from going stale, but he discovers that he doesn’t have the stomach to finish it.

He hopes Matty isn’t too homesick. He hopes he’s enjoying the tree house by the lake. He hopes that this ends soon, and he can come home.

That feels like the most hollow hope of all.

He thinks of John Stilinski, and how defeated the man had looked the other night when Peter had watched him through his kitchen window. That’s how Peter feels most of the time, although he doesn’t have the luxury of sinking into a bottle of whiskey. Peter might not be the alpha, but his pack—small as it is—relies on him. Laura needs to know that her left hand is steady. Derek needs to know that he isn’t alone. And Matty…

Matty needs his Uncle Peter to come home to.

Peter looks up at he hears footsteps on the stairs. He tilts his head and hears Derek’s familiar heartbeat. Moments later, the loft door opens.

“How was the party?” Peter asks.

“Why are you lurking here in the dark?” Derek mutters.

“I’m cultivating my persona,” Peter says. He doesn’t need light to know that Derek’s giving him a death glare for that. “I couldn’t be bothered turn a light on.”

Derek grunts.

“How was the party?”

“Scott kept control,” Derek says.

Peter doesn’t need to be a left hand to know there’s something Derek isn’t saying. He’s his uncle. He’s been able to read him like a book since he was a toddler. “And?”

“And nothing,” Derek says, gruff and flustered.

Well then.

Peter allows himself a slight smile at that. So Derek got distracted by some pretty thing, did he? It’s been a while. Peter doesn’t begrudge it. Derek’s no Scott, after all. He knows how to prioritise safety over sex.

These days, at least.

It was a hard-learned lesson though, for everyone.

Derek flops down on the couch opposite Peter’s.

“Deaton’s going to Mexico,” Peter says. “To speak to Araya Calavera.”

“What will that help?” Derek asks.

“Something Laura said the other day,” Peter says. “She said that even if we could win against the Argents, what would stop the other hunter families from coming? Well, this might.”

“You really believe that?” Derek’s eyebrows tug together.

“It’s a slim hope,” Peter admits, “but it’s better than nothing. Which is our other option, by the way.”

Derek shows him a tight, grim smile.

Peter thinks again of John Stilinski. Stilinski is like a pebble in his shoe. An irritant. There’s something about him that Peter just can’t ignore. Peter doesn’t like it when he can’t solve a puzzle, and that’s what John Stilinski is. He’s a puzzle, with pieces that refuse to fit together.

Derek leans over and inspects Peter’s bowl of cereal, and then, with a shrug, steals it and begins to eat.

Peter watches him with a smirk.

He isn’t sure how much Derek and Laura know about what happened on the night of the fire. They were both out and, when they were finally able to see Peter at the hospital, there was just so much to take in that night, and over all the followings days and nights, that he’s not sure that one little detail—John Stilinski breaking the line of mountain ash so Peter could escape—wasn’t swept away under the sheer weight of everything else.

The loss of their parents, their siblings, their pack.

The loss of their home.

Laura’s new alpha status.

Derek’s crushing guilt when he realized that the woman he’d thought he’d loved had been the one who struck the match.

Matty’s slow recovery from his burns and his smoke inhalation. There had been more than one occasion where, when he was fighting infection, that the doctors told them to prepare for the worst.

Peter stretches and stands. “I’m going out.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Peter flashes him a smile. “Then don’t wait up, nephew.”

***

It’s not the middle of the night at all. It’s almost dawn when Peter finds himself at Stilinski’s house. Peter approaches it from the back—he has a working relationship with the dog next door, and Jasper hasn’t given him any trouble since that first night years ago when Peter growled right back at him. There are lights on in Stilinski’s house—upstairs in his bedroom, and a few downstairs. An early shift? Peter might be a hell of a stalker, but even he doesn’t know the man’s roster.

And then he hears voices: low and angry.

Peter slips down the side of the house to the front yard.

There’s a black SUV parked out the front of the house, and Chris Argent is standing in the sheriff’s open doorway.

Well, he’s standing when Peter first sees him.

And then he’s flying backwards and landing on his ass on the porch, and John Stilinski is stepping out of the doorway to stand over him.

Chris Argent shows the sheriff his palms. “John,” he says, and then: “Janusz.”

“Get the hell off my property,” Stilinski says.

So it’s not a lie, and it never was. John Stilinski really isn’t a hunter anymore. He’s not an ally though either, is he?

Peter watches closely.

“John,” Chris Argent says again. He climbs carefully to his feet, and takes a few steps back. Peter doesn’t blame him. Stilinski looks like murder. “You broke the Code.”

“That’s a lie.” Stilinski’s heart doesn’t skip a beat. “If that’s what he told you, it’s a lie.”

Chris flashes a bitter smile and shakes his head. “You betrayed us.”

“I didn’t—”

“You left us!” There’s more hurt in Chris Argent’s words than Peter would have thought a hunter was capable of feeling. And then his stoic mask is back, like it was never lifted. “You’re a traitor to every oath you swore to uphold, John.”

“Get the fuck off my property,” Stilinski says. “I won’t tell you again.”

Chris shakes his head again, and turns and walked down the porch steps. They creak under his boots. He stops when he reaches the ground, and turns back. “I’m sorry, John. I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

“You keep telling yourself that, you son of a bitch,” Stilinski says. “See if it’ll help you sleep at night.”

He slams the door.

***

“Derek,” Laura says on Tuesday night, “are you even listening to me?”

Derek looks up from his phone guiltily. “What?”

“I asked if you were even listening to me,” Laura says, rolling her eyes.

Derek flushes, colour rising in his cheeks, and shoves his phone in his pocket. “Sorry.”

“You’ve been checking that thing for days,” Laura says. “Did you and Scott accidentally bodyswap Friday night? Because I’d swear you’re as ridiculous as him right now.”

Derek glares at her.

“Oh, you did!” Laura exclaims. “You turned into Scott, and you met a pretty girl at the party too, and now you’re in lurrrrve! Any second now all your higher brain function will migrate to your dick, and you won’t be able to form a single coherent thought!”

“Shut up,” Derek mutters, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I’m not in love.” His flush deepens. Even the tips of his ears turn pink. “And it wasn’t a girl.”

Laura’s eyes widen. “Tell me everything! Is he cute? God, no, it was a high school party. Acne-ridden nerd, or acne-ridden jock?”

Derek tries to disappear into the space between his hunched shoulders.

Peter might enjoy moments like these, he thinks, moments of teasing banter, if only the shadow of the Argents didn’t loom over them.

“Alpha,” he says pointedly. “While I’d love to tease Derek as much as the next person, can we please focus on the issues at hand? This is a strategy meeting. How about we try some actual strategising?”

Laura perches on the edge of the couch, her smile fading. “You’re right, sorry.”

And Peter feels like a monster, for stealing this moment of levity from her. She’s had so few since the fire.

“So do we have a strategy?” Laura asks. “Or are we just sitting ducks?”

“We fight,” Peter says. “That’s the strategy. We take them down before they take us down, and we hope that Deaton can make a case with the Calaveras to keep the other hunter families off our backs.”

Laura nods, and exhales slowly. “It’s the only option, isn’t it?”

“I think so, yes,” Peter says.

Derek nods slowly.

“I think that—” Laura stops suddenly, and draws a sharp breath. She sways, and Derek reaches out to steady her. “Oh god!”

“Laura?” Derek asks.

And then Peter feels it too. A sharp burst of not-quite pain, like a flash of white in his vision. It shoots along his pack bonds in his mind, a discordant twanging string on a musical instrument Peter knows well enough to play by feel, suddenly out of tune with all the others.

Something’s wrong with the pack bonds.

Something’s very, very wrong.

Peter sees the bonds in his mind’s eye, and one is rapidly fraying, strands unravelling, the pieces holding it together thinner and thinner by the moment.

Peter can almost hear it when it snaps.

Laura gasps, and her hand flies to her throat. “Scott!”

#bad blood #sterek #steter senior #my fics #discontentedwinter

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misfitgirlwrites · 6 years ago

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You’re Not Too Bad Yourself (Yondu + OC - Platonic) [Part Three]

Part One

Part Two

“No, and I ain’t tellin’ ya again, girl!”

“I'm not asking you to get me a hundred pairs of clothes! All I need some underwear so I can take a shower! You don’t have to pay for it, just drop me the hell off!” Red retorted, following Yondu.

“Don’ be a baby! We ain’t stoppin’ yet.” Yondu looked back to glare at the redhead who huffed and crossed her arms.

“I’ll go get the shit myself then,” Red mumbled, turning to leave the room.

“What was that?!”

“My business, that’s what it was!” Red hissed, stomping out of the room.

Kraglin’s gaze went from Red to a very annoyed Yondu. “She’s quite the handful, ain’t she.”

“She’s a pain in the ass,” Yondu growled, watching Red leave.

“Females really care ‘bout their hygiene.” Kraglin watched Red as well, “I think she said she’d go by herself.”

“Like hell, she will.”

Yondu followed Red and stopped once she went into Kraglin’s room and closed the door. He rolled his eyes and stood outside the door. Low mumbling could be heard, but her music was too loud to hear exactly what she was saying.

“Are ya really blowin’ ya cap over some clothes?” Yondu talked loudly so he could be heard over the music.

“I need to take a shower!” Red hissed in response.

“A lil’ dirt never hurt nobody.”

“Oh, that’s fucking disgusting.” The metal door slid open and Red glared up at Yondu. “I’m not apart of your crew, Yondu. I’m not disgusting, I’m not rude--to sum it up, I’m not male.”

Yondu let out a grunt. In his opinion, she was acting childish over this whole thing. “How old are ya anyway?”

“...Eighteen?” Red raised an eyebrow as Yondu paused.

“No wonder yer actin’ like a spoiled brat. Yer just a kid.”

“I ain’t no kid.” Red retorted.

Yondu was about to say something back until the music she was listening to caught his attention.

Teenagers scare the living shit outta me

They can care less as long as someone will bleed

So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose

Maybe they’ll leave you alone but not me

“What the hell is that?”

Red looked back at her cassette player. “‘S called rock music.” She looked back at Yondu. “If you’re not gonna get the clothes, I can go by myself.”

“I ain’t lettin’ ya take one of my ships just so you can run off.”

Red rolled her eyes, “I’m not gonna run off. I’m pretty sure you could track the ship if I did and it would take too much time to take out the tracking device; even for me. But if you’re that worried send Kraglin with me.”

Red crossed her arms as they glared at each other.

“Fine. Try anything and I’ll--”

“You’ll kill me. Got it.” Red cut him off, glancing down at his arrow. “You’ve been threatening me since I’ve been here.” She mumbled. She muttered something else, going to get her book bag, but Yondu couldn’t hear her.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’. Damn.” Red looked at him. “Just send Kraglin so I can buy my shit and shower.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yondu closed the door.

What a pain in the ass.

~~~

Red sat quietly next to Kraglin as they flew through space. She had gotten what she wanted and the bag sat on her lap.

“...Cap’n said to meet him at Contraxia.” Kraglin glanced at Red and held back a chuckle once her face scrunched up.

“The planet with all those sexbots? Jesus fucking Christ.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You could enjoy yaself there, if ya wanted to.”

“Yeah. I’m not interested in that though. I don’t see why people like it so much either.” Red shrugged, eyeing the planet once it was in sight.

“Everyone is different. Or do ya think it’s jus’ a male thing?” Kraglin smirked.

Red squinted her eyes at him but smirked a bit. “It’s probably just a male thing. I wouldn’t be surprised.” She shrugged. “It sounds like you’re trying to make fun of me.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t do that.” Kraglin shook his head and chuckled. “The story behind that mus’ be interestin’ though.”

Red raised an eyebrow, “You think so?” She looked forward as Kraglin nodded. They were landing now. “I dunno.”

Her past was no one’s concern. She was going to keep it that way. It was quiet for a bit after that as they got out of the ship.

“Ever have a drink?” Kraglin asked as they walked through the snow.

Red’s cheeks heated up a bit, “How old do you think I am?” She flung her bag over her shoulder as she glanced up at him.

“So you have?”

Red looked away, “Drinking age is 21 where I was from. I’m three years off.”

Kraglin paused. “They sound strict on Terra, One drink wouldn’t kill ya.”

Red couldn’t say she wasn’t curious. “Don’t get me a nasty one.”

“‘S an acquired taste, really. We’ll just see if ya like it or not.” Kraglin chuckled.

“You can go to hell then!” Yondu yelled.

Red and Kraglin paused, slowing their pace to watch what was happening.

“I don’t give a damn what you think of me!”

“Then what are you followin’ us for?”

Red looked over at the man who responded. Kraglin mumbled a name under his breath, but she was still able to hear him. Stakar.

“‘Cause you’re gonna listen to what I got ta say!”

Red watched as Yondu and Stakar walked towards each other.

“I don’t gotta listen to nothin’! You betrayed the code! Ravagers don’t deal in kids!” Stakar glared at Yondu.

‘Kids. That’s plural.’ Red furrowed her eyebrows together. ‘There were more kids before Peter?’

“I told ya before! I didn’t know what was goin’ on.” Yondu tried to reason with the other Ravager.

“You didn’t know because you didn’t wanna know because it made you rich.”

“I demand a seat at the table! I wear these flames, same as you!”

“You may dress like us, but you’ll never hear the Horns of Freedom when you die, Yondu. And the Colors of Ogord will never flash on your grave.” Stakar moved closer to Yondu and grabbed him by his jacket, “If you think I take pleasure in exiling you, you’re wrong. You broke all our hearts.” With that, Stakar let Yondu go and walked away.

For the first time since Red met Yondu, she actually saw an emotion in him. It looked like sadness; regret. She couldn’t say she felt bad for Yondu. She lacked sympathy for men. And she was now questioning the choice she made, coming to him for help. Red and Kraglin made it to the bar and watched Yondu from there.

“Pathetic.” Taserface mumbled, “First Quill betrays us, and Tondu lets him go scot-free,” He started.

Red crossed her arms and glanced at him.

“We followed him because he was the one who wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done. Seems he’s goin’ soft.”

“If he’s so-called, ‘goin’ soft’ what the hell are you whispering for?” Red chimed in, raising her eyebrows.

Taserface glared at the redhead and she growled in response.

“She does have a point.” Kraglin looked at Taserface.

“You know I’m right Kraglin,” Taserface replied.

“You best be very careful what you say about our Captain,” Tullk warned.

“Talk all that shit if you want. But your dick will be in between your legs if I make you say it to his face.” Red glared at Taserface.

He was about to say something but was cut off.

“Who the hell is that?”

Red looked over to see a woman. She was in a white coat and her skin was gold. The High Priestess. There was no mistaking her for someone else. Red’s mind wandered back to some of the missions she did for the woman and it instantly went back to how stuck up she was. Two women were rolling out a rug for the High Priestess to walk on and they were making their way to Yondu.

Red slowly moved closer to Yondu, watching the High Priestess. She smirked a bit once the rug got stuck. The High Priestess was way too high maintenance to be on a planet like this.

“Yondu Udonta, I have a proposition for you.”

Red raised an eyebrow but paused one they made eye contact. “Oh. Red Widow.”

Yondu looked back at Red as she smiled.

“Fancy seeing you on a planet like this,” Red replied, bowing a bit.

“I should say the same to you.” The High Priestess looked over at the bar with a look of disgust, “I wasn’t aware that you were a Ravager.”

“I’m not. Just on a mission. You know me.” Red shrugged.

“Yes, I do. Very good at your job indeed.”

“Thanks for the praise. What brings you here, Ayesha? You weren’t looking for me, were you?” Red teased.

“No, this is just a lovely coincidence. I came to see Yondu about someone I’m sure he can help me with.”

“Oh really?” She automatically thought of Peter but before she could ask, Yondu raised his hand.

“Go on back up there with Kraglin and mind ya business, girl.” He ordered.

Red glared at him and he glared back. “Go on.” He repeated.

Red rolled her eyes and mumbled to herself, slowly walking away. She wasn’t very far, and she heard the High Priestess say Peter’s name. That was all she needed for confirmation.

“Kraglin, I’m going to shower.” She said walking past him.

“Alright.”

~~~~

Red let the hot water hit her body as her music blared through the bathroom. She was trying to think of a reason why the High Priestess would want Peter. And after watching Stakar and Yondu, she was contemplating her choice to actually come here for help.

Red’s thoughts were cut off by loud banging.

“Get outta my bathroom!”

“I bet you don’t even use it,” Red mumbled as she rushed to finish washing up. She turned the water off and started to dry herself off. “Five minutes!”

“Ya shouldn’t even be in there! How the hell did ya guess the code?”

“Well, I’m not going to use a shower that everyone else uses. Thinking about it makes me want to puke.” Red put her clothes on and dried her hair. “And I’m a spy, remember? If I couldn’t guess something as simple as your mastery code, I would be bad at my job.” She rested the towel around her neck and opened the door to look at Yondu. “What does Ayesha want with Peter?”

“I thought I told ya to mind yer business.”

“This is my business. I told you what I’m here for and you go and take a job to give Peter to her?”

“Unless ya plan on paying more than three million units, I have to do what needs ta be done.”

Red stared at him. “...So, it’s really just about money to you? How many kids did you give to Ego? Huh?”

“None of your damn business now get out!” Yondu grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the bathroom.

Red tensed up and yanked herself away from him, “Don’t--” she took a breath, calming herself down. “I knew it. I shouldn’t have came to you, of all people, for help.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re no different and I was stupid for thinking that you were! You don’t care about Peter! You’re selfish and you only care about yourself--”

“You don’t know anything about me! Yer just a child!” Yondu hissed, moving closer to Red.

Red took a step back and shook her head. She quickly fixed her demeanor but it was too late, Yondu caught it. Fear. He raised an eyebrow as Red snarled.

“I know what’s right and what’s wrong child or not! You raised Peter, didn’t you? I thought you purposely saved him but now I find that very hard to believe.”

Yondu tried to grab her again but she stepped back and tensed up more, “Don’t. Touch me!” Rede’s voice was a bit shaky. “Even if you did care I guess it wouldn’t make a difference. Men are fucking useless.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “They only care about themselves. Thanks for proving that. Again.” Red left his room with her things, leaving him alone.

“Little brat,” Yondu mumbled angrily.

He didn’t want to admit it, but what she said actually hit him hard.

Music: Teenagers by My Chemical Romance

Tags: @my-world-of-imagines

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Next part soon~

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