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hotforharrysheart · 3 years ago

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The Rehearsal

"H, I'll be fine, besides this is MY chance to get to be a screaming fan in the pit, since you seem to think I need to be in some protected place during every show. It's rehearsal, there won't be any problems, I am so looking forward...," you say pressing your chest up against him and looking up at his eyes. You kiss his chin, "Sweetheart, you'll be busy showing off your stuff and I'll be busy takin' notes, purr purr."

His hands run down your ribs to your ass cheeks where his hand squeeze the globes pulling you tight to him. “Can’t say no to ya. Especially not if you’re gonna be taking notes,” he says with a smug smile.

"Takin' notes and purring like your little kitten all night", you say and boop his nose. "I love you," you say.

"Baby, I love ya so much,” he says, looking you up and down. “Umm, whatcha gone wear, love?"

"Um, I don't know, haven't decided, why?" You ask quizzically.

"I just wanna make sure I can find ya, there’s usually a lot of folks milling around an’ I don't wanna miss ya,” he rasps against your ear.

You humph. “Well, I won't be doing any ‘milling’ I'll have my eyes on the prize," you say and cup his cock and balls through his trousers.

"Mmmm...don't start what you can't finish, sweetheart," he says with a smirk.

You match his smirk. “Who says I can’t finish it?”

You squeal as he bends over and puts his shoulder into your waist and tosses you over his shoulder. “I'll show ya finish, ya smart arse," he says as he swats your jeans covered ass.

Giggling hysterically, you shout, “put me down!”

******** 2 hours later at the rehearsal venue********

"I'll see ya after, baby," you say on your way out of the dressing room.

"K, love, be lookin' for ya, don't forget to flash your tits," he hollers as you’re walking out the door.

You roll your eyes and shut the door. "Boys and their boobies,” you mutter to yourself.

He’d be furious if I did that! You think to yourself stepping into the restroom for a quick refresh. You check your lipstick in the mirror and adjust your tits in your bra since Harry’s hand had just been up your shirt. Someone called Robert, according to his badge, leads you to the area where the pit would be and you’re surprised at the number of people there. Some with clipboards, others with headphones, some with walkie-talkies and everyone on their phone it seems. You straighten your tag and move to a good place to stand. There’re a few girls and guys standing around as well. A few introduce themselves and you make small talk. You can't help but enjoy being just an anonymous "friend of the crew" striving to keep your privacy.

The rehearsal’s getting started and you’re enjoying seeing it from this side. The stop/start of it…go slower/speed it up…adjust the volume. Is the video working? It’s sexy to see him being the boss man and always politely in control of his world. Occasionally you get some eye contact and a lifted chin...a little pink tongue stuck out. It's during one of those times that a guy who’s standing a few feet to one side of you takes a few steps closer to you.

"I think Harry is flirting with you," he says.

You blush. “I doubt he’s flirting with me.” You hate lying but you’d both decided to keep this under wraps until you couldn’t anymore.

“So you’re not with him?”

You shake your head no.

He smiles even bigger. “I’m James.”

You shake his hand and say, "Nice to meet you." He holds on to your hand just a little longer than necessary. You look down at your feet avoiding eye contact. "So how long have you been a Harry fan?" he asks.

“I’ve loved his music since he was a member of One Direction, now, I just adore everything about him," you say tongue in cheek. “I’m friends with his sister Gemma. That’s how I know him.”

"He certainly does get the ladies going doesn't he?" He comments shaking his head. "So do you live close by?" He asks and then says, "I go to the university with one of the sound guys who just started for this leg of the tour."

You chuckle, "Nope, I graduated university quite a while ago." The music starts up again and you shift your attention to the stage.

James moves a little closer so that his arm is touching yours

During a rehearsal of the song, "Boyfriends", James leans over a bit closer than necessary and says, "So would you be interested in getting a drink after this?"

"I'm not going to be around long after this," you say.

The song ends and Harry’s talking to the band and then the sound engineer.

James slinks his arm behind your back and places his hand is on your waist. “I just…I think you’re really pretty and I’d like to get to know you better.”

You’re just about to let him down easy and head backstage when another song starts up. You gently remove his hand from your waist and you lean in close to his ear, his hand still in yours. “I’m sorry James. This has nothing to do with you but I’m…I’m not available. I’m sorry if I led you on.” You drop his hand and move a few feet away. When you look up at the stage, Harry is positively scowling.

You’re very near tears. This was a mistake. You should’ve just told him that you and Harry were together. You hate lying and it wasn’t fair to James.

Then you hear Harry say, "uhhh, 'm good with Kiwi, let's call it a day, yeah."

“Oh shit.” You whisper. He’s pissed you can tell.

He meets your eyes and he crooks his finger.

You barely make it past the last doorway before the tears start rolling. Just leaking down, "Stop it, stop it, stop it" you think to yourself. "No crying, no crying, no crying until you get to the dressing room.” You pass the security folks watching over badges and manage to make it to the door only to find it's locked. Standing there, face inches away from the sign that reads his name, you’re silently willing the door to just open on it's own. You jiggle the handle again, as if that would make it magically open, “Shit!” Then you feel a hand on top of yours on the handle and a breath at your ear, "You have to have the key card to open that, love."

“Well, I don’t know where that’s at!” You choke out.

He's crowding you against the door, "Baby, you need to get in this room as soon as I open the door, understand?" He says in your ear.

Your tears are coming down hard now, hitting his hand covering yours. You nod.

He runs the key card across the black reader and the door opens and you stumble in with him hot on your heels. He shuts and locks the it before immediately pressing you up against the wall. You have your arms crossed over your stomach and tears are still falling. Using his thumb and forefinger under your chin, Harry pulls your face up in order to meet your eyes. "Wha’ the fuck was going on wi’ tha’ guy?" He growls.

You hiccup, "he just wanted to see if I was available, and I told him I wasn't," you sob. "Why are you so mad at me?"

He’s pissed and dying to know what was going on, but you’re clearly upset and he can’t stand it. He’s still standing in front of you as pulls you into a hug.

"I didn't do anything, H," you say into his chest.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come on so strong. I just saw him touchin’ you." He pulls back and looks eye to eye, "annnnnd, I didn't like it.... I didn't like it one fuckin' bit.” He sighs. “Jesus, babe, you’re mine," he says holding both arms, "do you understand, You. Are. Mine! Never considered myself a fightin' man, but, my god, love, ya have me by the balls," he says somewhat shaking you. "Do you understand! By the balls, ya own me an’ I need ya more than I want to admit." He’s trembling and his eyes are glassy.

You look up and see how upset he’s getting. “Listen to me, H. You can’t stop people from hitting on me, but I get to decide who I date and I choose you. It’s always been you. Jesus Harry, it was you before YOU even knew it was you. I…we said we weren’t ready to go public but I can’t lie to people anymore. I felt like I was leading him on and it felt…wrong. And then I look up and I can tell how furious you are. I…don’t want you to be angry with me.”

Holding both your cheeks he says, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make ya think I was angry wi’ ya," he leaning his forehead against yours, "I was just...fuckin' frustrated... the situation... I just don't know how ta handle this where you’re safe in here," he places his hand over your heart.

"Harry, let me worry about what I can and can't handle. I'm stronger than you think, ya know," you say.

He looks down and then back up, shaking his head. “Know tha’. But it’s just…m’ worried about going public. It’s intense an’ not everyone can… handle it. I…I…I’ve never felt like this abou’ anyone…I…overreacted. I trust ya. Of course I do.” He's staring, searching your eyes as if they will give him the answers to it all.

You can see just how much he cares about you and how much that seriously unsettles him. You lean up on your tip toes and run your lips across his. He doesn't do a thing. You do it again and nothing, finally, you say, "Kiss me Harry, please, why are you holding back?" You ask, grabbing his neck.

"I don't wanna hurt ya,” he whispers so softly against your lips.

"H, you aren't going to hurt me, ok, I love you and I can handle this, I can handle you." You beg, "Please kiss me. You WILL hurt me if you shut me out." And the dam breaks.

He leans down to put his arms around your waist and lifts you straight up and against the wall. His kiss is voracious. He knows he’s squeezing you too tight so he forces himself to loosen his hold. The reality is he’s scared. Scared of how strong his feelings are and how you’ll react to being in the public eye. It’s all fine and well to say you can handle it now, but he’s lost people in the past because of it and he can’t bear the thought of losing you too. It weighs heavily on him at times. But he understands your point of view too. It’s not easy lying. He pulls back from the kiss both panting. “I’m scared.”

Before you can say anything, he puts his finger to your lips. “Lemme finish, I’m scared of losing you. My job…my life is complicated an’ its driven people away before.” He presses a kiss to your lips. “I’m scared bu’ we can’t hide this forever. You’re mine an’ I need everyone to know tha’.” He kisses your closed mouth hard like he's determined. "I love you," then he holds his finger up and says, "hold on just a second, ok?"

"Ok," you whisper brows furrowed searching his eyes for a clue as to what he’s thinking.

He steps away and grabs his phone out of his back pocket. He never takes his eyes off of you while he holds a conversation with whoever it is that's on the end of the line, "Yeah, listen, whatever is on my Monday I need ta reschedule, I don't care wha’ it is, just move it an’ I need to be wheels up in 45. I’ll text the destination details in five. Thank ya fo’ making this happen."

He hangs up and hugs you to him. “‘M sorry baby. Gonna make it up to ya. Going to our cottage. We can just be us an’ talk about how we wan’ ta tell the world, yeah?”

A tear runs down your cheek as you say, "Yeah, I'd like that. I've missed it." You run your hands up his chest.

"I need to be alone with ya for a while." he says bending down to touch his forehead to yours. "We leave in 45 minutes so we need to get going. Let me text the destination info and make sure they have the bike gassed up."

"The bike?" You question.

"Yeah, I had my bike moved to a garage there, we'll ride to the cottage on it."

You pull him to you, hugging him tight. “I love you.” He leans down to kiss you. “I love ya too. Let’s get outta here.”

He grabs your hand on the way out the door and you look down at your intertwined fingers then back up to his face. "Harry?"

"We're walkin' outta here jus’ like this," he says seriously.

“Ok,” you whisper. You’re nervous but as you look over at him you know that you’re making the right decision.

Settled in your seat on the jet is a surreal experience. "I'm sorry, H. I'm just not sure I'll ever get used to this kinda stuff. It makes me feel… itchy."

He chuckles out, "Itchy?"

"Yeah, ya know like I'm waaay outta my element...like I've fallin' down Alice's rabbit hole," you say squirming in your seat and looking around wide-eyed.

"So damn cute..." he grins and kisses your forehead.

You lay your head down on his shoulder and grab his hand. He smells like minty gum, cologne and Harry. You'll never tire of that scent. Ever.

“I know what ya mean. But I wan’ ya to get used to it because I don’t ever plan on letting ya go. So ya know.” He says intently.

You raise your head to meet his eyes. “You mean that?”

He looks down at your hand in his and then back to your eyes. “With ‘m whole heart.”

You kiss his bicep as you rest your head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of your head. "Won't be a long flight, ya should get some shut eye...Baby, got plans for ya an’ wan ya rested, k?" He says into your hair and takes a big whiff. "Damn, always smell so good...need ya s’much, sweetheart... wanna be alone with ya so badly."

You snuggle into him further and he untangles your fingers so he can put his arm around you. Before you know it, you’re asleep on his chest. He looks down at you and smiles. He loves you and he knows it’s time to make things official, but he’s worried about the shit storm. No one’s ever prepared for it and it’s brutal. He’d talked to Gem about it and she was sympathetic, but she said the same thing you did. “H, she’s stronger than you know.”

He sighs. It’s time. I hope you’re right, Gem, he thinks as he closes his eyes and rests his head back against the seat.

You feel a kiss on your eye, "Angel, we're here, time to open those beautiful eyes." Your eyes flutter open to find soft green orbs looking back at you. "Can ya wake up fo’ me, love? If ya still tired when we get to the cottage ya can go back to sleep, promise," he says softy.

"No! I....no, I'm awake...," you say in a rush.

"Bike's ready for us, here," he wraps a huge leather jacket around your shoulders, "arms in, love."

"M’kay," you say yawning.

"When we get down the stairs it'll be waiting for us to helmet up and take off, you hold on tight to me, kay?" He says grinning at your sleepy face. He touches your lips with his thumb, "so soft for me..." and he pulls your bottom lip down and captures it between his and sucks it in his mouth for a sexy wet kiss that immediately shoots to your core.

"H, I won't have a hard time holding tight to you, I'll never have a hard time holding you tight,” you say eyes going back and forth between his.

“No ya don’. C’mon, let’s go.” You get situated on the bike and then you’re speeding down the country lanes to your cottage. You press your cheek to his back and enjoy the warmth of him. Jesus, between his bum pressed against you and the vibration of the bike, you'd never thought about just how erotic a bike ride would be. Your arms wrapped tight around him and the occasional feel of his ringed hand covering yours to reassure you is turning you into a wet mess. By the time you get to the cottage, you’re as anxious to be alone with him as you ever have been. Off the bike, you still feel the vibrations between your legs as you are pulling off your helmet. "Oh, my hair," you say tryna shake it out.

He laughs his breathy little laugh. He smooths your hair down as best he can. “Better,” he says as he kisses your forehead. You’ve got a wild look in your eye. “Ya ok?”

You nod. “I’m ok. Let’s go inside.”

He smirks but follows you to the door.

He punches in the code and you step inside.

“Ya hungry? Thirsty?”

You shake your head.

“I wan’ you. Do ya wan’ me?” He says, moving to stand in front of you.

“Yes,” you whisper, “Make love to me?”

He nods and then shakes his head to himself, "God, 'm so sorry," and with glassy eyes and trembling voice he pushes your hair back behind your ear, "’m so sorry, baby, never meant tanmake ya cry." Then he kisses you so softly.

"Harry, I'm not gonna break, we're ok," you say brushing the sides of his hair. "Take me upstairs to the bed where you first made love to me, our bed, and do it all over again."

He grabs your hand and begins a soft walk up the stairs with you following behind. He stops at the top of the stairs and a hiccup comes from his throat and you realize he's just… broken. Maybe this time you are gonna have to be the strong one. Your strong guy is heartbroken and needs you to soothe his soul.

You push him back against the wall and hug him just as tightly as you can. You can feel his tears fall on your shoulder. “It’s ok, baby. We’re ok. I know you’re worried and I am too, but we’re gonna be ok.”

He pulls you impossibly closer. “I love you. I’m s’sorry, s’sorry��sorry.”

You shush him. “It’s ok. I forgive you and I love you.”

"Don' understand… this is where ya gonna decide if ya can handle this or no’… an’ I wanna protect ya from my shit ‘cause I wan’ ya." He grabs your face tight in his hands, "D’ya understand that, I wan’ ya all ta myself an’ I don' wanna need ya but, goddamit, I do need ya so much...I love ya."

This time you take his hand and lead him the rest of the way into the bedroom. You sit him on the bed and stand between his legs, smoothing your hands down his face. Then beginning with the leather jacket, you begin to slowly undress never taking your eyes off of his. He drops his head occasionally and you place your hand under his chin and pull his head up until his eyes meet yours again. Once your top is unbuttoned you say, "Harry, undress me the rest of the way, please."

He slips off the bed to his knees and hugs you tightly around the thighs.

You run your fingers through his hair trying to sooth him. "Keep going," you say. And he proceeds to undress you, kissing you on every inch of newly exposed skin.

"S’beautiful....s’soft an’ beautiful," he whispers against your tummy still on his knees. You pull him up by the shoulders and begin to undress him.

“I know you’re scared. And it’s ok,” you kiss his shoulder and up his neck. “I was scared too when you first told me how you feel, but look what we have now because I let go of my fear.” You kiss his lips and he kisses you back, desperately.

“You’re right, you’re right. Thank ya.” He kisses you again, hard. “Gonna make ya feel so good. Can ya lay down on the bed, please?”

Backwards you scoot up on the bed and lay back on the pillows. The only light in the room coming from the moon shinning in through the window and reflecting off the small body of water behind the cottage.

Crawling in next to you, he leans over you to kiss your abdomen, your sternum, your chest and then meets your eyes. "C'mere," he says and pulls you into him. He slants his lips on yours and you immediately open for him - an invitation to come home. His tongue slips inside to lick the roof of your mouth with a moan.

You suck his tongue into your mouth and revel in his taste. His arms are holding you so tight, his fingers digging into your sides. You’re whimpering in need. Soon your kisses turn feral and you can't seem to devour each other enough, "Fuckin' love ya," he whimpers.

You’re breathing rapid, you pant out, "I love you, please don't stop."

His hand slides around to grasp your breast tightly and his mouth latches on to your nipple in a tight suction.

Your head digs back into the pillow and your mouth is open. "Ahhh, Harry...” you moan.

His mouth roughly kisses up from your nipple to your neck to just behind your ear. "I want ya," he gasps, "I wanna touch ya all over, I wanna fuck ya."

“I want you too, H. Want you so bad.” Your back arches as his hand slides to cup you. “Have me.”

He moves back and sits on his knees in front of you, eyes devouring every inch of your skin.

“You’re so beautiful. Being in this bed reminds me of the first time I took ya. You were s’sweet…so shy but so open too. You gave yourself to me and we were magic together.”

"It was magic wasn't it." You whisper, "let's make some new magic."

He leans down to kiss the inside of first one knee then the other. Leaning forward on one hand, he's running his other one up your thigh. He reaches your pussy and so gently he runs the back of his hand down your slit. "Ya wet fo’ me?" He asks as he looks up at you.

You nod.

He says, "Baby, it's been a rough day an’ I really need ta hear your words, please."

"Yes, Harry, I'm wet for you," you whisper and with that you raise your knees and let them fall open. It's the openness he needs to feel like he can take what he wants.

He leans down and places a soft kiss to your mound then to your clit that's poking out from between your lips. He takes a deep breath, "Ya smell s’sweet, I need ta taste your honey."

You moan and say, "Please kiss me there, please." You’re whimpering and he’s groaning.

His hand reaches up to part your lips with his fingers, kissing you with an open mouth kiss and then sucking on your clit.

Your back arches sharply and you sing out. "Oh, god!"

He leans back looking and says, "this is mine." He runs his middle finger down your slit and runs a circle around your entrance before pushing it in just to the first knuckle, "This ok?' he asks.

"Yes!" you cry out, "please put it inside me!"

He slips it inside and watches for your reaction. He watches your mouth drop open as his finger is fully enveloped. “Can feel ya clenching baby.” You whimper and jerk your hips up. “Ya wan’ another finger?”

“Yes!” You pant out.

“Wan’ my fingers or my tongue or both?” He curls his fingers to your g spot causing you to buck your hips again. “Both! Want both! Love your mouth!”

He lowers his mouth to your clit, tongue slowly moving down your clit and then back up as his fingers slowly curl inside you. You’re panting above him and your fingers tangle in his hair. He pushes your leg over his shoulder and bends fully to suck your clit in his mouth. “Ahhhh, ahhh, ahhh!”

He pops off just long enough to say, "Baby, I need ya to cum, please....I need to make ya cum fo’ me...come on, love....do it for me."

You can't hold it any longer, "I'm cumming for you Harry, only for you....Ooooo, don't stop H. Please! ....don't stop!" With his fingers rubbing your g-spot and his tongue on your clit, it's over, you’re done for...the shaking causes you to tighten your legs.

"Mmmm, baby, yeah, tighten down on me, I can take it."

You groan out a whimpering moan, "So good....Harry, you make it so good for me....come here....please I need more of you. I want your cock inside me." You’re pulling at his hair, his shoulder, scratching at his back in an attempt to get him to crawl up your body. "Are you hard for me?" you ask searching his face.

"Fuck, love d’ya hafta ask?" he groans out. "Feel me" he says and ruts his pelvis into yours and you feel the underside of his hard cock slide up your slit. His lips over yours. "I need to be inside ya, ya ready?"

You whimper, "Please, now!"

He reaches down and lines up to your entrance and thrusts in deep and holds still. "Mmmmm," you gasp. "There it is, my gasp," he exclaims. "Want so bad to fuck ya slow..." he says apologetically.

"No! Harry, make me yours, now."

He pulls back and thrusts back in, hips snapping into yours. The pace is steady, but soon he begins to pick it up.

“Fuck, ya feel so good. Ya just…fuck, cunt takes me so well. Never get tired of fuckin’ ya, baby.”

You moan and can feel yourself getting wetter.

“Jesus…ya really do love when I talk to ya, dontcha? Hear how wet ya are?”

You nod. He slips his arms under your knees and the change in the angle of his thrusts cause you to shriek his name.

“Feels good? Am I hitting our spot?”

You nod your head frantically.

He stills. “No! Why’d you stop?”

He’s panting against your lips. “Gonna make it so good for ya. Hangin’ on the edge always makes it better.”

You squeeze him.

“Fuck! Don’!” He says through clenched teeth.

He leans down to kiss you to distract you both.

You get so lost in his kiss you almost forgot how much you need to cum. When he slowly pulls back and thrusts back in, you moan loudly.

You're both breathing rapidly, nose to nose, lips to lips. He smiles, "'s good?"

You smile back, lips matching his smile, "So good!"

He begins a slow, shallow thrust, "Move with me, love," he says on a pant. You draw your knees up high on his sides and dig your heels in his butt, pulling him in as you both move in your own special way. He pulls his knees up so he can get a better thrust and say, "Fuck me, love, don't ever stop fuckin me...Jesus, ya feel so good, Hang on," he stops and untangles just long enough to look down, "god damn, that's the hottest thing ever," his head snaps up to you, “did you just get wetter?"

You nod.

He sits back and puts his hands behind your knees and pushes them back to your chest, opening you up wide, "Ya Ok?"

"Mmmm," is all you can say, you’re so blissed out and on edge.

He leans forward on the back of your thighs and begins a fast-thrusting pace and you shriek out again, "Harry! Fuck!" He snaps and you know he's had all he can handle, "Gonna cum inside ya, cum so hard..."

You’re holding your legs back by the knees and whimpering when he finally thrusts in hard and holds still. "Unnngh, babe!" His twitching cock and warm cum triggers your orgasm.

With every clench you let out a panted breath. He collapses on you coming down breathing so hard. You're tangled together as close as you can be. He rolls off you and to the side, pulling you with him.

He pulls you close and kisses you. “‘M really sorry about earlier. Never meant to hurt ya.”

You're tracing the butterfly on his tummy with your head on his chest, "H, It's ok, I know you didn't do it on purpose, it's just we are in a really unusual situation that we probably can't ignore much longer, no matter how much," you kiss his chest just over his nipple, "we might wanna stay in our sweet little bubble."

He kisses the top of your head, "It is a sweet bubble innit?" He says sentimentally.

You raise your head and put your chin on your hand and say, "Yeah, but we can make this place, our cottage, our escape, our place to be back in the bubble." He closes his eyes and nods his head with resolution. "Hey," you pull his chin to look in his eyes, "I. Love. You. Harry. Styles. and this," you gesture between you two, "is gonna work, I'll be damned before I let anyone take you away from me after I waited so long to be yours."

He smiles a soft smile at you. “Don’ deserve ya, know tha’?” He sighs. “I knew we’d have to go public eventually. I was just tryna avoid it for as long as possible. It’s no’ somethin’ ya can ever prepare someone for. It’s worse than ya can possibly imagine but if ya say ya can handle it, I trust ya.”

"Harry, I can't say that I won't have moments where I might get my feelings hurt personally, but my feelings for you can only be hurt by you, I won't give them the power to hurt my feelings for you. I can only imagine how hard it will be, I'm sure my past, my present, my future, my looks, my voice, my education, my family, my everything will be attacked, and I'm sure that my feelings toward you and vice-versa will be the subject of much speculation, but I will promise to always come to you before I assume anything and you promise to come to me in equal measures and we will just have to take things and cope with them as they come. It's not gonna be perfect, I don't expect it to be and I don’t want to cause problems with your career," you say softly. "I need you to be totally honest at this moment, do you feel l…

“‘M no’ worried about my career.” He interrupts. “My only concern is you. To be honest, I’ve never been in one place long enough ta have the hard conversation and I guess on some level I always knew tha’. I’ve started ta realize tha’s part of the reason things didn’t work out and I don’ wan’ ta do tha’ anymore. I wan’ ta be with ya, even when it’s hard. I wanna try for something real more than I ever have an’ I wanna try with you.” He sighs. “I can’ help but worry but all I can do is take a chance an’ hope we make it because I can’t stand the thought of being without ya.”

You raise up to meet his eyes and kiss him, just a soft, steady holding kiss. "So do we just start being open around each other in public and let it come out naturally?"

He nods. “Yeah, ‘m not into public announcements. My fans don’ miss anythin.’ It won’ take long, believe me.”

“I jus’ wanna enjoy these next coupla days in our bubble.”

You place one hand on his cheek and smile, "I'm so ok with that." He leans down and kisses you sucking in your bottom lip.

"I love ya, just know that, always."

#the rehearsal #harry smut #harry styles smut #original content #harry styles fanfiction

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fiddlezips · 3 years ago

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Beans | Yordle!Silco x Reader

Pairing: Yordle!Silco x GN!Reader Word count: 1.6k Rating: General Audiences Notes: This is a parody, mostly. Have you seen the “Señor Macho Solo” episode of 30 Rock? If so, you’ll know where this is going.

It's a beautiful day in the Undercity.

Okay, that's a bit of a stretch. It's a slightly less smoggy day than usual, perhaps. You're not even sure it's daytime, to be honest; the high cliff-sides and lack of natural light tend to mess with your perception of time. It also gives you a headache as you try to figure out which parts are below sea-level and which parts are directly underneath Piltover and then also -

You've gone cross-eyed trying to figure it out. Fine, let's restart:

As per usual, it's a habitually shitty period of time in the architecturally complex area that you call “home”.

You're on your way back from your menial job. You don't work in the mines, nor somewhere as narratively interesting as the brothel, and you graduated from “morally questionable child labourer” many years ago. No. You're a sales assistant.

You work in a shop where people squint at your name badge and inevitably pronounce your name wrong. You don't even sell anything noteworthy. You don't secretly distribute Shimmer and none of your products are infused with Chem-Tech. You sell shoes. Exclusively shoes. You once floated the idea of branching into socks to your manager, and they just stared at you in disgust until you excused yourself for the day (or evening or night).

So that's you. Aside from a keen interest in reading and maybe a slightly overactive imagination, you're pretty normal. You also have the uncanny ability to suspend your disbelief, but that's hardly relevant.

Well, there is one thing that makes you stand out: you love animals. Poros, crocodiles, plague-infested rats. And whilst a love of animals isn't all that special, you're the reckless type of fanatic who'll jump into traffic for the chance of petting a dog.

Which is exactly what gets you into your current predicament.

Across the street you spot the cutest puppy and—as anybody would in your situation, surely—scramble towards it. After your difficult shift at work, you need this fuzzy pick-me-up. You need it, damn it. As you kneel down beside the little guy, your cuteness-clouded brain causes some variation of “look at this pupper!” or “who's a fluffy boy?” to tumble out of your mouth. But the moment your hand touches fur, you realise the extent of your mistake.

Because you have not simply accosted a random pet on the pavement like you are wont to do at least five times a week: you've just grabbed the very fluffy ears of the very scary Eye of Zaun.

Indignant, Silco spins around and gives you a look of utter disdain. Gods. It's the socks incident all over again.

He may be a Yordle (and tiny and fuzzy) but you expect it wouldn't be a tall order for him to murder you then and there. You'd probably welcome it, since your mind is already fried trying to come up with an excuse for your actions. You can't imagine “I thought you were a dog” will go down too well, so you keep your mouth shut.

'Can I help you?' he drawls, the corner of his lip twitching into a sneer. His little nose is pink and cat-like and wrinkles with his disgust and you suddenly wonder if he has beans on his paws or feet.

'Beans,' you say, very smartly.

He narrows his one good eye and echoes, in a voice that makes the word sound utterly ridiculous, 'Beans.'

You feel your grasp on life begin to slip as it flashes before your eyes: an embarrassing childhood memory you were certain you'd repressed, a significant moment with a friend or family member or stranger, your reflection in the store window this morning showing how you currently look and therefore not requiring a specific description.

But, you decide, you will not die this day. There are still animals to be petted, noses to be booped, beans to be squeezed until they become danger beans. So you take a breath, steady yourself, and call forth your ultimate bullshitting skills from your now pivotal time as a sales assistant.

'Beans here long?' you ask, and you put on your very best and definitely not unnatural-looking smile.

And that's how it started.

---

Now you're on a date, Silco sitting opposite you, his tiny paw holding a wine glass. He brings the glass to his face, sticks out his tongue, and laps at the wine. You can't handle it. You want to scratch his ears and tickle his chin and shake him like a maraca.

He talks a lot, you've noticed. Everything he says sounds like a metaphor and to be honest you're struggling to keep up. Is he a monster? Are you a monster? Is the waiter a monster? Part of you wishes you were back home, indulging in self-insert fiction, but you can't deny that Silco is cute. The cuteness is worth your... well, whatever you're feeling right now.

How were you to know that Silco preferred the more aggressive approach when it came to courtship? That by accidentally manhandling him in the street you captured his interest? You're flattered, you really are, but you're not sure if this is going to work.

Do Yordles even have -

No. Don't think about it.

'I must thank you for your forwardness,' he says, monologues on hold for the moment. 'I rarely get the chance to relax these days, least of all in pleasant company such as this.'

You're about to tell him it's fine, that you're enjoying yourself too (you think), when the waiter brings over the food. Your plate is divine, everything incredibly edible and barely a tentacle in sight. And Silco's...

You stare. It looks like kibble.

No, it's not. It can't be. Sir, this is a restaurant. You go to speak, to question his choice. Then he grabs a pellet, a dry and brown pellet, and crunches it between his teeth.

It's kibble.

You quickly excuse yourself to the bathroom where you spend the next fifteen minutes simultaneously laughing and screaming.

---

As it turns out, once you get past the initial issues, you actually like spending time with Silco. Sure, he always stinks of smoke and technically he's a drug kingpin and every now and then you see him style his hair by licking his paw and running it over his head, but you like him.

And, strangely enough, he likes you too.

You don't know exactly why, at least not until he tells you and your stomach drops.

'You're one of the rare few people who actually treats me like a person,' he tells you. 'You respect me.'

You decide not to mention that you have a laser pen in your pocket and that you were sneakily going to see if he would chase it around the room. Instead you force a very awkward grin and ignore the suspicious look he gives you.

Later on, you're about to head out, and Silco offers to escort you home. Technically he offers to provide you with bodyguards, but your foolish brain can't stop its instinctive response of:

'Walkies? You want to go walkies?'

He stares at you. He stares at you in utter contempt.

'When we first met,' he begins, fuzzy forehead somehow creased with the intensity of his frown, 'you thought I was a dog, didn't you?'

'Yes I did,' you answer immediately.

He sighs, his ears drooping, and he holds a paw to his forehead. 'Of course. Jinx warned me it was too good to be true.'

You catch sight of his lips pulled back in a snarl before he turns away. Whatever apologies you attempt, he doesn't seem to listen.

So you make an offer. You ask him to think about it, to give you another chance. You tell him that you like him, that you want to be with him for who he is and not how adorably fluffy he is. And if he wants to, if he can find it in his little furry heart to look past your dumb mistake and know that you'll never make it again, that you'll wait for him in The Lanes tomorrow.

You don't know if he'll be there. But—and you're surprised to realise this—you want him to be.

---

The street is busy. And today—it is a day—is beautiful for real.

You've made up your mind. You like Silco. Beneath the fluffy exterior is a horrible little man, and you're okay with that. You like the fuzz, the ears, the beans and the murder. Okay, maybe you like that last one slightly less than the others, but still.

Against your better judgement, against your common sense, he makes you happy and you are here for it. You scan the street, your optimistic heart pounding in your chest, hoping he wants you too.

Suddenly, you spot him, a familiar mass of fur. You rush over, grinning, and kneel beside him.

'Beans here long?' you laugh, as you move to scratch his ear.

He's so fluffy. He's...

He's too fluffy.

Horrified, you slowly crane your neck upwards to see a very confused lady glaring down at you. And beneath your palm, fuzzy and adorable and very delighted, is a Poro.

You open your mouth to speak just as you hear a sigh behind you.

Silco is stood there, a bouquet of flowers clasped in his tiny paws and a huge look of disappointment on his face. His eyes are round, dejected, but the emotion is quickly blinked away. He shakes his head, tosses the flowers on the ground, and leaves.

You want to call out to him. To apologise one last time. But the happy Poro is licking your cheek, snuffling enthusiastically, and you quickly—more quickly than Silco would like, you think—realise you'll be okay.

You bury your face in the Poro's fur, just in case Silco were to look back and catch you grinning.

#Arcane #Silco #Silco x Reader #fanfiction #this is very silly but I could not resist lol #Silcordle AU

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years ago

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Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Hello Dracula fandom again! It's me, ya gal, who has way too many story ideas in her head. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this one! This first chapter is very heavy on backstory so I promise future chapters won't be like that. I just wanted to set the scene. Alright, here we go! Feedback’s greatly loved and appreciated!-Jen

Chapter One

Theology. Quite an expansive, intriguing study that, like a tree, holds many branches. Biblical, Systemic, Practical, all subjects that have been delved into for centuries. Perhaps one of the more fascinating topics centers around Renaissance theology-more importantly, the possibility of a love bond between man and demon. Outwardly, the aspect of falling in love with something deemed evil is seemingly preposterous. But can a singular trait be forced upon another? At what point can romance, love, conquer these barriers? Is it possible to find humanity in such dark things? These questions must be kept in mind as two unlikely paths cross, testing these uncertain waters. A riptide.

Agatha set down a plate of eggs and bacon onto the table. It was early in the morning-a school day, and getting her niece ready and out the door in time to drop her off before heading into work was a task in itself.

For nearly three years, Zoe had remained under her care. It had been a tragic car accident that took the lives of her brother and sister-in-law, and seeing as they had no other family, Agatha left St. Mary's Convent to take in the seven year old. There were no regrets to be held. The woman dearly loved the child. But returning to society and seeking out a new job had been difficult. That was, until she found the Jonathan Harker Foundation. Or rather, they found her.

"Zoe," she called out, pouring a glass of orange juice. "Come on, we can't afford being late again today."

"I'm hurrying, Aunt Aggie," chirped a voice down the hall. "I was getting dressed!"

A small girl skidded into the kitchen, her mismatched socks causing her to nearly glide into the counter. Agatha grabbed her just in time, the drink in her hand dangerously close to sloshing onto the floor. Zoe peered up at her aunt with bright, blue eyes and a toothy grin. Her hair, the same shade of chestnut brown as her aunt's, still tousled from sleep.

"Were you planning to go into school today with your hair like that?" Zoe merely shrugged, sitting down happily to her breakfast. Agatha snorted softly, her mouth curving into a small smile. "Well, start eating and I'll grab a brush. "We don't want people to think you live in a zoo, yes?"

"I wanna live in a zoo," the child replied, biting into a piece of bacon. "I like animals!"

"Then perhaps we can get a dog one day," the woman chuckled, booping the girl on the nose. "Now finish your food so we can get on the road."

The Van Helsing surname held quite a history to it, the most notable member Abraham Van Helsing. The man was a well accomplished doctor, respected by all who knew him. However, Abraham's interests extended far past the average medical background. In particular, his study and expertise on vampirism. On the infamous Count Dracula of Transylvania.

The legend had been passed down from generation to generation. Tales recounted of the dangerous beast. Yet, as time wore on, the words had become a mere myth. Silly stories meant to scare a child into being good. Nevertheless, Agatha found them truly fascinating. Memorizing. And even the slightest idea that they were possibly true sparked a flame within her.

For those reasons alone, Agatha found herself taking the three vows of a nun and joining St. Mary's Convent. A thirst to learn more by combining her own knowledge and the teachings of Christianity. If her great, great grandfather was correct, then her efforts would not be in vain. That she wouldn't seem so air-headed as her brother had claimed from the beginning when she invested everything into proving Abraham's legacy.

It was only years later that she finally found the one thing that tied the loose ends. The Jonathan Harker Foundation. The very institution that was right under her nose. An organization that shared the same ideals to her cause. If only she had learned about the mysterious medical facility with an underground secret from the start, how different things might've been.

Agatha pulled up to the curb in front of the primary school watching as other children hopped out of their cars and headed towards the main entrance like a school of fish. In her rear view mirror, she caught sight of Zoe freeing herself from the confines of her seat belt, humming a nonsensical tune she'd just come up with.

"Do you have your backpack?" Her aunt inquired as the little girl swung it over her shoulders. "Lunch box?"

"Mhm," Zoe nodded, gripping the fabric handle of the floral decorated bag. "I made sure not to forget anything this time!"

"Good girl," Agatha smiled. She really didn't want to have to rush out of another meeting due to a call from the school that she'd forgotten to bring her food. "Kisses." Zoe gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Remember Mrs. Avery will be picking you up today."

"But I don't want to go to Mrs. Avery's," the girl whined. "She makes me watch The Price is Right and it's so boring!"

"Maybe she'll have cookies," the woman replied. "You like her cookies."

"I guess," Zoe answered, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. "You won't forget to pick me up?"

"I promise as soon as I get off, I will head straight over there," Agatha said with a smile. "Before dinner. I'll make something nice. Say...pizza?"

The young girl seemed to perk up a bit. "Okay!"

"Now run along, I'll see you later," she said as the child opened the car door. "I love you."

"Love you too!" Zoe called out as she exited the car. "Don't forget me!"

Forget. The more Agatha thought about it, the more it stung. Zoe had only just turned four when her parents died. She, of course, had still been in Budapest at the time, unaware until a few days later when someone finally contacted her. Apparently the girl had been in nursery school when the wreck happened. She'd watched all of the other children go home, confused as to where her mother and father were. Hours she spent there, waiting to be picked up. Believing that perhaps her they had forgotten her. Abandoned her. Zoe had been forced to learn about death early on. Something no child should ever have to face.

It had been rough, those first few months together. She and Zoe hadn't exactly been well acquainted, seeing as the former nun lived in Budapest while she called England home. Agatha didn't have a lot of experience with children and it showed in the beginning. Things were awkward. She didn't know popular shows, toys, activities, but she tried her damnedest. For Zoe. And with time and the compassion she held, the two eventually grew very close. After all, they were the only family each other had.

The parking lot outside of the institution was semi filled as Agatha, finding her usual shady spot, fished her identification badge out of her purse. She frowned at the photo on the key card, noting how ridiculous wide and unnatural her smile was. Why couldn't she ever get a decent picture right? Shaking her head, she exited the vehicle and headed inside.

"Good morning, Joe," Agatha smiled, nodding her head. "Ted."

The two lobby guards looked up from their hot drinks, their attention turning to the woman. Things had been slow, relatively speaking. Not much excitement had happened since Agatha became a part of the Foundation. Which, she supposed, in a way was good. But she craved true confirmation of Dracula's existence. A need to have real, physical evidence on top of everything she'd gathered from her own exploration.

The long stretch of hallway leading through the locked doors and into the belly of the building was rather bare. Except for a single portrait-that of Jonathan Harker. He had a kind face, soft expression that was welcoming. And yet, each time she came across it and gave it a hard stare, something didn't sit right. A strange, unsettling feeling that despite the friendliness of it was almost off putting.

"Agatha!"

Just as the former nun began to slide her card through the reader, a young man hurried up to her. Dr. Jack Seward. He, like her, had been hired around the same time by the Foundation. Fresh out of medical school, Jack was a brilliant man paired with a caring heart. She thought very fondly of him, almost as if he were a younger brother.

"Hello, Jack," she greeted. "I thought you were taking the day off today. Weren't you supposed to visit an old friend…" she paused. "Lucy was it?"

The man visibly flinched and Agatha was momentarily taken aback. Had she said something wrong? Before she could ask, or rather, apologize, another researcher came bursting through the set of doors. Very winded. Very excited. Meg.

"Oh, thank god," she panted. "You're finally here!"

"I didn't think I was running late," the former nun replied almost hesitantly, glancing over at Jack. "Did we have a meeting or…"

"No," Meg waved her hand, shaking her head. "No, we found something! Off of the mainland!" The researcher's smile was wide, a look of excitement that one does not usually see that early in the morning. "They sent out a team! They found it, Agatha!"

"Found what exactly?" She still wasn't quite following the other woman. "What did they find, Meg?"

"The Demeter! The wreckage! We bloody found it!"

For well over a century, The Harker Foundation had been searching for the vessel. It was believed, as a few survivors claimed, that Count Dracula had been one of the passengers onboard the ship set for England. But disaster struck, and mayhem with it, and the boat never made it to port. No one had known of its final location. Until now.

"What?!" Agatha asked in disbelief. "Are you-are they quite sure?!"

"It bloody says The Demeter on the side of it," Meg laughed. "I don't know what else it could be!"

She might as well have been a child on Christmas morning. Finally something. Evidence. A missing puzzle piece to it all. Someone was laughing and it took Agatha a moment to realize the noise was coming from her.

"What else have they found?! Any indication of Count Dracula? Are you currently in contact with them?" Agatha began to bombard the poor woman with questions. "Is Bloxham out there?"

"It's been over thirty minutes since they last radioed in," Meg responded. "Bloxham says they don't exactly know the extent of it. But they've begun to put markers down. The news is calling for a storm, so we might be forced to come in early and return tomorrow."

A storm. One hundred and twenty three years since The Demeter disaster and they were going to let a bloody storm step in their way of searching? The corners of Agatha's mouth twitched into a frown and suddenly she found herself wishing she was out there along with them. Her impatience was not allowing her to rationally consider the safety of it all. What exactly did the ship hold? And more importantly, where was Dracula?

"I want to be kept updated," she finally said, in the same firm voice she used to scold Zoe. "If anything happens, even the most minute detail, I want to be made aware."

Meg gave her a nod. "I'll keep you posted," she promised.

"Thank you," Agatha smiled, turning to Jack. "I suppose this is one for the books."

As the day wore on, the former nun's restlessness only grew as she anxiously awaited for any word from Bloxham and the rest of the crew. To distract herself, she tried to focus on her notes. It didn't help much, but at least it was something. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see it was nearly time for her to pick Zoe up. As much as she didn't want to go, she knew she must.

"Please keep me posted," Agatha said, gathering all of her things from off her desk. "I don't care if it's the middle of the night, wake me up."

"They'll be coming back in soon enough," Jack said, grabbing her key card before it fell to the floor. "I'm sure you won't miss anything."

"Nevertheless, I want to be in the loop," she replied, exhaling as she adjusted her belongings in her arms. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jack. Hopefully we'll have something."

Not in a million years would she have believed that her research on Count Dracula would've gone this far. Upon moving to England with Zoe, she wasn't quite sure what to expect until the day she received the life altering phone call. Evidently, it wasn't just Abraham Van Helsing who'd been hellbent on studying Count Dracula. Even more surprising was that he was at least aware of the construction of the institution and its purpose.

Bloxham had been the one to reach out to Agatha expressing her condolences. It was clear, though, that her intentions went further than mere well wishes. According to the head researcher, the Foundation had first contacted her brother, who immediately turned them down. He'd never believed in the existence of vampires and found the institution just as absurd as his sister. It was only when the former nun agreed to a position, that the Harker Foundation finally had a Van Helsing heir.

Agatha walked up to the front door of the tiny, blue house and wrapped three times. Almost immediately, it swung open and Zoe through her arms around her aunt's waist. She acted as if she hadn't seen the woman in years, much less a few hours. Old Mrs. Avery had just made it to the door by the time the little girl had grabbed her belongings.

"Aunt Aggie, I missed you," she exclaimed. "You didn't forget me!"

"I'd never forget you," Agatha smiled, patting the top of her head. "Were you good for Mrs. Avery?"

"She was very well behaved," the older woman smiled. "Why, we five episodes of The Price is Right together! I've never met someone who enjoyed it as much as I do."

"There were cookies," Zoe explained. "Can we go?"

"Tell Mrs. Avery thank you first," the former nun instructed, giving the other woman a smile. "Thank you, Jane."

"Of course. Anytime, Agatha," Mrs. Avery replied. "She's always a joy to have."

Zoe sang loudly, and off key to a pop song in the back seat as Agatha drove them home. At least she seemed to be in a pretty good mood. By the time she started dinner, the sun had already begun to set over the horizon.

"James Hopkins blew milk out of his nose today," her niece informed her as Agatha set a plate in front of her. "It was pretty cool. But then he got in trouble."

"Well I certainly hope you won't try doing the same," she exhaled, joining her at the table. "Did anything else happen today?"

"Hm…" Zoe pondered. "I painted in art!"

"Oh? What did you paint?"

"A toad," she answered, taking a bite out of her pizza. "I glued googly eyes to it."

Just as Agatha opened her mouth to reply, her cell phone rang. Excusing herself, she stood up and retrieved the device from where it sat on the counter. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw the name on the screen. Jack Seward.

"Jack?"

"Zoe," came the voice on the other line. "They found him. They found Count Dracula."

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Agatha Van Helsing #Dragatha #Dracula x Agatha #Caught in a Riptide

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #213: COURT-MARTIAL

November, 1981

Aw sweet, I could win a ten-speed!

Welp. Here we go.

This title doesn’t fuck around. This cover doesn’t fuck around.

You know, the Avengers are actually a very rules based organization. In an average issue, its a bit weird to think about these goofuses actually following a charter but its true.

Much more so than the X-Men or the Fantastic Four. The Avengers are always talking about who’s going to be the chairman and procedural things. I think because the Avengers are more a group of equals than the X-Men or Fantastic Four are. The X-Men and the FF have a clear cut leader.

But the Avengers need rules because your common Avengers either all think they could be leading the team, actually could, or all of the above. They need an explicit charter to keep those egos in line.

But I guess my point is, having read 213 and change issues relating to the Avengers, you’d think that court martials would show up more often. They are a group prone to nonsense decisions. I think the one other one we see has Iron Man court martialed and suspended for a time for not responding to an Avengers call and not being able to account for it (since it related to secret identity stuff).

I have to figure that they tend to happen off-screen as necessary with exoneration generally occurring.

This one happens on-screen. And follows up on last time: wherein Yellowjacket shot a mysterious magic woman in the back when Cap was trying to use words and not punches to resolve things.

This is a grim day for the Avengers. They have to put one of their own under investigation and their furnishing related mishaps just keep mishappening.

Look at Thor and Iron Man squeezed onto one tiny table. Cap doesn’t even have room. He has to dramatically stand.

Although this is actually the pre-court martial. Captain America has leveled charges on Yellowjacket and Thor and Iron Man are going to decide whether it warrants proceeding or not.

Captain America: “Yesterday, we engaged in combat with a mysterious woman possessing strange, awesome powers who was attacking Washington, D.C. After heavy fighting -- I managed to win through her defenses and reach her! I’d succeeded in convincing her to cease hostilities -- when, suddenly, for no reason, Yellowjacket blast her with his disruptor ‘sting’ at full force -- in the back! Fortunately, she weathered his attack -- but his action re-ignited the conflict! It could have cost us all our lives... and left the city defenseless!”

Iron Man asks whether Yellowjacket has any explanation for his action.

And since “I was a jerk!” isn’t a great defense, Hank goes with “no explanation!”

Without any explanation for his actions, its decided to convene a formal court martial for three days hence. Until then, Yellowjacket is on temporary suspension. Since Avengers don’t carry guns or badges, he’s asked to turn over his Avengers’ priority ID card. Which presumably gets you discounts at the snack bar as well as some sway with the government and such.

Hank protests but the rules are firm and Hank himself helped write them back in the day.

Outside the... meeting room? Tiny library? Gosh, I’d love a layout to the Avengers mansion. Why aren’t they meeting in their sweet conference room- oh right. The table shrank.

Anyway, outside wherever, Wasp in her new... and frankly lingerie-looking costume is fretting.

(Jan, why are your fashion instincts so hit and miss and miss?)

And then Tigra boops her on the head.

Tigra has continued to be as cat as an equivalent weight in cats and has climbed the wall to hang out on the wall trim. Somehow.

Wasp: “Tigra! What are you doing up there?”

Tigra: “Same thing you’re doing down there -- wondering what’s going on inside! When cats get nervous, they climb! You should try it! It might relax you!”

Tigra also assures Wasp that everything will be alright but privately hopes that it will be. And also dunks on Hank a little.

Tigra: (I’ve never seen a woman so hung up on a guy! And such a strange guy! He seems like such a cold fish... all wrapped up in whatever murky stuff is churning around inside himself! He gives me the creeps!)

Yellowjacket comes out of the whatever room and Wasp is immediately on him, asking he hold her. And he’s like

mmnnyurrh

Yellowjacket: “Jan, just -- just get away from me! Leave me alone! Haven’t I got enough to contend with without you slobbering all over me?”

When she turns away sadly he apologizes and hugs her, saying he’s just afraid because the Avengers are going to court martial him.

A still lurking on the wall like a five foot something cat Tigra wonders to herself “Jan, baby! I just don’t get it! Don’t you know you’re worth ten of him?”

She’s right and she should say it.

The pre-court martial panel splits, to meet up again in three days for the court martial.

Captain America flips off the roof into a thunderstorm to get some serious thinking and flashbacking done. He’s extra like that. I mean, seriously. There’s a front door, STEVE.

Cap: “I wonder... am I doing the right thing? Was Yellowjacket’s action just a mistake -- ? Something that could happen to anyone?”

He thinks back to the war, when he in disguise as Perfectly Average Steve Rogers PFC was on a recon patrol and his unit ran right into a huge German advance.

His unit got cut to pieces around him until he was the only one left. At that point, he ripped his uniform off to reveal he was dressed in layers as CAPTAIN AMERICA.

I was going to snark that his secret identity was worth more than the lives of his unit but I dunno that even a Captain America could have done much to save his GI guys. The way its portrayed and all. Steve even thinks that his number is up so might as well go out as CAPTAIN AMERICA.

“It was early in my career -- after I had established myself but before I had seen much front-line combat! Till that day, I hadn’t suspected how wise the government had been in giving me this costume! The very sight of Captain America seemed to terrify the German soldiers, as, fighting like a man possessed, I cut a swath through their ranks...”

Cap fought and fought until there were no more enemies standing. Surrounded by collapsed and probably unconscious and not at all dead German soldiers.

He hears a sound behind him and acting on battle instinct he throws his mighty shield with the intention to make someone yield.

But: instant regrets.

“The sound was a child... a war orphan, collecting brass to sell for money to buy food! Thank god, she was bending to pick up a shell casing just as my shield would have struck! Meant to stun a full-grown man, it probably would have broken her neck if it had hit!”

Wow! Cap almost killed an orphan!

The point being that Cap wonders if he has the right to accuse Hank, when “there, but for the grace of god...”

Meanwhile, Iron Man has stayed back at the mansion to refresh his memories with some research in the Avengers records.

This is one part a montage of previous Hank Pym moments and one part ‘actually I did do the research before I wrote this’ from Jim Shooter.

Because, yeah, Jim Shooter, according to Jim Shooter, went back and reread every single appearance by Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne before writing this story. Believe it or don’t but the montage is here so he at least did enough to get panels to reference or reuse.

Iron Man notes Hank’s tendency to change identities and costumes frequently, how his gaining the power to go giant didn’t work out too well for him, how he left and rejoined the group, never seemed comfortable with the Avengers, and in Iron Man’s estimation that he felt outclassed by the other founders.

And perhaps the reason he kept ping ponging between the team and his research was a lack of success in either one. How his attempts to achieve a scientific breakthrough to prove himself (I guess Pym Particles are a case of ‘what have you done for me lately?’ or just that he didn’t want to be a one-hit wonder) bore only Ultron, one of the Avengers’ deadliest enemies.

Iron Man: “But I wonder... can he ever truly be free of the spectre of Ultron -- ? Can he ever be more than a haunted, hollow man drowning in a sea of guilt over the wrongs done by his monstrous creation? Can he ever rid himself of the desperate need he has to redeem himself in his own eyes?”

That’s a hell of a way to talk about your friend, Tony. I know the Avengers have a policy of not interfering in each others personal lives but its probably not the best policy to watch him struggling and just wait to see if he figures out his shit on his own.

I don’t know.

Iron Man: “And if he is in that kind of inner turmoil, he needs our help... our support... our love! Hank is a friend to us all... a founder of this group! How can we turn our backs on him when he needs us most? How dare we punish him for a mistake that any of us might have made?”

Oh! Well! Learn me to not flip the page. I guess in fairness Hank has been at his worst here than previous times.

Anyway, as I said, Tony doing this research mirrors Jim Shooter doing his research. And Tony reaches much the same conclusion as Shooter does, although perhaps more kindly worded.

Jim Shooter: “Back in 1981 I was writing the Avengers. Hank Pym aka Yellowjacket was married to Janet Van Dyne aka the Wasp and things had not been going well for him for a long time. Before I embarked on the storyline ... I reread every single appearance of both characters. His history was largely a litany of failure, always changing guises and switching back and forth from research to hero-ing because he wasn’t succeeding at either. He was never the Avenger who saved the day at the end and usually the first knocked out or captured. His most notable ‘achievement’ in the lab was creating Ultron. Meanwhile, his rich, beautiful wife succeeded in everything she tried. She was also always flitting around his shoulders, saying things to prop up his ego.”

Geez, Jim.

I don’t know about Hank never saving the day at the end. Never is a bit much. But I don’t want to reread 213 minus issues to say for sure.

But this is the portrayal of Hank that went into writing this story and Iron Man is the one who speaks it aloud.

Outside the mansion, Wasp and Yellowjacket run into a group of young fans right as they leave. The fans all want Wasp’s autograph and mistake Hank’s codename for Bumblebee and ask if he’s ever done anything.

Wasp: “Look, I’m just his sidekick! You’d better get his autograph too!”

A child, probably: “Nah! We just want yours! Right, guys?”

This is like that scene with Hulk in Endgame where he tries to get the fans to appreciate Ant-Man too, to Scott’s growing annoyance with the situation. Except not as played for laughs.

On their limo ride to their Cresskill, NJ home, Wasp tells Hank not to let those smart-aleck kids get to him.

Yellowjacket: “... Well, they were right! What have I ever done? Nothing!”

Wasp: “Hank, don’t be silly! Oh, who cares what they think? You’ll always be my hero!”

In fairness, Wasp has been actively on the team for a bit and memories are short. Hank’s been busy in his lab. Which Wasp reminds him but that's the lab she paid for and where he’s accomplished NOTHING!

The staff of the house also dig the knife in a little, possibly unintentionally but eh who can say. When they address the couple Mrs. Pym, aka the person who signs their checks is primary and Hank is the after thought. But possibly they just interact more with Jan if Hank has been cooped up in his lab.

Jenkins: “Welcome home, Mrs. Pym! Uh, you too, sir!”

Jenkins in the next panel: “Madame, would you like us to begin preparing your luncheon now? And Mr. Pym’s too, of course!”

And then, things get awkward. Although oh lord, Jan is trying.

Wasp: “Alone at last! Thank goodness! It seems that we never have any time just to be together by ourselves anymore! You know, just to talk, and --”

Yellowjacket: “I don’t want to talk about my problems, Jan! I know you mean well, but --”

Wasp: “But I’m ‘dingaling Jan, the airhead heiress’! Every time I try to help I just make things worse! I know! I -- I’m sorry! I always goof everything up... always say the wrong things! I’m such a dumbbell! It’s a good thing I found you to think for me, darling! You’re so smart... so strong... mmm... so sexy! All I want to do is melt in your arms... be yours! I need you to protect me and keep me warm, lover! Oh, Hank! Let’s just sneak off to bed and cuddle and kiss and -- and let me show you how much I love you! Whaddaya say, big boy?”

Yellowjacket: “Uh... not now, honey! I -- I’m just, just a little too tense now! You understand, don’t you? I think I’ll go putter around in the lab for awhile! Maybe that’ll relax me! See you later... okay?”

Eeesh.

Eeeeeeeeesh. It almost hurts watching Jan diminish herself so much to try to make him feel better.

Although a lot of her solutions seem to be ‘lets make out until you feel better’ but she did offer to talk. Not even about anything specific. And Hank automatically assumes that the only thing to possibly talk about is his problems.

Hank locks himself up in his lab, realizing that he’s disappointed Jan but saying that its better to not even try to get romantic while he’s this upset.

Yellowjacket: “I wouldn’t blame her if she hated me! I’m a failure as a husband... just like I’m a failure as a hero! So here I am again, hiding out in the lab... where I’m a failure as a scientist! I hate this place! ... But I keep coming back -- because, here at least I had one success!”

And yes, that one success he credits himself with... is Ultron!

Yellowjacket: “Yes... here I accomplished what no one else ever has! I built a robot capable of independent thought! Here, I created... Ultron! Even that went wrong! Even that, my own success turned into a disaster! A failure! But maybe, just maybe, my one success will yet provide the key to my salvation!”

And he starts putting together a new robot!

Hoooooooooo boyyyyyyyyyyyyy, Hank. Building robots isn’t always the solution!

Also: in order: does the robot Human Torch just not count then? And do Pym Particles not count?

SCENE AND TIME CHANGE

Three days have passed, it is dawn of the three days later.

Tigra is spending her morning napping because she is here to cat to the utmost.

Look at this. Ridiculous.

You are a ridiculous individual, Tigra Greer Grant Nelson.

And like a cat, sleep can be a tenuous thing for the faint sound of footstep on carpet outside her room has her spring out of bed and answer the door of her room before Jarvis even knocks.

Because Tigra is here to be a cat and unnerve Jarvis, for reasons which escape me.

She jokes about Jarvis bringing her a mouse for breakfast but he’s really here with her weekly stipend check from Tony Stark.

This is a thing that’s been implied but not explicitly spoken but the Avengers actually get paid for being Avengers. Its not really a salary as much as a stipend.

I don’t know that there’s a difference, except maybe legally. Maybe in regards to taxes. Maybe stipends don’t get income taxed and you don’t need to submit a form to the IRS.

That our Tony! Ha ha ha pay your taxes ya dink

Anyway, the weekly check is a ‘merely’ a modest stipend to defray miscellaneous living expenses. Most Avengers refuse the stipend because, well, they don’t need it! And most Avengers aren’t going to pocket a thousand dollars they don’t need just to laugh at Tony for handing out free money.

Your Thors, Iron Mans, Wasps and Antgiantyellowjacket Men.

But the Avengers that live in the mansion and have no outside means of support (definitely Hawkeye whenever he was on the team, definitely Beast and he definitely bought weed with it, Wonder Man, probably Scarlet Witch and Vision) accept the money.

Tigra: “Well, I’ll sure take it! I’m tired of being broke!”

And then she actually looks at the check.

Tigra: “Jarv, this check -- ! It’s for a thousand dollars!”

Jarvis: “If that is not sufficient, madame, I’m sure Mr. Stark would be happy to increase the amount!”

Tigra: “Increase the --! No, that’s okay, Jarv! This’ll do just fine! Whee! We’re in the money... we’re in the money!”

So according to an online calculator $1000 in 1981 dollars is worth about $2,820.56 in 2020 dollars!

Plus no rent because firemen sleep in the firehouse!

Being good really is its own reward! Where do I get some superpowers, an invitation to the Avengers, and probably a c-list fodder death in the next event!

Ok so maybe its not all great to be an Avenger. But the monetary compensation certainly sounds good to some!

And it bears mentioning that Tigra signed up to be an Avenger when all she thought she’d get out of it was a place to sleep and a chance to do hero stuff.

Anyway, Jarvis also reminds her that she has to attend the court martial meeting at four, prompting her to say “Aw! Don’t remind me of downers like that now, Jarv!”

You’re a classy person, Tigra.

Stop sexually harassing the butler and also anyone. Its just uncomfortable.

And poor Jarvis continues to be allergic to cats and giant woman cats. Poor, poor Jarvis.

As four approaches, the Avengers all start to head to the mansion for the court martial.

Iron Man as Tony Stark, normal billionaire man, cuts short a board meeting claiming another appointment. One of the board members is like lucky dog is probably off to a date with a startlet but oh ironies man, Tony would trade places with the board guy Dillworth if he could because he’s not looking forward to this.

And at Upper West Side Medical Clinic, Brilliant Perfectly Normal Surgeon Dr. Donald Blake is doing surgery when he realizes drat that Avengers meeting is soon.

So he asks the other doctors to finish up without him and takes off.

In fairness, in fairness! The patient was out of mortal peril. It was just the closing up and such that was left. But the other doctors are like look at that arrogant doctor man, he may be the best doctor on Earth but I don’t like his attitude.

And in the court martial room waits Captain America. Still stuck in that conundrum he’s been in.

Captain America: “When the court martial convenes, I don’t know how I’m going to find the courage to look Hank in the eye and then demand that he be expelled from the Avengers -- but I must... though it will be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done! I’m going to prosecute the case as best I can... because it’s my duty! But all the while I’ll be praying that they acquit you, Hank! I hope you understand!”

Cap is at least fair handed here. This is exactly the treatment he demanded for himself in the Charles Soule She-Hulk series where he asked Matt Murdock to prosecute the hell out of him and She-Hulk to be his defense in a wrongful death lawsuit.

The idea is this: if Hank is acquitted, then it clears his name without a shadow of a doubt because Cap wouldn’t have gone easy. Accountability, its a hell of a thing.

BUT NOW WE GO BACK SEVERAL HOURS to Cresskill and the casa de Wasp.

Janet woke up and found no Hank. He’s been locked in his lab since they got back from the pre-court martial three days ago. And she’s gotten worried that he’s hurt himself or gotten ill so she decides to invade his privacy a little bit.

Hank has locked the lab door but Jan can just about wriggle through the top because the insulation is a little cracked.

So she squirms into the very small gap between door and frame.

And finds Hank has built a medium giant robot.

He’s just finishing up the programming. Because he’s programming the robot (he calls it Sal, short for Salvation I) to locate and identify the Avengers visually as well as by brain-wave patterns.

Hank this is all very dubious! I can’t think of a good reason why you might secretly be building a robot and putting all of your friends’ faces in it!

But Sal’s detectors are running and its suddenly pinging two Avengers in the area, not one. And when Hank turns on the visual scan system to check, whoops! Jan’s here! Jan saw your robot!

Hank freaks out a little bit.

He slams his fist on the computer near where tiny bug her is standing and shouts.

Yellowjacket: “What are you doing here? Why did you come here? WHY?”

She tells him that she was worried because she hasn’t seen him in days but he accuses her of spying on him.

Jan reiterates that she wasn’t spying. She just wanted to make sure he was ok.

Annnnnnd. Hank decides that Jan being here is a serendipitous chance to test his new robot!

By having it attack Jan!

HANK!

Sal charges Jan and grabs her in its giant pincer hands. Jan tries blasting it with her bio-electric sting but to no effect.

As Hank brags Sal is made of invulnerable adamantium. Plus plus plus, he’s programmed to respond if she tries shrinking.

Yellowjacket: “Yeah, Sal’s a pretty tough customer... powerful enough to trash all of the Avengers together! No one can stop him -- except me, because I happen to know about his little secret weak spot! One precisely placed shot with my disruptor-blast stinger -- and Sal collapses, defeated!”

Jan then asks the pertinent question.

Hank Pym what the hell is this robot for??

Yellowjacket: “Why, I’m going to save my career, Jan! That’s what I’m going to do! Let’s be realistic, shall we? The charge against me is ‘endangering the safety of fellow Avengers and civilians through neglect’! The penalty is expulsion! They’re going to boot me out! This ‘court martial’ is just a formality!”

This isn’t a good plan. Nothing here is good. Only bad things will occur.

I’m not being silly, for a change. This is a bad scene.

It does what it intends to do, more or less. But its uncomfortable.

Jan is like c’mon don’t think like that. And Hank is like well, I’m going to give it a chance. But if things start going badly, boy howdy, I’m going to summon a robot to beat up my friends! Also Hank himself! That’s right! He programmed a robot to beat the shit out of him!

And then when things look their worst, Hank will save the day by blasting the robot in the secret weak spot and saving the day!

Jan tells him not to do this dumb thing.

Yellowjacket: “SHUT UP! I’ve got to do this! I’ve got to save the day right before their eyes! Don’t you see? It’s my only chance to redeem myself! It’s the only way!”

And there’s no way to really sugarcoat this. Hank just hauls off and hits her.

Or makes a very dramatic gesture and accidentally strikes her.

Jim Shooter has said that the hit wasn’t in the script.

Jim Shooter: “In that story (issue 213, I think), there is a scene in which Hank is supposed to have accidentally struck Jan while throwing his hands up in despair and frustration - making a sort of ‘get away from me’ gesture while not looking at her. Bob Hall, who had been taught by John Buscema to always go for the most extreme action, turned that into a right cross! There was no time to have it redrawn, which, to this day has caused the tragic story of Hank Pym to be known as the ‘wife-beater’ story.”

I don’t know. As I said last time with Gorn and Linnea, Hank is reflected in Gorn. And Gorn intentionally hit Linnea.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that it was set in stone that Hank would hit Jan. But it seems like it was foreshadowed in that way.

And here’s the thing: whether Hank intentionally hit her or not doesn’t really matter with how the story comes off and is attempting to come off.

Before he, intentionally or not, hits Jan directly he has also sicked a robot on her (and under-reacts when she says the robot is hurting her) and smashed his fist near her when she was small sized.

Any one of these would be unacceptable behavior.

And even if it was an accidental hit, Hank doesn’t express remorse or guilt or even awareness that he did a bad thing. He just keeps ranting as she’s sprawled to the floor.

Yellowjacket: “You’ve got to understand -- ! I can’t let them drum me out of the Avengers! I can’t! It’s all I have left! Since you had to stick your nose into my business, you’re in this with me now, Jan! I’ll keep it simple for you! All you’ve got to do is play along and keep your mouth shut! Got that?”

So. Yeah. Inadvertent or intentional doesn’t really change anything here. His behavior in this entire scene is beyond the pale.

So we time skip to the present of 4:27 PM, twenty-seven minutes after the start of the court martial and twenty-seven minutes of no show.

Tigra is getting frustrated.

Tigra: “I want to get this craziness over with! You know I’ve been an Avenger for a week! I feel pretty silly judging a guy who’s been around since day one!”

She asks if she can just cast a vote for acquittal preemptively and fuck off.

Iron Man says of course not! Although he thinks to himself that if it were possible, he would have done it and probably Thor too.

So that’s the situation regarding the Avengers’ thoughts on this court martial. Tigra wants to just vote to acquit because she’s only been here a week. Iron Man and probably Thor would also like to just vote to acquit. And Captain America is going to prosecute as hard as he can but is secretly hoping that Hank gets acquitted.

Far from Hank’s belief that the court martial is just a formality.

Anyway, Hank and Jan (wearing sunglasses) show up.

Yellowjacket: “Sorry we’re late! The George Washington Bridge was jammed as usual!”

Captain America: “No harm done, Hank!”

Yellowjacket: “You mean you won’t be pressing additional charge for malicious tardiness, Cap?”

Captain America: “Uh... let’s get started!”

Yeah. Off to a great start. Just. Not a good foot, Hank.

So the court martial starts! Thankfully the table has had a growth spurt or maybe got switched out for a bigger table.

So the voting will be by Tigra, Thor, and Iron Man. Wasp may participate but not vote because she’s Hank’s wife. Cap will prosecute.

And begin to prosecute he will do!

Captain America: “Four days ago, Yellowjacket blasted an enemy in the back -- an enemy who had already ceased hostilities! We all know that Hank’s no coward and not one to panic! It was a mistake... a misjudgement made on the spur of a tense, pressured moment! It could have triggered disaster!”

“But it didn’t! We were lucky! So, the temptation is to forget it... write it off! We tend to feel that way because each of us thinks that it’ll happen to us someday!”

“Wrong! We can’t let it happen! We’re the Avengers, not the Brooklyn Dodgers! One ‘error’ by one of us can cost thousands of lives! We don’t dare allow ourselves to think it’s ever all right to make a mistake!”

“Our responsibility is overwhelming! We’ve got to judge ourselves harshly! I recommend for Yellowjacket, as I would for myself, the severest possible penalty!”

So at this point Hank can please guilty to the charges and rely on the mercy of the court or defend himself from the charges.

And Hank decides to plead not guilty, of course!

Okay, so what’s your defense, Hank? You actually have a possible avenue here that Elf-Queen didn’t speak English and you were behind her so it was difficult to tell that hostilities had ceased and plus she had tossed your new teammate into space.

Are you going with something like that?

Yellowjacket: “I don’t deny the sequence of events as Cap described them... more or less! Yes, when it seemed as though the enemy had ceased fighting, my attack -- my ‘mistake’ -- seemed treacherous! But I find it odd that the great Captain America never even once considered treachery on the part of the enemy!”

“She could have been setting him up! By striking when I did, in the way I did, I may have actually saved his life! But is he grateful? No! Why not, one may ask!”

“Well, perhaps you noticed that the ‘enemy’ in question was a beautiful woman! Does he think I didn’t notice the way he was looking at her? Well it’s no wonder he’s so upset!”

“You like her, eh, Cap? And I hurt her -- and that’s why you have this vendetta against me, even though I may have saved your miserable life! Oh yes! I was actually the hero out there! Me! But, then, you turned it all around... you made a fool out of me!”

“And it worked, didn’t it? That’s when she started looking back! Isn’t it? Isn’t it? ISN’T IT?”

Yeah. That. Just sort of says it all, Iron Man.

Hank senses that maybe his rant wasn’t quite as convincing as it sounded in his head and demands Jan tell them how right he is!

Jan: “... no more! Let it end! I beg you, Hank, if you love me... let it end!”

And Thor sees her black eye and reacts in shock, asking if Hank hit her.

By the by the way, this is also why Chuck Austen’s retcon that Hank had been physically abusing Jan for a while can fuck off. Because in his telling, the Avengers knew for a while and just didn’t do anything.

And I do not like that as a concept.

So since this is going not how he’d prefer, Hank pulls the killer robot remote out of his outside pants and activates the killer robot.

Its got to be sunk cost at this point, right?

Even if he saves the day from the killer robot, does he think that they’re going to forget the black eye and his rant that really Captain America is too horny?

AND THEN THE ROBOT BUSTS IN THROUGH THE WALL AND STARTS BEATING EVERYONE UP

with a KA-BWHOOM! naturally.

The Avengers rally despite the surprise and try to fight back but the robot is made of adamantium and we know how much trouble the Avengers always have with Ultron.

Cap tries throwing his shield at Sal and it doesn’t even yield! In fact, Sal catches the shield and slams it into Cap’s chest. Possibly caving in his ribs.

Iron Man tries to draw Sal off of the others by shooting repulsors at it but Sal zooms over really quick and punches him in the chest before he can react.

At this point Hank begins to have the faintest inklings that maybe he’s done a bad, specifically in creating a killer robot and programming it to attempt murder on his friends.

Yellowjacket: “I -- I hadn’t realized just how deadly, how savage Sal would be in full attack mode! I’ve got to zap his weak point before he hurts someone bad!”

And he probably forgot that he programmed Sal to kill him too because when Yellowjacket goes for the weak point, Sal swivels around and hits Yellowjacket, sending him WHOK!ing into the wall.

Oh. Hey. Sal’s turn and smack pose is vaguely similar to the thing between Hank and Jan.

Wonder if that’s intentional.

Hank is knocked so for a loop (by a robot that, I’ll remind you, he programmed to beat him up) that he almost passes out and has to struggle to his feet.

But he has to stay conscious because he’s the only one that can stop the threat he himself created!

And since Sal is kicking the shit out of Thor, the threat that Hank himself created really is a big one!

Yellowjacket: “C’mon, Hank! Suck it up! Make the room stop whirling! Focus... focus on the weak spot! Aim... disruptors on full force!”

But Hank takes too long and Sal finishes beating up Thor and grabs Hank in his claws. And hey more mirroring maybe! Like Jan before, Hank is in Sal’s claws and is being crushed.

And to fit the mirroring, Jan comes to Hank’s rescue. But out of actual, factual real concern for Hank’s pain unlike Hank earlier not reacting to Jan’s pain.

Again, I wonder if it was intentional. And I think in this case it must be?

Its because Hank put her through this nonsense earlier that Jan knows where the weak spot is and can blast it to save the day, the Avengers, and Hank.

Sal plops over with a KLANG!

And Hank...

Is not grateful.

Yellowjacket: “Why? Why did it have to be Jan? If -- if I couldn’t do it... why her? Why? Why?”

After everything, after every way in which his own plans spectacularly crashed and burned, he’s still most concerned that Wasp outshone him?

Lets let Thor put it best.

Thor: “Thy plan... was foolish, Yellowjacket! A base and transparent ruse!”

But Yellowjacket doesn’t hear Thor or anything really.

Yellowjacket: “guess i’ll go now... guess... i’ll go.”

And he lurches out the door in a bit of a daze.

Iron Man: “Jan I -- I -- what should we do? What can we do?”

Wasp: “For me? Nothing! I’m okay... now! You know, I feel like crying... but I just don’t have any tears left!”

And that’s that.

I’ve said a lot of what I’ve had to say as we went along.

There’s more to come in this particular arc. Hank isn’t done yet!

What an ominous statement.

Follow @essential-avengers because I’m doing a good job, maybe. Please also like and reblog.

#Avengers #Yellowjacket #hank pym #the wasp #Sal the robot who offers hugs #Captain America #Thor #Iron Man #Tigra #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #who would have thought a court martial would go so bad #you had THREE WHOLE DAYS to prepare your defense #geez tho geez #cw domestic abuse

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skeletaldarling · 6 years ago

Text

Full of life and Full of Love 1

A lot of people seemed to like this post right here, I really do too so I'm gonna continue it. (Btw, the title is a lyric from Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men)

@sidespromptblog this hc is still genius, good job

@creativity-killed-thekitten, you liked it last time and I’m bored so I thought I’d continue it,,, I hope you like it

Let me know if you have tips or advice or anything! I want to improve!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Summary: Patton and Logan are finally going on their first official date tonight and smol Dee is an adorable Dee.

Ship: Logicality, platonic analogical, platonic loceit, mentioned remile

Word count: 1 718

Warnings: Sympathetic deceit, mentioned homophobia, idk, feel free to tell me if I missed something!

Logan quietly opened the door to Dee's room and padded over to the crib that sat against the wall. The yellow and black quilts were pushed to one side and the almost-one year old was lying with his favourite snake toy.

"Hello little one." Logan murmured as he reached into the bed to lift his son into his arms. "How was your nap?"

Dee yawned and blinked slowly. Logan kissed their head as he grabbed 'Mr Snek' and flipped the nightlight off.

Logan kept the toddler distracted for about an hour before he made dinner. Dee loved experimenting with his set of rainbow blocks, he stacked them in size order and admired his work with a series of proud babbling sounds before knocking them over and giggling. Logan laughed with him and scooped him into his lap to tickle his tummy until he was bright red.

Dee cooed as he was set in his highchair. “Dada! Mr Snek!” He called gleefully.

Logan chuckled and passed the plush snake to him. While the toddler played with Mr Snek, Logan started dinner. He had a date with Patton Hart at seven and wanted to feed Dee by then so he could go to sleep and Virgil wouldn’t have to do much when he babysat.

Logan checked the time and mapped out a rough plan in his head while he prepared canned spaghetti on toast, Dee did not appreciate fancy food, his taste was basic and he didn’t like to venture outside his comfort zone.

Logan turned back to the toddler as he babbled at the yellow snake. “Hey Dee-dee.”

Dee looked up and broke into a grin, his birth mark almost looked like a patch on a cat’s face. He reached up and Mr Snek fell from his weak grip, “Snek!” He yelped, he looked up at his Dad with fearful eyes, he sniffled and his bottom lip quivered.

“No no no!” Logan picked it up and handed it back to the upset toddler. “See? There we go baby, it’s okay.”

Dee hugged the plush and started chewing on it immediately.

“Come on little one, let’s have some food first.”

Dee sniffed and ate some food with a grouchy expression. Logan chuckled at his wrinkled nose and kissed his forehead. “Come on Dee, a little bit more, if I didn’t think pretending eating utensils were vehicles was pointless I might tell you that this fork was a airplane, but I’m not going to do that so will you please just take a bite?”

Dee scowled but took a small bite.

“Thank you honey-dee.” Logan smiled. “Dad’s gotta get ready now, can you sit quietly with Snek for a bit?”

Dee wrinkled his nose again and hissed slightly.

Logan snorted. “You’ve got quite the attitude for someone so little.”

He picked him up, ensuring that Dee still had a firm grip on Snek, and carried him to his bedroom.

Dee was sitting in the middle of his dad’s bed, slobbering all over Mr Snek while Dad changed into a blue shirt and a black skirt that reached past his knees. “What do you think Dee?”

“Dada!”

“Thanks baby, docs or flats?”

Dee poked his tongue out and blew a raspberry.

“You -” Logan booped his nose, “- are a fashion genius, thanks honey-dee.”

He tugged his boots on and ran a hand through his hair, which, thankfully, he had remembered to wash.

It was 6:48. “Okay Dee, Virgil’s supposed to get here soon, are you gonna be nice and not difficult?”

Dee giggled and Logan let out a sigh. “You, my little snake, are mischievous.”

Logan carried him out to the living room so he could set him down in the center of his toys. “Honey, play -”

He was cut off by the doorbell.

“Don’t move.” Logan teased.

Dee blew him a raspberry as he opened the door, Logan shot him a look over his shoulder and grinned.

“Hello Virgil.”

The seventeen year old gave him a lazy peace sign and stepped inside, he was wearing his usual hoodie and his violet hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. “Hi Lo.”

“Hmm, you didn’t have to be invited inside, and I was so sure you were a vampire.”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious.” Virgil said dryly.

Logan smirked. “Dee’s over there.”

Virgil headed over to the toddler and picked him up. “Hey bud. Whatcha doin’?”

Logan smiled at them. He taught English to highschoolers and Virgil was one of his students. He was the best writer Logan had ever taught and after the teacher had defended him from some homophobic punks, they formed a friendship. Virgil was his number one babysitter and adored Dee as if they were siblings. Virgil was almost a second child to Logan at this point, his own parents weren’t so great and Logan would happily have him over, even if it was just to do some homework and relax.

Virgil sat on the couch with the toddler in his lap. “So, you have a date?”

“Yes, and before you start asking questions, his name is Patton Hart, he works at Remy’s cafe, that’s where we met the other day.”

“Is he cute?”

“Virgil.”

“Well?”

Logan groaned. “I don’t have to answer, I’m your teacher.”

Virgil waved him off. “You love me.”

Logan rolled his eyes fondly and checked his eyeliner in the mirror. “How do I look? I asked Dee and he gave me some great advice.”

“Was it Dada or Snek?” Virgil asked. “But you look really good, I like the boots.”

“Of course you do.”

The doorbell rang and Virgil smirked. “Your date’s here.”

“Shut up.” Logan stroked Dee’s hair and walked over to open the door. “Hi Patton.”

“Hey Lo!” Patton greeted.

Logan stepped aside. “Come in for a moment, I’m just gonna grab my stuff. This is Virgil by the way, he’s watching Dee while we’re out.”

Virgil waved. “Hey.”

“Hello, hi Dee!” Patton came over to sit next to them.

“I like your dress.” Virgil said as he played with Dee’s hair.

“Oh thank you!” Patton was wearing a light blue dress, long sleeved with a thin gold belt and a sleeveless denim jacket that went with his white knee length cat socks.

Logan reappeared with a navy shoulder bag. He knelt in front of Virgil and stroked his son’s cheek. “I’ll be back after bedtime, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow morning, be nice to Virge for me. Love you honey-dee.” He kissed Dee’s forehead and squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Thanks Vee, we’ll be back by 10 but I’ll message you if our plans change, just put him to bed in twenty minutes. Keep in contact, you know the rules.”

“I know, have fun.”

“Bye, let’s go Patton.”

Patton stood and waved at Dee. “Bye guys.”

Logan led him out and waved to Virgil.

“You look adorable.” Logan admitted as they walked down the street.

Patton beamed. “Thanks! You look really nice too, I like the pins.”

Logan glanced down at his bag where the small collection of badges were. A rainbow, a brain, a moon and stars and a cloud that read I’m not sorry for your fragile masculinity.

Patton linked their hands, and a blush spread across Logan’s cheeks.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Patton asked.

“Not yet, we’re getting food to take to a surprise location.” Logan said as they turned a corner.

“And we’re walking?”

“It’s not far. I always liked this time of day, almost dark, everything seems calmer and more relaxed, I enjoy walking around here.”

Patton nodded. “That makes sense, it is pretty around here. I love the clouds, they’re beautiful.”

Logan looked up at the pink tinged sky, covered in smudges of orange and gold. “Yes, I suppose they are.”

Patton looked at him and smiled. God, his eyes were a fascinating blue, he was truly the cutest man Logan had ever seen. He smiled back and they kept walking, swinging their intertwined hands slightly.

“Here we are.” Logan announced. “They make the best burgers here.”

Patton looked down. “Um, I’m vegetarian.”

“That’s okay, I come here all the time with Remy and his boyfriend, Emile, he’s a vegetarian too and he absolutely loves their veggie burgers. They also have great fries.”

Patton’s bright smile returned. “Cool!”

They ordered their food to-go and walked out again.

“It’s not far, I promise.” Logan said as he guided Patton along the path.

They soon reached the place Logan was taking them, a park.

“It doesn’t seem like much but, this place is pretty and it’s fun and I really love bringing Dee here to lie on the grass and watch the sky.”

“Wow, Lo, this is actually really pretty.”

Logan led him over to a grassy spot by the playground and they sat. No one else was here, they had the place to themselves to eat and laugh and talk. Patton loved the burger, he loved the park, he loved the neighborhood, he was cheerful and bubbly and Logan found himself flustered and blushing every time Patton giggled or smiled. He was a waiter at Remy’s cafe, he loved working there, he really liked Remy and Emile and thought it was really cool that Remy and Logan were brothers.

Patton watched Logan talk about his job as a teacher, how talented Virgil was as a writer and how much he loved his son. He could talk about Dee for days and Patton could happily watch him.

“It’s almost 10.” Patton sighed, they were lying together on the grass watching the sky darken while holding hands. “Maybe we should go.”

“Probably, I really liked this though.” Logan said as he stood and stuffed their rubbish into his bag. “I’d love to do it again.”

“Absolutely! I love spending time with you.” Patton said, an adorable blush spreading under his freckles.

“I’m glad.” Logan murmured as they walked home again.

They reached Patton’s car and he stopped walking, he turned to Logan, his pale face glowing in the moonlight. “I should go, I really loved spending time with you Lo.”

“I feel the same way, Pat.”

They smiled and leaned forward to close the gap. When they pulled away, Logan was speechless.

Patton giggled softly. “Goodnight Logan Croft.”

“Goodnight Patton Hart.” Logan whispered as the smaller man climbed into his car and drove away.

#sander sides #logicality #tiny!sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #ts #ts sides #platonic loceit #small deceit #dad logan #tw deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #rj fic #full of life and full of love #folfol

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themangledsans0508 · 6 years ago

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Not Interested

@lumberjanes

“April.”

“Hrnnnnnnn…”

“April!”

The redhead wasn’t expecting to be woken up at… what time was it? Who knows. All she knew was it was dark out, everyone was asleep, and there was a raccoon standing on her chest. She blinked the sleepiness out of her eyes and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room enough so she could see who was talking to her.

Blonde hair…

Molly?

“Molly it’s some-odd time in the morning, why are we waking up?”

“You wake us up all the time in the morning, and it’s only us waking up right now. Okay, I have a problem. I need your help.

"What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t tell Mal.”

“Why?”

“Just promise me! Under no circumstances.”

“Okay, I promise. What’s up?”

“I think… one of the scouting lads… might have a crush on me.”

That woke April right up. She bolted upright, almost headbutting Molly, who leaned back just in time.

“How do you know?”

Well…“ Molly scratched the back of her head. "He keeps kinda looking at me then looking away when I look at him, and he blushes a lot when I’m near him, and his cabinmates, well I think they’re his cabinmates, keep pointing at me and saying stuff to him.”

“You don’t like him like that, right?”

“No, but I don’t know how to tell him that.” April raised an eyebrow.

“Just tell him you’re not interested.” Molly got a light pink tint to her cheeks.

“I don’t want to hurt his feelings, or make him mad, or embarrass him, or…” April put a finger to Molly’s lips to stop her from continuing her list.

“Okay, Molly, we can come up with a different plan. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? We gotta go to sleep before Jen wakes up.”

“Thanks, April. You’re the best.” She saw Molly slip off of her bed and her shadow slink back to her bunk, where another form was sleeping quietly.

April watched from a distance as Molly and Mal said goodbye, as Mal was heading off to try for another band badge. She felt the picnic table shudder as someone– who she assumed was Ripley– jumped onto it.

“April! Whatcha doing?” Ripley’s excited voice blared in her ears, which might have hurt if she wasn’t used to it.

“Waiting for Molly.”

“What are we doing?” Jo’s voice came from next to her, causing her to jump. She hadn’t heard Jo walk over and sit down, but she also normally didn’t anyways. She thought for a moment. Molly had said to just not tell Mal, right? She could tell Ripley and Jo, right? Maybe she should wait for Molly to tell them, but also friendship to the max!

“One of the scouting lads has a crush on Molly,” She blurted.

“Oooooh” Ripley gasped, pushing on her cheeks with her hands and her wide eyes shining.

“Which one?” Jo asked.

“Dunno,” April replied. “She didn’t tell me more than that, yet.”

“You’re not gonna force her to tell you if she doesn’t want to,” Jo said it firmly, but softly.

“I’m not gonna, but she also asked me to help her tell him she’s not interested.”

“Can we help too?” Ripley leaned forward, placing her hands excitedly on April’s shoulders. April thought for a moment. She wanted to say yes, but it was Molly’s choice.

“You’ll have to ask Molly to see if she’s okay with it.”

“Okay!”

Oh April should have thought that through; the moment “Ask Molly” came out of her mouth, Ripley started barrelling towards her and Mal. Luckily, Mal had just started heading to the Zodiac cabin, where the counselor who was awarding the badge was having them test. Molly also turned around just in time to catch Ripley, who had leaped onto her.

She didn’t need to hear Ripley to know what was saying. She felt Jo shaking her head and turned to face her. Jo was smiling.

“Is Jen gonna get involved too?” She laughed. April couldn’t see why; love is serious!

“No, she’ll go into mom-mode,” April said, looking back to see Molly being almost dragged over by Ripley.

“The more the merrier,” she huffed.

“So let’s go find him and tell him! What’s his name, Molly?” Molly waved her hands frantically.

“No, no, no, Ripley, I’ll tell you his name if you promise you won’t tell him.”

“I promise!”

“Kitten promise?” The kitten promise was made up by Ripley, and it was an unbreakable promise. More sacred than the pinky promise.

“Kitten promise.” Ripley booped Molly’s nose with her own. “Is Mal going to help too?” Molly shook her head.

“No, Mal… is too busy. We don’t want her to get distracted with this.”

“Okay!” Bubbles jumped off of Molly’s head and onto Ripley’s who quickly got distracted by the raccoon. Molly turned to Jo and April.

“Do you guys have any ideas.”

That fire in April’s eyes, the one she couldn’t see but could feel.

“Plenty.”

Attempt #1

“So this guy-”

“Ryan.”

“Right. Ryan has a crush on you, so what if we told him you were in a relationship?” Molly shook her head quickly.

“No, I’m not coming out to someone I’ve never had a conversation with.” April blinked a few times before realizing what Molly meant. That’s why she didn’t want Mal to know, she didn’t want her to get jealous. How could she forget that they were together?

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I forgot,” April said. Oops.

“It’s okay. But that idea is scrapped.” Molly sighed. April had another thought intrude her mind, and she turned to Molly.

“Oh no, it’s not!”

“It’s not going to work,” Jo said flatly.

“C'mon Jo! It could!” April grinned proudly, placing her hands on her hips. “You never know!”

That was how explaining April’s plan to Jo was going. They had been going back and forth for around five minutes with Molly standing awkwardly in the background. The plan, was for Molly to pretend she had a boyfriend. April had figured every detail out in a span of five minutes, a new record for her. Now she just needed to explain it to Jo and Ripley; which wasn’t going very well at the moment.

A minor setback, April thought after she finally got Jo to agree to help. Now we just need to find Ripley.

Finding Ripley is easier said than done.

She wandered off rather easily and had a rather short attention span. Add her love for adventure and animals, and they lost her rather often.

“If I were Ripley, where would I go.” April scanned the camp.

“Anywhere,” Jo said from behind her.

“Could she have gone into the woods?” Molly asked. Jo turned to vast rows of trees and scratched her chin.

“Yes, but I don’t think she would by herself.” Molly nodded.

“Okay. Where could she be then?” It suddenly clicked to April.

“The arts and crafts cabin.” Jo pressed her palm to her forehead.

“Of course. That’s where she is most of the time.”

“Let’s go.” Molly took the lead, not running but speed walking with April and Jo on her heels.

Ripley was most definitely there, her and Bubbles coated with glitter, work on what looked to have been a card, but had been transformed into a glitter page.

“Ripley! We gotta go!” April whispered. It had been around an hour since the plan had originally formed, and they still had about two before lunch, but she also didn’t want to have to rush. Once they were all out of the cabin, April motioned for them to circle up and hear what their course of action would be.

“Okay, so we’re going to walk by them in this group of like gossipy kids and just talk about Molly’s boyfriend really loud so he’ll lose interest.

"When?” Molly asked.

“Don’t we have the option of cross-camp stitching in a few minutes?” Jo said.

“With Barney?” Ripley smiled.

“Maybe, but the important part is that Ryan might be there, and if not, we can ask Barney to help too,” April stated.

“Okay,” Molly breathed. April grinned and put her fist in the center of the circle.

“Scouts?” The others grinned and followed suit.

“Scouts.”

April lead the charge into the stitching area, which was by the lake.

“Alright, ready guys?”

“Girls!”

Jen.

April had not planned for Jen to be there, she would get suspicious. Okay, she would just have to adjust the plan. Jen approached swiftly, clipboard in hand.

“What are you doing down here?” Junk.

“We’re here to stitch,” Jo said. Jen scanned their faces.

“Well, I want you in my sight at ALL TIMES. Got it?” April nodded and they headed to an empty table. Molly looked at her.

“What now, April?” April thought for a bit. Jen wasn’t going to let them leave until the activity was over, and she also wouldn’t be impressed if she heard them saying Molly had a boyfriend. They would have to distract her.

April’s eyes fell on Ripley.

“Ripley, I’ve got a job for you.” Ripley cocked her head sideways.

“What?”

“I need you to distract Jen,” April whispered. Ripley’s eyes lit up and a wide grin adorned her face.

“Okay!” She grabbed fistfuls of materials and raced over to Jen, jumping on her, and showing her all the stuff she had brought. April turned to Molly to see her watching a group of scouting lads, one in particular. April elbowed her gently.

“Is that him?” she asked. Molly nodded and started to focus intently on the threads in front of her. April looked at Jo. The scouting lad, Ryan, had black hair, blue eyes, and was taller than April.

“Are we ready?” April waited for her friends’ response. Jo looked at Molly for a few seconds.

“Yeah,” she said finally. Molly nodded. Jo took a deep breath.

“So, Molly. Could we hear more about this boyfriend of yours?” Jo folded her hands and rested her chin on them. Molly shifted uncomfortably. April faked surprise.

“Boyfriend? Molly, why didn’t you tell me?” Out of the corner of her eye, April could see the scouting lads staring at their table. Molly scratched her head.

“Well, I didn’t really think about it.” Jo scoffed.

“Molly, you’ve been raving about him all summer.” April loved the acting skills she was seeing on display.

“A BOYFRIEND? I can’t believe you would hide it from ME!”

Maybe April said that too loud.

Jen’s head snapped in their direction, a confused look on her face. Ripley looked over and then to Jen. Jen got up, bringing the materials and Ripley to their table.

“What’s going on over here girls?” Jen asked. Molly looked down and Jo looked at her. The scouting lads next to them moved tables away from them, and April looks sheepishly at Jen.

“Well, I-” April started. Molly cut her off.

“We think one of the scouting lads has a crush on me, so we had an idea to make him think I was in a relationship.” Jen looked at her.

“Why don’t you just tell him you don’t like him in that way?” She said softly.

“I don’t want to hurt his feelings.” Jen reached a hand out and placed it on Molly’s shoulder.

“It won’t hurt his feelings, but it’s better than pretending you’re in a relationship with someone who you’re not. It could also confuse other people who might think you had a relationship with someone else.” Molly looked up at Jen.

“Thanks, Jen.”

Molly and April leaned against the cabin, waiting for Jo, Mal, and Ripley to come back from helping clean the Arts and Crafts cabin. April turned to Molly.

“So, are you going to tell him you don’t feel the same way?” Molly shook her head.

“I know I should, but I’m still scared I might hurt his feelings.” Molly took a deep breath.

“What if one of us told him you aren’t into him? I could do it, or Jo could.” Molly looked at her skeptically.

“I don’t know.”

“You can think about it, we don’t need to decide right now.” April kept looking ahead of them, out towards the sprawling camp and saw their friends returning.

“April, I think we should do it,” Molly said. Another plan coming to circle. April smiled.

“Okay, should I do it? Jo could, maybe Ripley, oo Barney could help too!” Molly thought for a second.

“I think Jo. Is that okay?” April nodded.

“I’ll go ask her.”

Attempt #2

“You want me to tell him Molly doesn’t like him?” Jo asked.

“Yeah. Molly wants you to, not me. I mean, I wasn’t the one who chose who was going to tell him, I’m okay with you doing it, you know what I mean?” Jo sighed.

“Yeah. I’ll do it. You’ve got to help me spot which camper he is,” Jo said.

“Alright.”

April scanned the scouting lads at the lake. It was free time, and it was pretty hot out, so she calculated this would be the most likely place he would be. She saw a group of them sitting near the water. She tried to remember what Ryan looked like. Blue eyes, taller than her, and… what color was his hair? She focused intently on remembering. Blonde hair, black hair, red hair, brown. His hair was brown. She smiled, proud of herself.

She spotted a camper fitting her description sitting in the group she had been looking at. She poked Jo.

“There he is.” Jo squinted.

“Which one?” She asked.

“Brown hair, blue eyes, and he’s taller than me,” she stated confidently. Jo nodded.

“Alright. I’ll be back.” Jo strode over and talked to the camper for around a minute before coming back.

“So?”

“That wasn’t him. His name is Brian.” Jo said flatly.

“Oh.” April faltered. “He’s got to be here though, let’s keep looking.”

They ended up telling three more scouting lads that, all of them confused. The last one April hesitated. Did she misremember something? Maybe he had different color eyes, or he was actually shorter than her. She shook her head. No, I know what he looks like, she thought. She looked at another group of four campers, the camper she was looking at was sitting next to another scouting lad with black hair and blue eyes, who looked vaguely familiar. April pointed out the camper to Jo.

“That’s him,” she said. Jo looked at them.

“Black or brown hair?”

“Brown.” Jo hesitated for a moment.

“Okay.” She went and talked to him for a few seconds. When she came back, she was visibly frustrated.

“Not him. That was Kyi,” she huffed. April began looking again when the bell rang to signal for campers to return to their cabins and clean up for dinner.

Molly approached Jo and April when they arrived back at the cabin.

“Did it work?” She asked. Jo shook her head.

“No,” April said. Molly looked out the window.

“I think I’m going to tell Mal.”

“Okay, it’s your choice,” Jo said. Molly nodded.

“I think I will.”

April looked over the lake, her feet dangling in the water.

“Hey.” Molly sat down next to her, folding her feet under her to prevent them from getting wet.

“Hi. How’s it going?” April asked.

“Good.” Molly breathed deeply. “I told Mal.”

“What’d she say?” April knew that everything was okay, but she also wanted to know what happened.

“She said she understood, and that it wouldn’t hurt his feelings, and if it did, he didn’t really care about me. She also helped me tell him.” Molly looked down at the clear lake water, smiling softly.

“Did you tell Ryan too?” April inquired. Molly nodded.

“Yeah. He wasn’t mad. He was actually glad I told him so he knew. He said it was a small crush, so he’d be okay.” April flopped back on the pier.

“Well, that’s good.” Molly laid down next to her.

“Yeah.”

#Lumberjanes #Mally #Mal #Molly #Ripley #Jo #April #Jen #Chara writes

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wallpaperpainter · 5 years ago

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Seven Common Misconceptions About Wendy Williams | Wendy Williams

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inappropriatefangirlneeds · 7 years ago

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Gotham s3ep18 “All Will Be Judged” Personal Review

“You have yourself” Warning spoilers below

„How did you survive“ „With shooting me Ed, you gave me something to live for, Revenge“ EDWARD NYGMA boops OSWALD COBBLEPOT, just to make sure he is real (( and that he won´t start to sing and dance, probably)) Oswald is difficult to kill, more cockroach than penguin. „Don´t you dare call me Ed“ He is the Riddler, became so when he killed Oswald. Newsflash, he is not dead Oswald says (( name change not valid )) He came back to kill Ed. Steel and concrete are not going to stop him. Oswald crafts a blade, too thin as Ed says, it will break when he stabs him. Edward does not like to be called by his name. Edward, Edward, Edward .. (( Makes me wonder what would have gone down if someone gave S1 Oswald the Penguin, Penguin, Penguin routine)) Hostility is in the air. Edward brags: at least, he is in a bird cage because he wanted to find out who runs Gotham, Os is just there because he didn´t love him back. “Get over it.” Oswald stands up, it´s true but that is not the reason for him being there. Ed destroyed the empire he has built and shot him. No one doing that lives! Oswald says he is going to call the guards when Ed makes an escape move, that´s why Ed poisoned Os´ coffee, he spits it out, Ed was lying, yes but he stole a dart. ((Their faces, I can´t)) Os is on the floor, Ed on the door. Oswald makes noise and watches in glee how Edward gets beat by the guards before dozing off.He wakes up with a hurting head. Edward just waited for that moment to start scream about his lock pick being confiscated. Now they are both stuck in that “unnaturally damp hellhole”. Oswald is indeed happy as long as the guards hit him. Edward still tells him about Kathryn (( Does Oswald remember meeting her ? )) but basically he knows nothing apart of some guards gossip about some attack plans for the city. Oswald reasons: Both want to kill each other but that won´t happen caged. Escape! They work together but there have to be rules. “Agreed, reluctantly” “Then we help each other escape, together so that we may be free to murder each other outside” (( This would make so much more sense with marry/fuck each other .. like srsly )) Then Oswald, with a knife to his throat screams bloody murder. The guards go into Oswald´s cell. Shoot him he says, they don´t. His throat gets cut. The jello is everywhere. Okay it´s not but (( but I´ll be disappointed if there is not at least one fic being like .. Oh Oswald you still got jelly on your neck and Ed licking it away .. like you can´t waste food like that )) “Wait is that jello” “Surprise” (( Os sounds like Ed has been playing vocal coach .. )) The guards don´t have a chance. The death scene was convincing Ed says. Well he has had some practice Oswald answers. When outside the agreement still got some hours to go, Oswald is aware. Both drop their weapons. (( The physical ones, they still got their words .. )) Edward still thinks of himself as allied with Barbara, they got the gangs, the underworld but Oswald says he is not alone he got an army under his command but even if he were alone Ed would not stand a change. “I suppose we will see,” “I suppose so” They part ways but look over their shoulders.

“I don't know what good it'll do me.” Alarm and an open window. RealBruce would know this means SELINA KYLE or in general someone wanting to kill him but CLONEBRUCE is surprised. „How.“ He claims he is glad she is alive. What choice did he have? Selina calls him Freak, a cheap knock off. ALFRED PENNYWORTH interferes. He´s not Bruce Selina says. Alfred notices the wound and that “Bruce” doesn´t feel. Both Bruces serve a greater purpose than themselves! Alfred and CloneBruce head butt each other for a while. Alfred has been kind to him even when he thought he was not Bruce, yet he gets knocked out. Alfred tries to find Bruce, Selina already told him anything. Her head hurts. “I warned you” she says and no, she won´t help Alfred search Bruce, what good would it do her. Alfred claims Bruce has been a loyal friend to Selina who did not even lift a finger. She is a disgrace, like her mum, she should run away and never come back. (( Damn Alfred, knock it back. At least recognize that she came to get rid of CloneBruce .. you´d still think he was the real one if she hadn´t cared to pay a visit about that and the both of you would still play chess. ))

“This is your chance, Bruce.” BRUCE WAYNE arrives back in Gotham. Guy set him free from the blinding rage of his memory. Only one step to take. Needles again. Again Bruce has to do it, he can´t. It´s time for the truth. More needles. Another memory. Guy is mad about some Owl guy murdering the Waynes. The Court was never more than means to an end, to maintain order in Gotham. “Who are you” Bruce asks. Guy says the point is the Court´s days are over and they have to pay for their crimes. The Wayne murder. Will you help me Bruce he asks. The court of Owls has to pay, it´s the only way. Now Bruce follows the guidance. How does he feel now? Nothing he says. History lessons: The same has been done for 200 years to Talons who the Court takes from orphanages. The process does more than all feeling. The Talon cuts off his finger. He even would eat it if told so. “You see, Bruce, the pain of our memories can scar us, but it also defines us. Take away that pain and your mind becomes clay for me to mold.” Bruce would be his “perfect weapon” who does as he says. Bruce agrees to it to destroy the court.

“When the clock stops” JIM GORDON and HARVEY BULLOCK look at buildings and estates. Something points to a secret room. Harvey points out there could be plenty of those he wants him to investigate inside his new club but Lucius thought it could be the basement, Harvey huffs, what´s his problem .. Fox is smarter than him. They investigate, flashlights, secret doors and everything. They find a crystal owl that shows a plan of Gotham. But: Explosion (( it´s Steampunk Barnes, and he got Bucky BARNES eyes )) Bullock has to find NATHANIEL BARNES and Jim. Meanwhile Jim is chained to a chair. (( In an old destroyed courtroom)) KATHRYN is not amused Jim made a fool of her. It´s a shame she had high hopes. (( Welcome to the “disappointed by Jim” club, meetings are every second Friday, bring whiskey and muffins )) (( I feel like I should like her coat .. but I don´t .. )) “Don´t insult me by lying.” She know about the card, the lab (odd, that Strange said nothing .. ) everything. She want´s to know who else does. Jim starts with accusations: the Court murdered his father, drove his uncle to suicide. “You can go to hell.” What even is Barnes now, her lap dog (( Jim, you might be onto something .. )), he at least used to stand for something, not anymore Kathryn says Jim trying to get to Barnes is tiresome, Barnes followed him not because of her but because he is an enemy of Gotham. “Captain he is all yours” The trial has begun, Barnes is judge, jury and executioner. Things could have been different, they could have cleaned the city but Jim stood against him, Gotham and justice. How does he plead? Yes he shot his crazy ass Jim says, he´s guilty. Sentence is death by beheading. Jim tries to reason: the Court are only murderess who will kill the innocent and the guilty. Barnes wants to know if Jim still thinks the virus is a curse, what about strength, and clarity. Barnes says he is just like LEE. He tells Jim that she visited him, Lee did not understand the virus is a gift either. If she came to him the only thing she took away is that Mario was completely insane, Jim gets hope. (( Oh no )) “Any last requests? “ (( And insert fanfiction here )) Jim indeed has one, he wants to die wearing his badge, he deserves it “one soldier to another”. Snitching a ring from a grenade buys Jim the two seconds for Harvey to come in and save him. Barnes escapes jumping in the “Genovese Meats” truck.Harvey can´t believe no one would have seen him running round in his suit. Good news: Strike Force got Kathryn, before Jim! But bad news entrance left: ALFRED PENNYWORTH is pissed Jim did not pick up the phone. Bruce was abducted. Why can´t anything be easy Harvey groans.

“Or maybe I should try the other hand.” It´s the Court. ALFRED is surprised JIM knows. He closes the door. They were investigating for months but they never mentioned Bruce. Harvey does not understand how Bruce could be missing for weeks. Alfred looks adorable when trying to defend himself, because what´s he gonna do about an exact clone replacing him. (( tbh .. I had expected more from Alfred .. )) “I gotta sit down” Clones are too much for Harvey Alfred talks about the crystal Owl that broke. Jim asks if it can be reassembled since they found another one probably showing secret hideouts. ”Due to circumstances totally beyond our control the Owl went KaBoom” (( Sounds like Harvey had to have some talks with the press recently :D)) It´s puzzle time! Omg it really is KATHRYN in handcuffs. Kathryn guesses she should not be surprised to see Jim alive. Nope, put her in a box. Jim interrogates about the bomb and secret locations and new addition Bruce Wayne. Kathryn claims she got no idea. Jim claims the Court can´t keep her safe besides what they gonna think when they see the leader behind bars. “You think I´m the leader, all this time and you really don´t know anything, do you” Alfred brings the Owl. Harvey is like what the fuck happened to it, Jerome Valeska that´s what happened to it. (( I can not believe that Bruce and Alfred would not already have tried to puzzle the Owl they risked their lives for back together, I can´t believe that .. )) Harvey used to beat puzzle pieces with his fist until they fit (( sounds like the GCPD approach to everything, he´s got the right job)) There is some guy who could do this. Alfred looks anxious .. where is Jim. (( adorable)) He runs off when he hears about Kathryn. Harvey bites his tongue and runs after him, remembering all that beating and fists stuff. The good and bad cop routine, Kathryn yawns. “Yeah but I´m not a cop, am I”, the Butler says and stabs her hand. “Is he out of his freaking mind” Alfred tortures Kathryn. There is noise. What the hell is going on Harvey wants to know he missed BARNES´ entrance “Ladies and Gentlemen” (( why not Innocent and Guilty, or Guilty and Guilty .. )) Barnes creates chaos (( why do they even bother to get new desks n stuff .. )) there is knock out gas. Jim pushes Alfred to the wall and Harvey stops them ((curse you)) they take Kathryn out. “You corrupted this house, all of you , with your weakness your compromise” (( A voice is heard in the halls of the GCPD and if I did not knew whom it belongs to I could take it for the ghost of S1 Jim .. )) “This place was a church to me .. “ Kathryn calls for help, there is a fight. There is trouble in the paradise. She wants him to stop the nonsense and take her out of danger. It´s not nonsense to him. (( She should have known that she just explained it to Jim a couple hours ago)) Her head rolls. Alfred is angry. “It´s fitting Jim” .. Barnes got sense for aesthetic and irony, “no one will escape the executioners blade.” Jim shots his arm. ((Oh no the blood splattering .. )) “You know what Captain. This place is a church, mine .. “ (( Okay doooon´t give me flashbacks to my sleep deprived Jim is a religion thing from last week .. I beg you .. not again but what the heck is that line?!))

“Twinkle, twinkle, pretty doctor, how I wish I could unlock her. Here in Arkham, what a wonder. Too bad her husband's six feet under.” LESLIE THOMPKINS gets woken up by MARIO FALCONE, she thinks the Virus was a dream. What dark part of him did it bring alive, Mario asks. Him jealous of Jim, ridiculous, he´s taller than Jim. (( Quite almost this sounds like an innuendo but how would Mario know .. )) Mario opens a vein and pours blood “medicine” into Lee´s glass, she drinks. Than wakes up and smashes her real wine glass. She visits ARKHAM again: JERVIS TETCH says Lee does not look like herself, nightmares? She says she thought why blame a lunatic for infecting Mario, that´s why she blamed Jim but now she wants to know why Jervis infected him. He wanted to hurt Jim, why not hurt her, why make Mario suffer? Jervis saw that she loved Jim at their tea party. That love doomed Mario. “That doesn´t make sense”. “It makes perfect sense” Jim does not deserve love, Jim does not get love. It was Jervis plan to turn Lee´s love to hate. It makes sense and it worked. Jervis suggest Lee is really to blame, no one else. Lee falls for it ((FFS .. again that bullshit .. why oh why )) Later Lee visits the GCPD: Jim is hurt. LEE just wants to pick up some things not because she heard of Barnes and wants to help. She wouldn´t even if she knew. She is done with this place. So she keeps saying Jim says. Barnes loved the GCPD but today he tried to destroy it. “It was the virus” “Or maybe he finally discovered the truth: there is no justice here.” Jim still hasn’t paid for the pain he caused. Lee says she is different she is willing to pay for what she has done. Jim wants to know what she means with that. “Nothing, Doesn´t matter” JIM wants to act quickly in Court matters but doesn’t know which head he has to cut off. At least they got the Owl. But bad news again: Barnes broke out again, there is more the virus sample is gone. Lee has had access to it as well. She takes the virus. (( that´s no payment, that does not make sense wtf, ))

(( Kindness is one thing that was not much of a topic but got met thinking. CLONEBRUCE obviously recognizes it but he barely does honor it. He is glad Selina isn´t dead but he fights her again, he recognizes that Alfred has been kind to him but he still knocks him out. The purpose the Court gave him still outweighs the kindness other people have shown him. REALBRUCE seems to head for a similar journey when he offers himself up to be the “perfect weapon” just to destroy the Court. And again the message bears all logic, on the one hand he should free himself from his past on the other one it is used as bait to have him set up against the Court. It´s a mission and a personal thing. I wonder how he will behave towards the people in his life when he meets them again. OSWALD might as well go into a similar direction. Telling Edward he “commands” his army is not too promising. I´d rather have seen him bond with them, or repair bonds. Just like that moment with Ivy about words that hurt .. but it seems there is mission over kindness as well.

It´s the week of fake deaths and revivals. Edward wonders how Oswald survived, Oswald moreover once more has a death scene, fake with jello. The guards are surprised about that. Selina to CloneBruces surprise did not die when he threw her out of the window. Kathryn is surprised that Jim is alive despite him being left with Barnes. Cockroaches, Cockroaches everywhere. It´s like those times in history where you had to make really, really sure before you brought someone under the earth.

There is several nods to army past, JIM and BARNES being obvious in sharing that but ALFRED stabbing Kathryn certainly did not came from his Butler training either, I mean it´s rude if someone takes a cookie before everyone got their tea served but it would be even more rude to stab their hand because of that.

OSWALD´s “Edward, Edward, Edward” face kills me because it´s not an I´m gonna annoy you one but one of let´s see if I do get any emotion out of you and be it anger.

Oh and there is not only one but two clay mentions: “But wait a second, we have, we have a guy here who makes molds of murder victims' faces out of clay.” You see, Bruce, the pain of our memories can scar us, but it also defines us. Take away that pain and your mind becomes clay for me to mold.” Will we see CLAYFACE again ? ))

#gotham #gotham meta #gotham s3ep19 All Will Be Judged #mine Gotham full episode reviews

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cajunquandary · 8 years ago

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A Curious Case and a Boat

The Cannon Ball Series

Series Warnings: Alcohol use, implied smut, mentions of abuse, PTSD, scars, canon level violence, some torture, probably equal parts angst, fluffiness, and plot.

Series Pairing/Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel, Crowley, Rowena various characters

A/N: This series is the brainchild of my love for Rob Benedict’s version of Dink’s Song and began as my second ever attempt at writing fanfiction. After realizing that I should probably edit it (due to the excruciatingly painful amount of errors I found), this is the third-time re-write of the story. Questions, comments, and suggestions are always welcome! Enjoy J

Part One: A Jukebox and a Lose-chester

Part Two: A Curious Case and a Boat

Summary: You’ve been living with the Winchesters and Castiel at the Bunker for over a year now. Everything is great until a case goes very wrong.

Word count: 6400

“Anything interesting in the news, Sammy?” You slung your arms around his shoulders from where you stood behind him in his favorite swivel chair.

Sam leaned his head against your arm for a moment. “Good morning. Coffee’s on.” You released him from your hold, scuffling towards the coffee pot in the library, favorite mug already in hand.

Dean entered, freshly showered and wearing nothing but his dead-guy robe.

Sam turned to him, “Actually, yeah, in Texas. There’s been freak electrical storms, mysterious deaths, and get this—a few high schoolers have been freaking out about demons among them in the town and all over social media.”

“It might be our kind of thing. Any cattle deaths? Crop failures?” You asked as the first sip of blessed warm liquid rolled through your chest, making you feel more alive.

“No, nothing like that has been reported. But this is an area of east Texas that is all forest or farmland. Some of these small towns aren’t even on a map. Who knows if they are able to even report it?”

“Or maybe,” Dean interrupted, voice still rough from sleep, “It’s just a bunch of hill-billy wackadoo church people going crazy and killing people.”

Sam scoffed. “Then what about the storms?”

Dean gave his brother his trademark ‘seriously’ face. “Uh, have you BEEN to Texas? They get more lightening than rain most of the time. Lightning is electricity. Your welcome.” Dean continued through towards the kitchen to cook breakfast.

“What’s his problem?” Sam swiveled in your direction.

“Hungover. Ain’t as young as he used to be,” You winked. Dean often teased for you being younger than Sam. The gap really wasn’t that bad, but you and Sam loved to pester Dean about it anyway.

You plodded off to the kitchen to help Dean make breakfast. He was at the sink rinsing out a pan, and you set your coffee on the island and snaked your arms around his waist, laying your head between his shoulders. He put the pan aside to be dried and turned in your arms, a smile on his face at last. He leaned in for a kiss, sweet and gentle, unlike the needy, passionate one from your rough late night escapade in the garage. You grinned and giggled at the memory, Dean pulling back from your embrace and booping your nose.

Breakfast was made quickly, you and Dean moving about the kitchen with familiar grace. Dean felt better after eating, made obvious when he cracked a joke at how tight Sam’s pants were getting.

“Well, it’s been nice having awesome home-cooked meals. You’re the perfect housewife, Dean,” Sam teased his brother back.

It was true though—as great of a cook as you were, Dean far surpassed your skills. He had a natural talent, and all you had to do was keep him company while he worked.

You sat silent, soaking the moment in. It was so domestic—none of you had ever thought this kind of peace would ever be. It was meant for civilians. No doubt, moving in with the Winchesters was the best decision you’d ever made. At first, you had your own room and only meant to stay long enough to get your own place. After a few hunts with the boys, they insisted you remain in the bunker for safety. It had become more of a home than you’d ever had before, so you were grateful to have their blessing to stay (as if you really had a choice.) You still had a room across from Dean’s, but mostly it was a closet and extra storage. You hadn’t slept in there in months.

The moment was so beautiful, you noted again, as the boys continued to banter back and forth, only ending in their typical “jerk,” “bitch,” responses.

You locked that away in your mind to hold onto during those rough hunts, the ones where the three of you had to split up and you felt exposed and alone, like all of it had been a dream. The darkness of some of the places you went reminded you of a time when you were a lot more helpless. When monsters weren’t the only things that went bump in the night. You shoved the thought from your mind.

“Well, I say we should still go check out that potential case in east Texas,” You directed at Dean.

Sam nodded, and Dean swallowed the last bit of his food. “Fine.”

After the cleaning from breakfast had been done, you showered and packed. Tossing a few shirts, jeans, sweatpants, FBI pantsuit and the basic essentials into your duffle bag, you paused before adding your truck keys. You didn’t know why, but something told you not to pack them. Knowing you would misplace them otherwise, you went out to the garage to leave them in the front seat.

Dean was out there already, making sure Baby and the weapons in the trunk were ready for the trip ahead, including a few gallons of holy water and extra paint and salt for demon traps.

You eyed the excess, Dean getting defensive. “Hey, if Sammy’s right, then there’s more than one, and they’re pretty powerful. It can’t hurt to have back up.”

You shrugged and walked away. Sam was in the kitchen packing water and a few basic provisions for the possible stake-outs ahead, his pack already by the door. You picked it up and went to retrieve Dean’s and your own from the bedroom. Everyone ended up at the Impala within minutes, ready to hit the road. Your skin tingled with excitement—you loved road trips with the Winchesters, and it had been a few weeks since your last trip.

Baby purred to life, Dean popping in a tape. “Ramble On” began to play and he turned it up until the car vibrated as you rolled out of the bunker, bound for one of your favorite states.

A couple burgers, an emergency stop at a diner that boasted Best Pie in the County, and about twelve hours later, you rolled into the small town… again. The first time, Dean was so used to driving through one-stop towns that he accidentally passed through it. A few minutes after, Sam’s GPS regained a moment of service long enough to get you back to it within minutes.

Broaddus was truly tiny. The only place to stay was on the outskirts of town, a Country Inn. It read “No Vacancy,” to which you all groaned. You were missing your truck about now. It was easy to camp out in it—comfortable even with two people. You and Dean had taken it out several times on hunts when Sam needed the Impala.

Dean turned down a side road and pulled over, turning off the car. “Welcome to the Winchester motel.” The three of you piled out of the car, more than ready to stretch your legs. The forest around you loomed tall, pitch black even in the light from the near-full moon above. It was quiet… Too quiet. Dean put his hand on your shoulder and you jumped.

“Woah, are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dean pulled you in close, the first time since before you began the trip.

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted, and these woods are giving me the creeps. I’m gonna hit the sack,” You leaned up and kissed him, wanting to prove that you were fine. You were never this jumpy, but something about this place left you deeply unsettled. As you climbed back into the rear seat of Baby, you wondered why your skin was still buzzing after all these hours. This was no longer from excitement, as you’d realized hours ago. The buzzing had slowly melded into something more akin to a fire under your skin, an itch you couldn’t scratch. Something about this was wrong, and you hated that Castiel wasn’t able to join you immediately on this case. You prayed to God that he’d get his feathery ass down here quick.

Dean came in behind you, kicking off his shoes as he shut the door. You curled against his chest as Sam crawled into the front. “I think I saw a diner just down the road. We should start there in the morning,” the younger brother suggested. Dean let out a hum in agreement. It wasn’t long before the three of you were fast asleep, light snores filling the cab.

TAP, TAP, TAP.

You jerked awake, blinking hard against the seep in your eyes. Thankfully, it was just Sam knocking on the window. He was usually up first. Heart pounding, you untangled your limbs from Dean’s and got out of the vehicle. You stretched your limbs, an occasional loud pop sounding as you greeted Sam. You changed quickly behind the cover of the Impala’s open trunk, having decided that plain clothes would probably be better received in a town like this than Fed clothes. You double checked the fake badge and open carry license in your flannel pocket, a demon-killing knife strapped to your ankle, and the loaded gun holstered on your belt. God bless Texas, you thought. It was nice to be able to open carry for a change. Your normal concealed holster rubbed sores into your side if you wore it too long. The boys finished double checking the gear bag, Sam tightening the laces on his shoes. You’d just gotten to town and it already felt like you were prepping for war. If this demon problem was really as big as Sam feared, then it would be a battle.

“Ready?” You asked. Dean slipped in the driver’s seat and jingled the keys in response.

The diner was so close, you could’ve just walked. During breakfast, you learned that your waitress’s oldest kid was one of the teens ranting about demons. “He just lost his mind. We’ve gone to that church since he was born. He and the others in his Bible study group. The other parents and I just don’t understand what’s gotten into those kids. Pastor Tim has been with the congregation for thirty years, and practically raised a few of them. Now they won’t go to church, they skip school, and three have killed themselves,” She choked, involuntary tears welling in her eyes.

“Whatever it is, ma’am, we’re going to get to the bottom of it,” Dean tried to reassure her.

“I think…” She sobbed, “I think it’s… d-r-u-g-s.” She leaned in and whispered, then sighed and went to tend to her other tables, wiping at a tear with the back of her hand.

Dean’s brows went up then pressed forward, and he mouthed “Wow.”

Sam shrugged, looking down at his half-eaten food, moving his fork aimlessly.

“Dean, these towns are very tight knit,” You recalled, thinking of the various places in Texas you’d lived before you became a hunter. “Drugs, among many other things, are completely taboo in places like this. We need to be careful. Is everything okay, Sam?”

“Oh uh, yeah. Well, no. Something doesn’t feel right here.”

“I can second that,” Dean agreed.

From the diner, you went to interview the kids of the study group. The parents all said the same thing, but the kids wouldn’t talk, like they were too afraid. Eyes wide and wandering, never making contact with you or the Winchesters. Until…

Sam and Dean were in the living room of the last person on the list, a young girl, no more than sixteen, speaking to her parents. You broke away to speak to her in the privacy of her bedroom. The girl had practically pulled you there. She closed the door behind her and made sure the window was tightly drawn. She was shaking and rubbing her arms. “What’s going on, honey?” You asked.

“We were told you’d come. We were told not to speak to you, but I’m scared. I’m so scared!” She spoke barely above a whisper and collapsed into your arms. It was slightly awkward, as she was taller than you, but you held her anyway.

“Who told you, dear?”

She pulled back. “The girl with black eyes.”

You stopped breathing and the girl sat on the edge of her bed, burying her face in her hands.

“And what about Pastor Wayne?”

“Sometimes, he has black eyes, too. He’s different, he makes us do things in study now. He—he stares at us in church a-and… He’s a demon, we all know it. He threatened to massacre the whole town if we didn’t do everything he says.” She was bawling quietly now, her thin frame racking in fear.

“Okay, don’t worry. We’re here and we aren’t going to let that happen. We handle this stuff all the time, okay?” You reassured her, even as goosebumps dispersed in waves over your skin.

“Really?”

“Yeah, just don’t tell anyone, okay? Don’t even think about it.” You gave her a sincere smile and patted her shoulder.

“Okay,” she sniveled.

You thanked the parents on your way out, meeting Sam and Dean back at the car. Heading back to the Inn, everyone was glad to see the sign was off from the night before. Dean secured the only room available—a king suite. Even if you had to rotate who got left off the bed, it was still better than being cramped in the Impala without a proper bathroom. You took turns showering and sat around the tiny table, discussing your findings from the day of interviews.

“So it’s definitely the pastor. Who is the woman though?” Sam pondered.

“The girl didn’t seem to know. But the suicides are definitely tied to this sicko.”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” Dean pitched in. “Well, let’s stake out this guy and see if our mystery woman shows. Maybe we’ll see just how many we’re up against.”

“Okay. You and Sam do that, and I’ll go talk to the coroner. Let’s meet back here after.”

“Wait, Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We should probably stick together on this one.” Sam looked worried.

“I’ll be fine, promise. I can hold my own, and besides, it’s the two of you who will be in the thick of it. Y’all promise me to be safe and not rush in—call me first, okay?” You grabbed each of their hands and squeezed.

“Alright, fine. But you call us if you even think something is off.” Dean commanded.

“Yes, sir.”

Sam smiled.

The boys dropped you off at the coroner’s office. The coroner was an attractive woman, not much older than you were. The bodies of the teenagers looked like they’d been beaten and tortured before they died. “And you said they each threw themselves off the roof of the high school? Any way they could have died from these other injuries?”

“No, the only cause of those injuries is from the fall… it’s been very hard for the town,” She looked down at them sadly.

“Were they in fights prior to their death? I understand they fell a good distance, but not all of these wounds are consistent with a fall. Look at their hands—defensive wounds. Whatever it was, they fought back, hard. All due respect, but I don’t believe these were suicides.” You flipped through her report on the latest victim again. You looked up from the papers to ask another question about the sparse documents, but the coroner was gone. You dropped the papers and withdrew your gun loaded with demon-trapping bullets. You cleared the room, and moved to the hallway. You sent a quick prayer to Cas and planned to call the Winchesters as soon as you made it to a safe place outside, but you would never get there. The coroner came out of nowhere, slamming something cold and hard into the back of your head, knocking you to the ground, vision swimming in the crack of pain. You looked up at her through squinted eyes, reaching for the hidden knife inches from your fingertips. Before you could grasp it, her foot met your nose, and your vision went black, the last thing you heard being a muffled, “Hunters, can’t ever leave well enough alone.”

Sam and Dean sat, growing weary of watching Pastor Wayne. His eyes had flashed black, confirming the girl’s testimony. It had been hours, though, and all the pastor had done was drink a few beers and watch TV. Y/N hadn’t called, so they suspected that nothing was off. They decided to attend church in the morning to get a closer view of the situation and headed back to the Inn.

“Honey, I’m hooome!” Dean called into the room jokingly as he flipped on the light. Sam closed the door behind them.

“I’ve got dibs on the bed tonight, man,” Sam said.

Dean waved him off, walking to the restroom to greet you. He knocked on the door, and it creeked open, the light off. Dean began to panic. He flipped on the light and slammed the door all the way open, calling out your name. He continued to call for you, growing louder and more crazed as he threw open the shower curtain and running back into the room. “Sammy, she-she’s gone. Sammy, where is she? Where’s Y/N?”

Sam’s face fell, and he grabbed Dean by the shoulders to keep him from exploding. “Hey-hey, let’s go to the coroner’s office. Maybe she’s still there. We’ll find her, I promise.” Sam tried to remain calm for his brother, but panic was rising in him, too. You were never late.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let her go alone!” Dean threw the keys to Sam, knowing he couldn’t drive in this state. They made it to the morgue in record time—no more than 45 seconds. Dean jumped out before Baby had even rolled to a complete stop. He had his gun out and charged into the building, Sam shortly on his heels, watching the blind corners and behind them, his gun drawn now as well. Dean found the room, bodies still laying on the tables, the papers from the files scattered about from where you’d dropped them. There wasn’t a living soul in the entire place. Dean stopped abruptly in the final hallway, next to the back exit. There was a small puddle of blood left from the wound on your head. Sam ran into the back of him, then clenched his jaw and swallowed hard when he followed Dean’s gaze. Dean couldn’t breathe. He broke his gaze, and ran out the door, looking for any sign of where you’d gone. “Y/N!” He screamed into the still night, only his own cries echoing back to him. “Y/N! CAS! Cas we need you! Y/N needs you!”

Just in case the angel didn’t get his prayer, he dialed him quickly, throat quickly threatening to close up in fear and guilt. “C-cas, they took her. Get down here, NOW!”

Sam lowered his gun and looked to his brother. He hadn’t seen Dean this hurt in a long time.

The boys went back to the pastor’s place, kicked in the front door, ready to torture the demon until he told them where you were, but were too late. The pastor was dead, a sickening message written in his own blood on the wall above his body—follow us and she dies.

Dean collapsed to his knees. He would come for you, but he would need to be careful and stealthy about it to keep you safe. He wasn’t going to give up.

It had been months. Spring had turned to summer, and fall, then winter began to close in. The boys had gained a few leads in that time, but they lead to dead ends—literally. Anyone that seemed to be involved with these demons ended up six feet under pretty quickly. Even Crowley did his best to help. He didn’t owe the Winchesters anything, which he made very clear, but even he missed your sass. No one dared to berate and poke fun at the King of Hell quite like you did. Not even Dean. He secretly had every demon under his command on the lookout for you, and a price on the rogue demons’ heads. No one dared defy the King and get away with it.

They never let you out of the cage except for an occasional hose down or special torture session. You were weak now, months of starvation, torture, and cramped quarters depleting your muscles to a ghost of what they formerly were. The only thing that kept you sane was imagining Dean bursting through the doors and coming to your rescue. The latest preferred torture of your demonic captors was sleep deprivation however, which left you pliable, your vision fuzzy and mind in the weeds. Slowly, you began to forget the Winchesters and your life before. You remembered the last morning you spent with them in the bunker, but you couldn’t recall the conversation, or the color of their eyes. Eventually, their faces began to fade altogether, merely blurs in fleeting memories.

On the hardest nights, you sang to yourself. Like the Winchesters, the lyrics of your favorite songs began to slip, too, until you could only hum. One song though, you sang every day when you realized everything else was slipping away. You hated that it always made the demon’s laugh, that it made them happy that the song you remembered was one of pain.

You began to drift to sleep at last, but another zap from the cattle prod made you whimper and roll to the floor from your bed mat.

“Sing, little bird, I haven’t heard you today,” The demon sneered. He was still wearing the female coroner from the case back in east Texas.

You slowly sat up, getting onto your knees as you were expected, wanting to please the demon enough to let you sleep afterwards. He smirked and walked away, shouting, “Sing!”

Your voice was small and scratchy from screaming and dehydration, but you started anyway after an attempt to clear your throat. You closed your eyes and tried to remember what the Winchesters looked like, what your Dean looked like.

“If I had wings like Noah's dove

I'd fly up the river to the one I love

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

I had a man, who was long and tall

He moved his body like a cannon ball

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

One of these days and it won't be long

You’ll call my name and I'll be gone

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

I remember one night, a drizzling rain

Round my heart I felt an achin' pain

Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well”

A tear rolled down your cheek as you finished, unable to remember your family. It was in that moment that you lost hope, a cold breeze drifting in from somewhere you couldn’t see. The summer had been blistering hot, and had it not been for the harsh, fluctuating temperatures, you would’ve thought they’d drug you straight to Hell. Judging by the sweltering days and freezing nights, you were in a desert somewhere, but it’d been a long time since you felt the heat now. It was mostly just cold and colder. Before you could brace yourself, you fell forward, exhaustion taking over. Finally, the demon allowed you to fall into dreamless sleep.

Dean was beside himself, drinking himself stupid every night. He wouldn’t speak to Sam, Cas, Crowley, or anyone unless he had to on the rare occasion he would work a case. Even then, he was mean, short, and all shoot-first-ask-questions-later. Still, he left the questions part to Sam.

Everything was as you’d left it in the bunker. Dean refused to go into either of your rooms—not that it really mattered, since he would get too plastered to get much farther than the couch anyway. Sam had to put a cover over your truck before Dean could even go into the garage. Even Baby was suffering. Her brakes needed replacement, her belt was squealing and threatening to snap at any moment, and the air in her tires was low. Sam and Cas had to fix these things themselves. Dean had never been like this.

It was a few weeks after you lost hope, an emptiness replacing the weak heartbeat in your chest, when the demon, who you’d come to call Jeremiah allowed you out. He’d hosed you down, given you fresh clothes, and even given you a brush, scissors, and a mirror to clean up your appearance a bit. You hadn’t recognized the face staring back at you. It was pale, sunken and lifeless. Your hair was darker than you could recall it being, and much longer. You chopped until it was manageable, and brushed it out of your face. You didn’t care to look at the ghost staring back at you, and abandoned the items in a corner of your cage.

Jeremiah instructed that you would be a liaison, a messenger between him and a man whose contract he held. You were to report back everything that you saw, and deliver commands. He told you that the man was very powerful and wouldn’t think much of your life, and to not piss him off. If anything happened, you were to remind the man of the hellhound waiting to drag him to his eternal fire. You nodded. He handed you a piece of paper with an address in case you got lost and gave you directions to the meeting place. You stood in the doorway, sunlight so bright you cried out and covered your eyes. When they adjusted, you walked out, legs still slightly wobbly from disuse, everything around you bleached white. The wind nearly knocked you over as you pressed on. You flipped the hood over your face to help block out some of the glare, and stuffed your hands in your pockets.

Approaching the dock, you took a moment to stare out over the lake. It was such a stark contrast of vibrant blue against the sun-bleached, barren land around it, and it sparkled incredibly, tiny waves white-capped. The moment gone, you looked back at your feet, the caliche sticking to your shoes already. For some reason, this lake was familiar to you. You couldn’t remember why.

You got in the boat, disconnected from the rickety dock, the engine spurring to life after a few tugs. The little john boat propelled forward and you steered it expertly around the underwater trees. You knew how to drive a boat? Huh.

The wind was unforgiving, going straight through your thin clothes, the cold seeping into your bones. You reached your destination after about ten minutes, pulling up to a much nicer looking doc, with huge, expensive looking boats tied to it. You cut the engine, hands expertly securing the boat to the dock with the rope.

A man in a white suit was standing there, expecting your arrival. He wore a red tie. It was very distracting. He held out his hand. Reciprocating, he caught yours and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly in greeting, but you didn’t even feel it. “Hello. They call me El Jefe Rojo—the Red Boss. You can call me Red. And what, mija, is your name?”

Your mouth opened but you couldn’t remember. The syllables were there, but they were jumbled. “You can just call me Mija,” You said after a moment.

You’d just noticed the four men surrounding you, wearing all black and holding rifles, machetes and other various weapons strapped to their waists. “Don’t be alarmed, they are merely here to ensure that our meeting goes smoothly.”

You met Red’s eyes. They were a honey brown, wide and beautiful against his tanned skin and thick, dark locks. His accent was soothing in a way. He waggled his finger, and another man in black came forward, carrying a wrapped box. “Please send Jeremiah my thanks, and that I hope this satisfies his needs. Also, I have a gift.” A young girl was drug forward, fighting halfheartedly against her bonds. She was tossed in your boat, nearly falling overboard. She screamed into her gag upon impact, something making a sickening snap noise. Red looked at her, and she immediately quieted to a whimper. “Tell him that business has never been better, and we will surely have the rest of his request by next week.”

“Yes sir,” You replied. Somewhere in the back of your brain, you thought that you should be freaking out, looking for an exit, anything. But nothing phased you. Not the large men and their weapons, nor the man in front of you. You understood that he was meant to be intimidating, but you felt nothing. Just… emptiness and distance, like you were watching from behind a screen.

“I like you, Mija. Respect. That is hard to come by these days. I look forward to seeing you again…” He nodded and turned his back, walking away dismissively. You climbed back into the boat, without looking at the broken girl. It barely even registered on your radar. The trip back seemed faster. You reattached to the rickety dock near the storage unit that was your new home. The girl struggled to get up, and you helped support her for the walk, but did no more than that to help her. When you reached the unit, you set the girl on the floor and set the box on Jeremiah’s desk. You glanced around the fairly large unit. The demon wasn’t in. You closed the door and crawled back into your cage and curled up on your mat, watching to make sure the girl didn’t try to escape.

What must’ve been hours later, you heard the demon approaching. You sat up.

“What do you mean, ‘Crowley offered you a better deal’? No. No. I won’t have it. I’ll top that. Yeah. Yep. I’ve got it. Well, I have half of it. I’ve sent the girl for the other half already. Uh huh. Yeah she should be back… The Winchesters? Please. They haven’t found her yet and they won’t. If-If they do, I’ll kill them. And her, for good measure…”

The demon’s conversation drifted out of range again. Winchester. Crowley. It was coming back to you. Before you could close your eyes and try to imagine your family again, the demon burst into the room. You jumped.

“Good girl,” He snarled, coming to lock your cage on you again. He picked up the box off the desk and eyed the girl. “Who’s this?”

“A gift, sir. Red sends his thanks. He hopes this satisfies you and will have the rest of your request by next week.”

The demon nodded. “I will send you to collect in two days.”

You gulped. Jeremiah grabbed the girl by the broken arm, dragging her screaming from the unit and left you alone again.

Two days later, you made the same trip as promised. When you arrived, Red was not at the dock. Instead his minions were yelling at you in Spanish and brandishing their weapons at you. Glad that you understood most of what they were saying, you got on your knees and placed your hands on your head. A few minutes later, Red came out of the mansion on the hill and down the walkway. He looked pissed. His nose was bleeding from one nostril and his suit looked slightly disheveled. “I told you next week! I thought we had respect, Mija!” He spat at your name. He slapped you hard out of nowhere, but you only slightly lost your balance, hands still on your head. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been through this before.

“Jeremiah sent me, sir.” You spat blood from your mouth into the water below. “He says he needs it now.” You kept your eyes cast down as the demon had conditioned you.

Red grabbed you by your suspended arm and pulled you to your feet. “Fine. But you must wait here until I get it.” Not having released his grip, he towed you towards the mansion. He sat you down at a table in the screened-in porch and paced, making a few calls, but speaking to quickly for you to keep up in the foreign language. After a long while of screaming into the phone, he threw it across the room in a fit, slumping into the chair next to you, legs still shaking wildly. When had he drawn a revolver? It was white and silver, with a red stripe down the center, to match his suit probably. He tapped it against his shaking leg. You zoned out a few times, just watching the light waves on the lake slopping against the shoreline and boats. The names came back to you as you dazed—Crowley, Winchesters. Cassie… Castile… Castiel. Your vision narrowed, and at last you remembered their faces. Not well enough to give specific eye color, but you could remember the boys’ smiles, most importantly, Dean’s.

Red snapped your attention back to reality as he jumped to his feet. One of his men held a long, narrow, wrapped rectangular box. Red ripped it from his hands and shot the man. You flinched as the dead man fell in a heavy thud. Red practically threw the box at you. It was getting dark.

“Go. Get out, NOW!” He kicked at you, narrowly missing as you obliged and ran as fast as you could down the stairs, pathway, and dock. He chased you all the way to the boat, screaming in Spanish. As you maneuvered the boat away, you sighed. The sun had set, the last tendrils of light peeking over across the lake. You shivered in the darkness. You looked up. Stars. How long had it been since you’d seen them? You forgot how beautiful they were. You felt the flutter in your stomach, remembering how tiny you were in this universe, insignificant, and you smiled. It was the first time you’d felt something in ages.

You laughed loudly, relishing in the moment, then refocused on your journey. It was going to be harder to find your dock, now. You did though, only taking slightly longer than last time to do so. You took the odd box back to Jeremiah. As you approached the storage unit, you could hear him on the phone again and timidly slowed your step, not wanting to make him mad.

“Thanks for the heads up, we will move out as soon as she gets back. Yeah, she’s getting it but she’s been gone a while. I’ve already sent the Hellhound to take care of him. No, no you listen to me—I’m the boss now. I say when we kill the Winchesters. She’s almost ready. Yes, very complaint… Okay. Meet me there at dawn.” His conversation finished and you picked back up your pace.

“You’re late.” You rounded the corner, eyes cast down, holding out the package. “Very good. We’re leaving.”

Panic raised in you. You didn’t want to leave. Not now that you had the boat, the lake, the stars… Jeremiah threw you into the unit but didn’t bother with the cage as he slammed the door behind you. You froze in place, unsure of what to do as you heard him walking away quickly. Minutes turned to hours, and you daydreamed of your family… There was a world out there, you remembered.

Grasping onto the strength the stars had given you, you stood up and jimmied the door open after a few tries. You peered out, clearing the corners. You grabbed the can of gas by the door and ran to the dock as fast as you could, careful not to shake the gas can too much. You jumped into the boat and drove as fast and far as you could. About an hour later, the wide open lake faded behind you as it narrowed into a tall canyon. The moon was overhead now, lighting your way. You continued on until the first morning rays peaked above one side of the canyon. You slowed down and steered into an alcove. At the base of the canyon, there was brush that you used to conceal the boat, and an old cave that looked undisturbed, Native American pictures still on the walls. You let your hands glide lightly across them, then sat down, looking out over the water. You knew this place.

The memory came back to you in your sleep: Your dad smiling as a much younger version of yourself touched the walls of the cave. You looked back at his bass fishing boat, as shiny and sparkly as the crystal water beneath it, fishing poles slung lazily across one of the seats. Del Rio. The Rio Grande. Lake Amistad. The names flooded back to you, and you woke with a start, expecting to be back in that cage. To your relief, you were still in the cave, the sun beginning to set on the other side of the canyon. If you remembered correctly, the 1st and 2nd railroads of Texas were close, and just beyond them would be a boat ramp you used to put in at those years ago. You smiled, jumping back into the boat and topping off the engine with the last bit of fuel. You prayed that it would get you there.

The only problem would be getting past border patrol. There were two stations, and you had no identification. Even if you made it past them, how were you going to walk all those miles back to town? Back home? Where was home? You couldn’t remember yet.

You drove on anyway, the stars comforting you as they came out. You’d never seen so many stars—not since you were here as a child.

When you got to the ramp you’d remembered, you breathed thanks into the cool air of the canyon. You did your best to wash out the gas can until it didn’t smell like fuel. You rinsed and rinsed until your arms and back ached and threatened to give. Trying to save some of your strength, you settled with what you had, and filled the can with water from the fountain.

You didn’t know, but the moment you remembered Castiel’s name, he was able to locate you. Almost instantly, the boys piled into the car, a frantic Cas gripping the dashboard and cramped Sam sitting in the back. The Impala roared forth and Dean dialed Crowley.

“We’ve got a lead.”

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @deathtonormalcy56

#chris writes #The Cannon Ball Series #part two #dean x reader #castiel #Sam Winchester #crowley #rowena

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iamthenewqueenofgames · 6 years ago

Text

A Crush Caught In Cuffs - Human!Mage!Underswap X Reader

Human!Mage!Underswap X Reader ~January 2nd~ You pushed open the door of the station and signed in on the clipboard on the front desk. The woman behind it looked up from her computer, took out her earphones and smiled. "Good morning, (Y/N)! You're early, how are you doing?" She said. You smiled and sat in one of the six plastic chairs grouped evenly around two small circle tables. "I woke up at five, watched a movie and couldn't be bothered sitting around. Thought I might be early for once." "I'll bet you'll sleep in tomorrow and be two hours late instead of two hours early." Said the sectary. You faked offense at her remark, putting a hand over your heart and gasping dramatically. "Barbara Thompson why thou doubt me so?" You said, striking a horrified expression. Barbara laughed and you joined her. "Here," Said Barbara, throwing the remote for the small wall TV at you. Youi just barely caught it, or rather, it landed in your lap and you stopped it from sliding on to the floor. "Put something on the TV for us. I'm tired of watching GTA fails." You smirked and did a subtle air punch, then turned to the small TV screen attached to the roof in the corner above the front desk. You flicked over to some cartoon reruns. There was a specific channel run by a friend of yours from high school, it aired the original cartons, like Steamboat Willie, Betty Boop, Out Of The Inkwell, Danger Mouse, ect. It was retro/vintage heaven. You and Barbara laughed yourself silly for a while at poor Koko's shenanigans, until the Chief Of Police, Jeremy Smith, came in with a sheaf of papers and a black briefcase. You immediately flicked over to the news as he turned to the Promotion Progress board. The Promotion Progress board was a cork board with a picture of all the officers, how close they are to getting a promotion or demotion, and their horoscopes, which Chief Smith liked to add at the beginning of the month. "Morning sir!" You said. "It's extremely rare to see you here this early, (L/N)." He said, raising an eyebrow and pinning up this months horoscopes. "Especially since it's post New Years." "Ah well. Nobody I knew was hosting any parties, so I just stayed home and had pizza and a movie marathon with my brother." "I suspected as much. Also, you don't have a boyfriend do you?" Asked Smith. You immediately turned pink at this sudden question. "Wha-!? N-No! No I don't, why?" You asked, flustered while Barbara smirked. Smith then handed you a sheet of paper for your star sign, (Y/Z/S). For (Y/Z/S), This will be an important month for you! Someone special is waiting for you somewhere very unexpected. Keep your eyes peeled! Your mouth hung open as you read it. The chief took it from you hands and put it under your picture on the corkboard, then Barbara sped over to have a look. She giggled evilly and looked over at you, a teasingly evil look on her round face. "This can't be how my month goes." You said quietly to yourself. "But it is, (Y/N). The chief is never wrong." Said Barbara evilly. You got up from your chair, walked over to the wall, and started banging your head on it, repeatedly. The door opened again, and Detective Nathaniel Sinclair walked in, along with a few of his friends, who were all sergeants. Nathaniel stopped dead as he noticed you. "What did you do to her?" He asked, turning to Barbara, who smirked and gestured to the corkboard. "Read her horoscope." She said. You instantly stopped as he quickly read it. "NO!" You yelled, making to run at Nathaniel, but tripping over your feet and falling face first onto the floor as Nathaniel and the sergeants started laughing. "I'm glad you all find my embarrassment and pain so hilarious." You said sarcastically, your voice muffled from your face squished against the floor. Barbara, holding back her laughter, took pity on you and helped you to your feet. "After all, I might end up falling for you, huh?" You said, smirking. Nathaniel instantly stopped laughing. "Nope. No way. I'm outtie." He said, moonwalking away to his office. You and Barbara started laughing again, with the chief cracking a smile as well. ~A Few Hours Later~ Most of the officers were at the station now, as well as someone reporting a missing child from the orphanage. You were all either chatting, working but getting dragged into conversation anyway (Barbara), or watching the news. Then the phone started ringing. Barbara, being the sectary, answered it. You noticed her eye brow raise, as if it was just a prank call. Then her face paled. She put the phone down and it started ringing again. "Someone get the chief! We have a problem! Someone else chuck me the TV remote! NOW!" You saw Nathaniel speed down the hall towards the chief's office, and a remote flew through air for Barbara to catch. She did and she immediately turned the TV onto a different news channel, where a Breaking News report was blaring. "-APPEARS THE LEGENDS WE WERE ALL TOLD AS CHILDREN WERE TRUE, AS THOUSANDS OF MAGES ARE BEING LED OUT OF MT EBBOT BY A YOUNG CHILD! GOING OVER TO THOMAS WHO IS CURRENTLY AT THE SCENE. THE POLICE HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED AND SHOULD BE ARRIVING SOON. DO THE MAGES COME WITH GOOD INTENTIONS, OR BAD ONES?" You almost fell out of your chair in surprise. The legends, true? No, not possible. This had to be a hoax, you thought. But nope. The live camera feed was coming straight from Ebbot. And there were indeed people coming from out of the cave mouth. You looked at Barbara who was taking another call. Her eyes were wide and she nodded to you, as though to confirm that this was indeed happening. The chief now charged into the room, Nathaniel on his heels. "All to attention! Everyone grab your partner and head to the mountain, asap! (L/N), you're with Detective Grove! Mac'Adams, you're with me! Barbara, stay here and take the calls and tell any late comers what's happening! TO THE VEHICLES MEN!" Barked the chief, then there was a mad rush for the door. You saw Deputy Chief Mac'Adams follow the chief out first, and you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to find Detective Groves. Groves was a stone faced silent type, and preferred you to sit in on interrogations with him rather than Nathaniel. You liked to think you'd gotten him to talk more than anyone else at the station. Groves led you through the sudden crowd, cutting an easy path through. You then followed him over to his sleek black car. Groves got in the drivers seat and you got in the passengers side, and you two were the first out of the carpark and onto the streets. Much as you admired the guy, Groves was a very reckless driver, even if he didn't break the rules. You held onto the door handle for dear life as Groves zoomed through traffic, somehow always slipping through the gaps. After a few quick death defying minutes you arrived at Mt Ebbot. You could see the kid talking to the camera crew, with two of the mages behind them. One wore gold armour and a purple cloak, and the other wore purple robes. "Franklin, what do we do?" You said, panicking slightly. You didn't know what to think, they acted peaceful enough, but some of the others looked freaky as hell. "I'll deal with the reporters. You deal with the crowd." "W-What!? B-But I can't control a crowd!" You said. "You can't control the reporters either. You're too nice, and their looking for answers." You sighed. You knew he was right. You were too nice for an officer. "Okay..." You said. "But what am I supposed to do!?" "Just take out your badge, tell them you're an officer and that you're not there to harm them." Said Groves. You nodded and got out of the car, shaking slightly. Franklin got out too and walked over to the reporters, making shooing movements to you behind his back. The national gesture that mean, 'Get your ass up that mountain before I make you.' That's correct, right? Just you? Okay. You slowly made your way towards the crowd of monsters, noticing individual kinds as you got closer. Your knees a knocking, you stepped up to the crowd, and pulled out your badge. "H-Hi, I-I'm a police o-officer-" You began, but a strong voice from the crowd cut you off. "If you're a police officer then are you tell us when we're gonna have our queen back?" Then a short women came out of the crowd. She had blonde hair and her face and arms were decorated with gold scales, she wore baggy pants, a black tank top and her right eye had a large scar on it. You took a step back and tried to speak again but all that came out were jumbled noises. "So? Can't you speak?" She said. "STOP IT ALPHYS, YOU'RE SCARING HER!" Said one of the mages quietly, a short one. He had platinum blonde hair, bright blue eyes and wore what looked like grey armour with blue detailing, blue pants and boots, and a light blue scarf. He had stars in his eye sockets and a cheery smile. "AHEM, GREETINGS HUMAN! I AM THE MAGNIFICENT SANS! WHAT'S YOUR NAME?" He asked. You stood still for a second, surprised to see a friendly face. "(Y-(Y/N). Officer (Y/N)." You said, smiling back a little. Then your walkie talkie crackled and Franklin's voice came through. "(Y/N), everyone has arrived. You may return to my side. I have need of your assistance." You unhooked your walkie talkie from your belt, pushed a button on it and spoke into it. "Roger that Franklin. Be there in a sec." You looked back at Sans. "Bye, it was nice meeting you!" You turned away and was about to start running back. "WAIT! ARE WE GONNA SEE YOU AGAIN?" Asked Sans. You looked back and smiled. "I don't see why not!" You started running again, waving back as you went. It was much easier going downhill than uphill, but stopping was the problem. You saw Franklin a little ways away from where the camera crew was, so you aimed for just beside him and skidded to a stop. "What'cha need me for sir?" You asked. "The queen and king of the mages appear to hold a slight grudge against our kind. I can not convince them to do anything without them asking for a right to live amongst us in return. I have a feeling you would be better suited to handling this than I. And you need the experience." Said Franklin quickly. He didn't like talking for long, so negotiations were a problem for him. "Okay, I can try. But where is everyone? You said they were here." "I did. They're ten to fifteen seconds away so hurry." Said Franklin. You made a noise of acknowledgement and walked over to the mages and the child. You were again quite intimidated. The mage in the armour wore a small crown and had softer features, so you assumed she was the queen, while the other wore robes and had a blonde beard and kindly eyes, the king. "U-Um. Hi, I-I'm Officer (Y/N)." You said, trying to stop stuttering. The king chuckled quietly. "There's no need to be nervous, dear girl. But as we've already tried to explain to that charming Detective Groves, we will not be letting you send Chara away." Your eyebrows shot up and you looked over your shoulder to glare at Franklin before speaking. "Frankli- I mean Detective Groves failed to tell me that, but I'm sure I can convince him to pull a few strings so it won't have to come to that. " You said with a smile. The queen sighed in relief, and smiled back. "Thank you. I'm Queen Toriel." "And I'm Asgore." Said the king. You smiled brightly. "Pleased to meet ya! Now, you guys wanna live in town, right?" ~A Few Hours Later~ You lounged in a plastic chair in the station, warm air from the AC blowing on your face. You had convinced Franklin to pull a few strings to help get a few rights in place for the mages. It wasn't much, but at this point in time, it was most that could be done and it would get things for the mages started. If court went well they could take up residence in town, buy things, the usual stuff that should already be fucking available to them. But until things settled down, they'd still have to live underground for a few more days at most. Hopefully. You kicked back in the chair, putting your feet on the plastic table. Barbara was getting a snack at a cafe across the road, so it was just you right then. Until Nathaniel came in. He was unusually sulky and irritable looking. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "What's up, Nat? Something ticking you off?" You asked. He scowled and sat down in the chair opposite you as you took your feet off the table. "Well the chief's little prediction was right. 'Trouble with family members will befall you.' My dumb ass, spoiled rotten, rich ass step mom heard about the monsters and she wants us to leave town." Said Nathaniel. You chuckled sarcastically. "I bet that conversation was just brilliant." "Damn straight." A few seconds of awkward silence past, and your walkie talkie crackled into life. It was Franklin. "(Y/N), we need you and anyone you can grab to get to the courthouse asap. There's a bunch of rioters outside and Sergeant Bakersfield and I can't hold all of them off on our own." You unhooked the walkie talkie from your belt, and pushed the button to talk into it. "Roger that Franklin. Be right over." You got up and walked over to the door. "You comin' or not?" You asked, turning back to Nathaniel. He groaned and got to his feet reluctantly. "Fine. Better than sitting around doing nothing." Well I'm not gonna twist your leg over it, you thought. "We'll take my patrol car. Your puny little push bike's far too slow." He said walking to one of the Police Cars. "I'll have you know that's a halfway range mountain bike thank you very much!" You said quietly, getting into the passenger's seat while Nathaniel got in the driver's side. After a few minutes you arrived at the court house and there was indeed a large crowd out front. You saw Franklin and Sergeant Bakersfield trying to hold the crowd back, but their efforts were fruitless. You and Nathaniel got out of the car, and while Nathaniel rushed over to the crowd you hung back a little, unsure of what to do. Then, one of the rioters broke free of the crowd and started gunning it for the courthouse. Then you heard Bakersfield yell something. "Say Colorado!" You instinctively ran for the rioter, and yelled a battle cry as you leapt into a flying kick aimed at his chest. "I'M A GIRAFFE!" You knocked him to the ground, and with a metallic clatter a gun fell from his hand. You picked it up, shoved it into your holster, pulled out a pair of hand cuffs and cuffed him to a pole. "Sorry about that. But you're staying put till we can press charges." You said with a smile. The rioter spat at you, and Bakersfield speed walked over and slapped him. "Don't you dare do that again!" He said. Sergeant Daniel Bakersfield was a friend of yours since you started the job. He had brown hair, and peaceful green eyes that had ironically seen and solved a lot of murder cases. He was Nathaniel's partner, but they didn't like each other much, so they really just let each other do their own thing. "Hey Danny." You said. "Hey (N/N)." "Long day?" "Very."

And that's the end of Chapter 1 folks! If you liked it and wanna read more add the story to your libraby and comment down below what was your favourite part so far! Until next time, laters guildmates!

(All stories are avalible on Quotev)

My own Undertale AU, Undercomic! thenewqueenofgames.deviantart.com/art/Undercomic-THE-NOVEL- Chapter-1-RESET-717011232

Another X Reader, a Mafiatale based one! thenewqueenofgames.deviantart.com/art/Mafiatale-X-Reader-Locksmart-Part-1-738625804

"Say Colorado!" "I'M A GIRAFFE!!"

#undertale X reader readerinsert romance humor fluff cop police officer PoliceOfficer!Reader Human!Mage!Underswap papyrus

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paperanomaly · 8 years ago

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Here we go again

boop

Me, in response to some asshat’s response on youtube: TL;DR your entire counter argument is full of nothing but logical fallacies and insisting that your bigoted, uneducated opinions hold any kind of authority over my scientifically based evidence. Go away. You've lost this fight. Your entire reply is nothing but circular reasoning, Argumentum ad populum and Choice-support Bias logical fallacy. You've been proven wrong with physical evidence, so the only thing you're doing now is stomping around, beating your drum and crying that we should listen to you. Once again I will humor you by answering your repetitive, crybaby bitching rhetoric, because I need the practice and you make it easy. First of all, before i bring in any more ACTUALLY reputable facts that aren't your feelings, lemme just start by reminding you that your opinion and what we are by the end of the day doesn't do a damn thing to invalidate us or our identity as male or female, in our eyes or in the eyes of others. I'm not bitching and moaning at you if I'm providing you with scientifically backed and research verified evidence that can be seen in the biology of our brains, and not just the money in our wallets. The only person who seems to be bitching is you "You can't feel it, it's not in your DNA, girls don't like fake penises" which, by the way, I know some girls, guys, heteros, gays, and lesbians who would jump at the opportunity to prove you wrong on that one. Silicone feels an awful lot like skin, "You're living a delusion cuz I'm not willing to admit that i think it's wrong cuz I don't understand it." "and the majority of the world think she's hideous." Thank you once again for showing us your Argumentum ad populum Logical Fallacy! Just because YOU think she's ugly, doesn't mean everyone else does too, that's just your spiteful opinion. And by the way, you just called her "she." You just agreed with me and proved yourself wrong, by going against your own ethics and giving her the "special treatment" you so abhor, of calling her by her preferred pronoun. How difficult was it to deliver that special treatment, btw? "I find it pathetic and cliche how you compare yourself, mentally disturbed people, and individuals who just have a fetish to cross dress..." Thanks for that Faulty Comparison Logical Fallacy! While there IS a fetish of being feminized and a fetish for cross-dressing, those are NOT synonymous with Transgender, as the APA has proven to us, and I to you, already. Years ago. "... to blacks and the civil rights movement." Why, because ANY person wanting to escape oppression and demonstrable behavior from the majority of your kind is scary? Do mentally disturbed people bother you? Do you get shifty eyed when a person with Down Syndrome gets too close to you? Do you think they also should not have rights because they're mentally disturbed? "you seem to think somebody who is mentally disturbed or just wants to dress and act like a circus act is the same scenario." Because we ARE. Lest you forget, a mentally disturbed person is still a human being that deserves respect and equal treatment. But Transgender people aren't disturbed to begin with, so that point's kind of invalid. At this point you're just horribly, unmercifully losing this argument on any logical stance that may have once existed, and beating your same drum over and over again, hoping that i'll start dancing to it. "Wow you sure showed me with your fancy dildo. Lol your "penis" can be two feet long guess what? At the end of the day it ain't real, I'm sure in your warped world penises are made of plastic or rubber but in reality they're not. Nice try." Thanks AGAIN for showing your ass by providing another logical fallacy, this time Appeal to Nature: if it's not real, NOBODY will want it and it shouldn't exist! New Flash, It doesn't matter if it's real or not real, I still got girls lining up to ride my cock from here to New York and Texas. Because unlike the man born the equipment, I can post-install mine AND use it better. That's one perk of being born female; from a female's perspective, I know what feels good ;) "Guess what when a man's penis is in contact with a real woman it feels good and brings all sorts of pleasure that's where your dildo comes up short" I'm sure that in the midst of her squirting orgasm, my lover doesn't give one shit how real my dick feels, as long as it's clean, undiseased, and well lubricated. At least there's one TALL aspect to having a fake dick, I can't contract harmful diseases with it. Sucks for YOU though. "you can wish and believe all you want you ain't feeling a damn thing because it's not a part of you nor is it real," I'll concede that you are right here. You are; any fake penis I decide to get, I will not be able to feel anything with. But the men who have gone through GRS (i.e. phalloplasties and metoidioplasties) CAN feel sensation through their penises, even to the point where some men can reach orgasm. No ejaculation will occur when he does, but, unless he and his significant other are wanting to have children, I don't think that's an issue. And like i've said previously, if they do want children, I'm sure there's a child in foster care or in the adoption system that's right for them. "when I urinate I can actually use mine I don't have to fumble and unstrap it from myself and squat over the toilet pretending to stand." Luckily for transmen, there are manufacturers that make hollow STP (stand to pee) dildos that we can wear without a pesky harness, so I can pee standing up anytime i want! But thank you for your False Dilemma fallacy! "Like I said you can believe all you want in your fantasy I don't lose sleep over it, but your the one desperate to make me believe it and change my way of life over your fantasy and I don't have to." Oh honey, I'm not trying to change your way of life! I'm just trying to keep you from doing that to happily living trans-people by telling them they're lying to themselves and following a delusion, which i've proved to you they aren't. And no, you don't have to. But if your tabacky-spittin granpappy didn't gonna teach ya the golden rule, the rest of the tribe will. "I can believe til I'm blue in the face that my car is a Chevy I can strap all sorts of Chevy badges and trim on it, at the end of the day according to the Vin and parts numbers it's a Ford no matter how much I throw a tantrum and call people bigoted for not believing it's a Chevy." Thank god living biological organisms like humans are more complex than CARS. And when you tell people they're diseased and sick and need to see a shrink for having a perfectly acceptable, normal, humanity-old gender identity simply because YOU can't understand why? That kind of makes you a FUCKING BIGOT. "Bigot: noun: a person who is intolerant toward those holding different opinions." -Webster's Dictionary "No actually you are the ones who are like the gay mafia nazis you want to ram your way of life and force your beliefs on others." Ohoho, GAY mafia nazis? Do you have a pre-disposed bad opinion towards GAY people too? What did GAY people do to you? Did they take your gay boyfriend? Why are you calling me a GAY mafia nazi like being gay is a BAD thing? I thought you WEREN'T a bigot? I'm not trying to force my way of life on you. I'm practicing my debate skills while enlightening a poor soul to the perfectly okay, not-directly-affecting-him diversity of humankind.

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