#look I wanted to also drop in the other butler character Dream was supposed to play but couldnt. if the priest could exist then why not him? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hayden-thefuck-whywouldyoudothis · 3 years

Text

The Inevitable

Hello wonderful people! This is going to be my first ever fanfic that I am posting anywhere, so please be nice. I would appreciate feedback, and I think that if it does well here I’ll post it n Ao3.

I came up with this fic idea a little while back, and I’ve been writing it since 03/13/21. Basically the idea is that while Tommy was in the afterlife, he met characters who died during Tales From The SMP episodes that took place in the past. They told him their stories, and Tommy connected the dots. He goes to confront Karl in Kinoko Kingdom.

This story includes a headcanon that is not mine. I read a fanfic with the mute!Karl headcanon. The story was an absolute banger. If you want to hear a little more about that go read their story Come Home With Me by icaruswontmelt on Ao3

Story starts under the cut .

The Inevitable, by BangHaydenCoven

Death was the one thing that had always been truly eternal. When Wilbur came back as Ghostbur, it had seemed like death maybe wasn’t completely permanent because Wilbur was back. But he hadn’t been brought back to life. He was a ghost, a shell of the person he had been before everything went to shit. Tommy had truly thought that death was the one thing that stayed constant on this god-forsaken server. Being beaten to death and brought back by the person who hurt you so deeply puts a lot of things that were just beyond reach of perfectly understandable, into perspective. In the amount of time that had gone by while Tommy’s life actually went to hell and back, everything had changed. Tubbo had gotten married of all things, He had a kid. And a new best friend as well, apparently. There was, for the first time in a long time, a semblance of peace between all of the factions. Peace smashed, the moment he had been let out of the prison. No one looked at him the same way anymore. No one looked at him like the kid he was. The kid he was supposed to be. All they saw was an anomaly. Not a real, live, breathing person who has feelings and needs validation, just like other people. Proof of something that never should have been real.

Since declaring that Dream had to die, Tommy had holed himself up in his little house dirt mound of a house. When he finally got over the initial panic, the firsthand terror of forcing himself to think about the time he had spent dead, he allowed himself to do it freely. Puffy had told him it was good to think back on the trauma. He wasn’t sure just how much he could trust that ideology, but it seemed to work for the most part. Tommy had spent the majority of his time in the afterlife with the people he had known when he was alive. Wilbur, Schlatt, Mexican Dream. It had been pretty simple. They spent a lot of time playing card games, for some reason. But one day, a fight had sparked between Tommy and Schlatt, causing the younger to storm off into the distance. He had been fuming that day. It hadn’t even been a fight that made sense. Schlatt had thrown some baseless accusations his way, and Tommy had just given up. He needed a break. So he walked away.

He walked.

And he walked.

And he stopped.

Looming over him was a building that was like nothing Tommy had ever seen. It was old, dusty, and cold. It belonged in the afterlife, to put it simply. It fit. It was a simple embodiment. Then, laughter filled the air. Frightening, drunk laughter that was cold but inviting. Tommy followed the spine-chilling noise into the building where he found four people. Three were dressed like they were from the Wild West. Cowboy hats, cowboy boots, and simple revolvers at their hips. The fourth was also clearly from the same time period, put was dressed simply. When he walked into the building, they just stared at him. Cold, level stares that made him feel like he would rather die all over again then be stuck under those gazes for the rest of eternity. But suddenly the looks of the people softened as they beckoned him over, introducing themselves as Connor, Mason, and Jack Kanoff. They were group of bandits called the Democrat Haters, and a simple bartender named John John. They told him their story, to put it simply. They told him how they died.

That was only the beginning.

Tommy wandered for a week straight, meeting people, hearing their stories. He met higher members of society who attended a masquerade only to die brutal deaths at the hands of a possessed butler, the members of a village with a crazed murderer that didn’t know haw to stop, that killed people brutally, among many others. And every single story Tommy heard had a one thing in common. There was always one man, in every story, who appeared out of no where, wearing colourful clothing and iridescent goggles perched on his head. He didn’t always use the same name, but he was always there, no matter when it had happened. As Tommy moved around his home to prepare, one thought rang true in his mind.

Karl was getting a visitor tomorrow.

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

Walking to Kinoko Kingdom had taken a lot longer than Tommy had originally thought and planned for. Not that the little settlement was close to the rest of the Greater SMP, but it wasn’t far either. Regardless of distance, it was still far too long of a walk for Tommy to be in a good mood when he arrived to find Sapnap of all people tending to the garden in Kinoko. Usually Tommy would have snuck up behind Sapnap and scared him to intentionally piss the older man off, but that was the old Tommy. The old Tommy had stayed dead. Instead, he announced his presence by kicking an acorn at the other mans head. There was a loud yelp, followed by a string of curses that matched the flowers in the garden with how colourful they were.

“George, I swear to god, if-” his sentence dropped of in a look of pure disbelief as he turned around, expecting to see his best friend that deserved a good scolding. A dead teenager was definitely different. And confusing.

“Shit...” Sapnap mumbled, “Tommy?”

“Hello Sapnap. I must say its very nice to see you doing something other than killing pets. Or your fiances.” He smirks.

“Well it’s definitely you. The question is how. How are you alive?” he says as the shock on his face fades into confusion mixed with disbelief. Tommy freezes.

“Only if your okay with it of course. Don’t answer if your not comfortable. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up. That was insensitive of me...” he trails off as he realizes Tommy seems less stressed at the fact that Sapnap isn’t going to make him talk about it.

“Sapnap,” Tommy started, “I need to talk to Karl. Like, right now.”

“Alright,” said Sapnap, nodding slowly, “I’ll go get him. Stay right here.” As Tommy watched the other man walk away to retrieve one of his fiances, he really hopes that what he is about to accuse Karl of is wrong. Maybe one day they’ll laugh about this. Probably not.

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

As Sapnap entered the house, looking for his fiances, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Tommy so urgently needed to talk to Karl about. Not finding his fiances on the first floor of their shared house, he went upstairs to continue his search, not wanting to keep the teen waiting for too long. As he opened the door to the throuples bedroom, he let out a small huff of affection when he saw his fiances, the loves of his life, asleep in their bed. Quackity had his arms around Karls waist, with his wings over both of them like a blanket, reflecting the golden light of the sun filtering through the window. Not wanting to disturb the scene in front of him, he let out a small sigh of annoyance as he forced himself to wake up Karl, and by extension Quackity.

“Theres someone here who wants to talk to you.” he muttered softly in Karls ear.

“Who?” Karl signed sleepily.

“Tommy. It seems pretty important. He’s down in the garden.” Sapnap said a little louder, seeing that Q was now awake, so there was no reason to stay quiet.

“Alright.” He signed, “Let’s go.” as he got up, he tugged on Quackity’s sleeve lightly. “Are you coming, Q?” He nodded and gave a small smile.

“Alright,” Sapnap said, pulling Quackity into a quick hug, and giving him a quick kiss on the temple, “Let’s go then.”

As they left the house and approached Tommy sitting at the picnic table in their back garden, they exchanged a small conversation in sign language.

“Is he okay?” said Quackity with some concern clear on his face, his movements slow and scuffed from sleep.

“He looks really tired.” Sapnap added.

“Q, could you run in and prepare some sandwiches and lemonade?” Signed Karl, “We’ll bring Tommy inside and we can all have lunch together while we talk.”

“Of course, my love.” Said Quackity, giving Karl a small kiss on the cheek before hurrying inside to prepare some lunch.

Turning to Tommy to thank him for waiting, he was met with a face of absolute, genuine confusion. As Tommy stared at their hands, then looked back over to Karl, his face quickly changed to a look of understanding.

“I forgot,” he said as he stood up sheepishly, “that Karl was mute.”

“That’s okay Tommy.” Karl cut in before Sapnap could say anything, “I know you’ve been through a lot recently. It’s okay to forget things from time to time. I should know.” Karl signed slowly so that Tommy could keep up with his rusty remembrance of sign language, adding a small smile at the end of his sentence.

“Thank you Karl.” Tommy said with a sigh of relief.

“Would you like to come inside and have lunch with us? I know you have something to talk to me about, but you look hungry. We could talk right after though. How does that sound?” Karl signed with a smile on his face.

“That sounds great.” Tommy said after a beat of hesitation.

“Perfect,” said Sapnap, “let’s head inside. Q is making some sandwiches.” They all headed inside, one dreading the talk that would come after, the other two wondering what could possibly be so important to cause Tommy to come all the way out to Kinoko Kingdom to talk to Karl.

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

Tommy and Sapnap sat down at the table in the dining room as Karl went into the kitchen to help Quackity. Usually it would be all three of the in the kitchen, making food and having a good time, but Sapnap needed to take advantage of the situation at hand. Since he hadn’t visited the main SMP in a while, Tommy gave him the rundown of the current and recent events he knew of. Nothing too bad, but Sapnap knows you can never be too careful. A few minutes later, Quackity and Karl emerge from the kitchen carrying some plates and the food. As they sit down and start to eat, Sapnap and Quackity make small talk that Karl contributes too every once in a while with some one handed movements, putting his sandwich down when it was necessary. But Tommy stayed quiet, which the fiances found quite odd. Clearly whatever the boy had been through recently, on top of all his other trauma, had really messed with him. The loud, boisterous teenager they had known before was gone, replaced with someone they didn’t recognize in the slightest. So Tommy stayed silent the entire time, not noticing the quick, worry filled glances the trio sent his way every so often.

Soon enough, they had all finished eating. They were sitting in the fiances’ living room together, Tommy on one couch, the tree of them on the other. The room sat in an awkward silence as Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap waited for Tommy to talk to them, and as Tommy decided what to say.

After a moment, Tommy said, “Are you sure you want them here for this?” Karl’s eyes widened at how blatant he had been.

“Of course I want them here.” He signed quickly, “They are the people who matter most to me. Whatever you need to say to me you can say to all three of us.” Sapnap and Quackity nodded, not wanting to disrupt anything.

“Alright,” Tommy sighed, “Where should I start...” Karl’s hands stayed firmly in his lap to give Tommy a moment to think. “Well, I guess I’m just going to say what I came here to say, and pray to Prime that I’m wrong.” Karl nodded, once, slowly. Tommy took a deep breath before opening his mouth and saying...

“Your a time traveler, aren’t you?”

Silence.

And then laughter

All he could hear was laughter.

Sapnap and Big Q were laughing.

Karl was not.

Karl wasn’t laughing.

The look on his face was not one of someone who had just been accused of some laughable fallacy.

A fantasy, really.

Sapnap and Quackity had stopped laughing.

They seemed to have come to the same conclusion that Tommy had.

“Karlos?” Quackity started, “There is no possible way...” he stopped, a look of pure disbelief on his face.

“Tell me that he’s lying Karl.” said Sapnap. “Please.” Karl’s hands started to move, making aborted and scuffed movements as he tried to figure out what to say.

“No,” He finally settled on, “he’s right. I’m a time traveler.” Sapnap started crying at this, and Quackity gave him a hug as he buried his face into his fiances neck. Karl looked completely torn. He clearly wanted to comfort his fiances, but he knew he shouldn’t while Tommy was still here. But he also didn’t know if he could. Karl didn’t know if he was even still allowed to comfort them after keeping this big of a secret from them, and for so long. Karl started signing again, this time with clear urgency behind each movement.

“Two things, and then I need you to leave. Understood?”

“Of course,” said Tommy, “I will leave immediately.” Karl nodded.

“Thank you. First things first,” he signed, “how did you know?” Tommy sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this. But Karl deserved to hear the truth.

“When I died, I was in the afterlife for a little while,” Tommy said softly, “One day I walked away from the people I knew in the afterlife, Schlatt, Wilbur, and Mexican Dream. I walked for so long I came across a building I had never seen before, and when I went in I met a group of people from the Wild West.” Karl’s eyes had gone wide.

“You met Jack and Mason and Connor?” he signed.

“Yeah, and John John as well. They told me what happened the day they died, and they mentioned you. Not directly, but they mentioned a man that had showed up out of nowhere wearing bright colours and iridescent goggles.” Karl looked wistful, remembering his time sent in the Wild West, even if it hadn’t been an exceptionally fun trip at the time. Tommy continued. “I also met the people who visited the masquerade, same story. But this time they mentioned your name. And lastly I met the townfolk of the Village that went Mad. Same story, but no name once again. I just connected the dots.” Tommy fell silent, waiting for Karl to tell him something. Sometime during his revelations, Sapnap and Quackity had left the room to comfort each other. Karl clearly wanted to tell them he was sorry, but he couldn’t do that until Tommy had left. Turning back to the teen, he started signing once more.

“Thank you for telling me, Tommy. I just have one thing to ask of you, then you can leave.” Tommy nodded his head, and Karl continued, “You cannot, under any circumstances, tell anyone what you know. It would put everyone in grave danger. Is that clear?”

“Of course. I won’t tell a soul.” Karl gave him a small smile. “Now I think you should go talk to your fiances.”

“I will,” he signed, leading Tommy to the front door, “Goodbye, Tommy. Have a good trip back.”

“Goodbye, Karl.”

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

As he walked towards the door of their shared bedroom, he could barely hold himself back from running to the room to comfort them. But Karl couldn’t be sure that they would ever be the same again. It broke him to think that, but he had lied to them, for a long time. They probably hated him.

He stopped outside of the door, hearing faint sounds of crying on the other side of the door. He slowly opened the door to see Quackity and Sapnap cuddled up together against the headboard of their bed, with all of the lights out. Sapnap was asleep against Quackitys chest, tear tracks all over his face. Q wasn’t much better.

“Hey Karl.” Quackity said softly, sniffling a little.

“Hi.” he signed back, gong to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry.” he signed after a beat of silence. “I have no excuses. I just wanted both of you to be safe from it.”

“But... what is it, Karl? Why couldn’t you tell us? Are these the trips you’ve been going on? Does it have something to do with your memory problems?” Quackity rambled, question after question. He cut off when he realized how tense Karl looked. “...sorry.” he said, lowering his voice once more.

“Woah, Q, it’s okay. But I can only answer one question at a time.” Quackity nodded. “It is the In-Between,” he started, making the ASL sign for between, then spelling it out, “I don’t actually know what it is, but I managed to get away from it recently. It was stopping me from telling you about my time traveling. It told me that telling you guys would put you guys in grave danger. I couldn’t let that happen. So I kept it a secret.” He stopped, hands dropping when he couldn’t figure out where to go from there. Quackity opened his mouth, about to ask a question, when he felt Sapnap stir at his side.

“Hey babe.” Quackity said, Sapnap just let out a little huff. “Sap, do you feel up to talking right now?”

“...yeah...is he here?” he mumbled, voice heavy and slurred with sleep.

“He is.” Quackity answered. Sapnap looked up at him, then looked over to Karl.

“Hi Sap.” he signed, not making eye contact. “I want to apologize to both of you. For not telling you. There really is no valid excuse that I have. The In-Between was crazy. I just wanted to keep both of you safe.”

“What is the In-Between?” Sapnap asked. Before Karl could answer, Quackity cut in.

“He doesn’t know, Sap.” he whispered.

Sapnap continued, “I want you to tell us the whole story. Please?” Karl looked conflicted.

“Alright.” he signed, “I’ll start at the beginning.” So he did. He told them the whole story. By the time he had finished, all three had tears running down their face. “Do you understand now?” Karl wiped his eyes before continuing, “It wasn’t safe to tell you.” Sapnap nodded, eyes red and puffy from crying.

“You need to stop traveling Karl. Me and Sapnap wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if you forgot everything.” said Quackity, pulling Sapnap even closer. Karl sighed.

“I can’t control the traveling. I don’t know if it will ever stop. All I need right now is you two. If I hadn’t wanted to get home to you guys so desperately, I would have forgotten long ago.” Karl got up and grabbed his journal. “Fill it.” he signed, after he gave it to his two fiances, “fill it with everything I need to remember. And when I come back each time, help me remember. Please.” Sapnap looked up at him, then glanced at Quackity, coming to a silent agreement. They would do anything to keep Karl with them.

“Of course we will, mi amor.” said Quackity, opening his arms to invite Karl to come sit with them. Karl smiled, tears running down his face once again, crawling into their warm embrace. And as they sat there, holding each other close, Karl took each of heir hands, pressing his favourite symbol in ASL into their palms.

“I love you.”

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

Thank you for reading!!! Once again, if you like this, leave a comment or something, idk. And make sure to go check out the story linked at the top of this post for more about the mute!Karl Jacobs hc.

Have an amazing day, wonderful people.

#karlnapity #afterlife #karlnapity fic #ficlet #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp au #quackity #sapnap #karl jacobs #tales from the smp #the masquerade #the village that went mad #the wild west #time travel #mute character #headcanon #canon divergent au

36 notes · View notes

midnights-light · 4 years

Text

Ladybug and the Hound

So before I begin I need to say a few things

This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic so it’s most likely going to suck and all that jazz

I do not own any characters in the DC or Miraculous universes (if i did everything would make little to no sense so yeah)

Can we all agree that @ozmav is an amazing writer?

If you don’t like Daminette, don’t read it’s that simple

I am also going to use “Dogs are a Ladybug’s best friend” by @kelelamentia for some inspiration on this cuz I love that idea

All characters are going to be OOC so just be prepared

If ya’ll like it I might write more just let me know if I should write more or if I should never think about writing again (I have low self-esteem so if it look like I am hating on myself it’s because I am but I’ll get over someday but if you criticize me please at least try to be constructive criticism)

Now onto the terrible thing I decided needed to exist

LB-Ladybug

CN- Chat Noir

M-Marinette

Di-Dick

D-Damian

B-Bruce

T-Tim

J-Jason

A-Alfred

The Meeting

It was a normal Tuesday, ya know? Birds are singing, the sun is shining, the Eiffel Tower collapsed, ya know the usual. Well usual for Parisians who had to deal with this for 4 almost 5 years now but for those who just wanted a vacation like the Waynes... well let’s just say they were unprepared to see the Eiffel Tower come crashing down just a few blocks ahead of them as they were walking to get some pastries from Tom and Sabine Boulangerie patisserie for a afternoon snack and to walk Titus (they brought Titus because Damian refused to leave him alone in the mansion for two weeks while they are on vacation so Bruce reluctantly agreed to bring him with them). So them being them ran towards the fallen tower and see a few people dead and some injured. They help the injured, but just as they are about to get the remaining few out of the wreckage a girl in a clearly ladybug themed suit comes crashing to the ground creating a few cracks to form on the ground. She gets up with a groan just as a dog in a fox themed costume came running up to her and helps her steady herself. “Thanks, Hound.” says the spotted girl and as the batfam are about to check if she’s okay a... IS THAT A GIANT BABY?! Well the giant baby comes walking towards the girl and the dog when a voice shouts “If you go on a date with me Ladybug I will come help you just accept your feelings for me already!”

Damian's POV

As soon as the spotted girl heard that she looked towards the owner of the voice and low and behold it’s a guy in a leather cat suit and on the outside I look indifferent to what is happening but on the inside the only thing I can think is ‘What is going on in this city!’ because I was just expecting a boring two weeks of ‘required’ vacation in the ‘city of love’ I hate the nickname of the city because as Father has shown love is a weakness. But apparently the city of love is not as boring as I thought it would be. The girl (ladybug I think is her name) now has a look of murder in her eyes and the dog (hound is what she called him) growled at him as ladybug said “Chat, you can’t be serious! You just caused the Eiffel Tower to fall and kill and injure people!” CN-“Yes because you can’t realize that we are meant to be together!” LB-”No we are not now either help or shut up so I can focus on gigantitan!” CN-”Fine then i’ll just sit here and enjoy the show” That one interaction makes me question if this is how it is everything something like this happens.

*Time skip because i can’t write smart plans or fight scenes*

Dick’s POV

After ladybug got his watch thing off his wrist she and hound tore it apart which released a black butterfly and the giant baby was now back to a normal sized baby. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?1 I’M SO CONFUSED! After I stopped questioning reality I realized that ladybug was comforting the kid (HE COULDN’T BE OLDER THAN 4 YEARS OLD!) she picked him up and was about to throw her spotted thing up in the air for some reason but was interrupted by the cat boy saying ‘Pound it!’ and acting like he actually helped her and didn’t just sit there on a roof watching ladybug and hound do everything. What the heck? Ladybug walks over to me and asked if I could hold the kid for a sec and I said sure because she looks ready to murder. After she hands me the kid she walks over to cat boy and started yelling at him about how he can’t just be reckless like that but it seemed to just go over his head as he replied saying something about how she owed hit to him to date him but I quickly stopped listening when the kid started crying because of all the yelling going on so I started to talk and play with him to cheer him up until he pointed to ladybug as she yelled miraculous ladybug and tossed the spotted object into the sky. I was confused about what she was doing until I saw a swarm of ladybugs appear and start fixing the damage, healing the injured, and even bringing people back to life. Then she came back over and was about to ask something but then a shrill beeping noise came from her earrings causing her to ask if we could watch over the kid until his mom came and picked him up. Titus and Hound were playing until she called him over to her and then they jumped, yes JUMPED, up to the roof and left. “What the hell was all that and does anyone else want to kill a cat boy?”

Tim’s POV

“So that all really happened, huh? It wasn’t really just a coffee dream?” I say and then look at everyone else has a different reactions to what just happened: Jason is looking at where dead bodies had been but now they were alive, Bruce is trying to understand what just happened, Alfred looks concerned, Dick is keeping the kid happy, and Damian is trying to keep Titus from running after Hound. I notice other civilians just walking around like nothing just happened and I’m just thinking ‘How long has this been happening and how have we not noticed? WHAT IS LIFE!?’

Jason’s POV

I look at everybody that was dead just walk away like nothing happened and I am about to ask Bruce if he know what that was when I feel someone bump into me. I turn around to see a girl around Damian’s age on the ground picking up the stuff she dropped while rapidly apologizing while a dog, presumably hers, was sniffing her making sure she was ok and had what looked like a glare on his face when he looked at me. M-“I’m so so sorry Monsieur! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” J-”It’s alright little lady, but if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the rush?” M- “Well you see I’m supposed to be helping in my parents bakery after I finished walking Captain but we got caught up in the akuma attack so I’m running a bit late. My names Marinette by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you before are you visiting?” What’s an akuma? I’ll file that away for later for replacement to look at but for now. J- ”Yeah we are here for a family vacation to take a break from work. Would you mind if me and my family follow you to your parent’s bakery? We were heading to one for a snack but it seems we got turned around during the attack.” M- “Sure just tell me your names first so I at least know you to some degree cause I’m not supposed to talk to people I don’t know. I hate life but I’m not ready to die just yet.” She laughs and I swear it feels like the world just got a whole lot brighter, J- “Of course where are my manners name’s Jason. I have a feeling my family is going to love you and your dog.” I say as I hold my hand out for Captain to sniff and after he does he stops giving me what I swear looks like a glare but he’s still standing near Marinette when I notice my family looking at me and Marinette and Alfred asks me, A- “Master Jason are you going to introduce us to the young miss?” J- “Oh right, guys this is Marinette, Marinette this is Alfred he’s our butler/ grandpa, the one who looks like he’s about to pass out is Tim, the one playing with the kid is Dick, the stern one is Bruce, and the one with the dog is Damian.” I say.

Damian’s POV

I hear Todd talking to someone and introducing us and as soon as I turn to glare at Todd I see the most beautiful eyes in the whole world. they look like sapphires and her hair is like the midnight sky. She looks like an Angel... wait WHAT!? I only zone back in as soon as Todd told the Angel my name so I did what not even I was expecting, I took her hand, gave the back of it a kiss and said, D- “Nice to meet you Angel.” I was not smiling when I saw her blush and I for certain do not want to make her blush again... but if I have a chance to then I will take it. Then I hear a low growl and I then notice that she has a dog (yes she loves animals to!) that is looking at me like he’s going to rip me to shreds and I will forever deny that I was a little scared. M- “Sorry Damian, Captain’s just a little protective of me and doesn’t like strangers being around me.” D-”I understand.” I say then I hold out my hand for her dog (Captain I think it was) to sniff and after he does he still growls at me but doesn’t look ready to tear me to pieces so progress towards getting to know the Angel before me. And then my good mood is ruined by the sound of my idiot brothers and father, the traitor, snickering behind us. I turn and scowl at them but they don’t seem to care. Meanwhile Titus and Captain appear to have met and are now chasing each other around making me and the Angel laugh. Her laughter sounds amazing and her smile makes it feel like the world brightens up just a little. M- “So shall we start walking to the bakery?” A chorus of yes comes from my family and then we start walking. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

BONUS

*Whispering* J- “Am I going crazy or did Demon Spawn just laugh and smile at Marinette?”

Di- “No I heard it to *gasp* do you think he has a crush?”

J- “Are we sure he’s capable of having a crush?”

T- “Well I’m sure she will be good for him, but what I’m confused about is how she doesn’t recognize who we are. I mean how does she not know us she didn’t even seem to recognize our faces.

A- “I think Miss Marinette will do Master Damian some good.”

And Bruce is just looking at his youngest son with pride. His first crush and he’s able to witness it.

So as I said in the beginning this is my first fanfic and It’s most likely terrible so let me know if I should never write again, if you want another chapter, or if I should just reevaluate my life choices.

Chapter 2

#marinette x damian #maribat #marrinette dupain cheng #ml x dc #ml crossover #daminette #dc crossover #adrien salt #alya salt #lila is exposed #class salt #guardian marinette

161 notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 16: Falling Like The Stars

(from the Flatmate Trilogy: Two Hearts, One Home)

…in which their best friends get married.

Word count: 6k

Chapter 15: 🎃 HALLOWEEN SPECIAL 🎃 Fright-day Night - Another Halloween treasure hunt.

Wattpad link

A/N:

- We're so close to the ending already! Grab some tissue and get ready to say goodbye to these beloved characters. The final chapter is called 'FLATMATE' and it comes out on November 6 😿

- After Flatmate, I will take some time off and return in December with a new series called The Conman And The Maid. Feel free to talk to me about it or ask me questions.

Listen as you read:

- when Layla walks down the aisle

- when Harry and Y/N slow dance

"Wanna do something bad?"

"Right here?"

Harry got a glare and a pillow thrown at him for that reply. "No! I'm going to meet Layla's parents this morning," Y/N said as she joined her husband on the couch. "The wedding is tonight. I have to make sure they'll be there."

"But wouldn't Layla be mad if she found out we were going behind her back?" His face contorted as he pondered.

"Yeah." She gave a half shrug, pursing her lips. "Layla is too proud to admit that she wants them to be there. I know she constantly says she hates them but I also know she doesn't really hate them, otherwise it wouldn't bother her so much that they might not come to her wedding."

Harry tossed his head back and heaved a sigh. "Well, should we at least tell Niall?"

"I already did." Y/N grinned. "He gave me their addresses."

"Wait, so we're just...going straight to their houses?"

"Yes?" She raised an eyebrow as her husband did the same. "What? You thought I was going to call them and formally invite them out for lunch?"

"Uh...yes?"

"Well, no. They would make excuses to say no like they did when their own daughter invited them to her wedding. We're going straight to their houses."

"I haven't even said I'd do it."

"You're doing it." She got to her feet and pulled him up by the arm. "We're in this together. For better or worse, remember?"

"This isn't what I meant when I said that!" Harry whined, but his wife had already thrown on her jacket and grabbed his car key.

"Either you go with me or you can't talk to Ria tonight."

"You're a monster," he gasped, making her giggle.

"That's just marriage, baby."

Layla's mother lived only an hour away from her so Y/N couldn't understand why she'd never come to visit her daughter. Y/N was not yet a mother herself, but she knew when Asteria grew up and finally went away to college, she wouldn't mind the distance to come visit her once in a while. But maybe not all mothers were the same. And sadly, not all mothers loved their children, either.

Y/N had never seen a photo of Layla's mum, and all the basic information she'd got was from her best friend's depressing stories about her problematic family. The woman's name was Maureen. She used to be an alcoholic, and now she was living alone and only occasionally drunk, or so Y/N hoped. The lady was sober when she answered the door, but it was easy to spot the empty bottles and packs of beer under the small eating table.

"Who the hell are you?" Maureen asked in an obnoxious tone. She had fair skin, dark brown hair, and light eyes similar to Layla's. She could be an older version of Layla if it was in an alternate universe where Layla didn't care about clothes or makeup or a healthy lifestyle.

"I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Harry. We're both friends of your daughter's," Y/N said cheerfully as she put on a smile, whereas Harry gave the woman the same frown she was giving them.

"My daughter?"

"Yes, ma'am." Y/N nodded. "Your daughter is getting married today and—"

"Why aren't you at the wedding?" Maureen cut her off, looking doubtful as she gripped the handle. Y/N was just waiting for her to slam the door in their faces, but gladly, she didn't.

"The wedding is tonight, actually. Um...I just came to make sure you were coming because—"

"Did she ask you to?" Once again, she didn't let Y/N finish. She seemed indifferent, so it was hard to tell how she really felt about this, or if she felt anything at all. She crossed her arms and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, ready to have a conversation right there. Y/N didn't think it was rude, because why would she invite two complete strangers into her home?

"Did my daughter ask you to come here?" Maureen repeated the question when she didn't get an answer.

"No, ma'am," Y/N said.

Shaking her head, the older woman laughed. "Right, and I suppose you came all the way here because you felt bad for me?"

"No, I—"

"You seem like the type of person who loves sticking her nose in other people's business."

"Hey!" Harry stepped forward, a frown overtook his face. "Do not talk to my wife like that."

Y/N tugged at his arm as she told him to calm down, yet Maureen seemed very chill and indifferent to his attitude. Ignoring him, she went on with a sly smile, "I'm not going to the wedding. It's not like she wants me there."

"She does."

"Well, did she tell you that?"

"No, but—" Y/N bit her lip, but before she could continue, Maureen waved her off.

"My ex-husband would be there and the last thing I want to see is that son of a bitch's face."

"That's the problem," Harry finally spoke as he was too upset to remain silent. "Neither of you would come because you're both afraid of running into each other, but it shouldn't be about you. It's your daughter's big day and you should be there for her."

"The last time we met, she called me an embarrassment. I'm doing her a favor by not coming to her wedding."

"I know Layla," Y/N said, clenching her fists. "She doesn't express her feelings the way people expect her to. She says no when the answer is yes, and maybe when the answer is no. She's very unpredictable, but it's not so hard to read her mind once you've known her well enough."

Maureen scoffed as she looked down and pinched her forehead. "I don't need you strangers to lecture me on Layla. I'm her mother."

"Then start acting like one."

From Maureen's and Harry's reaction, Y/N knew neither of the two had expected someone with her personality to say something like that. But she didn't care. Mumbling, "have a nice day", she took Harry's hand and pulled him back to the lift.

Once the door had shut and the couple had left, Maureen was still standing at her front door.

Layla's father lived in a mansion that looked like a cutout from Architects Today magazine. It was one of those dream houses in which Y/N had imagined her, Harry and their two children living a few years from then, when they could afford that expensive life. They weren't poor now, but this place made them feel like they were.

Unlike Layla's mother, her father — Daniel Scott, or Dan, as he had asked them to call him, had invited the couple into his living room for tea as soon as he recognized Harry. Layla had taken Harry with her to lunch with her dad and his other family once, because Niall had been busy that day. However, Harry had hardly interacted with the man to say that he personally knew him.

"Believe me or not, Layla has never invited a friend over. Well, there was Niall, but they're getting married so it doesn't really count." Daniel laughed, shaking his head.

Y/N was slightly confused because this man wasn't at all how she'd imagined he would be. He was handsome for his age and he was also polite and calm, yet the image Layla had constructed in her head was this angry and selfish man who didn't give two shits about his family. But if there was one thing Y/N had learned from a thousand mistakes in the past, it would be not to draw a conclusion about someone you had just met five minutes ago.

"About the wedding," Y/N began as she put her teacup down on the coffee table, placing her hands back on her knees. "It's tonight, and we hope you can come to congratulate her."

"Layla has already told me about the wedding," said Dan. "Unfortunately, I cannot make it. I'm a very busy man and—"

"Sir, I know what it's like to be drowning in work and deadlines and thinking you don't have enough time for anything else," Harry cut him off. "But it all comes down to priorities. Don't you think it's worth it to put everything aside and celebrate this important day with your daughter? It's just one night."

As Dan pressed his lips into a smile and rubbed his palms together, Harry was hoping that the man would reconsider and change his mind. However, Dan's ringtone tore down the silence and he excused himself to go answer the phone.

"Do you think he'll say yes?" Y/N asked once he'd left the room.

"Hope so." Her husband lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. "I mean, he seems much easier to talk to than his ex-wife so—"

"Sorry, kids. I gotta go now. Duty calls," Dan told them as he walked in with the same big smile which had begun to freak Y/N out.

"But Layla's wedding—"

"I can just come to her next one," Dan said, causing both Harry and Y/N to drop their jaws, but their reactions seemed to mean nothing to him as he added, "I know my daughter, okay?"

No, you don't, Y/N thought to herself and rubbed Harry's shoulder as she spotted him giving Dan a black look.

"My butler will show you the way out. It's nice talking to the two of you."

Dan turned away as the butler showed up and asked them to come with him. Harry quickly followed the tiny man, but Y/N stayed when a young girl, who she assumed was about sixteen or seventeen, rushed down the stairs.

"Daddy, daddy!" she called Dan. "Mum is coming back from Milan tonight. Do you think we can go shopping together? I desperately need new clothes for school."

Dan pulled his daughter into a tight hug as he pressed his lips to her forehead and said, "of course, sweetheart. Anything for my little princess."

"Y/N!" Harry's voice got his wife's attention. When she looked back at him, she could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew what she was thinking of. She walked up to him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they followed the butler out of there. "It's okay," Harry whispered. "Layla would be better off without them."

"So this is what it feels like to be invited to the royal wedding."

Y/N gave her husband a nudge and waved hello to another wedding guest she recognized. Layla spent too much time with her and Harry that sometimes she forgot how popular her best friend was. After all, she was Layla Scott. She was born to receive attention, just not always the kind she would value. So the more she got, the more she craved. Y/N supposed some guests here today hadn't come because they cared about Layla, they'd come because it was her wedding. It was every high school in movies. People voted the most popular girl for Prom Queen, not because they liked her, but because she was cool. That was how Layla had remained 'the popular girl' ever since she could walk, but it wasn't until she got to college that she learned what it was like to have real friends.

It was thirty minutes before the ceremony and Y/N was asked to go check on Layla. Nobody knew what had happened, but the bride had locked herself in her dressing room and everyone that was part of the wedding planning was freaking out.

"Layla?" Y/N knocked on the door as the other bridesmaids gathered around her. "Layla, is everything okay? It's Y/N."

"Come in. Just you."

With a turning stomach, Y/N asked one girl to go outside just in case something happened and they needed someone to reassure the guests. Then, she turned the doorknob and entered the room.

Layla was sitting in her wedding dress with her phone in her hands. Though it wasn't from personal experience, Y/N had heard about some brides having a mental breakdown right before their wedding. It was understandable. The thought of starting a new life with a new identity could be overwhelming. So when Layla looked up at Y/N with her glassy eyes, Y/N assumed her best friend was going through the same thing.

"My father posted a photo of him at dinner with his other family," Layla said, proving her wrong. "He's with them on my wedding day."

Not knowing how to respond, Y/N chose silence as she stood against the door with her hands behind her back, and started second-guessing what her best friend might say next.

"That asshole..." Layla scoffed as she shook her head. "I hate him. I fucking hate him! I-I don't know why I even expected that he would show up tonight. I knew he wouldn't. So why am I still disappointed? Like...God, I...Do you know that he didn't come to my high school graduation because he was in Bali with that whore that's now my stepmother?"

Y/N silently shook her head.

Layla's parents hadn't come to her university graduation either. Niall had told Y/N and Harry not to ask Layla why, because it would only upset her. But now Y/N knew even when nobody brought up her family issues, it would upset her anyway. Her terrible parents would always matter to her despite how many times and how much she'd said she hated them.

"And my mum is always drunk." Layla released a harsh sigh. "It'd be a miracle if she could get her ass off the couch let alone attend my graduation or wedding."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Y/N said as she stepped forward and pulled a chair to sit down in front of the bride, who lifted her face as Y/N squeezed her hands. "This is your big day. So if your parents would rather be anywhere else but here, then it's their loss. You don't need them. I mean—Your entire family is already here. You have Harry, Lou, Liam, and Trix, and you have me. And Niall is probably freaking out right now because he cannot wait to start this new life with you."

Layla scoffed and rolled her eyes. "And Harry's probably trying to help but he's only making it worse. Those idiots."

"True." Y/N nodded as they both giggled. "And...this will be Asteria's first wedding experience. Wanna feel her?"

Layla nodded and let Y/N guide her hand to her baby bump. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, her eyes lit up. "She's moving!"

"Yup, I think she's very excited." Y/N beamed. "Who needs your shitty parents when you have a big family who will support you no matter what, right?"

This time, when Layla teared up, Y/N knew she was happy. She squeezed Y/N into a hug before pulling away and her expression hardened.

"Let's do this," she said. "Let's go out there and lower everyone's self-esteem by being the hottest people in the room."

"And she's back!" Y/N chuckled as she helped Layla get up and straighten her dress. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Be right there!" Layla shouted to the person, who replied immediately.

"Layla, it's me. Your mother."

The bride crossed her arms and laughed slightly, but then she saw the look on her best friend's face, and that was how she knew it was real. Without saying a word, she bolted to the door. The second between the moment she turned the doorknob and pulled the door open, fear was rising inside of her as she didn't want to make a fool out of herself by falling for one of her evil cousins' pranks. But she wasn't wrong. It really was her mother.

Y/N tilted her head to see the woman, yet she still couldn't believe in her own eyes. Maureen looked far different from how she had earlier that day. She looked put together, with her makeup and hair done, a classy dark blue dress that fit her so well and a pair of high heels. Now she looked like the woman Layla would one day become.

As Layla was still speechless, Maureen gasped as she eyed her daughter from head to toes. "Wow, you look—"

"What are you doing here?" Layla cut her off fast. The question took her by surprise, but she managed to keep her composure.

"I'm here to walk my daughter down the aisle," she said. "Well, only if she allows me to..."

Y/N was fidgeting with her own hands, her lips pressed tightly together. It was so awkward to be present while those two were having a mother-daughter moment, but she knew it'd be more awkward if she asked to leave. Besides, she needed to make sure Maureen wouldn't say something that would break Layla's heart.

Not getting a response, the mother continued, "I know I haven't always been there for you, and after talking to your friend here—"

Layla shot Y/N a questioning look, and the bridesmaid could only answer with an apologetic smile.

"—I realized that when I got a chance to be a better person, a better mother, then I shouldn't let it go to waste. That's why I'm here. I hope it's not too late to be there for you."

Y/N had a feeling if Layla remained silent, Maureen would burst into tears. Fortunately, she never got to find out if it was true. When her mother finished, Layla took a deep breath and began right away, "I was six when I came home and found you unconscious on the kitchen floor." Her voice trembled even when her head was held high. "I thought you were dead. I was so scared. They took you to the hospital and...later on, I heard from grandma that you'd drank too much that you'd passed out. I was six years old, mum. Who the fuck let their six-year-old daughter see them like that?"

Maureen opened her mouth to speak but Layla didn't let her. "When I was sixteen, I won a beauty pageant. I wanted to feel proud of myself because I'd accomplished something even if it was small, but that night I ended up crying all the way home because the other girls' parents were there, and mine were not."

Y/N's eyes fell to the floor as she sighed into her palm. Her chest felt stiff and heavy, but she believed it wasn't half as bad as how Maureen must have felt then.

Layla swallowed hard and wetted her lip as she carried on, "I'm going to turn twenty-six soon. So...here's your chance to be a part of my happiness for once. Now fix your makeup. You're not walking me down the aisle with smudged mascara."

Maureen's eyes gleamed as she heard those words. She pulled her daughter into an unexpected hug, and even though Layla's arms stayed glued to her sides, Y/N could tell she was also very happy.

The bridesmaid let go of a sigh of relief as she clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chest. But her elation faded as soon as the bride turned back to look at her. She assumed she was in trouble for going to see Maureen behind Layla's back. However, what she got was a "thank you" and the brightest beam she'd ever seen on her best friend.

"I love you," Maureen told her daughter. "I rarely said it. But I do. And from now on, I will do my best to prove it."

"Well, I also don't hate you." Layla's response caused Y/N to giggle and Maureen to widen her eyes. "Sorry." The bride chuckled. "Baby steps."

It was a few minutes before the ceremony. The guests were already in their seats as the exuberant chatter and laughter contributed to the ecstatic atmosphere. Y/N was waiting in her position on the other side of the closed double doors as she would be the first bridesmaid to make an entrance. Knowing she was nervous, Harry stayed with her as they waited for the ceremony to begin. He held her close as if he hadn't seen her in years and mumbled, "I missed you" into her hair.

"I was gone for a minute." She scoffed.

"The longest minute ever!" he exclaimed.

Clicking her tongue, Y/N pulled back to adjust his tie. Harry cocked his head to kiss her mouth, but she dodged his kiss and warned him not to smudge her red lipstick...again.

"So I was with Layla." She tugged at his collar and smoothed down the jacket of his suit. "She was having a mini-breakdown because she found out her dad was with his other family tonight. I comforted her, and guess what?"

"What?"

"Her mother showed up."

Harry stilled. "Like...her actual mother?"

The look on his face cracked her up as she nodded fast. "Yes. But don't worry, she was sober."

"What about her father?" Harry asked, and she only gave him a shrug. "Oh well, who needs a father like that, anyway? I'm glad she's okay now."

"She seemed very happy. Good for her," Y/N said, biting her lip and batting her lashes at him. "Not everyone is as lucky as baby Ria. She's got such an amazing father."

Smirking, Harry brought his hands up to stroke Y/N's bottom lip with his thumb. "Don't look at me like that, or I'll have to take you somewhere else and make another baby."

"Is that how you dirty talk now that you're a dad?" She raised a brow, hands on his chest.

"Does it work?" He licked his lip. "Does daddy make you wet already?" As he lowered his head to kiss her cheek, he remembered something and jerked away. "Holy shit, Ria can hear us!"

The genuine terrified look he'd got had his wife cackling. Y/N had to reassure him, "she doesn't understand us."

"I think she also heard me fuck you last night. What if it traumatizes her?"

"Harry—"

"What if I accidentally poke her with my dick?! Oh my God!"

"Baby." Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated, but at the same time, amused by how it'd taken him a whole day later to start worrying. "For the hundredth time, your dick isn't that long."

"Heyyyyyyyy! It's long."

"What's long?"

Gemma's voice caused the couple to jump and Harry blurted out, "the line in Starbucks this morning!"

Y/N was in hysterics when Gemma squinted her eyes at him. "Okay, weirdo. Get back in there. We're about to start," she said and jerked her head toward the door, making him groan like a little boy who was forced to go to bed early.

The couple exchanged a few more cheek and forehead kisses and then Harry snuck back into the room to join the other groomsmen at the altar. The guests began to quiet down as a romantic piece of orchestral music began to play, and the double door opened in front of Y/N. Shoulders back, chin up, she strutted down the aisle, holding the bouquet close to her chest as all eyes fell on her. But as always, Harry was all she could see.

The floor was covered in rose petals, and the music made it feel like she was floating to heaven. Somewhere in the crowded room, someone (possibly Trix) exclaimed, "aww, Harry's crying!" And she saw her husband put on a bashful smile as blood rushed right up to his face. He sucked in a shaky breath but his eyes remained on her. Y/N didn't know it was possible to fall in love with the same person over and over again, but this man had proven her wrong.

Once all the bridesmaid had stood in a line at the altar, mirroring the groomsmen on the opposite side, the music built up to the epic climax as Layla entered the room with her mother by her side. She was the center of attention like she always was, but she had never seemed more unbothered by her surroundings than she was now. She held eye contact with Niall, who had to wipe his own tears with the back of his hand.

The wedding ceremony was formal and flawless, since Layla had made sure they'd rehearsed it at least ten times before that day. But Niall, being Niall, had to include some silly jokes in his vows and high-fived Harry when the audience roared with laughter and his bride gave him a warning glare.

Time seemed to slow down for the exchange of rings, and when the preacher pronounced Niall and Layla husband and wife, Y/N was looking at Harry. Somewhere inside her head, she could hear the voice of the narrator saying, "and they lived happily ever after" like an epic ending of a Disney movie. She felt like her heart might just combust with pure delight.

"I love you so much," Harry mouthed to her when the glitter fell on top of them like snow and the crowd roared to congratulate the newlyweds.

"I love you more," she mouthed back to him, knowing he could hear those words loud and clear in the back of his mind.

Y/N and Harry were asked to give a speech at the wedding reception. It wasn't a problem for an extrovert like Harry, but Y/N felt like she'd spent her whole life practicing public speaking just for this day. She was terrible at it. If Harry hadn't been there to hold her hand, maybe she would've stuttered or bitten her tongue off, or even worse — burst into tears in the middle of the speech and never got to finish it at all. She thought she'd done a good job.

She'd cracked some jokes about Layla's obsession with wedding flowers and cutlery and made the wedding guests laugh. But she also saw some guests wipe off their tears when she talked about how much Layla meant to her.

"You're my best friend, my older and younger sister, my overprotective mum, and my grumpy aunt, all in one. You're one of the best things that have happened to me, and I hope you'll always be happy like this. But if there are times that you're not, I'll always be there for you."

As the crowd cheered and raised their glasses and Layla stood up to applaud her best friend, Niall turned to Harry, eyebrows furrowed. "You said like two sentences about me!"

"Technically, Y/N also said two sentences about Layla. Hers were just longer than mine," Harry argued, and Niall almost pushed him off his chair for that answer.

The wedding reception started out as a lovely and formal dinner, but afterward, it turned into a frat party with everyone being drunk and dancing like mad. Niall was carrying Layla around on his shoulders while Louis and Liam were dancing on tabletops. Gemma was taking shots with Jack and Olivia, who was there as his plus one. Ben and Nam were snogging in the corner of the room. Meanwhile, Trix had made a new friend named Alice, and the girl was so wasted she kept following Harry around and telling him how much she liked his new movie. It was a scene of madness, the good kind. But eventually, everyone settled down for a slow dance.

Harry and Y/N were sitting at their table, holding hands, when Layla and Niall came up to them and suggested that they switched partners for this song.

"Okay, but be careful! Do not spin or lift my wife up!" Harry warned his best friend, who gave him a thumb up as he led Y/N to the middle of the room and left Harry with Layla.

Turning back to the bride, Harry said, "shall we?" And Layla rolled her eyes and placed her hands on top of his.

Dancing wasn't Harry's strong suit and he knew Layla was good at it, so he kept staring at his feet to make sure he wouldn't step on hers.

"You're not performing surgery, you dumbass," she said, snickering at how he was panting.

"Shut up, I'm trying not to step on your feet!"

"God, how did Y/N fall for you?"

"I have a similar question for Niall."

The bride leered at him as she snorted and shook her head. She seemed a lot chiller than usual, probably because it was her wedding, but Harry thought it was weird to not have her insult him for everything that came out of his mouth.

"Look," Layla trailed off after clearing her throat. "Thank you for what you guys did for me."

"You mean coming to see your parents? That was Y/N's idea, I just—"

"She told me that you told Dan to choose me over his job," Layla cut him off. "It wasn't his choice in the end, but thank you for trying to change his mind."

Harry shook his head as he chuckled. "No problem. I know what it's like to have a terrible dad so..."

"Devlin loves you, he's just bad at showing it. I suppose Dan is also good at being a dad, just...just not mine."

Though Layla had said it with a tone of humor, she was never good at hiding how she was feeling inside, just like Harry. To say she had no common at all with him would be incorrect, because they were more alike than anyone could imagine. That was probably the reason they'd stayed friends for so long, not only because of Niall and Y/N.

"You'll go back to mistreating me after tonight, right?" he asked, making her laugh.

"Yeah, you're making it hard for me not to that right now," she joked as her nose stuck up. "And since everything will go back to normal tomorrow. Listen carefully because I won't repeat this."

"Okay."

"Okay, so...I know that I'm a bit mean to you sometimes—"

"Sometimes?"

"Fine! Very often." She rolled her eyes and Harry's dimples appeared as he told her to continue.

"But to me, you're like...like a...brother...a big brother, and um..." Layla stuttered like a baby just learning to talk. Every word came out with such difficulty that Harry had to press his lips together so he wouldn't laugh and have her yell at him. She tapped her fingers on his shoulders now that they had stopped swaying to the music. Eye contact suddenly became so hard for someone as confident as her.

"And...um...yeah...I-I love you."

"What did you say?"

"You're like a—"

"No, the second part." Harry looked dead serious as he turned his ear to her face and pointed at it. "I have hearing issues, you gotta speak louder—Ouch!"

Layla hit him again, harder this time as he jumped away and put his palms up. "I thought you said you loved me!"

"Tough love is still love," she told him with a massive grin. But he knew she wasn't lying. Tough love was still love, at least to Layla.

I swear to God, when I come home I'm going to hold you so close I swear to God, when I come home I'll never let go

Another song came on, and Layla returned to Niall so Y/N could dance with her husband for the first time that night.

Like a river, I flow To the ocean, I know You pull me close, guiding me home

"It's been a while since we last danced like this," she said, placing her hands on his neck as he pulled her in by the hips.

"Don't worry, ma'am. Your partner is a professional."

The smug look on his face earned him her gorgeous smile as she scrunched up her nose. "You can't beat my previous partner. Niall was really good. Layla made him take a two-week dance class for the wedding."

"Psst, who needs a dance class when you can just learn from your own experience? Now shut up and dance with me!"

The song reference cracked her up and so she pulled his face down to kiss him again and again, until they both got lost in their world and all the other people faded away.

I swear to God, I can see Four kids and no sleep We'll have one on each knee, you and me

And when they've grown up You're still the girl in the club When I held your hair up, 'cause you had too much

"What?" Harry stopped singing as he pulled back and arched an eyebrow at his wife. She lifted her head from his chest, giggling at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "I just love to hear you sing."

"I sing to you and Ria every night though. Thought you were tired of my voice already."

"No, I love your voice." She pulled his face down so their foreheads touched. "The first time you sang to me, we were also slow dancing at a wedding, remember?"

"How could I forget? You remind me all the time." Harry chuckled and pecked her lips. "That was also the first time I'd sung to someone other than myself."

"Glad to be that someone."

"Glad that you were that someone," he said and tapped her slightly on the nose.

And I need you to know that we're fallin' so fast We're fallin' like the stars, fallin' in love And I'm not scared to say those words with you, I'm safe We're fallin' like the stars, we're fallin' in love

The music took over their conversation for what seemed like forever. Harry raked his fingers through his hair, looking at the other couples dancing around them before turning back to Y/N and said, "I'm a bit drunk and this might sound cheesy as fuck, but..." He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. "I'm so thankful that of all the people on this planet, I got to fall in love with you."

"Aww. So am I, baby. So am I."

When Y/N leaned in, he cocked his head to the side, pouting and not letting her kiss him because he hadn't finished expressing his love.

"I keep thinking about all the years I've spent with you," he said. "From the day I first met you, to the night I confessed my feelings for you, to the first time we made love, to our wedding, and to this moment right now. It seems like it was yesterday that I was rambling on with Niall about this annoying girl who was about to be my flatmate, and now she's six-month pregnant with my baby." He breathed out a quiet laugh. "Maybe next year or a few years from now, when I look back at this moment tonight, we'll be expecting our second one. Maybe Jasper?"

"You just knocked me up six months ago, Harry!"

"Shhh! I'm just drawing up a plan in my head! Don't ruin it!" He covered her mouth with one hand to stop her from interrupting him. She was shaking with muffled laughter as he went on, "and maybe Asteria could be a bridesmaid at Gemma's wedding. Get it? Because Gemma would be so oldddddd."

Y/N gasped. "You're lucky she didn't hear you say that!"

"I trust you not to tell her. That's why we're married. It's all about trust." Smirking, he continued, "then one day, we'll be at our daughter's wedding or maybe our son's. And I'll still step on your feet as we dance like this and embarrass them with our terrible moves. Then many years later, at our grandchildren's weddings, I'll be dancing with you again, but I might need a stick, or maybe we'll be in our wheelchairs wheeling around to one of the songs that are too loud for us but the kids think it's cool."

"What if we're the cool grandparents who keep up with trends and actually enjoy those songs?"

"Don't expect too much from me, I hate most of the music today and I live in today."

Y/N dissolved in laughter as she pressed a kiss to his chin and circled her arms around his waist, her eyes closed and chin on his shoulder. Now she couldn't stop imagining them being eighty years old and slow dancing in their bedroom to one of the old songs playing on the radio.

"I love you," she told him for at least the twentieth time that night, "don't you ever forget that, baby. You're my whole world. "

"And you are mine." He lowered his head to kiss her neck and whispered those three words to her again and again.

Oh, I'm in love Oh, I'm in love Oh, I'm in love

#flatmate!harry

236 notes · View notes

wonderlustxennial · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on TFATWS Season 1, Episode 3

This shit has gotten ridiculous, so I’ve decided that I’m going to start doing reaction posts, rather than posting 20 individual observations. The following was written after my second viewing.

DISCLAIMER: Some of these are my observations, but others I didn’t notice until my favorite YouTube and Tumblr analysts pointed them out. I’ll try to drop credit where it’s due.

NOTE: There’s something I wish more people were talking about, and it’s down in the Madripoor section. If I’m reading this wrong, I would appreciate getting some help in seeing it. So, if you’re game, please check it out and let me know your thoughts. (#tw:racial bias)

[spoilers below the cut]

Walker Raiding the Flag Smasher Sanctuary

Here we get a further illustration that Walker not a defender; he’s working in the interest of fascists. Also, he’s on an invisible countdown to flip his shit. ALSO-also, dude just told the GRC cops not to give anyone “a second…to breathe.” (Marvel, what are you doing? I am not accustomed to relevance from you.) Did you notice the juxtaposition of Bucky asking the cops, “Don’t you know who he is?” to get the cops to stop harassing Sam, against Walker asking, “Do you know who I am?” while roughing up a refugee for not cooperating with him? Same asshole move, very different contexts. Anytime someone thinks it’s a good idea to say, “Do you know who I/this am/is?” they’ve already lost face.

Zemo in His Cell

Clearly, I’ll have to get better about zooming in on stuff, because this is the first time I’ve seen anyone catch that the book Zemo is reading in his prison cell is about Machiavelli AND Leonardo da Vinci; specifically, about how their friendship and exchange of ideas was highly influential on the future of the world. So, does Zemo think he’s Machiavelli or da Vinci, AND who is his “silent” partner? [I didn’t notice that, until The New Rockstars pointed it out (at 04:00 https://youtu.be/xHXhbw_EGL8) annnnnndddd now I’m going to have to read that fucking book (Fortune Is a River: Leonardo da Vinci & Niccolò Machiavelli’s Magnificent Dream to Change the Course the Florentine History by Roger D. Masters, and the bump in book sales is about to have Masters owing Marvel BIG TIME).]

Zemo Is “Royalty”

And here we have my first problem with this episode. BARONS ARE NOT ROYALTY. They’re nobles—low-ranking aristocracy. But do you know what does check out? Zemo and his butler’s thinly veiled distain at entertaining the two low-born Americans.

On the Plane

Look out, y’all: Satan just took the wheel.

THE NOTEBOOK/S

If Bucky has Steve’s notebook, what happened to the one he had in Romania? In CA:CW, I was stressing throughout that WHOLE fight and chase sequence that followed Bucky running from his apartment; not for his safety, but because I hated how vulnerable it left him to have to run without his notebook. I’m not even kidding. Because Steve picked up that notebook, right? Did he think to take it with him? Surely, an embassy or intelligence service swept Bucky’s living space afterward, so who has it now? THIS is the shit I obsess over. Who has that fucking notebook? WHO??!

TROUBLEMAN

There are at least three different things at play here. First, Sam’s enthusiasm and nostalgia for this relic made me tear up a little. He was so hopeful that Bucky would share Steve’s appreciation this classic piece of socially aware art. Second, we get more evidence that Bucky might be having a harder time adjusting to life as a white man in the 21st Century than we’re led to believe Steve did. Third, we know from Zemo’s interactions with his steward just seconds before that, when he praises Troubleman, what he’s actually doing is virtual signaling to build trust with Sam and put Bucky on the back foot. Fourth, I don’t think Sam knows for sure if Zemo appreciated it as much as it says, but he intuits enough about Zemo’s character to be aggravated at the inference they might have something in common; or, that Zemo might be manipulating him to empty rapport. (RIP, Marvin Gaye. You weren’t done.)

DAS OFFENE NEIN IN DER LIEBI

The New Rockstars win again. (Seriously, I have to start paying closer attention.) A book using mythology to explain the psychology of relationships, just before Zemo namechecks Red Skull. Oh shit, y’all.

ZEMO’S PHILOSOPHY ON SYMBOLS & POWER

The slipperiest thing about Zemo is that nearly everything he says has a kernel of truth; you just have to dig out what his true intentions are. Honestly, this is what makes him…I don’t know that he’s the most dangerous villain in the MCU, but it certainly sets him apart. He’s both educated AND smart (the latter doesn’t necessarily follow the former), and he’s particularly insightful in his ruminations on power and its potential to corrupt both the people who hold it and the people who admire them. Bucky and Sam both loved Steve deeply and believed wholeheartedly in the capacity he served as a defender; however, they have a tendency to over-romanticize both. Multiply that problem by the millions who never personally knew him and, when he’s gone, you get…fake!Cap.

More Relevance from Marvel

I read that Marvel had to do reshoots because a few of the themes in this show hit a little too close to home after the pandemic hit (also because the Black Widow movie was supposed to hit first, but again…global fuckery, so they had to shuffle a few plot points.) But also, refugees? “Displacement” camps? Hoarded resources? You don’t say?

Madripoor

Or “When Murder-Sugardaddy Goes Slumming with His Awkward Sugarbabies and Heinous Fuckery Most Foul Ensues”

AT THE CLUB

THE POWER BROKER. THE POWER BROKER. THE POWER… Soooooooo. Many. Name drops. At this point, I don’t even care to speculate on the identity of the mother-fucking Power Broker. Just surprise me already.

And here’s my (potential) second problem with this episode: The Black bartender doesn’t recognize the Black man he’s presumably seen before.

A CAVEAT TO START: I bartended very briefly in one of my many former lives. I was terrible at it. But here’s what’s relevant for the moment: when you work in the service industry, you meet a lot of fucking people, and you don’t necessarily remember them all. I would work giant events where I would serve 1,000+ people in a night, and people would complain all the time that I was carding them even though I’d served them previously. (1) I live in a state where alcohol is highly controlled, and the ABC Board is zealous about doing stake-outs to catch vendors serving to minors. The ABC Board enforcers would only see me serving someone without having carded them first—not all the times I served them previously. None of these people were EVER worth going to jail for over alcohol. Get your fucking card out—EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME. (2) Dude-man-bro, I’ll have served 1,000+ people by the end of the night. Get your fucking card out, EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME.

I’m not saying this bartender in a rogue nation should’ve carded all of his patrons; I’m only saying that when you work in the service industry, you can sometimes serve someone 20+ times before you finally recognize their face or learn their names, and the process can start all over again if they haven’t come in for a while.

Here’s the real issue with this scene, as I see it: In-group bias is an actual thing. There are disciplines of social psychologists and sociologists who specialize in studying it. We’re supposed to believe that the “Smiling Tiger” person Sam is posing as is well-known enough, both by reputation and in that establishment, that the bartender remembered his favorite drink but not Sam as an imposter? I can believe Selby, a Caucasian-European woman, didn’t recognize him on-sight. [Frankly, Whites can often (regrettably) get away with not making any effort to overcome cross-racial bias.] But what about this bartender not recognizing a notable local criminal’s face when they belong to the same racial group, when we’re led to believe he’s served him many times before? And how did he know Tiger-whatever’s favorite drink if the guy had never been in the club? Are we to infer this guy wasn’t high enough on the local criminal food chain to have merited an introduction to Selby?) Is this a plot hole, or am I reading too much into this? I just wonder, given how much this series has devoted to exploring racial relations.

Sam just saw Bucky the most vulnerable as I think he ever has. For the first time, very little was left to Sam’s imagination as to what it must’ve been like for Bucky and Isaiah to have been exploited. And Sam is so good, he can’t help but jeopardize the mission to check on the friend he can’t acknowledge to himself he’s found in Bucky. (He also has no guile, which is so very Steve of him! I’ve just loved Mackie’s performance this whole show.)

I don’t know what to think about how easily it came to Zemo to objectify and use Bucky, again—even if only to pretend.

Bucky is the MCU character I most identify with, but I don’t care to analyze the way the bar scene made me feel. I will say this much, though: THIS is how badly Bucky wants this whole thing resolved. He subjected himself willingly to the stuff of his nightmares, even if to just to perform in the world’s most dangerous live-action role play. As many people were taking pictures in the bar, it’s pretty safe to say that this charade is going to going to have long-term consequences.

People are talking about Bucky “suddenly losing his super-speed” when they had to hoof it away from the bar like it’s a lapse in characterization, but it’s not. Bucky could’ve taken off and left both Sam and Zemo sucking dirt, but he lagged to stay with them. He didn’t ghost them.

SHARON IS A BLACK-MARKET ART DEALER

Godammit. I despise the practice of the filthy rich removing fine art and cultural artifacts from the public view so they can use them for tax breaks and currency. Way to push my buttons, Marvel! And I’m so sure the National Art Gallery of Art and all other art museums worldwide will I mean WON’T appreciate Marvel calling into question the authenticity of their collections, seeing as museum funding and attendance is already anemic thanks to the pandemic. I know it’s bad priorities on my part, but that’s temporarily preempted how much I should probably sympathize with her after her abandonment.

EDIT: The person who gave Sharon the intelligence will figure she had something to do with his demise just a few hours later. I wonder if that will help/harm her ability to do business. Also: holding the barrel of that assault rifle while it fired off rounds should’ve burned her hand horribly.

ZEMO BREAKS THE INTERNET

Did anyone else think “Sprockets!” when Zemo started dancing??!

NAGEL

This is two references to Langley in one episode. For anyone not aware (especially non-Americans), “Langley” is commonly used to reference Langley, Virginia, which is where the most prominent institution is the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (C.I.A.) headquarters. Both Hoskins and Nagel name dropped them in the same episode. Shit.

The Sugars Roll Up to Zemo’s Latvian Bolthole

Bucky’s mission just got a helluva lot more complicated. Sam might have bought the “just going for a walk” bit, but I doubt Zemo did. Bucky owes the Wakandans, but he still needs Zemo. Oh, boy.

Wrap-Up

I’m going to keep coming back to how unexpected it’s been to me that Marvel has finally started to course correct, focusing on characterizations and bringing in themes that are relevant to current events. WandaVision’s explorations of Wanda’s mental health and Monica’s forging of her new identity and TFATWS trying to engage with the audience on topics like race, violence, exploitation, and identity is hugely compelling to me. It’s a fucking TV show, but at this point in popular cultural history, I can’t think of anyone/anything else better positioned to address all of this in an entertaining and accessible way.

#entertainment #mcu #tfatws #spoilers

1 note · View note

curewhimsy · 4 years

Text

More Shiro-Sora things

I haven’t uploaded these tidbits to tumblr yet.

—————

—Catchphrases— Iroha says “nyaa” at times SeeU has a habit of saying “meow” Dex says “woof” sometimes Nigaito’s verbal tic is “gyuu” Miki says “Chun chun!” A lot... to be cute. Haku tends to say “Uwaah!” A lot. Uta’s catchphrase is “Yare yare...” (“Good grief...”) Taya’s catchphrase is “Is that sou, desu ne?” (“Sou desu ne” is basically “Is that so?” in Japanese. I combined the two. —Quirky behavior— Lapis carries around a toy wand and pretends to cast spells. Anon is just... chaotic neutral, in the way Luana and Isadore (OCs) are. She does things like eating Lunchables in the bathtub at midnight in the dark to prove that Lunchables float. Why midnight, and why in the dark? Because she doesn’t want dust bunnies to see her boobs. She’s also a very skilled mime. Kanon is wacky, and chaotic good. Like Luana and Isadore (OCs) but in a different way than Anon. She’s the type of person to immediately press a random button she found that says “Do not press.” She likes to annoy people with sound effects from her slide-whistle. She also likes playing dramatic kazoo. She also has clown skills, like juggling, and the ability to ride a unicycle. Teto is like Fuuko (Clannad) Taya is smart and dignified but... very clumsy and naive as well. Uta is badass, but kind of “chaotic dumb” in certain ways. Sometimes she forgets to do her homework while doing her homework. Don’t ask. Taya loves sweets, and his favorite is strawberry shortcake. He is also a good pastry chef... Uta is horrible at cooking! She is so horrible, that she makes things mega-explode! She is so horrible, she needs Taya to cook for her just so she can get by! Gakupo has some pretty sick ninja skills, just saying. Miki sometimes slips into “animated mode,” where she begins to act like a cute shoujo anime protagonist. Miki also sometimes runs with bread in her mouth when she’s late for school. When Ruko was late for school, she ran to school with an entire plate of breakfast in her mouth! Taya gets completely drunk after just a few sips of alcohol... Haku sure can hold her alcohol. She can beat everyone in a drinking contest... Nigaito is endearingly moe. He likes drawing pictures. Miki sometimes lends him cute manga about hamsters, his favorite animal. Ruby likes starfish for some reason. She always assumes every star-shaped item is supposed to be a starfish... Taya’s recorded voice has a tendency to break headphones. Nobody knows exactly why. Ruko is a very big eater. Akari likes stars. Ruby likes starfish. Piko likes stargazing. Yukari likes star celebrities. Nigaito likes the Big Dango Family song. Ruby tries to convince him that starfish are cuter and proposes the Big Starfish Family. Taya and Momo get into a rather heated argument over whether strawberries or peaches are better. Uta asks herself why she’s surrounded by airheads. Uta buys Taya a strawberry Squishmallow for his birthday. In no time, Taya is able to think of a personality and an extensive backstory for his new plush friend... Uta is impressed. Yukari fakes being mysterious and sophisticated to impress IA. It doesn’t work. —Funny Moments brainstorm!— Group chemistry! Misunderstandings... One time Taya tried playing Uta’s violin instead of his usual cello. He played an earsplitting tune and ended up breaking the violin. Not only does it just break, it comically explodes into little pieces! 46 of them to be exact... Taya mistook one of Akaito’s spicy habanero peppers as a new type of strawberry. He ate it, and it was so spicy that he temporarily lost the ability to speak.

“He’s just standing there... menacingly!” -Len, talking to Rin, referring to Kaito “Why did you set me on fire, Uta? Why didn’t you just write your essay?” -Taya ”Qingxian, I used your clarinet to unclog the toilet...” -Taya ”I am the darkness, I am the edge! I got this bruise falling from the ledge! Oh yeah!” -Zatsune “My voice is just naturally bass-boosted, I guess.” -Akaito ”You make the bass drop in my heart! I want to be together, with you.” -Yuuma, to Mizuki, in front of... everyone ”People all look the same to me. They all have two eyes, a nose, a mouth, arms, and legs. But Taya... you’re different. I can tell your soul apart.” -Uta “Take my hand... I’ll take you to a place where miracles happen.” -Taya. He was practicing lines from a short play he wrote himself. This captures Uta’s heart... “Take my hand... I’ll take you to a place where miracles happen... Now, shall we go?” -Taya, this time for real. He is reaching his hand out to Uta. He is trying to comfort her after an emotional moment. Both of them are about to cry. This is right before he confesses his love to her at the top of a hill under the stars.

—————

Random details- Taya is very polite, and selfless. He's always willing to do favors for people. He speaks in polite language. He bows at many occasions (Even in this universe that takes place in the USA, and not Japan.) He is humble as well. These may seem like quirks or obsessions as first, but it stems from his feeling of obligation to do things for people and "not be a burden," because he had friends and teachers who treated him like a burden before. When his anemia caused him to faint or miss classes, everyone treated him as a burden. When he starts hanging out with Uta, she comments on how he feels like a butler and tells him to loosen up, it's okay to be a bit more relaxed, and selfish even. Uta is pretty sarcastic, blunt, and sort of kuudere, so it'll be interesting to see her with the pure Taya Uta just lost her passion to depression, but that's touched on eventually/later She's all like "I hate life" but that's because of depression Taya tries to help out Uta and make her smile but... he ends up upsetting her... When Taya finds out how depressed Uta really is he starts crying for her and saying "I'm sorry..." and Uta is like "Why are you crying? Nothing is your fault..." And Taya apologizes again and says it's a habit that he feels responsible for his friend's sadness. Uta hugs him. "I haven't been able to cry for years, so I'm a bit jealous..." She says. "But... I still don't want you to cry though... I like to see your smile, ok?" Well I think the day Uta finally cries is when something bad happens to her but Taya comes and saves her and then confesses his love for her And then come the waterworks, from both of them! ——— There are magical moments where all 46 characters come together and do or create something. Such as a musical play. Do all 46 characters eventually become a gigantic group of friends? Imagine the 46 of them renting out an entire restaurant... and all taking turns performing karaoke! ——— List the backstories, secrets, sad hidden depth, tragedies, stories... and quirks! The quirks are how we grow to fall in love with these characters before we reveal the sadness. In the novel, it all ends happily... If it ever becomes a game, well... there would be a possible “good end” and possible “bad end”... ... Haku Yowane- Haku’s story is that she’s been lonely and insecure for most her entire life. Neru Akita- Neru’s story is that she has found herself alone and misunderstood for most of her days due to her temper. Miku Hatsune- Miku’s sincere, earnest dreams are crushed and she falls into a deep depression when she is diagnosed with an illness that will progressively damage her vocal chords. Miku never sang for selfish reasons. She sang out of love. She sang to connect others. She now compares herself to a caged bird, or one with broken wings. She wants to write a song about it... but she would rather have her final song be a happy tribute to all those who have helped her. Luka Megurine- Is Luka slowly fading away from this world somehow? Teto Kasane- Is Teto a spirit or something or other? Gumi- Gumi was bullied a lot since she was young, which traumatized her. Now people show her the tiniest bit of dislike, she panics or cries. Meiko Sakine- Meiko’s parents were neglectful, leaving her to have to mature on her own. Lapis Aoki- Is Lapis simply a wish fragment? Merli Aoki- Merli is still traumatized by the tragic death of her parents. Lily- Lily wants to change her image to someone more tame. She originally became a delinquent in middle school due to her parents’ constant fighting. IA- IA’s parents are divorced. It started after her mother had a miscarriage. She would’ve had a little sister named IO. Yukari Yuzuki- Yukari feels very insecure a lot... Uta Utane- Depressed, and doesn’t see much in life. Usually bored and glum. Once a bright girl with lots of dreams. Deep inside, she is passionate and caring, really… Can it be restored? Miku Zatsune- Insecure and hates Miku Hatsune for being more popular than her... Rin Kagamine- Rin has a mysterious connection to Len. Whenever Len is sick, Rin gets sick too. If Len were to die, Rin will suddenly die as well. Len Kagamine- Len has a mysterious connection to Rin. Whenever Rin is sick, Len gets sick too. If Rin were to die, Len will suddenly die as well. Kaito Shion- Kaito is actually an adopted child... not from this world... and doesn’t belong... Akaito Shion- Dell Honne- Dell is usually in a bad mood. He currently lives with a father who barely acknowledges him. He tends to keep it all inside, and he’s really just lonely and needs to find someone to vent to. Gakupo Kamui- Yuuma- Piko Utatane- Piko is a shy and compassionate person, but whenever he opens his mouth, he sounds very strict. He is bad at socializing and making friends, which leaves him quite lonely. On top of that, he is sickly and absent from school often. Piko wishes to make a friend. Mizuki- Nigaito Shion- He is sickly and is usually under the weather... Dex- Daina- Ruby- Taya Soune- Thinks of himself as a burden... Longya Yuezheng- His younger sister Ling nearly got into a tragic accident when they were younger, traumatizing Longya. Ling Yuezheng- She feels lonely that she doesn’t have many friends and is devoting her life to studying. Momo Momone- Is always passing out randomly... SeeU- Has a mysterious illness. Ruko Yokune- Ruko was always insecure about their height, six feet and two inches tall. They always wanted to be petite and feminine, but their body wouldn’t stop growing. Ritsu Namine- Ritsu used to be a bully. He remains to have a tsundere attitude... Deep inside, he has an earnest wish to apologize to everyone he ever hurt. Ruko is one of the few people who understands and knows this about Ritsu. In his childhood, he bullied Gumi for being a “coward.” Now he wants to apologize, but... Miki- Miki is too idealistic. She sees the world through rose-tinted lenses... but what happens when those lenses shatter? Aku Yamine- She wishes to have magic... she hates the state of the world. She hates evil, which is ironic... considering her name is pronounced like the Japanese word for evil. She wishes to cast out the darkness... which is ironic because her last name has the kanji for dark. Because of this, and because she tends to be a nuisance, Aku feels as if she is just a curse. Bruno- Bruno’s mother died when he was young. Clara- Clara was bullied a lot as a child. Iroha Nekomura- Yuu- Wil- Kyo- Akari Kizuna- Cheerful and sweet, and wants to make others smile… even though many heavy thoughts are hiding behind her own smile. Qingxian Mo- Being self-absorbed, Qingxian eventually begins to take advantage of Taya’s generosity and inclination to do favors. She may seem a somewhat spoiled brat, but she is lonely... Anon- Kanon- ——— College dorm antics... ——— Supernatural elements? Does the world have magical properties? How about the characters?

List them here...

All 46 characters mysteriously acquires a crystalline “star fragment” sometime during their journey. There are 46 pieces in total. Each character mysteriously acquires one when they are fulfilled. The fragment is from their heart. At a climax scene where all 46 are present, all the pieces are put together to form a beautiful kaleidoscopic star in 46 colors. This crystalline rainbow star can grant a grand wish, any wish... What will everyone agree will be their wish?

#Shiro-sora #my writing #vocaloid #utau #fanfic #life of pastell #brainstorm

3 notes · View notes

moonstone-blues · 4 years

Text

Fallout 4 AU: October 24th

If you guys remember, a while ago I quickly sketched up an idea of a modern/what if the bombs didn't drop Fallout AU for FOCCA (I'll get round to finishing the rest of the submissions eventually.)

Well, I've been doing some thinking and just wanted to share my notes on how the story would go. (This is my own personal interpretation.)

For now, the name is October 24th. Although the main story takes place after that, the name is supposed to symbolise that we're after the day of reckoning and everything is fine… mostly.

Be warned: This is a long one.

Story:

Okay so the story starts on the Morning of October 23 2077. Everything is the same as in game. River and Jack do their thing, joking around and making sure they look good. Shaun in this story is older, being around eight years old. (This is because I wanted to keep the 10 year old Shaun element and he can't be an old man in this version.) The television continues playing the usual news and… The bombs never fall. Not a single detonation. The McConnell family continue on with their day and attend the event at the Veteran's Hall.

When they go home, that night as they're sleeping, Kellogg breaks in and attempts to kidnap Shaun. In the struggle, Jack is shot dead and River is attacked, being knocked into a coma. This coma lasts a year with nearly another year of physical and mental therapy to go through before she returns home. Upon realising they never found Shaun or Jack's killer, she sets up on her own, trying to find her son and avenge her husband. The story beats are obviously very similar but adapted to be more modern. Synths are now clones because I felt like synths would be too Sci fi for this story.

Factions:

The Minutemen - A kind of neighbourhood watch organisation. Funded by the army, they were supposed to try and keep the peace, without using violence. Thus made sure the military had all of their soldiers back so they could fight. However, after some fighting within the organisation and the military suddenly cutting off funding, things quickly went downhill from there.

The BOS - This is simply the army. After the shut down of the Minutemen, a new group was made, the Brotherhood of Steel. These were soldiers sent by the military to patrol Boston, much like how they did before the Minutemen. However, since the threat of war is now gone, they have the soldiers to spare and want to show off their muscle to intimidate the people.

The Institute - I'm still not entirely sure about the synths being clones instead things so this one is really up for debate. My thoughts so far are that the Institute still kidnaps people. They harvest their organs and make a clone to send off to replace the original person. I know, not the best idea. But I was thinking about what they would do with the kidnapped people that seemed justified in their minds? Well, they still have the same belief that humanity is doomed with the way it's going. Rioting, corrupt governments and the rest. They replace people with clones of themselves, engineered to behave. And they kill and harvest the organs of the original person and send them to hospitals for people who can't get organ donations because they're too low on the list. In their minds, they're getting rid of corrupt people, replacing them with people who they see as being better for society and giving people who may not have one a chance at life. They're technically doing good, but they are killing people. They still work out of the CIT but in secret laboratories.

The Railroad - Very similar to their in game selves. A secretive organisation dedicated to setting clones free and stopping the Institute.

Characters:

Dogmeat - A stray dog that kept turning up on River's doorsteps during the first couple of weeks she stays at home. She eventually takes him in, being reminded of her other dog that ran away. She calls him Biscuit.

Codsworth - Mostly the same. A faithful robot butler mourning the loss of two of his masters and constantly worrying over River. He makes sure she takes all of her medicine and never let's her miss an appointment.

Preston - An ex Minuteman who spends most of his free time handing out fliers that promote it and tries to get people to sign a petition to bring the Minutemen back. His efforts are mostly in vain until he meets River after being attacked in an alleyway.

Piper - The same noisy reporter working for the Boston Bugle. Known for her sometimes controversial articles and her willingness to do anything for a story. She's very interested in River since the kidnapping of her son seemed to be the beginning of all of what she believes to be the Institute's kidnappings. At first River wants to stay away from her as Piper is particularly intruding in her life but accepts her help.

Nick - After the original Nick Valentine went for his brain scan, he was disposed of. The new Nick was made with Nick's DNA but due to the fact that the cloning technology had only just started being put to use, it wasn't perfect. He wasn't a complete copy of the original Nick and he was more than aware that he wasn't actually the original. At first he was loved up, the scientists not knowing what to do with him, but eventually Nick was broken out with the help of DIMA. He tried explaining that to 'his' boss and coworkers but they said he was mad. Eventually, Nick quit the police, feeling like he hadn't deserved to be there in the first place. After all, a man was murdered so he could live. He roamed the streets, no clue of what to do. He eventually found his way at the original Nick's home, still covered in evidence against Eddie Winters. Eventually, people started knocking on his door. They knew Nick Valentine was a great cop and did his job damn well. So when the police started ignoring missing person cases they came to him. Nick would've refused but without a job, he had no money to live. He begrudgingly accepted a job from someone in high power. (The same missing person case he dealt with in the original game but without the hilarious beeping part.) When he succeeded, he was overcome with a passion to help people. He stopped feeling sorry for himself and officially turned his place into Valentine Detective Agency. With the knowledge of his big case, people came to him from all over for help and he continued to give it to them. He had his lower right arm, some of his face, some parts generally all over damaged when one of Eddie Winter's men planted a bomb in his mailbox. He only placed his hand in so it wasn't as bad as it could've been. He did need everything below his left elbow removed and he now has a prophetic arm and eye. River Meets Nick when she rescues him from Mafia boss, Skinny Malone.

Hancock - John and his brother came from a poor family. Honest but poor. Living in a bad part of town, their parents tried to instill good values into them despite their circumstances. Unfortunately, neither really took it to heart. They were still a happy family, doing the best they could, even taking trips to museums as a treat. As they grew up, John found himself in a lot of trouble. Joining gangs, drinking, doing chems. However, his brother was going places. He worked hard, eventually becoming assistant to the mayor. However, once it was found out the mayor was using taxpayer's money to build his own luxurious vault, he was kicked out of office. With a position to fill, Hancock's brother worked hard. His campaign was brutal. His major promise was to move the poor people to the opposite side of Boston so they couldn't bother the more wealthy. This also meant they would be receiving less help from tax payers and left to fend for themselves. The people, after having plenty of money taken off them for years, loved this plan. He won at a landslide. John was furious. He thought with their situation, his brother wouldn't dream to hurt those who could barely afford to live. But his brother still carried it out. He left the promise of a cushy life with his brother and decided to live with the less fortunate. It wasn't the best situation but anywhere would've been better than with his brother. The particular section of Boston was horrible. Mostly lawless, police not even wanting to go near the place. It was a dog eat dog kind of town. Eventually, a mob boss named Vic overtook the town, making himself the leader. Forcing people to pay for protection or they would be beat. John watched every day. Despite wanting nothing to do with him, the mayor still gave John protection. He hated it. Being treated better than everyone else who was suffering. He got insanely wasted one night, feeling horrible for the protection he got and the way he ignored Vic's actions. He needed things to change. He couldn't stand the man he saw in the mirror. He poured his remaining bear over himself and set himself on fire. Most of the damage was on the left side of his body, mostly burning his face so that he was hardly recognisable. After putting the flames out, he broke into one of the museums he loved so much as a kid. He remembered learning about the men that built America. It was when he looked up at the coat of John Hancock that he decided enough was enough. After a very long trip to the ER with a very expensive medical bill his brother paid off, he went back to the town with a crew who hated Vic and challenged him directly. He managed to kill Vic, albeit not as barbaric as he does in the game, and took over the town. Vic's old crew feared John's strength and left the people alone. Hancock stepped up to be the leader, officially naming the town Goodneighbor. He even changed his name to John Hancock, fully separating himself from his brother and becoming his own person. He runs it mostly the same as he does in the game. River meets him after going into Goodneighbor with Nick following a lead on her case.

MacCready - Grew up in an orphanage in DC. He was roped into criminal activity at a young age. When he met his wife, Lucy, he claimed he was military being deployed in many places when he was off committing crimes. When his son was a few years old, Lucy was killed by a pack of rabid wolves when he didn't check out a camping spot. Duncan eventually became sick so MacCready moved to Boston with him after hearing that Med Tek was working on a cure. Unfortunately, that meant that Duncan had to live in the Facility and the cost to keep him safe and quarantined was high. MacCready works odd jobs, even stooping to criminal activity to help his son. He meets River after she hires him to help with doing some shady things since he knows his way around a lock and he's good protection.

Curie - Curie's 'father' Kenneth Collins works as a scientist in the CIT. While he isn't aware of the Institute, he had a friend in it who he confided in about how he was sad he could never have a child since he was alone and old. This friend wanted to surprise him one day and using his connections, managed to get the Institute to create a clone for him. They created an amalgamation of personalities, most intelligent and scientific and put it in a young woman. This became Curie. Collins quickly figured out that his friend must've been part of the Institute. After all, the rumours were largely spread around the CIT building. He kept Curie a secret, knowing how suspicious it would be for a random woman with no records of anything suddenly popping up. She stayed in mostly total isolation, learning everything she could about everything to do with science. While she did very rarely step outside her home only under the supervision of her father, she still didn't understand a lot and yearned to be outside to explore and study. Eventually, the Institute found out that their 'property' had been given away. Kenneth was killed and Curie remained trapped, locked in her room. River meets her after walking past her house, hearing her bang on her window. She eventually gets her out of the house and with nowhere else to go and no clue of what the outside world is like, River offers her guidance.

Danse - A Brotherhood member who is very patriotic and eager to defend the people and his country. However, despite his love for his country, he hates how the country is run. Despite the threat of nuclear war disappearing, Danse believes that America has become too relaxed and lazy, expecting everyone else to do the work. He believes the military are the only people pulling their weight and the American people need to wake up. He was replaced with a clone shortly after being deployed in Boston. River meets him when she comes across a small riot going on in the street between Danse's small squad and some members of the Minutemen. She steps in and resolves the situation. Danse is, of course, mistrustful since they were her people and he doesn't know if the Minutemen are a threat yet. However, River offers her help, guilty that Minutemen were involved in riots and Danse finds her to be quite useful for his mission.

Deacon - He was always a con man, weaseling his way into situations for his own benefit. However, he was also very troubled by the growing tensions between America and China. He joined a group that were against the Chinese and harassed any they met, even lynching a young man. Deacon left the group after this, being disgusted by his involvement and soon met the love of his life, Barbara. A Chinese-American woman. Despite some lingering feelings of fear and hatred, he eventually came to love her, growing out of his previous beliefs. They were happy together, even wanting to have a child together, however, before they had the chance, his old group found out about the pair and reported Barbara to be a Chinese spy, taking her away forever to what Deacon assumed to be her death for sure. Using his skills as a master of disguise and a con man, he managed to ruin every single one of their lives. The least someone got was being put in prison for life. He felt empty after he had his revenge. He didn't know what to do with himself. That's when he heard about the Railroad. A group dedicated to helping people. Deacon found his new cause. He may not be able to protect everyone but he could at least try to protect some. River meets him when she finds the Railroad, looking for their help. However, Deacon has had his eye on her for much longer than that.

Cait - Her parents abused her much like in the game. After she turned 18, her parents made her work on the streets to get money for their drinking, drugs and debts. Cait was isolated most of her life with the abuse and didn't know what she could've done to escape. Eventually her parents revealed their debt was too great to be paid off by Cait being on the street. So, as part of a deal she wasn't aware of, she was forced into an underground cage fighting ring. The owner of the ring itself was Tommy who was sympathetic towards Cait but the real people in control were the gang that took over, the people Cait's parents owed money too. She was forced to stay there under a contract, her only option to fight. River Meets her accidently when she wanders into a bad part of town and uses her legal knowledge to get Cait out of her contract.

Strong - Armstrong was the youngest out of six brothers. With his parents dying too young for him to remember, he was raised by his brothers, being abused and neglected by them. He was looked in his room most days and given the scraps of food. His brothers would fight them, knowing he was a weak target. Armstrong became stronger this way. Eventually, he escaped from his home. However, due to his lack of socialisation and education, he couldn't find work. Fortunately, he eventually found a free education program for adults. There, he was taught by radio personality Rex Goodman about literature. Macbeth stuck with him especially. Rex offered him work in his studio, hauling equipment but Armstrong still doesn't have the best socialisation and Rex doesn't get to spend as much time with him to teach him. River Meets Armstrong after she is invited on Rex's radio show to talk about her son. River feels bad for Armstrong and after some explanation about his life from Rex, River offers to help Armstrong and educate him in her free time.

X6-88 - A clone working as security for the Institute scientists. During the times the Institute scientists are not working, he works as a security guard at the CIT. He also brings in any clones who figure out they're clones. River first meets him when she enters the CIT looking for answers after she gets clues that the CIT is where the Institute is.

DiMA - Dima was the Institute's first attempt at creating life without the use of cloning. He was put with Nick who was the first attempt at creating life with the use of cloning and the two formed a bond with their imprisonment. They even considered themselves brothers. However, with Dima's lack of an imported personality, he tended to be quite unemotional, something the Institute would take advantage of when making their security. However, Dima could tell how much Nick was suffering and wanted to freeze him. He himself wanted to be free too, of course, but he wanted his brother to be happy more than anything. He eventually helped him escape but something happened. Nick was injured in the escape, causing him to lose most of his memory of the Institute and Dima. Dima was scared, especially since his brother didn't recognise him anymore so he fled. He hoped to see him again some day but he would wait for Nick to find him.

Obviously there's more characters and stuff but this is what I've thought of so far.

Feel free to ask questions or request something about this!

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout au

3 notes · View notes

marvelmymarvel · 5 years

Text

Old Memories, Same Crush

Part 3/3

George Luz x Medic!Reader

????? x Medic!Reader

Synopsis: You knew George Luz from Rhode Island where you both went to high school. You had a major crush on him, but being the nerd and him being the class clown made it seem impossible. You got over your crush once you joined the Airborne, but then you run into him again. Something blooms.

Warnings: Fighting. PTSD. This won't be too bad (Said no one ever)

A/n: This is it... The moment you’ve all been waiting for. (Or is it....) This may be part one of a multi-part series. Aka following this story through more of the war but under different titles. We shall see, but for now, this is the finale of Old Memories, Same Crush.

Song: Writing’s on the Wall by Sam Smith (Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l5wlpOhuhnE) If you listen to the song, you’ll feel it. Trust me.

Story 1: Old Memories, Same Crush (1, 2, 3)

Story 2: Tomorrow Is Another Day (1, 2, 3)

Story 3: TBD

1 Year, 7 Months and 3 Days Later

December 21st, 1944; Bastogne: 22 Years Old

“God damn this weather” you snarled as you tended to the man below you, Gene and Ron. The cold seemed to numb your feelings as well as your fingers and you looked up anxiously as you heard footsteps approaching. In a split second, you grabbed the handgun attached to Ron’s hip beside you and pointed it at the man. “Freund oder Feind ?!” (Friend or Foe?!) you hollered out as the gun shook in your fingers.

The constant shelling had started to get to you yet you stayed fixed in case it was one of your own, but once you saw the man appear under the moonlight, you wished you shot him. Scoffing, you slammed the handgun back into Speir’s hands as you continued to tend to the wounded man below you. “Do any of you need help-”

“Nope. So you can leave” you snarled out as you finally got the bullet out of the man's thigh, luckily, it didn't hit any major arteries so you just had to wrap him up, but Eugene had different ideas. “Hey, Luz... How about you take Y/n back to base, me and Speirs got this guy...” Your head lifted and you glared angrily at Eugene for his idiocracy. He knew what happened a year and a half ago. He knew how well it went. Eugene gave you a tight-lipped smile before pushing you up, you turned your solid stare towards the man in front of you and rolled your eyes before pushing past. He not only broke your heart that day.

But he also shattered your dreams.

May 19th, 1943; Aldbourne, England: 20 Years Old

“Y/n?” He whispered out shakily as you stepped back with a big smile, hoping he would love you even more now that he knew who you were...

But his frown told another story.

“You lied to me” he snapped out angrily causing you to freeze in fear. He had never raised his voice towards you like this, so it was certainly body numbing. “I didn’t... There's a reason-”

“And I don't wanna fucking hear it” he snarled out as he pushed past you. Normally, you would let it go and move on, but not now and definitely not with him. Spinning on your heels, you stormed after him “George Luz. You listen to me” you growled out as you grabbed his wrist stopping him in his tracks with a jolt. He spun around and glared down at you angrily.

“You know I fixed that book for you?! Protected you!? Did things I’d never do for you?! And all I asked was for you to be honest and tell me if you were the girl I fell in love with! You weren’t, you were never honest with me. The men were right...You are nothing but easy and predictible” he scoffed out as he looked you up and down judgmentally making you feel so small. “I didn't think you would love me...” You whimpered out softly, fighting back the tears the threatened to fall. “Loved.” he snapped out before ripping open his bag and grabbing a book.

The book.

“I loved you Y/n... But not anymore” he stated as he firmly shoved the book into your hands. The tape job on the cover was rough, but it showed that he cared. He began to walk away and it was only after you looked at the two main characters that you snapped out of it. ‘Don't be Scarlet O’Hara, Don't let your Rhett Butler flee’.

“Wait... WAIT LUZ WAIT!” you stated as you took after him once more, grabbing his arm, he dragged you a couple feet before stopping angrily once more. “Please... You’re my Rhett, George... I can’t live without you” you pleaded with tears running down your red cheeks. He ripped his arm away from you and this time, you didn't reach for it.

“Frankly Dear, I don't give a damn” he whispered harshly before turning and taking off once more. The words that Rhett had told Scarlet, hurt you every time you read ‘Gone with the Wind’...

But hearing it was another feeling you wished you could never feel again.

You wrapped your arm around your waist as you let your sobs come out finally. So this was how Scarlett felt... Alone and scared. Shaking your head, you turned back around and saw Speirs staring at you, softness and understanding was evident in his eyes, but you had no idea why.

December 21st, 1944; Bastogne: 22 Years Old

It was silent as you two walked. You weren't complaining, considering you heard nothing but screams for a medic and/or the shells exploding with the trees all day every day. The silence was peaceful.

But this walk was anything but peaceful.

You never forgave George for breaking your heart like that and George couldn't forgive you for lying, so you both silently agreed to not talk. For a whole year and 7 months, it was fine. A flare went up and you watched it as it illuminated the sky above you two, hearing some gunshots in the distance you knew you were getting close to the base. You didn't understand why Eugene wanted you two to talk, it wasn't like you two were lovers or ever going to be lovers. You lied to him and he broke your heart.

The silence was better.

“We gonna talk or just stay silent?” His sudden voice made the hairs stand on end as it came out of know where. But you didn't answer, instead walked faster to get back to base as fast as you possibly could. Minutes passed before he spoke up again, but this time it was different.

“Do you remember that night? The night of the film?” he stated causing your eyebrows to crinkle as you stopped in your spot. Turning to him, you looked at him in confusion. “Gone with the Wind?” you asked as if there was any other film you two had gone to. He nodded before leaning against a tree that was nearby. “December 21st... 5 years ago today. That's the date of the film, and its the day that I knew I had fallen in love with you... The girl I got suspended for.”

Your cheeks heated up in the cold air and your breath seemed to catch in your throat. Your hand subconsciously rubbed your bag where the book was, the book he fixed. “Loved” you corrected shakily “You loved me... Please keep it past tense” you muttered finally before turning and walking away. You heard his quick pace behind you before he grabbed your wrist, whipping you around and pinning you to a tree. “You lied to me...” he stated firmly as his cold fingers touched your cheeks, his eyes were bright in the moonlight and for a second you didn't register his words. Rolling your eyes, you tried to shove him away, angry that he had brought up your one little mistake.

But he didn't budge.

“I lied too” he stated once more as his fingers went to your braids. “Which part” you scoffed, thinking that he never loved you and it was all a big lie for his ego... His eyes flicked to yours.

“That I stopped”

Your heart stopped and your lips began to tremble a little, both from the cold and from his words. “Frankly, I don't think you could do anything that would make me not love you...”

“Then why ignore me?! Why stay silent for a whole year and a half?!” you argued back as you shoved him away. He finally flew away from you, giving you space to pace. “Because... Because I thought silence would be better... I thought you deserved better. But now I see you with Speirs and it gets me all riled up-”

Your scoff made him angry but he stopped mid-sentence none the less. “You got over me, I never got over you Y/n”

“YOU TOLD ME YOU DIDN’T LOVE ME GEORGE!! THIS IS NOT GONE WITH THE WIND” You screamed into the night air causing a few birds to fly away overhead. “Y/n” he started quietly which seemed to calm you down for the minute after your angry outburst. “You are my Scarlet... And I can't go all my life waiting to catch you between husbands” he quoted as he stalked towards you. You knew what he meant, you were never free for him as you were always under some man's arm. “Let's be different than Rhett and Scarlet... I want you to be my one and only. I knew that from day one Y/n when I saw your bright eyes as you watched that film...”

His hands touched your skin once more and you finally melted into it. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, you kissed back after a couple of seconds but once he pushed you to the tree, your memories came back. George’s hand trailed up your waist and it felt like Sobels, you tried reassuring yourself that it was George but the fear still froze you. “I know you want me too” he whispered into your ear sweetly, it was supposed to be comforting and reassuring that he too wanted this, but it did the opposite. He kissed your throat and once his hand cupped your breast you let out a sob. He jumped back quickly, afraid that he had done something wrong, but once he saw the tears he realized what he did.

“I’m sorry” he whispered out as he tried to cup your cheek with his hand but you flinched away in instinct. He dropped his hand and stepped back, ashamed for being so selfish. “I didn't mean to... I-I just wanted you to feel loved and safe... I-I-I completely forgot and I’m so sorry.” he whimpered out before taking off towards the base. Leaving you in the cold.

Once more.

December 21st, 1939; Boston, Massachusets: 16 Years Old

The movie ended 4 hours later and the cold snowy air outside was welcoming considering the theater was hotter than hell itself. Pulling out your gloves from your purse, you pulled them down your freezing fingers before taking off towards the bus stop for your trip back home. A hand grabbed your arm, causing you to yelp and prepare for action, but the face calmed you instantly. Giggling you slammed your fist playfully into George’s arm, “You scared the crud out of me” you teased as you hopped on your toes, trying to warm up. He smiled at you softly, trying to capture how you looked at this moment in his brain. Your rosy cheeks made you look beautiful as the snowflakes seemed to form an ice crown on top of your hair. “Do you want a ride back home? I brought my car.” He finally stated before shoving his frozen hands in his pockets. He wanted an excuse to talk to you, but you took it as a bit creepy.

“Um... My father really wouldn’t like that, but thank you anyway.” You stated sweetly before spotting the bus down the street. “Shoot! I gotta go before it leaves! It was nice meeting you George!” you called out before taking off. “Wait! I didn't get your name!!!” He hollered out but you couldn’t hear him as you climbed on to the bus. He was going to figure out who you were, he thought as the bus took off down the street.

He’d find you again.

“My Scarlett”

December 21st, 1944; Bastogne: 22 Years Old

“You gotta be more careful with my gun babydoll” The voice made a smile rise to your lips as you looked from your spot in the foxhole up towards your ‘dark knight’. Ronald Speirs had been your off-again-on-again beau ever since the night that George shattered your heart. He had taken you for a drink, not liking the look of sadness on your sweet face. One thing led to another and well...

He was the only one you felt safe with when it came to things like that... He took it slow, simple and easy. Never pushing and always making sure you were okay, your mother would approve. But no one else did. Which is why you hid the relationship.

He dropped down and cupped your cheek before kissing you softly. The taste of George still lingered and guilt exploded in your stomach. You shouldn't have kissed back, you just didn't know what to do. “He kissed me” you started as you pulled back, guilt evident in your eyes as you stared up at the man who never once did you wrong. Ron pursed his lips but nodded “you kissed back didn't you?” he muttered out and you recoiled back in fear of being punished. He never once laid a hand on you, but angry men scared you none the less.

“I didn’t know what to do Ron” you cried out softly as tears began to flow down your face once more, you didn't know how else to show your guilt, but this spoke volumes to the man next to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist before pulling you to sit next to him, your legs went across his lap as he cradled you into him like a child. “Hey hey hey, its okay baby... I’m not mad... I could never be mad” he whispered into your ear as one hand ran through your braids, breaking them apart and out of their band. He knew of your fears, which was why he was gentler around you. He never yelled at you and even went so far as to not yell around you, knowing full well how it affected you.

How it all affected you.

He let you cry it out but he knew full well that he wasn't going to let you go yet. Not even if George Luz himself ripped you away from him. He would fight for you. Fight for your heart. Fight for your love. You were his. Old memories couldn’t haunt you anymore. That same crush was there, but he would win you over.

For he loved you more.

Tags:

@hell-itwasyou @desired-love- @privatebullshit506 @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz @etainlord @longing-for-the-past-times@themostunstableunicorn @joonflu @its-a-polyglot @liebthots @liebgoth @xjustmenobodyelse@bandofbrothers-marvel-movies @higgles123 @uwurunicornuwur @heartbeats-wildly@daddyspeirs0 @roger-bang-the-drum @bandofmarvels @decaffeinatedtachycardia@junojelli @curraheev @cutthroatss @glxssysam

#george luz imagines #george luz imagine #george luz #george luz x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #Old Memories Same Crush #Finale #ronald speirs #ronald speirs imagine #ronald speirs imagines

61 notes · View notes

starspatter · 5 years

Text

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 11

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 4,380 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Also on ff.net and AO3.

There was a time when I was alone Nowhere to go and no place to call home My only friend was the man in the moon And even sometimes he would go away, too

-Ruth B, "Lost Boy"

————————–

Before.

“Batman, wait!”

Robin was too late; Batman had already charged ahead by ruthlessly breaking down the door to the house with the sole of his boot. A low-key villain calling himself “Cluemaster” (whom Robin had incidentally never heard much of until now compared to the likes of Riddler or Joker, having supposedly gone “straight” for a couple years – at least according to Batman) had led them on a lengthy chase, and they ended up pursuing him all the way out to a small neighborhood in the suburbs. As they infiltrated the dwelling, Robin hastily checked around to make sure no homeowners were present who could be caught in the fray – or worse, taken as collateral.

Fortunately the room was empty, aside from their glaringly orange-clad target in the middle of it, reaching for one of the plasti-glass pellets attached to the front of his costume. Batman had already anticipated the move though and launched forward faster than the other, lurching a blurred glove into his opponent’s throat, which caused him to drop the canister as his body was slammed hard against the wall.

“You’re under arrest for multiple counts of grand larceny, Cluemaster. Or should I say, Arthur Brown?”

With his other hand, he grasped at the bandana covering the lower half of the man’s face, which had already come loose from the force of impact. He jerked the rest of the kerchief off to expose a snarl under the guise, the owner evidently infuriated by the idea his identity had been so easily discovered.

“Now, where’s the money you stole?”

Arthur sneered.

“Why don’t I give you a clue to its whereabouts, and you can figure it out yourself, since you’re so smart?”

Batman growled as he grabbed his foe’s collar, lifting high into the air, letting free-dangling feet flail frantically.

“I don’t have time for these games. Either you tell me voluntarily, or I’ll make you confess.”

Robin was getting anxious by the aggressiveness in Batman’s tone; making threats of violence wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but he’d been out of sorts all night, acting excessively and extremely hostile, leaping into enemy territory with heedless disregard to danger – to himself or those around him. Sans his usual sangfroid. He was starting to sound like that time Scarecrow dosed him with a gas that took away all his fear, resulting in Batman almost taking a henchman’s life. It had taken all of Robin’s strength to haul him back up after Batman cut the line…

The current captive seemed to be getting panicky too, as he quickly changed his attitude, appealing to sympathy instead.

“Listen, I’ve got a wife and kid. They’re asleep upstairs. I just needed the cash to help support them. We’re in a bit of a financial jam, y’see…”

Robin’s conscience wavered, recalling the time they had to prevent a penniless man from holding up a drugstore in order to obtain medicine for his daughter, who was simply sick with a high fever. Of course this was theft on a much greater scale, but he still couldn’t help having some lingering empathy – especially based on his own past experiences dealing with poverty.

“That's one of the hardest things about this job, Robin. Sometimes we have to stop someone from doing the wrong thing for the right reason.”

“…Daddy?”

As if on cue, all three revolved towards the top of the staircase, where a young girl with golden curls – probably about his age – was standing in bare feet and violet nightgown, beholding the scene before her with baffled eyes, big and blue and broad.

“Darling, why don’t you go back to bed?” Arthur choked out, his own eyes bulging as cheeks turned indigo as well. “You’re just having a bad dream.”

“Arthur? What’s going on here? I heard a loud noise…”

Robin swallowed as a woman emerged from behind the adolescent, gripping the girl’s shoulders as she drew her daughter in protectively, eyeing the pair of home intruders with fear and suspicion. The situation was steadily turning from bad to worse. He hurriedly bounded up the steps, trying to block at least the shorter one’s view with his arms and cape, acting as both shield and shroud.

“Both of you should stay back…”

Batman’s prey put on a pleading, pathetic look.

“Now now, you wouldn’t hit a guy in front of his family, would you?”

While his quivering lips pouted, his pupils seemed to flash triumphant. Robin felt a sick chill in his stomach. Had he set this up just to take advantage of innocent citizens – and his provider status for them – as an alibi?

Whatever the reason, Batman wasn’t falling for it. While he slowly lowered his fist, he continued to glower viciously at his victim.

“I’m still taking you in. The police will be here soon, they can interrogate you. And if you don’t admit to them, well…” He leaned in close, crescent slivers narrowing. Intimidating. “They’ll just have to call me.”

With that, he twisted his prisoner around, pressing head harshly against partition again as he slapped a pair of handcuffs on. Robin sensed the two frightened females peering over his shoulders, crying and clinging to each other as sirens started to wail outside, and the junior one almost looked like she was about to join them. He thought about reaching out to try and comfort her, but a cold bark from Batman halted him.

“Let’s go, Robin.”

“But Batman-”

“Now.”

He was already halfway out the side exit when he said this, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Robin bit his lip and vaulted over the railing to race after him, cloak whisking out of sight just as officers began filing in. As they headed back towards the Batmobile parked in the shadows close by, Robin hissed his irritation.

“You know, there were a million other ways you could’ve handled that.”

“I did what was necessary in order to get him to talk. The police should have an easier time of it now.”

“Yeah, but did you have to do it while his wife and child were watching? This is exactly the reason Nightwing left you, remember?”

Batman blatantly ignored the bold declaration of disapproval as his pager began to beep: a message from Batgirl, requesting backup.

“Armed robbery in progress, escalated to a hostage situation over on the north side. We’re needed.”

“Did you even hear what I just said?”

Batman brusquely cut him off.

“We’ll discuss this later, at home. Now get in the car.”

Robin grumbled, but grudgingly obeyed.

They never did discuss it though. Concurring collectively, both Batman and Batgirl determined there were too many hired guns in the building, deeming it far too “risky” to bring Robin – the “kid” – along. …Plus it was a school night. So Batman swung swiftly by the manor on the way, dropping Robin – Tim – off unceremoniously at the front gate despite loud and adamant protests, where Alfred was waiting to pick him up and march him straight on inside to get changed and ready for dinner.

“And ‘don’t forget to do your homework’,’” Tim mimicked Bruce’s reprimanding voice with a querulous whine as the vehicle sped off, leaving him in the dust. “God, he still treats me like such a child.”

The butler patted his charge’s back consolingly, ushering within.

“Come along, Master Timothy. There are cookies and cocoa waiting for you inside – after you finish with your studies, that is. We wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite, now would we?”

Tim shot an exasperated expression at the patronizing statement, but acquiesced. Upon entering, he immediately tore off the mask and tossed it on the table in frustrated anger, flopping sullenly onto the couch without even bothering to remove the rest of the suit. Alfred tutted, but made no remark as he disappeared into the kitchen, promising food would be served shortly.

As Tim gazed at the fireplace, he stewed over Batman’s earlier reckless – not to mention downright rude – behavior. How could he even be so cruel and insensitive? It wasn’t just the bossing around that bugged him, but he was genuinely rather troubled by Bruce’s mental state. …Truth be told, he had a guess as to the cause for callousness. He’d noticed a common trend in increasing indiscretion (and intractability) after their latest visit to Arkham, when they stopped by Two-Face’s cell following another escape – and subsequent suicide attempt. Ever since he’d developed a third personality who judged himself guilty and sentenced to death for his sins, his condition had been gradually worsening. It was to the point he – and his coin – had to be kept under constant watch and isolated lockdown.

Tim was never really sure how to feel about Two-Face (in the same way his chest was always confused and ached a little whenever he faced Clayface). The man murdered his father; Tim supposed he should hate him for that. In addition, he’d even once mercilessly electrocuted Nightwing with a wire taser, forcing the senior superhero’s heart to completely stop. …Had he not promptly administered CPR and literally brought his brother back from the brink of death, he might have lost another family member that day.

But, according to Dick, Bruce and Harvey had been good friends once – which explained why his guardian always bore a grieved semblance whenever they went up against Dent. …Tim tried to imagine what it must be like, to watch one’s once close companion fight a losing battle against himself. Clearly it was taking a capricious toll on the old man’s emotional and psychological well-being as well, making him far more mercurial and volatile – prone to violent vagaries.

Yet, even Tim recognized that didn’t excuse him taking it out on others, especially when it interfered with their work. (Frankly that didn’t seem to be the only thing distracting recently either, given Batman and Batgirl had been ditching him more and more often as of late, citing his “immaturity” as pretense. …But he didn’t really want to think about that right now.) He was concerned about that girl as well. Screw Batman, he should’ve stayed to try and talk to her. At least give her some reassurance after witnessing such a harrowing event.

Making up his mind, he snatched his domino from the counter and was out the door (cautiously evading the security cameras he knew were watching overhead) just as Alfred came to call him for dinner. Upon finding the parlor empty, and after exhausting all other options of where the lad might have gone to within the mansion (including underground area), the caretaker finally murmured in alarm.

“…Oh dear.”

…

It took Robin longer to get back by grapple alone, but eventually he made it to his destination. Descending on the rooftop from a nearby tree, he tiptoed towards a single annexed dormer window which jutted prominently from the tiles. Testing the lucarne’s latch, it luckily wasn’t locked and slid open with relative ease. Silently slipping in, he was greeted almost instantly by an unpredicted punch to the face.

As he was thrown flat onto the bed, survival instinct triggered to roll over and try to fight back, but his own fists arrested when he saw his assailant was the same girl from before, glaring at him with mistrust.

“Who are you?! Some kind of creepazoid stalker?”

“Whoa, whoa! It’s me, Robin. You know, from before?”

She stared at him, realization dawning.

“Oh. …Sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”

The way she said it, she still didn’t seem very impressed.

“…I’d hate to be someone you were expecting,” Robin muttered, rubbing at his sore jaw.

She folded her arms firmly.

“So? What the heck are you doing here? Again?”

“I- I just wanted to check and see if you were okay, after… all that.”

An eyebrow raised.

“And you thought coming in through the window was the best way to go about it?”

“…In hindsight that might not have been the best plan,” he acknowledged, repentant. “Sorry. Being with him tends to rub off on you. I apologize if he scared you earlier. He’s really not a bad guy.”

She exhaled, letting her limbs down.

“No, my father is, right? …It’s okay. I know who and what my dad is. He deserves to go to jail.”

Robin cocked in confusion at this unanticipated acceptance.

“But… He’s still your dad.”

“Yeah, and I hate him.” Her knuckles clenched, tightening. ��He just wanted to use Mom and me to get away with his crimes. We’re basically just tools, a means to an end for him. He’s a total class-A jerk.”

Robin blinked, unsure how to respond to that. He certainly hadn’t been prepared for this outcome. An uncomfortable hush filled the chamber, which he idly noted details of as he glanced around nervously. He’d never actually been in a girl’s room before, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. He supposed the piles of stuffed animals and boy band posters were probably typical, though he was surprised to see some large prints of Superman lining the walls, and a bulletin board covered with newspaper clippings of Batman and Robin – mostly his predecessor – busting the Cluemaster’s previous petty heists. She apparently wasn’t kidding when she said she had it in for her father. (…The image felt almost eerily familiar, reminding of the days when he kept a similar chronicle in a corner of his own pops’ apartment, much to the old man’s displeasure.)

“…You’ve got weird taste for a girl,” he mused aloud.

“And you’ve got weird fashion sense for a boy,” she retorted, nose wrinkling.

“Hey, I didn’t design the suit,” he huffed defensively.

“And who did? Your mom?”

Robin winced a bit, but bit his tongue. “…Would you believe me if I said Batman?”

She sniffed. “I mean seriously, what’s with that getup anyway? It’s so bright, it makes you look like a clown.”

Fed up with her criticism, he started to skulk back towards the outlet again.

“Look, I didn’t come here just to be insulted.”

A hand reached out to clasp his wrist, and he rotated to see her regarding him sincerely.

“Sorry, I was just joking. …You don’t have to leave.”

He gulped, blushing a little at the light touch. The last time a girl held his hand like this for so long, she’d followed with a…

“Um, okay.” He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily, growing tense as she inclined forward and grinned – before passing him by to hop onto the sill instead, sticking out her tongue at him.

“Ladies first.”

He whirled around in shock as she stepped out over the ledge.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? That’s dangerous, get back here.”

“Relax, I do this all the time. Besides, you jump around rooftops every night, don’t you?”

He impulsively climbed after her, keeping a careful eye on her footing, hovering close behind in case she fell. But, true to her word, she did seem to have practiced this pattern many times before, effortlessly picking her way over the slates to the top, where she plopped down and petted the spot next to her. Indicating invitation. Tentatively, he took it and traced her wondering sightline to the stars above.

“…You know, I used to dream I’d see the Batman someday. Drifting across the moon, dark against the night sky…” She hugged her knees to her breast. “This is the first time I’ve actually seen him in person. For a second, I almost thought he was a monster.”

Robin remained quiet as she continued.

“But, my dad’s the real monster. I know he’s hurt a lot of people – myself and Mom included. He doesn’t care about us at all.”

“How come she doesn’t just divorce him?”

“She can’t afford a lawyer to kick him out. He still owns the mortgage on the house.”

She smiled bitterly, drawing circles on the shingles.

“As a kid, I used to think about running away. Getting on a plane and going somewhere far, far away from here. Someplace exotic, where no one knows who I am or where I come from – like Africa. …But, I could never do that to my Mom. She’d be lonely if I left. Even though she has some… ‘difficulties’, I still love her.”

She looked at Robin, who was still listening attentively. Patiently.

“Sorry,” she mumbled in a slightly sheepish manner. “I’m just making you sit through my random rambling. I don’t usually get a chance to talk to anyone about this, let alone someone my age. Having a lame, insane supercriminal for a dad isn’t exactly something I can tell all my friends at school.”

“It’s all right. I wish there was more I could do to help…”

He replied, feeling as utterly useless – hopeless – as when he came across a bunch of homeless youths in his hunt for Annie after they’d gotten separated, the ragtag group of street rats sleeping together on a filthy mattress in an abandoned shelter; huddled under each other for warmth, sharing but one thin, dingy blanket between them. (…The kind of neglected kid he could’ve easily ended up as had he not happened to be so lucky, to be “chosen” – caught before he slipped through the cracks into faded obscurity and was overlooked – forgotten – by society.) There were some things punches and kicks just couldn’t fix.

“You’ve already done more than enough, thanks. I’m grateful to you both for putting a stop to him. …Even if it’s probably only temporary.”

“There has to be something that can be done though.”

“Really, you don’t have to go out of your way or anything. Besides, why do you care so much anyway?”

He shrugged, surveying the distance. “Maybe it’s because you kinda remind me of someone.”

She scanned his wistful countenance, scrutinizing closely.

“…Was she cute?”

“What- no. I mean yes. I mean, uh-” Robin stammered, flushing red as he was abruptly taken aback by the unexpected inquiry. She giggled in snorting amusement at his oh-so-obvious reaction.

“Relax, Boy Wonder, I’m just teasing you.”

He coughed, regaining composure.

“To be honest, that’s not the only reason. My dad wasn’t much of a prize either. …Although he can’t compete with yours.”

“Ehhh?” She gaped at him in astonished awe. “But he’s so cool!”

“Huh?” He puzzled for a beat, then it clicked what she was talking about. “Oh, you think that Batman’s- no, he’s not my real dad. I’m not even sure I would even go so far as to call him much of a ‘father figure’ actually. He’s more like a… mentor?”

It was her turn to listen as he ruminated, reflecting.

“He saved me though. Took me in when I had no place else to go. Gave me a second chance. I’ve… done things I’m not exactly proud of either. If he hadn’t found me, I’d likely be dead or in jail myself right now.”

Sensing a buzzing interruption from his waist – a warning summons from the butler no doubt – he consulted the timestamp in the corner of the display, and cringed upon calculating how much interval had elapsed in his absence.

“…Speaking of which, I should probably get back soon. Batman’s gonna kill me once he finds out I’m gone without letting anyone know.”

Her forehead creased with contriteness.

“You didn’t have to go that far for me…”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. It’s the least I could do.”

She looked reluctant to end the conversation though. He wondered if he was the first person she’d ever been this open to about her feelings. …After some thought, he fished around in a pocket and pulled out another spare backup communicator.

“Listen, don’t tell anyone about this; Batman doesn’t like me lending out tech. But if you ever need anything, you can get in touch with me on this. I’ll come as soon as I can. …Only if it’s an emergency though. He’ll really give me an earful if he finds out I’m using our gadgets for personal stuff.”

She looked down at the device in trepidation.

“Is it really okay for me to have this?”

“Yeah. It’s no problem, don’t worry. I know how to keep a secret. And I’ll definitely stop by again sometime, so we can hang out some more if you want. Whaddya say?”

Her eyes lit up, and- without warning, she flung her arms around him in an appreciative hug (that very nearly knocked him off balance).

“…Thanks, Robin.”

His hue embarrassed again, but he gently reciprocated the gesture.

“Hey, what are heroes for?”

After an awkwardly long minute, she propelled back from the embrace with a self-conscious laugh. Once the rapid beating in both their ribs had calmed down (and she’d surreptitiously wiped some tears from her face), she afforded him a somewhat odd look.

“…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just… Calling you ‘Robin’ feels kinda weird. It’s like a girl’s name.”

“Hey, it can be a boy’s name too,” he sulked in indignation. “Besides, at least it is a name.”

She shook her head, concentrating intently on him as she contemplated. After a bit, she brightened with sudden brilliance.

“I know! I’ll call you ‘Peter’ – since you came in through the window. …And ‘cuz of the tights.”

Robin blanched as she pointed playfully at his leggings.

“…I think I’d rather be called ‘Robin’.”

“Nope,” she cheerfully announced. “You’re ‘Peter’ to me now.”

Robin sighed, but didn’t object further to the nickname. It wasn’t like he could tell her his real title.

“Fine. ‘Peter’ it is then. …Does that make you ‘Wendy’?”

She smirked with a wink.

“If you want me to be.”

He blinked, clearing his throat as he stood up, almost stumbling over his heels as he backed up in haste.

“Right. Well then. Wendy. …Guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See ya.”

“…’Kay, bye.”

“’Kay, bye.”

He waved as he fired his grapple into the branches and swung away, and she merrily returned the motion. Elated, Robin’s spirit soared over heightening city structures back to the estate, performing as many flips and tricks as he could on the way. …Although come to think of it, he had failed to ask for her actual name. …Oh, well. There was always next time.

Rather than directly approach the porch or cave entrance, Robin thought about endeavoring to sneak back in through the second-story opening to his own bedroom, so he could pretend he’d been there all along. …Unfortunately, as soon as he’d made it inside and detached his façade, he bumped straight into a severely stern-looking Bruce towering over him.

“Where the devil have you been? We’ve been trying to contact you for the past hour. Barbara’s out there searching all over for you right now. Meanwhile I’ve had to help Alfred double-check every secret room and passage in the manor. Do you know how long that takes?”

Tim merely shrugged.

“I went out for a stroll. Is that a crime?”

“In this house, it is. Do I need to start putting a tracer on your utility belt again?”

“No, sir,” he squeaked meekly.

Bruce heaved a grunt.

“Just hurry up and go get changed, young man. Your dinner’s cold already. Alfred made soup. Make sure you apologize to him too, he’s been worried sick.”

“Yeah yeah, I hear ya, old man.”

“And did you finish your homework?”

Tim flinched. He knew there was something else he’d forgotten.

“You had better get to it if you want to come patrolling with us tomorrow night.”

“I will.”

Before he vanished into the privacy of his enormous closet (which, in his own private opinion, was way too overly spacious – though no one would certainly hear him complain), Tim paused, calling softly back over his shoulder.

“Bruce.”

“What?”

“Thanks… for caring.”

…

About a month later, a couple men dressed in black arrived at the Brown residence, carrying grim, serious auras and stiff briefcases containing various important-looking official documents. An obstinate Stephanie insisted on sitting down alongside her mother on the sofa as they discreetly disclosed the news she never once conceived she’d get to hear like this:

Her dad was dead.

Apparently he’d cut a deal while in prison, and became a part of something clandestinely known by a select few outside those in power as a “Suicide Squad”. He’d perished while on a covert mission for the government, and – according to these strange men’s confidential report – he’d died a “heroic sacrifice”.

Stephanie didn’t know how to react. What to feel. …How she was supposed to feel.

As she sat in her room, trying to write in her diary but coming up blank, her observation shifted to the window still left ajar each evening, through which a mild breeze blew. Opening her desk drawer, she retrieved the hidden miniature handset from the far back, tucked neatly behind all sorts of stationery. She had avoided using it up to now, afraid of coming off as an annoyance. …But she hadn’t seen Robin at all since then. No one had. Based on what she’d gathered from growing gossip, he’d been fully MIA over the course of the past few weeks, and rumors were starting to spread. It was like his existence had been entirely erased, simply evaporated off the surface of the earth. …She was worried about him too.

She pushed the button, hands shaking in mounting apprehension as she elevated to her ear.

There was a long, low hum of crackling static, before someone (presumably) picked up at last.

“…”

“Hello?”

“…Who is this? How did you get access to this comm line?”

“I’m… a friend of Pet- Robin’s. Is… he there?”

An extensive gap stretched.

“There is no more Robin.”

The pronouncement was deep. Disturbing. Definite.

“Do not contact here again.”

With a final click, the other end hung up.

She tried, repeatedly – desperately – to dial back – but the machine seemed to have been remotely disconnected. Slumping forward in defeat as she let go the last potential link – lifeline – she buried her face in her sleeves, and burst into sobs.

At length, she dried her sniffles and rose, dragging her feet to the wide frame. Casting one last look of longing out at the pitch gloom, she shut the pane. …Shutting out pain, and all the brief memories associated with it.

…

She never saw Robin again.

————————–

He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe Believe in him and believe in me Together we will fly away in a cloud of green To your beautiful destiny As we soared above the town that never loved me I realized I finally had a family

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #Happy Father's Day #for some reason I can't seem to insert a horizontal line anymore?#so please excuse the slight change in formatting

5 notes · View notes

cherry-valentine · 7 years

Text

Summer 2017 Anime Season: What I’m Watching:

Konbini Kareshi is a slice of life high school romance that seems to focus more on the male perspective. It prominently features two couples but it looks like it might touch on more couples as well. The show is cute and sweet and has a “feel good” vibe. The drama never gets too serious (so far) but there’s enough conflict to keep you interested. The art and music are pleasant enough. It’s not my favorite of the season, but it’s just cute enough to stay on my watch list.

Dive!! is a show I had high hopes for. Another swimming anime animated by a studio with a great track record? It sounds like a guaranteed hit. But Dive!! is no Free! and that becomes clear by the end of the first episode. Dive!! looks great, has interesting character designs, and decent animation. The problem is that it seemingly fails to realize what makes sports anime so fun. We don’t watch sports anime for the actual sports. We watch it because we become invested in the characters and we want to see them win. And we become invested in the characters through watching their lives, in and out of the sport. Dive!! takes itself way too seriously, focusing almost entirely on the sport of diving and spending very little time developing the characters. I’ve watched every episode so far and I honestly can’t name a single character in the show. I don’t feel like I know any of them. They barely interact with each other at all, so we don’t get the usual team dynamics of sports anime. There’s very little humor as well. Despite all this, I’m still watching the show because I feel like it has potential. The last couple of episodes have tried to throw in some drama for the protagonist outside the sport, and at least one character has a very interesting back story that would be great if it were fleshed out. Dive!! can still be a good show, if the writers can just figure out how to let the audience connect with these characters.

Chronos Rulers is a fairly generic action fantasy anime. There’s nothing new to see here as we follow two attractive male protagonists as they travel around fighting enemies while searching for something important to them. Already sounds familiar, right? But being familiar isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and Chronos Rulers is an entertaining series with a few interesting ideas (the relationship between the two male leads, as revealed at the end of episode one, is genuinely surprising and the concept of using time as a weapon is, if not completely original, at least presented in a fun and fresh way). The character designs are sleek and stylish and the battle scenes are fantastic. It’s pretty clear that they decided to use the whole animation budget on the action scenes because the non-action scenes look pretty shabby by comparison. Still, given the genre of the series, this was probably a good decision. Chronos Rulers will never be a favorite, but it’s definitely a fun watch.

Shoukoku no Altair is like a more realistic and serious Magi. It’s set in and around a fictional desert nation with vague Arabian undertones and inexplicably stars a young blonde man. But instead of well-timed comedy and magic, we get political intrigue and a hero who relies on his wits much more than his physical capabilities. It’s an interesting setup, as the hero legitimately wants to avoid conflict at all cost and his goal in nearly every situation is de-escalation. The political aspects are made compelling by the way the show zeroes in on individual characters and how the various shifts in power affect them personally. The series also looks great and has good music. I can’t spell or pronounce any of the main characters’ names, but it’s still a solid show.

Vatican Kiseki Chousakan is one of my favorites this season, for one primary reason: the show neither glorifies nor vilifies the Catholic religion which features so prominently in the story. The series takes a fairly neutral stance on religion itself, which is refreshing. The two main characters are priests, and present a positive view of Catholicism, but at the same time, the show doesn’t shy away from portraying negative aspects as well. For example, there’s probably one major negative thing that comes to mind when you think of Catholic priests, right? Yes, this series goes there. It also makes the concept of miracles, and whether they exist or not, the defining plot point of the show. It’s all very interesting stuff, helped by the gorgeous art (the backgrounds are amazing) and the likable leads, Roberto and Hiraga. I also admired the guts it took to start the series with a multi-episode arc in an age where most anime open with a self-contained episode to introduce us to the setting and characters. At its core, this show is a mystery/thriller, and has enough creepy moments to make it good Halloween viewing, so keep that in mind for this fall. It also seems like it would lend itself well to marathon watching. High on my watch list.

Ballroom e Youkoso is very entertaining, in spite of or perhaps because of some flat-out weirdness. I have to say this first: The intense looks on the characters’ faces while they’re dancing are absolutely hilarious. They’re bizarre as hell, but still hilarious. It’s also hilarious that some of these characters look like they’re in their late 20‘s but are apparently fifteen. The female lead honestly looks waaaay too old for her supposed age. The exaggerated long-limbed and lanky figures add to this problem. Much of the anatomy and posing are downright impossible, but all this strangeness somehow adds to the show’s charm. The protagonist is, as per usual in shows like this, a likable, relatable underdog. Watching him grow through ballroom dancing is very satisfying. I honestly didn’t know ballroom dancing could be so much fun to watch, but I’ve learned that anime can make anything interesting if it’s done with the right mix of humor and tension. And this show has nailed that mix. Also, just gotta add, I would watch this show for the dresses alone. They're absolutely gorgeous and make me wanna cry rivers over the fact that I can't wear them.

Hitorijime My Hero is a BL series that caught my attention mainly by the fact that the protagonist is not the usual doe-eyed uke we see in shows like this (though there is an actual doe-eyed uke in the show, he’s a side character). Protagonist Setagawa is a pierced, bleached blonde delinquent trying to get his life back on track after separating from a bad group of guys, which automatically makes him a refreshing lead. He’s not naive. When the show’s lead seme (who does seem more like a traditional seme) toys with him, Seta is fully aware of it, and his reactions are more believable. This makes their relationship as a whole very interesting. The secondary relationship, between Seta’s best friend and a classmate, is more in line with the usual BL setup, and is unfortunately steeped in some of the worst BL tropes (manipulation and emotional blackmail galore). At least these negative tropes are presented in a more honest way in the main relationship, where the seme’s problematic tendencies are called out as being just that: problematic. Aside from that, the art is very nice, with very attractive character designs (Seta’s eyes are drawn in an usual way for a bishounen style but they give him personality). The music is also peppy and fun. Overall, it’s one of my favorites of the season.

Katsugeki/Touken Ranbu is basically a dream come true. A few seasons back, there was another Touken Ranbu anime and I talked about the fact that, after the first episode, I thought it was going to be my favorite of the season. The art was gorgeous (those outfits! those backgrounds! that generally fluid animation!) and the characters were likable. And the basic concept was really cool. Then the series went from an action fantasy series with awesome sword fights to a fluffy slice-of-life series about cute sword-boys doing laundry and opening butler cafes and going shopping. Like I said back then, it was cute and all, but I really wish it had stayed focused on the action elements because they were much more interesting. And now we have this anime, Katsugeki, and it’s pretty much everything I wanted from the first Touken Ranbu anime. The focus is squarely on the sword battles and the missions the characters go on to protect history from monstrous creatures. Yes, we get some humor and some silly hijinks but they are scattered lightly amongst the bloody battles. Katsugeki is awesome, and it’s at the very top of my watch list.

Cleanliness Boy Aoyama-kun is a comedy/parody series lightly disguised as a sports anime. You’d be forgiven for watching the first episode and dropping it, assuming it was a one-note series with not much to offer. But continue and watch episode two. I dare you watch the second half of the episode without cracking up. Aoyama-kun gives similar vibes to last year’s Handa-kun, as both feature a quiet protagonist seemingly obvlivious to the fact that he is surrounded by admirers who will sometimes go to extreme (and hilarious) lengths to help him. The major difference is that Handa wasn’t anywhere near as cool as everyone thought he was and assumed everyone hated him, whereas Aoyama is actually cool (even if he doesn’t know it) and is only vaguely aware that people like him. I think Handa-kun’s setup was more funny, but Aoyama-kun is still pretty good. The art is fine, with some nice comedic facial expressions, and the music is a good fit for the show. At its core, Aoyama-kun is a silly little show that is surprisingly entertaining if you give it a chance.

#Anime #Anime Reviews #Summer 2017 Anime #Touken Ranbu #Hitorijime My Hero #Seasonal Anime #ballroom e youkoso

7 notes · View notes

thefandomplague · 7 years

Text

Mr. Barnes Will See You Now (10)

Prompt: 50 Shades of Barnes. VERY LOOSELY BASED!!!

Note: I do not own any of the characters or story line.

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long! I am the worst person ever apparently! I will be getting to the asks that have been sitting in my box forever too! Been off a hella long time! This is fairly long to make up for it I hope?

Word Count: 1580

( Part 1 ) ( Part 2 ) ( Part 3 ) ( Part 4 ) ( Part 5 ) ( Part 6 ) ( Part 7 ) ( Part 8 ) ( Part 9 )

" Coulson? "

You looked at his butler or assistant or whatever he was really in confusion.

" Where is Mr. Barnes? "

Coulson gestured towards the car and you climbed in annoyed seeing that James was not there. Coulson closed the door behind you and promptly went around and got in the front, starting the car and beginning to drive.

" Coulson, Where is Mr. Barnes? "

" He is running a bit late in his meeting with Stark Enterprises, so he asked that I pick you up and bring you across town to him while he finishes up."

You shrugged it off thinking nothing of it. That was until it had been forty seven minutes of waiting outside the building for him... that was excluding the twenty-nine minute drive there. Sighing you gathered your jacket and bag to leave.

" Miss Y/L/N? "

Coulson asked, the worry pasted in deep lines across his forehead.

" Look Coulson, I am exhausted, I understand he has work and all, but he could have postponed I would have understood. But I have things of my own to do, I don't wanna be that girl that always waits for the guy. Besides, have you seen the looks on the girls that have walked out of this joint? I am sure he can find someone better to entertain himself with for this evening. I am all good. I will hail a cab and head home."

" Miss-"

" Night Coulson."

Before he could do anything about it you where out the car and across the road jumping into a taxi and brushing into a gorgeous gentlemen climbing out of it. He was dressed sharply, had a well groomed beard and head of hair and beautiful brown eyes the could probably stop a damn asteroid if they wanted to.

" Evening Miss..?"

" Late. "

" Interesting name. "

" Smart ass are we? "

" Abundantly. Late for? "

"... You will have to spend the rest of your life wondering I guess."

You winked at the man who was now smiling a rather contagious smile at you and you climbed into the taxi, telling the driver to go, hope he would before Coulson could get across the road past all the traffic.

" What do you mean she left Coulson? "

" I think the sentence alone explains what I mean Sir, never minding the full description you made me give you ... twice.”

" I know I know, I'm sorry. I just can't believe she left. I mean she knew there was nothing I could do about it right? Stark Enterprises was the one who decided to be over and hour and a half late.. Damn Pepper and Tony. Why do I even do work with them anymore...GAH!"

James was whining like a little child and he knew it. He sighed heavily, he didn't know why he felt like this. He pulled out his phone as Coulson drove him home and decided to try and text you.

" Y/N, I apologize for making you wait so long. Is there any chance of rescheduling? "

James stared at his phone and waited for a response for the rest of the night. After trying to call four times his worry that you had not made it home safely had begin to take over immensely by each Milli-second that passed. Not thinking it through he phoned your room mate Wanda.

" Yellow? "

" Miss Maximoff? "

" Mr. Barnes? "

He could hear the surprise in her voice clear as day.

" Good evening, I am sorry to worry you so late Miss Maximoff but I was just wondering where Miss Y/L/N was? I am unable to reach her? "

" Y/N!!! "

James pulled his ear away from the phone slightly from the shouting. After a brief few murmurs on the other side and little scuffle of exchanging of phone in hands your voice was in his ear.

" James? "

" Y/N, I was just calling to see you got home safe, I couldn't get through to you so I-"

" Oh yea, I dropped my phone somewhere, maybe I left at work, I am not sure really and I didn't realize until I was home and Wanda and Pietro where giving me shit about not answering it."

" I see, I was wondering if-"

" Look James, I know what you are going to say, and I just... I don't know if I am what you're looking for-"

" You spook easy I see."

The line went silent and James tried his hardest not to be smug. He knew he has won before you even said anything.

" Tomorrow morning, we will have a breakfast date thingy at the coffee shop from that photo shoot because I have plans tomorrow evening. 8:30 a.m. sharp, don't be late or it is you who spooks easy not me. Have a wonderful evening James."

The line went dead before James could argue anything.

" Well that was harsh! "

" Hey, he is the one who took our date and threw is away for work."

" Yea I know, but still, it's mean Y/N. He really gets under your skin doesn't he? "

You rolled your eyes and went back to folding laundry.

" Why tomorrow morning instead of the evening by the way? "

" I have a date."

Wanda almost dropped her cup of coffee as she stared at you.

" So let me get this straight, you are making James Barnes... JAMES FREAKING BARNES have a quick morning date with you because you have a date with someone that evening? He is a God or something right? He has to be to blow off JAMES FREAKING BARNES Y/N!!!"

You groaned and threw your head back to mock cry.

" I didn't want to OK! But how else am I suppose to get my phone back?"

" Wait what? "

You sighed as you knew you actually had to tell Wanda what was going on now... SHIT.

" Well you see what happened was..."

You just got home annoyed with James for taking so long, annoyed with yourself for running off instead of waiting, annoyed for the lecture you had just received at the bar from Wanda and Pietro. You sighed heavily and changed out of your freezing clothes that had been soaked from the rain when you had needed to walk back to your apartment. Just after getting changed into old sweats and some holy long sleeve that stayed in the back of your cupboard, you pulled up your hair and swiped off most of the make up when you heard a knock at the door. You smiled to yourself and regretted changing now. It had to James you thought. Rushing to the door and yanking it open it revealed non other then the man from the taxi earlier.

" Late? "

" Smart ass? "

His smile contagious smile beamed across his face and made you smile too.

" Is this the part where I run? "

You asked.

" Why on earth woul- Oh I see, because I am a perfectly random stranger who happened to know where you live? "

" Yea that would be the selected reason, though I am sure I can think of many more."

" Well I WAS here to return this..."

He briefly waved your phone in the air but slipped it into his pocket again.

" .. but now I think I will make you work for it as you know you assumed the worst of me and all."

You mouth gaped open for a small moment at how cocky he was.

" Work for it? Wh-"

" A date, tomorrow night."

" I don't date strange men I don't know."

With that the man held out his hand and waited for you to begin shaking it before introducing himself.

"Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist but more easily said Tony Stark."

You suddenly clicked on why he looked so familiar.

" From Stark Enterprises?"

" The very one!"

" You know, I am about ninety-nine percent sure you cost me a great date tonight."

" Well allow me to make it up to you by taking you on the date of your dreams tomorrow night? "

“ Are you always like this? “

“ Like what? “

" You know what never mind I think it was in the introduction... Also I don't think it's such a good id-"

" Well then I hope you like reprogramming contacts into phones because-"

He stated with an amused and sarcastic tone until you rolled your eyes and cut him off.

" Alright Alright. Calm down Smart Ass. What time? "

His smile the most smug thing you had ever seen, it would have given James a run for his money for sure.

" I will pick you up at 7:30."

With that Tony Stark was gone before you could say anything else. Leaving you flabbergasted in the door way.

" TONY STARK? The notorious man whore? "

" The very one..."

You sighed heavily.

" Why would you-"

" I am just getting my phone back and that's it. I honestly have had enough of these rich bitchy boys at this point so I am killing to birds with one stone tomorrow. Simple as that Wanda. Now please... I am going to bed. Goodnight."

( Part 11 )

Tag List:

@paranoiadestroyah @bexboo616 @avengersgirllorianna @nennesse @minaphobia @ladyjthewriter @gooseyhouse @38leticia @hip5t3r-m3rmaaidd-biitchhh @supernaturalbaesduh @stephvera @stank-tower @divina11mendatio @thatwinchesterchick @its-hazydawn @permanent-lines @stovehairington @blackwolf13987 @kensprincess @buckybarnesbestbabe @msdrmarvel @i-got-red-on-my-ledger @nerdyrockstar4life @salamander-falls @imsecretlyromanburki @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl @inlovewithmydreams @irepeldirt @imfuckedupdarling @snowpink39 @ria132love @caitsymichelle13 @awesomebrokenangelworldus-blog @2paperwonderland @shakzer00 @diana-jaffa @ meganlane84 @ let-the-fires-bathe-us @ the-one-and-only-vampcake @they-are-not-just-stories @archer-whovian-violinist @marvelchic21

#Bucky #Bucky Barnes #James Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #50 shades of grey #50 shades of grey fanfiction #50 shades of grey x reader #tony stark #tony stark fanfic #Tony Stark fanfiction #tony stark smut

172 notes · View notes

secondsofhappiness · 7 years

Note

THANK YOU so so much for posting your photographs from the village tour. You look so happy to be there. Can you tell us any stuff from the tour because so many of us can't get to go and I'd really like to know the things you said they told you about filming there. I hope you come back very soon ☺️

Aww thank you so much!

Of course, I’d be so happy to. I wish you could all go visit, as a really big fan it was rather special for me so I wish there was a way for us all to go.

I’m sure this kind of thing has been done before but I’m happy to post everything I can remember! I was like a school kid, I’m sure the tour guide thought I was an enormous nerd but I wasn’t the only excited one.

MY EMMERDALE VILLAGE TOUR REPORT ❤️

First off, I’ve visited quite a few TV sets with work and attended a few studio TV tapings but this place is something else. It’s so immersive. It’s little wonder the cast feel like it’s home, it feels so real and is absolutely cared for and feels extremely lived in.

It’s tiny in real life though. Not the village itself (I think the “set” is 11 acres they said but the houses. They look SO SMALL and everything feels dainty which was precious to me, the Woolpack specifically. It’s so iconic and yet when I saw it, I awww-ed :)

For those of you who are planning on going at some point, it might be a shame to know all this before you go as the tour guides seem to tell people the same stuff so I’d maybe not read - wanted to warn in case!

It’s a little long so be prepared!

Ok, so first off, for me the thing that struck me was how green it was and how perfectly the village fit into the surroundings. It feels VERY real and is so bedded into the grounds that they barely need to do anything to make it appear “life like”. There is a gardener (one lady!) who looks after all of the plants/trees and foliage. She has her work cut out as most of the greenery is real but it obviously reacts to seasonal changes so due to how far in advance they tape, she is sometimes up against it and has to glue leaves to trees or add extra flowers in or potentially has to replace or hide foliage with stuff to make it look dead. I spotted a few fake plants too, especially in tubs and pots. She keeps her equipment in Tall Trees (Marlon’s house) which is actually located behind the cricket pavilion over the “bridge of tears”. I did NOT know Marlon lived so far out of the village, actually the opposite side of the village to The Dingles. There are issues with grass though. Some areas get worn away and there was a rule on the tour not to stand on it because they’d be filming Monday etc. So all of the grass outside of David’s shop is fake and there’s also a patch of fake grass near the bus stop and the Thomas’ cottage (Mulberry).

There are things that are placed VERY differently to how they seem on the show which makes the tour pretty funny at first. The Sharmas is less then a 30 second walk from the factory in reality but Jai uses his car to travel there… haha. The Sharma’s house is definitely supposed to be elsewhere but in reality it’s right next to Wishing Well! Same with the scrap yard… it’s mega close to the village but Rob’s always driving there and giving Aaron a lift etc. Dude just wants to have Aaron in his car!

Also, hilariously, (someone who has done the tour can correct me on this if I’m wrong) but I’m almost certain that the road in from the security hut that allows you on site is the “Robron first kiss” road… which, if I’m right and let’s face it, we’d recognise that road anywhere, is a short walk from the village. So Rob’s whole “I’m stranded, save me Aaron!” thing becomes hysterically funny.

Butler’s Farm is set alone out of the village near a local pub and looks as quaint and is pretty much a working farm…!

The Dingles, Pollard’s house and The Scrap Yard are all set a little outside the village (a very short walk) and so aren’t on the tour. Home Farm also isn’t a set, external shots are filmed at a nearby estate which I always expected but when Declan set fire to it (ah happy memories) I presumed it was a set… and I was right! They did build a version or started to build a HF set but planning permission failed so, they set fire to it! SO THIS MEANS MY DREAMS OF A FULL HF FIRE ARE DASHED :( Dog is going to have to find a different method than knocking over a candle!

As most people know, most of the inside stuff is in the Kirkstall Road studio in Leeds but there are a few indoor sets at the village including the B&B, the church, the village hall, the vet surgery, Rhona’s cottage, Eric’s House, the pirate ship and the barns (I think they’re all of the interior sets at the village). They do have a Woolpack set that can be placed inside the village Woolpack building because they used it for the Live episode but it’s rarely required.

The Barns! Ok, so we’ve all been a bit confused about the barns on the show and which is which so one of my aims while I was there was to work that shiz out. First of all, it’s probably important to say that I got mega excited seeing the barn where Sarah died. It took me right back and it’s quite far out of the village and is the security hut to allow you onto the set. It’s quite bleak where it is so I can imagine in Winter it’s mega exposed.

The “near proposal/bread barn/affair barn” is just a random barn on the way into the village. It’s close to The Dingles and not far from the scrap yard etc but is just this little random barn… and is entirely separate but hilariously overlooked so you can’t exactly be inconspicuous! It’s a different barn to the one Charity and Ross got it on in and Sarah found Faith in as that’s a much smaller barn further out of the village. Hilarious how many random barns there are!

The graveyard is something I was surprised by! I thought they’d just put the graves out there when they needed them but nope, if a gravestone has been shown on the show then it’s an ACTUAL gravestone buried into the ground so there were so many recognisable ones - especially for long time viewers! Half the King family take up a corner…! Sarah’s is off by herself at the top (definitely felt super special seeing that!) and Val’s sits proudly in the centre at all times!!! We saw Ashley’s cross and apparently they use that cross for all characters so it just gets moved around hahaha. They’re apparently giving Ashley his own grave stone (obviously!) so it’ll be shown in the show at some point. The other random graves are actual gravestones taken from a graveyard in London somewhere as it was being “closed”… creepy. Some ex- crew who were heavily involved in the early success of the show have their own graves!

The village was built in 1997 but obviously had to be made to look worn in, old and imbedded. They used a yoghurt and manure mixture on the walls to encourage lichen to grow! They also used grinders on stone steps and other techniques to make the houses/stone work appear worn from use/weather.

The cars. I kind of got a bit excited as the first thing I saw was The Dingles van. Most of the cars are purchased by the show but some are actually the cars of crew members… apparently Cain’s BMW belongs to the cleaner! I was gutted I couldn’t see Rob’s Porsche but I was told some cars are kept at the scrap yard and as much as I tried, I couldn’t spot it. They had a car park near the drop off point that had character cars in it and I saw “the digger” hahaha, had a giggle to myself.

The fact that the buildings are either empty, shells or are used as make-up, costumes, toilets (Ness’ cottage is the toilets!) or prop storage, it means that obviously special effects are required to make them look lived in. That includes smoke from chimneys, interior lighting etc which is all via remote control. I found that incredibly cool. They all have entrance ways built onto them so when the characters are at their doors, it looks like it’s an actual house though, which is obvious but still a fun little detail.

Apparently the B&B has only one internal bedroom and so if they need to make it look there are more than one like if they shoot in a couple supposed to be used for guests, they just have to change the bedding and lamps etc to make it look different.

It’s hilarious looking at the size of some of the houses and wondering how the heck the families fit in ESPECIALLY The Bartons. It’s one of the smaller cottages and has like one room upstairs… haha

I actually didn’t get an answer to my question about The Mill and if any of it is on location at the village but from what I could see, the downstairs windows look dressed with pull down blinds and looks “used” but the upstairs looks blank. I’m not sure if the ground floor has an internal set (the tour guide didn’t know) or if it’s just got window dressings for external shots but either way it is HANDS DOWN the prettiest house in the village and has the most beautiful location. It looks so grand and cosy and I am biased because it was ALWAYS my favourite set when The Kings lived there and now my other faves are taking it over but genuinely, it’s mega pretty.

Another thing I found funny was the layout. I have been watching this show for nearly 22 years and I still got a shock when I realised where the village hall and church were in comparison to the rest of the village…! Hahaha. It’s so lame of me. I didn’t realise that the back gardens of the cottages that The Bartons and Vic/Adam live in back onto the village hall and that the hall and church is as far away, also the garage! How the heck did I NOT realise where it was?! I didn’t realise it was so close to the Woolpack… also the cricket pavillion is entirely NOT where I expected it to be and is also on a really steep bank. Rob and Aaron’s picnic and Gabby stripping off and all of the other scenes have NEVER made it look like it was on a proper hill! Camera magic, eh?!

And yes it is real beer/lager/ale that comes out of the pumps. The way they do it is, if a pint is being poured and scene requires the actor to drink it immediately, they’ll be drinking real alcohol but if not then their pint will be replaced by the fake stuff and if there are scenes where drinks are already poured, it’ll be fake and also if drinks are downed! That said, some of the stuff the actors drink is actually the proper stuff. Makes sense why some of them always have a swig as soon as Chas passes them it ;)

So! That’s everything I can think of. It’s probably massively boring but I thought I’d write it up anyone for those that are interested. If you can get to visit then I’d definitely recommend it. I found those moments of looking back up behind me to the empty village ESPECIALLY from the direction of The Mill Upwards towards the Pub and bus stop… that was quite special for me. It felt really strange as I’ve grown up watching these places every week night for most of my life and to stand there was surreal and all I kept saying to my friend was how pretty and peaceful it was and how homely it felt. Makes sense as it’s our lovely cosy crazy little show!

#emmerdale #my show

5 notes · View notes

myhahnestopinion · 8 years

Text

THE AARONS 2016 - Worst Film

My overall consumption of new film releases increased dramatically in 2016, meaning that I was exposed to a lot of awful films. So many awful films, in fact, that even switching this category over to a top 10 list won’t be able to address them all. Still, these were the worst of the worst, the most appallingly awful affronts to cinema that I saw this year. Here are The Aarons for Worst Film:

#10: Suicide Squad

Upon first viewing, I noted some of Suicide Squad’s flaws, like its laughably awful character development, poorly conceived story-line, disturbing sexism, and nauseating editing, but conceded that there were some positive elements. Upon second viewing, I finally saw the full awfulness that so many other critics noted. Suicide Squad barely functions as a movie. Scenes are strung together with little regard for continuity or cohesion, and none of the plot beats hold up when the viewer stops to just think about them for a second. I understand that placing this film among the worst of the year will receive push-back from some people, but I assure you, it deserves it.

#9: Now You See Me 2

The most impressive feat pulled off in Now You See Me 2 is that the film manages to be even more stupid than the original. In fact, the twists in this movie are so awful that they make the first film retroactively worse. The film is aggressively annoying due to how little thought seems to have been put into it. There’s nothing thrilling about magic tricks that rely on CGI and movie editing to work, and with an absolutely incoherent story-line, its hard to understand why anyone thought this was worthy of a franchise. The biggest problem with Now You See Me 2, though, is that the film is too smug to realize how absolutely idiotic it is.

#8: Equals

Some might argue that Equals should be spared from this list on the basis that it at least functions as a film, and it’s obvious that at least stars Nicholas Hoult and Kristen Stewart are trying. However, Equals was one of the most infuriating movie experiences of the year for me. I don’t regret watching movies, even bad movies, very often, but I absolutely felt like Equals was a complete waste of my time. The film takes absolutely no risks with its hackneyed sci-fi premise, revolving around two star-crossed lovers in a society based around purging emotions. It’s deathly dull and is a premise that has been done better before many times over, which means that Equals has absolutely no cinematic value and should be forgotten.

#7: The Boy

I had absolutely no expectations from The Boy, as it was a horror film released in the January dumping grounds. However, I was still surprised to discover just how bland this movie was. Good horror movies rely on atmosphere, but The Boy seems to exist in a vacuum, as it is almost aggressively not-scary. The film meanders around for an hour, desperate to try to turn its obvious twist into a big reveal, but once it finally hits, audiences will realize that the film is nothing more than a cheap, lazy rip-off of the far superior New Zealand horror-comedy Housebound, meaning that there is no reason anyone should ever waste their time on The Boy.

#6: Hardcore Henry

Hardcore Henry accurately captures the experience of watching someone else play a video game... a really bad video game. The film gets a few points for admittedly creative film-making, but its POV conceit is meaningless without a decent story to back it up. Unfortunately, the film’s story is an convoluted mess filled with some of the clunkiest, dumbest dialogue ever written. That, combined with its hyper-sexualization of women and the nauseating cinematogrophy that becomes unbearable really quickly, means that Hardcore Henry, despite all its innovation, is one of the worst films of the year.

#5: Maximum Ride

I used to dream of seeing James Patterson’s series of Young Adult novels receive a big screen adaptation, but even my younger self would have felt like not making a movie at all would have been better than what we got. An obvious victim of the limitations of low budget film-making, Maximum Ride is a lifeless and half-baked adaptation, populated by wooden actors, poor dialogue, and atrocious CGI. The film can barely be considered to contain a plot, and what story it does have is rendered incoherent to anyone not familiar with the source material. The extended flying sequences that were obviously intended to be majestic are just painfully embarrassing. I feel like the books have not aged well, but I know that they still deserve better than this.

#4: Nine Lives

From the moment the first trailer hit, I knew Nine Lives would be a film to watch, and I can tell you now that the movie managed to exceed my high expectations. Nine Lives is almost endearing in how absolutely absurd, inept, and misguided it is. A waste of good talent, the film features some of the most inexplicable creative choices I’ve ever witnessed, including a climax that is dependent on forcing the all-ages audience to believe that Kevin Spacey’s son is going to commit suicide. The film also completely fails on even the most basic level, as it never actually condemn Tom Brand’s neglect of his family for his work life, giving him everything he wants in the end. A film about a New York billionaire fixated on having a tall building with his name on it that ends with him getting everything he wants without having to make any sacrifices or learn any lessons was absolutely not the film I needed to see in 2016.

#3: Yoga Hosers

I’ve only seen one other Kevin Smith film, so the man does not have a lot of goodwill to burn through with me, and he already squandered it all with this dreadful mess of a movie. The film bounces between groan-inducing and perplexingly stupid, while never once managing to be entertaining. The jokes are lazy, the story limp, and I still don’t understand what Johnny Depp was trying to do here. There is some charm from the fact that Smith designed the film as a starring vehicle for his own daughter, but then you get to the Brat-zis (Bratwurst Nazis) and you realize that this film is simply unforgivable.

#2: Zoolander 2

The fact that yet another belated comedy sequel turned out to be painfully unfunny should really come at no surprise to anyone, but Zoolander 2 still manages to fall way short of the already low bar set by the likes of Anchorman 2. The film seems to completely misunderstand what worked about the already uneven first film, apparently dropping the satirical tone entirely, meaning that many of the jokes now veer into highly offensive territory. The unnecessarily complicated story-line and the painfully protracted climax also attribute to Zoolander 2 becoming one of the worst movie experience of 2016.

AND THE WORST FILM OF 2016 IS....

#1: London Has Fallen

I could point to many reasons why London Has Fallen is my pick for the worst film of 2016. I could point out the laziness of the whole endeavor (For example, the film’s use of stock footage from Time Square makes it look like no one in New York cares that the President has been kidnapped), or the idiotic plotting that relies on terrorists somehow infiltrating all police and security in the entire city of London, or that you can see better CGI in your average YouTube video. However, the real reason that London Has Fallen was the worst film of the year is because it embodies the worst trait of the year 2016: an utter lack of empathy. Our supposed hero (Gerard Butler) blatantly admits to viciously murdering a terrorist simply because he enjoys it, the film trying to hide his racism and psychopathic tendencies behind an American flag. The film is so unapologetically racist (and poorly scripted) that its idea of an action movie one-liner is “Go back to F**kheadistan!”, which is a sure contender for the worst line of dialogue ever written. London Has Fallen is offensive not just as a lover of cinema, but as a human being, making it the worst film of 2016.

#film #TheAarons #TheAarons2016 #TheAaronsFilm #Bestof2016 #worstfilms

1 note · View note

daniedoodles · 5 years

Text

Danie’s Dilemmas Ep. 26: Books Closed

Today of all days, I’ll Always Remember You by Hannah Montana could not be taken more seriously. It’s the last day of senior year. In spite of how much I anticipated to cry on this day, I actually didn’t, possibly because I’ve thought about it so often for the last two months (or maybe it’s because my last diploma isn’t until this Thursday so really, everyone’s last day is slightly different). I have so much to say, but none all at once. This has been said time and time again, but I feel like for most of high school, we had the tendency to take it for granted; we all wanted to drop out or give up at some point because it just felt like there was nothing about our experiences that implied that eventually, it would get better. All those times complaining about homework or cramming for exams... except now that it’s over, we can’t help but focus on the good parts about it that have also come to an end, most of which were moments spent with friends doing dumb shit lmao. 2019 so far has proven to be one of the most bizarre years thus far. I’ve spent time with people that I never thought I would get the chance to, endured the most UNserious exam season, and now, the most UNserious last day of school. Since I was not remotely prepared to face the last day in terms of taking the opportunity to formally thank all of the people that made high school as fun as it has been, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and mention them on this episode :) And yes, I will be mentioning names. We’re NOT in high school anymore so there’s no need to play guessing games.

Vicky: I never know how to start these things without making it sound cringey or sappy, but bitch we have been THROUGH it. Regardless of how we’ve managed to not get into a single class together throughout the entire three years we’ve spent in high school, we somehow managed to stay hella close which you should know by now, I am incredibly grateful for. I haven’t exactly been as active with the group, but that’s only because I know we have all of summer ahead of us to make up for it. Just know that I’m always going to be here to be the voice of reason, but also your partner in crime. We’ve laughed too loud and cried too hard over the dumbest shit, taken bomb ass photos and eaten too much food. I’m so excited for what other dumb shit we can do together. When you’re out on your own adventures, pls text me so I know you’re not dead. I love you, my favourite rat. OwO

Alex: Whew, sis. We came together on the oddest terms, talking about failed love interests and all that bs, but aren’t you glad that it happened? Otherwise, we wouldn’t have had that deep talk at the ridge, wouldn’t have realized how similar we were in terms of how bad we are with gaining closure lmao. I’ve never felt more comfortable to cry as hard as I have about the death of a fictional character as I have been with you, and that speaks volumes because I hate crying in front of other people. Last summer was by far one of the best summers I have ever experienced and I’m grateful to have spent a majority of it with you. Thanks for saving my ass when I snuck out of the house that one time and for staying up and feeding me after I got back from being out until 3am. Now that school’s out, let’s get on that mf tanning grinddddddd. ily bitch. I swear, I feel like I have I lot more to say for you but right now I’m coming up blank. But I feel like you already know what else there is that I have to say... if not, I’m saving it for your birthday (hurry up and be 18 already goddamn).

Laureen: Laureen you already know we’re on the same wavelength lmao. Even though I feel like I see you the least of all in the group, it’s comforting to know that it doesn’t lessen the integrity (sorry to give u ptsd from the diploma) of our friendship. Being born on days that are so close together really be hitting us different. I swear, there have been so many times where we’re just thinking about the exact same thing, which is both cool and creepy. LIKE OUR GOD TALKS OMF. Seeing that we’re both the moms of the group, we gotta stick together to take care of our crackhead children. But fr, I trust you with everything. My future children, my own life, my phone, my butler ;) How are you not my emergency contact, honestly? We need to have a car talk and see what comes out of that. There is so much more I have to fill you in on. (also don’t forget about clubbing next Thursday eeooow).

Joscelynn: Let me tell you, Joscelynn, how big of a blessing it is to have you live so close to me. Out of everything that you’ve done for me, I think the one I’m most grateful for is for the time that you “broke” into my house to check if I unplugged my straightener LMAOO... or that time when you just hugged me while I was breaking down in the washroom at the end of the day where I had a test for all four periods. As much as I don’t know who most of your tea is about, it’s nice to know that you’re comfortable to confide in me and the whole group about all kinds of things, even when we don’t ask for the kind of detail you provide HAHAHAHA. Also, thanks for always coming in clutch with all the board games. Much love, Pennywise. <3

Diane: I know we sort of hit a wall with our friendship at one point, but I’m really happy that we were still able to recover from it and rekindle our friendship. I understand that the circumstance is all different now, and we aren’t as attached to one another as we once were back in junior high, but I think there’s some good in that because we were able to grow at our own pace. Although we have to admit that we did grow a little bit apart as well in the process, I like that we are both still able to reminisce fondly on the moments we’ve shared in the past. You’re one of the brightest minds I know :). I feel like I never told you enough but I always appreciated how easily you could bring a smile to people’s faces. Yeah, keep doing it. If you ever need to vent, I’m only a 4-minute scooter ride away.

Anna: Holy shit sis, idek where to begin. You’re by far the biggest reason why I was able to haul my ass through to the end of high school. If you didn’t look out for my water intake, or the little errors in my calculations... I don’t even want to imagine it. You’ve done so much for me and have had to endure all of my shit that I can’t encapsulate it all into a single letter. I can’t thank you enough for all the memes that have made me piss myself on countless occasions, no matter how old they were nor how often I would look back on it, for recommending me to the program that will finally release me from the constraints of the status of being a “broke ass bitch”, for staying up with me discussing all kinds of things from the environment and ethics, to fortunes, astrology, love, and TEA. We’ve both seen each other at our most vulnerable and beaten down state (which is literally every English class), and we’ve celebrated each other’s triumphs, but most importantly, laughed at our failures (English, again omg). I can’t help but get emotional whenever I think of how you’re gonna be leaving soon for UBC, but it’s not like that’s going to affect how often we keep in touch anyways lol. We can’t just have the kettle always overflow, you know? Fr tho, I’m big fucking sad about you leaving, but I’m also so proud of how far you’ve come. I really don’t know how tf I’m supposed to be able to cope with suddenly not seeing you everyday. Ugh, ew I’m crying now but as I was saying, thank you for everything. I can’t wait to get those dream recorders out on the market after we’ve gathered all the knowledge on neuro/psych and business so we don’t have to wake up in the middle of the night and write out the dreams in our notes anymore. I’ll miss you a fuck ton ON GOD.

Cheyenne: Cheyenne!! I’m so glad I met you and Anna when I did :)) we made the best chemistry lab group, we basically made titration our mf bitch. There was always so much comfort in knowing that we were all on the same page about not getting assignments done on time for English lmao. You just hear that sigh of absolute relief. I’m happy to have become close enough with you for you to be able to trust me with all the stuff you’ve spilt, and for reading your cards when you need them read. I can’t wait for all of us to actually do shit together this summer, I don’t even understand how we let the summers prior pass us like that. In all seriousness though, Cheyenne, you’re so kind and genuine, I’m glad we’ve gotten a lot closer this year. After summer, I guess I’ll be seeing you around campus!!

Yuan: Bitch, hay nako. Where to start? I don’t think I’ve ever been quiet OR in a bad mood after hanging out with you. I’m glad that I was able to count on you to distract me from getting any work done in class and for getting photos of mee sleeping. Grabe, nakakabwiset HAHAHAHA. Actually though, I don’t think we’ve been close-close up until recently but I’m still so happy that we are now kasi ang saya mong kasama. Not a lot of people can convince me to speak Tagalog so already that says something. Basta, I’ll keep this short cause it’s not like we’re not seeing each other over the summer. We’ve got a lot of time to make more memories. Pwede nang uminom (thank God). Thanks for all the laughs, and for keeping up with the bullshit I write on this page lol.

Joaquin: Hey, “best friend” wassup?? We haven’t been close for long either. In fact, we’ve barely just hit the 2-week mark of our friendship. But I will say that that was the most last minute transition from acquaintance - close friend. Even though we’ve been in at least one class together during each of the three years, we weren’t necessarily on active talking terms... until now. Thus far, every moment I’ve spent with you and Yuan, or just you, have all been for the books. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I had on that one day that we went to Southcentre. Already I can say that you’re one of the greatest people I know: generous, kindhearted, hilarious, and with a great taste in music. I’m excited for whatever it is that ends up happening in the summer, spontaneous or planned, I can’t wait. :D Ps. Thanks for getting me out of the house lol.

Jay: James, bruh. We haven’t been in touch lately, but I feel like you already know what’s coming to you, considering a majority of my indirects to you are basically just going to get reiterated right at this moment. Always know that I genuinely appreciate all of the deep talks we’ve had in the past and that you’re one of the few people I trust to openly express my thoughts to. I hope everything with tennis continues to go well, and that we get to catch up soon ‘cause lowkey it has been TOO long since we’ve last talked-talked.

Maxine: Max, by the time you’re back on social media, you’re probably never gonna see this because it’s going to be buried so deep into my feed and I know that you’re too lazy to scroll that far down, but I’m gonna write it anyway. We’ve been friends for awhile now, and only now, in our second semester of senior year, did we manage to get into the same class ever since junior high, and it’s safe to say that there has never been a dull moment with you... to the point where I’m pretty sure we made the teacher hate us. I don’t know why you were so set on saying goodbye today when we literally live in the same community and have each other’s numbers, but aight lol. Max, you really be the OG out here. Every time we talk we can’t help but reminisce on how much we sucked ass at opening our own lockers in grade 7 and to this day it still cracks me tf up. Thank you for dealing w my bs after all this time, and for letting me stay at your place before and after school in junior high. ily

Jerry and Cam: Y’all we go WAYYY back. Even though you guys didn’t attend school at bob, I still wanted to make a point of thanking the both of you for reconnecting. Plus, this is one of the few opportunities I have to acknowledge the support of my audience (LMFAO) so I thought “why not?”. We’ve only hung out once since February (or March? idek), but that’s definitely gotta change now that we’ve got a lot more free time. Y’all know where to find me when you need advice/opinions/someone to talk to when you’re bored/a tour guide to the boring south lmao (or maybe not that.. I lack street smarts).

That’s it. I’m also probably going to email my teachers because I did not have the time nor the energy to do anything before the last day of school so that’s how they’re going to get it. Is this what it means to be eco-friendly?? Writing emails instead of actual handwritten cards??? I mean.. okay I guess.

In conclusion, ending the senior year is bittersweet. If there’s anything I’ve learned from going through it all, it’s that you should get all your shit over with in your grade 10 and 11 years, so you’ll be cruisin by senior year. Also, don’t deprive yourself of hanging out with friends. That shit sucks ass and you’ll regret it a lot.

ps. just because high school is ending, does NOT mean that this is the end of Danie’s Dilemmas. You really think the tea’s gonna stop there??

For now.

Keep up.

#danie'sdilemmas

0 notes

directorscutandsomeotherstuff · 7 years

Text

Somewhere In Time (for real, this time.)

(So, a few months ago, I decided to write a Director’s Cut on a Phantom of the Opera fanfic called Somewhere in Time, about a girl who’s totally in love with the Phantom. I then decided to completely go off the rails and just spend a bunch of paragraphs railing on how dumb the Phantom was, as a character. That was fun, but now it’s time to actually do it, for real. I mean, there’s not any overriding reason why, but heck, it’s my blog, so why not?)

(For those of you who were privileged enough to not be teenagers during the height of the musical’s popularity, Phantom of the Opera is an Andrew Lloyd Webber piece. Originally based on a book in which a budding soprano is kidnapped by a terrible skull-faced monstrosity whose hobbies included ligature strangulation and hellish dungeon construction, Webber decided to make a few key changes. Said changes included turning the skull-faced monstrosity into a hot guy with a bit of a face scar, and to also turn him into a thinly veiled metaphor for sex in the process. As you can imagine, he’s super popular among horny teenage girls.)

(I’m gonna stop describing it, now, or I’m just gonna do a repeat performance of the last DC. Let’s go to the fic.)

(Among his legion of fans, we have PhantomsPandora, who decided to write a story in which a teen-aged writer and poetry enthusiast is suffering from depression, brought on by a maniacal infatuation with a character that doesn’t exist. Let me just say, I’m glad this girl’s probably somewhere in her late-twenties, by now. Tearing into somebody’s complex sexual power fantasy isn’t as fun, when they’re currently having it. All right, enough chatter.)

Christine sighed softly to herself. There was nothing left, was there? (Nope. Turns out there was... sorry.) She was dying, she felt. Of a broken heart, by a man who didn't even know her. Just another night in her room, locked away from her parents, long nights writing into her journal thinking morbidly. (She had been glad her parents had gotten her a journal thinking morbidly for her birthday, last week. She couldn’t imagine she’d have survived this ordeal by just writing into a normal journal.) She sat in front of her mirror and turned up her CD player, paying no mind to anyone else who might care. (Her despair was stronger than noise violation ordinances.) Erik was singing to her again, her beloved. There was something in the way he sung that called to her, and drew her there. The world begun to ebb away, as she closed her eyes, tears falling to her dark green carpet. (She had reason to cry; that carpet was ugly as sin, and did nothing to match her salmon pink walls and neon orange trim.) She sat Indian style, her dark-blonde hair falling around her face. Her parents never should have allowed her friends to take her to that performance a year ago, with the actors. (They should have sent her to that performance with the tax accountants, or the one with the meter maids.) It became all too much real to her, and she remembered that night, scrambling backstage, only to find an actor without make up. No Erik at all, just a man who was more than happy to hug her and get a picture, even though she was still crying. She knew that in her heart, he existed. He was there in her dreams, whether they were ones of simply singing, or a lover's embrace. His face did not bother her, with its rough textures; his eyes said that he was full of love and longing for her. (Also murderous intent. Lots of murderous intent.) And it was in his home that they loved, for all time. Only the cruel beep of the alarm clock reminded her that she had a life outside of the phantom. She sighed, trying not to sob again, trying to find energy somewhere. (Unfortunately, she had no doubt scrounged up the last E-tank from under her bed.) She wished she were dead, for this torture was too much to bear. To be without him in the dream world in which he existed, was too horrible. Every night of his singing to her, every night of him touching her, so real. (There was going to be a ribald comment, here, but I’m better than that. Also, she’s underage, and that’s gross.) To bounce back to earth.what a cruel existence. She had a hard life, Christine. Kept back from most things that would have really allowed her to grow up, by her family, and by her most sorrowful past. (You would think, ironically, that growing up during the Kosovo Wars would have forced her to grow up quickly. Having lost her brother and boyfriend to air strikes... oh, who are we kidding? Christine had no past worth mentioning.) She doubted her sanity, almost. She would lapse in to long periods of daydreaming of when she could be away from this world. Someday soon, she thought. Of my own making. (A homemade cake. From scratch. Chocolate.) Her body was weakening from its loss of food, her eyes were becoming darker and darker with the loss of sleep (as the Sharingan began to manifest), and everything about her was breaking down. Yet it didn't matter to her. She would test him. Surely, he would notice, if she thought he was real. In dreams, he noticed everything new about her. (Methinks this Erik fellow’s looking a bit too closely at an underage girl. Has anyone told Christine’s dad about this?) Maybe this time, he would see the condition that she was in. No one else so far had taken the trouble. Friends hadn't called or visited in days, and it no longer mattered to her as much as it had before. Now she could go back to her room after long hours of acting like she was just tired, but happy, to others, then she would writing in her journal and then crying herself to sleep. At times, she was proud that no one could tell, and at others, deeply hurt. Shouldn't someone be able to notice, other than the one who couldn't really help her? (I mean, at this point, the guidance counselor would surely “writing” something in her notebook about the sudden weight loss and the darkening eyes.) Her hand stilled at the page and instead she decided that she would try and sing along with Erik, smiling softly. The actor who played him was superb, but it was not really Erik. Erik had such a powerful voice, dark and sensual, and at times so soft that it felt like the voice was wrapping itself around her. (Yeah. Clearly, she hadn’t watched the movie. That’s not Gerard Butler, at all.) So now, she sung as the phantom commanded, higher, and higher, until she felt dizzy and had to stop.

(”She’s singing again,” said Christine’s mom.

(”Yes, dear,” said Christine’s dad, with a sigh. “I can hear her. The whole neighborhood can hear her.”

(”Should we do something about it?”

(”We’re parents in a fanfiction, honey. We’re not supposed to be competent.”

(Christine’s mom could only shrug. “Fair enough. You wanna go over to the guest bedroom, where it’s quieter?”

(”God, yes. At least, somebody around here should be getting laid.”) The tremors that came didn't bother her as they had before, she noticed. They almost stole her breath away, but she calmed herself long enough to blow out the candle at her side, aiding her in her writing that she was doing before. She would write in the dark quite often, and play classical music, sitting long after her legs began to cramp, neglecting other needs, such as food (and pooping. It was like sitting with a bag of charcoal briquettes in her, most nights). It no longer mattered, her hands flew from page to page in a blind passion, dark stories flying from her fingers onto the notebook paper. But now she just wanted to look at her reflection in the mirror next to her, until she could no longer feel this world, but feel a blurred daydream. (She saw nothing, for it was pitch black.) She warmed at that, and it had been so long since her body had warmed at the thought of something, even her heart felt warm. The daydream was beautiful, elaborate.until it suddenly seemed too real. "Christine." A voice softly whispered, a male voice so soft that no one could notice.

(A few minutes later, it spoke up again, this time more loudly. “Christine! Yo! I’m over here, girl!”)

She looked up from her spot, to notice a man standing in front of her, beginning to crouch to her level. His cloak folded behind him, his hands finding hers, she could barely hold back the tears in her eyes, noticing that the ones dropped on her fingers, were not of her own tears. (No, these tears were not formed of her own tears, but instead they were formed of... I dunno, a combination of pea soup and dollar store aftershave.)

"My love.I've waited a life time.it seemed so long without you." (”I hope you’re okay with me being an old man, now. I mean, I was an adult in the 1900′s, so... hope you like your men wrinkly!”)

She shuddered, the tremors in her chest becoming stronger, more powerful, and she had to strain to whisper, falling into his arms. It was her Erik, but no longer with his mask, or his deformed face. He had a face of an angel now, (specifically, that kid Angel from math class that she always had the hots for, but could never really gather the courage to talk to.) his eyes were the same golden beautiful color, and his beautiful black hair slicked back and shining in the (snuffed-out) candlelight of Christine's room. "Oh.Erik.You didn't leave me! You love me!" She clutched on to him, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him.

"I've loved you before, Christine. I can't help but love you as I do. We're one in soul and in mind. How can I forget my little angel?" His arms were warm and welcoming, as was his hot breath on her neck, holding her tightly to him. His soft cologne was soothing, alluring her.

"Is this real? Or am I dreaming.Erik.you're so beautiful."

(”Oh, Angel-I mean Erik! Erik. I’m in love with an elusive fictional character and absolutely nobody else. Now, shut up and neck me!”) She sighed, growing weaker and weaker in that embrace, the pains in her chest growing. As intense as they were, they were nothing compared to the soaring of her soul.

"Where I've waited for you, I no longer look as I did then. I came with that face in your dreams, speaking to you, singing with you to make you remember. Yes, those dreams were real. I would try anything within my power to have you with me once more. (”I would even try Zumba, even though that looks ridiculous.”) I remember our past, the man that I once was, the pain you caused when you left me that time, (”and the people I’ve killed. The many, many people I’ve killed.”) but you do not. And it doesn't matter, my darling, because I'll be with you forever now. As we were meant to be on earth." He said softly, kissing her whitening forehead.

"Promise me you'll never leave me Erik.forgive me for doing this, for letting myself go.. I just couldn't handle just dreaming of you anymore. I felt so unloved, and so.unwanted in this world. (”Sure, I never said anything to Angel about my feelings, but how dare he not read my mind and immediately return them... I mean...”) I wanted to surrender to our beautiful dreams forever."

"Christine.I'll never leave you, no matter what may come between us. I never left your heart, and you never left mine. Ah, that line from long ago, my darling, anywhere you go, let me go too.I never broke my promise." (”I also promised that you would rue the day you did not do all that I asked you to do. You’d better prepare yourself for some bullshit.”)

Despite her cooling body, she felt so warm, so filled with love for this man, remembering suddenly everything, that first time when they had found love, that it was too powerful a love for Christine to accept. (...she’s still underage.) She remembered her older form, in a wedding gown, crying tears as he was, finding strength to only give him her kiss. (It took everything she had not to screw him silly right there on the altar. What? It’s her older form, in this sentence.) Everything flashed back to her, as her eyes began to close as all reflexes went in her body (including twitch, gag, and those reflex saves you make in Dungeons and Dragons) and her hand slipped from Erik's. She could only murmur that she loved him as the last breath left her body, her face showing that she was happy and free.

Erik wept and then stood with her in his arms to the mirror, entering the place where all lived in happiness after a lifetime of pain. There she became alive again, (making Erik’s weeping premature and pointless,) and they loved forever, knowing that the Phantom and Christine did exist, because of an all-consuming love.

Her mother forced open the door, noticing that all sounds from her daughter's room had ceased. (It took her a while, admittedly; actually being able to hear herself think was such a welcome relief.) She came past many books, several pages of paper scattered about, and it was full of Christine's furious handwriting. And then she stopped short of the mirror, noticing her daughter's crumpled form beside it. She looked like she was sleeping, in a wonderful dream, softly smiling. It was only when she noticed that Christine's lips were blue, that her beautiful daughter (had terrible taste in lipsick. Also she) was dead. She cried out loud, picking up her cold body in her mothering arms, smoothing the dark gold curls, and then stopped, knowing that her daughter was suddenly at peace. (Upon learning her daughter was at peace, she dropped Christine’s body like a sack of potatoes and thought no more of her death.)

She picked up the notebook that she had never been able to read, noticing that it was flung open to one certain page. She wiped her eyes and tried to read it, trembling. (She then immediately closed it, realizing it was a collection of thinly veiled sexual fantasies under the pretense of fiction. Having been a teenage girl, herself, Christine’s mom knew better than to fall down that particular rabbit hole. Instead, she picked up a notebook that wasn’t titled like a cheap bodice-ripper and began to read.)

"When she loved him, he was her everything. He lived for her, for the light in her eyes, her voice. She loved him, it did not matter what he looked like, as long as he loved her with the same passion to which she gave him. To live without her, he would most certainly die.and in doing so, he waited in heaven to meet her again, where they would never be separated.. "

(”Of course, then the honeymoon began to peter out on their eternal love. It had been fun and exciting for the first few months, of course. How couldn’t it? She’d whipped herself into an all-fired frenzy, imagining what it would be like to have eternal love, and he’d been so incredibly flattered to have somebody that devoted to him that he couldn’t help but feel a sort of contact high from the emotions running rampant.

(”As time wore on, however, it started to become obvious that she had been so starved for her desires, she had merely come to adore what little her new heavenly husband could provide. Once the embers had managed to cool, she was left with the haunting realization that no man could ever hope to climb the incredible pedestal she had built, on which her lover was meant to stand. Oh, he would try. Like the devil, he would try. For all his effort, though, he would always be left... wanting.

(”The fights would happen, soon afterwards. Not that they were any one’s fault, in particular. They both were confused, and frustrated, and wondering why it was that love suddenly seemed so much more complicated than it was when they were simply daydreaming. It could only end one of two ways, from there: either they could reconcile their visions of love with the realities of life and the world, or theirs would be one of the thousands of relationships every day sacrificed upon the altar of their childish vision of “love.””)

Yes, her daughter most certainly did(”)love(”)the phantom of the opera...

#fanfiction #fanfiction commentary #Phantom of the Opera #christine #erik #fangirls #angst fic

0 notes

starspatter · 8 years

Text

Ozymandias

Title: Ozymandias

Fandom/Universe: BTAS, post-RotJ flashback

Summary: The mighty looks upon his work, and despairs.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 5,013

Also on ff.net and AO3.

“It’s okay, Tim. It’s okay.”

You stand there for lord knows how long, watching Batgirl cradle what once was Robin in her arms, repeating the same hollow assurance over and over.

It’s not okay.

To abduct a child – torture him relentlessly for an entire month – intending to crush his mind and body and spirit – and, on top of it all, compel him to commit cold-blooded murder – how could any of it be okay?

But he has to be okay. You have to be okay. Even when inwardly you want to curse and yell and cry at the unfairness of it all.

Why couldn’t it have been you? You could’ve handled it, withstood any pain in his stead. Because you’re Batman, dark knight and defender. Unbeatable, unbreakable. God among men. And he’s just Robin. Dear, sweet, innocent Robin. A minor, and a mere mortal. Nothing bad was ever supposed to happen to him, not on your watch.

But you weren’t watching him, were you.

“…I think he’s asleep.”

The breach in pattern and subsiding of sniffles stirs you back to attention. Batgirl tucks the boy’s slumped head over her shoulder, tenderly rubbing his back.

“Poor kid. He must be exhausted. What in the world did Joker do to him…”

“Electroshock torture.”

You respond in monotone.

Her pupils widen with horror. “My God. How could that monster…?”

“I’ll explain more on the way back. For now we need to get him out of here.”

You move brusquely, unclipping a pair of handcuffs from your belt. Batgirl bites her lip as she shields her body around the small bundle.

“Are those really necessary?”

“As a precaution. We can’t be sure he won’t attack us again if he wakes up.”

Begrudgingly, she allows the restraints. You lift the weight – too light – and transport him out to the Batmobile, placing him gently in the backseat. Batgirl insisted on riding beside him, and you made no objection. Someone needs to monitor his status, and you don’t trust yourself to keep an eye on the road with whitewashed hide and green hair glaring in your periphery. (Ignoring those tiny gloved palms that had just aimed a gun at your head, fettered though they may be. You’ve seen him chop through the same chains before; you taught him how.)

You hurtle down the hill from the asylum, detouring across the lawn the avoid wasting time with hefting the demolished gate out of the way. As you tear through the town at top speed, you recite back to Batgirl what you witnessed on the tape Joker showed you. She punctuates with perturbed exclamations, but it’s all vacant noise – static. A part of you wants to think that this is all just a movie, a mistake. Some kind of sick joke, gag reel. Reflex. Someone, Alfred or Dick, will pop out with a hidden camera and shout “surprise” and you’ll all have a hoot and forget about the last three weeks like it was a bad dream. (Erase the sounds of silent scream.)

But when you glance in the rearview mirror and see the boy mumbling and moaning restlessly in his slumber, Batgirl consoling his cheek with concern, you know the nightmare is far from over.

Pulling into a concealed driveway in the mountainside, the passenger (perhaps “prisoner” is still more precise at this juncture) jars awake as soon as the engine’s hypnotic pulse shuts off. The hood slides back, and his eyes blink as they daze and adjust, darting frantically about his surroundings.

“Tim? Hey, hey, it’s all right. Do you know where we are?”

Batgirl quickly speaks to reassure him. He scrunches his brow, staring up at the stalactites and shadowy critters flitting back and forth between them.

“Buh-at.” He slurs slowly, as if struggling to recall how to form words. “C-cave.” Piecing the information together bit by bit, irises lit with hazy recognition. “…Bat-cave.”

“That’s right, this is the Batcave. You’re home. You’re safe now.”

“…Ho-me?”

At that moment, Alfred appears at the top of the stairs.

“Master Bruce, I received your message. Thank God you found him. Is he all right?”

He descends in a hurry, halting abruptly when he catches sight of the hunched shape being helped out of the car.

“…Good heavens.”

“The Joker had him. He’s been tortured and brainwashed. This is the result.”

You brush past him, summarizing briefly.

“Sir, you’re limping. And bleeding as well-”

“I’m fine. Take care of him first.”

The butler straightens sharply at a commanding bark.

“Yes, of course.”

As you begin dialing Leslie’s number, you hear their conversation continue vaguely in the background.

“Tim, you remember Alfred, right?”

Pick up. Pick up.

“Al-fred… He’s… a friend.”

Please pick up.

“I’m going to remove these now. Promise you’ll be a good boy and listen to Alfred?”

You rotate in time to see him nod, and Batgirl bends down to undo the bonds. Every muscle in the cavern tenses, but as soon as the shackles are released he merely lets his limbs hang loose by his sides, looking expectantly at Alfred like he’s the only being who exists in the world. An angel who kindly takes his hand, leading him up the steps from hell. From darkness into light.

“Come, Master Timothy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“…Whoever’s calling, this better be an emergency. Do you realize what time it is?”

Despite the weary exasperation, the elderly voice that finally greets on the other end is like a divine saint that elevates your own soul.

“I have a patient for you.”

“…Bruce? What trouble have you gotten into this time? Don’t tell me something’s broken again.”

“It’s not me. …It’s Robin.”

There’s a grave pause.

“How bad is he?”

“I need you to come to the Manor.”

“Why, what happened? Is it so serious you can’t bring him to the clinic?”

“Just come. Please.”

“…Understood. I’ll be right there.”

The waiting is agony.

Barbara left to meet her father at Arkham after calling to inform him and Dick. You’re alone, anxiously pacing the front parlor despite the burning anguish in your leg. You hastily patched it as best you could by yourself, relying mainly on fading adrenaline fuel to keep you upright. Even though you’ve changed back into Bruce Wayne, you feel anything but a million bucks right now.

At last, the doorbell rings, and you wrench open the knob to usher the physician in.

“Bruce, what in the world is going on? You look positively awful.”

As you describe the situation, her own expression pales.

“I always feared something like this would occur… The very idea of taking on a ‘junior sidekick’… It’s bad enough you go on these suicide missions every night, but how could you have let this happen to someone so young?”

You have no words, no arguments. You can only lower your head in shame, realizing how right she is.

“What would your father think?”

The angry, whispering disapproval lingers in the air, cutting you like a knife.

“Good evening, doctor.”

You’re spared from further lecture – although not from confronting your own sin – by Alfred’s timely entrance. He has what now more closely resembles ‘Tim’ in tow, at least superficially. The hideous stage cosmetics have been successfully scrubbed off his complexion for the most part – thank God it was only greasepaint and not permanent bleach – although his hair is still tinged with verdigris. Even though the gauntlets and gauche garb were removed as well and replaced with pajamas, the slack ensemble only emphasizes how gaunt and haggard he is, jawbones drawn and pinched like he hasn’t eaten or seen sunlight in days. (Which you glumly realize is probably an accurate assessment.) In essence, it feels more like a robotic simulation, an animatronic model made to look like him. There’s none of the spark and spunk he used to have, no more eager stars of excitement in his bold, wondering eyes. Only a meek, dead doll dragging along, a zombified puppet trailing by its strings. Abiding obediently by a leash like a petrified puppy.

Shuffling his feet, Tim timidly shies behind Alfred as Leslie approaches.

“Hello, Timothy. There’s no need to be frightened. My name is Dr. Thompkins. I believe we may have met before; I run a small clinic in Park Row. Do you mind if I take a look at you, and maybe ask a few questions?”

He hesitates, tugging slightly at Alfred’s sleeve as he shifts his gaze upwards, as if requesting permission. …Not from you.

And that’s when you notice. Not once has he regarded you since that instant in Arkham when he was about to shoot a spear between your eyes. Instead, he seems to be deliberately evading any contact or communication in your direction.

Alfred gives an encouraging pat, and Tim signals willingness.

“Good. Why don’t we go in that other room?”

You start to follow them, but Leslie holds up her hand.

“I think it’s best if you stay outside.”

Before you can even protest, Alfred advocates on your behalf.

“Pardon me, but is that wise?”

Leslie purses her lips in that firm, no-nonsense air you’re familiar with from when she would treat you as a lad yourself.

“In order to make a proper evaluation, I need to speak with him – in private.” Her tone drops to a hush. “And if I’m not mistaken, he seems less… comfortable with you around. Your presence could be a hindrance to obtaining specific details out of him. It might be easier to open up to a relative stranger in a relaxed environment, without any other adults or authoritative figures he could perceive threat of punishment from, however false it may be. Right now he’s likely mixed up and associating speech with distress – or disloyalty. He has to feel calm and safe enough to be able to tell me the truth, and he can’t do that with you looming over my shoulder like you always do.”

The blade twists deeper in your gut, but you acquiesce.

“I’ll… go see how Barbara is doing then.”

She and the Commissioner could probably use a hand with the mess you left behind after all.

By the time you lug yourself back, covered in soil and sweat from burying the Joker’s body, Leslie is about to pack up her medical kit.

“I’ve done all I can for now. The twilight anesthesia’s wearing off; I’ve given him another dose of sedative to help him sleep.”

Can you fix him?

She sighs.

“His wounds are treatable. He’ll probably be going through a period of severe withdrawal for several days, but I believe we can wean him off the Joker toxin eventually.”

That means he’ll get better, right? He’ll be normal again? He’ll go back to being the carefree kid who pulls dumb puns and daredevil stunts and smiles cheerfully while swinging his legs, if not from rooftops?

“It’s not his physical condition I’m worried about though. Mentally, he’s unstable. He’s been through an extreme traumatic experience, and I can tell you it’s going to require intense long-term therapy. I fear this is far beyond my capabilities. …I’m not a psychiatrist, Bruce. He needs professional help.”

I’m not sending him back to Arkham.

“That’s not what I’m suggesting. There are other options available. I was going to recommend that perhaps you admit him to the pediatric unit at County General’s psych ward. Or, if you want my personal opinion, I could refer you to a licensed specialist…”

No. No hospitals. No other shrinks. You’re the only one I can trust.

“…I’ll do what I can. But I make no guarantees.”

Thank you.

“Don’t thank me, Bruce. We’re not out of the woods yet. Far from it. And don’t think I’m not holding you accountable for all this.”

You know. You’ll accept responsibility, foot the bill, do whatever it takes to make it right.

…At length, you risk one more inquiry:

“Does he hate me?”

The wrinkles of her face soften.

“You have to understand, Bruce- the one he hates most right now is himself. He thinks he failed you. Became what you hate. He’s scared to let you see that side of him. Scared of himself as much as the Joker.”

It wasn’t his fault. He was confused, under duress, acting in self-defense.

You’re not sure whom you’re trying to persuade more with that statement.

“I know that. And I think deep down he knows that too. Still, it’s going to take time to convince him otherwise. …That despite what he’s done, whatever error he’s made, he’s still a decent human being with a good heart, capable and worthy of love and affection.”

She rests a hand on your shoulder, and you’re not sure whom she’s trying to persuade now.

“Now, let’s have a look at that leg.”

He’s terrified of thunderstorms.

At the first rumble and sign of lightning, he’ll immediately dash for the dim confines of the closest closet, curling in a fetal position as he cocoons himself in jackets and down. Entrenching within trenchcoats. Bracing tightly into a ball and clenching his jaw, he alternates between hugging his knees and clamping cloth over his ears to drown out the din. Whimpering and wincing at every resounding boom, counting down each one to encroaching doom; cringing further upon crackles of electricity bursting underneath the door. It’s like he perceives the silver sky-webs as a creature’s claws, slivers of a beast’s tentacles extending towards him, roaring in wrath.

He traces the tendrils over and over again in grim, grade school-esque drawings, which Leslie proposed as a way to help “convey his emotions”. Reproducing ominous images of guns and knives, morbidly stabbing, stripping gray flesh off shrieking, skeletal stick figures. (Judging by these, any projects involving scissors are clearly out of the question.) Other pictures are more difficult to interpret: grinning, deformed fish dripping from purple clouds of acid vapor as abstract rain. Sometimes he’ll just scribble randomly over the strange doodles, dumping dull shades on the canvas, blending water splashes and streaks into a freakish maelstrom. The puddle’s murky palette usually merges into a pitch gloom, despite providing an abundant rainbow of paints at his disposal to choose from.

For that matter, it’s almost as much a catharsis for your benefit: spending extravagant amounts of money on a vast array of various arts and crafts supplies… Not for the fact you can afford it, but because it’s the only method you can conceive of to show support. You lavish expense on entertainment, indulge whatever inventive whim in distant hopes of fostering some semblance of “fun” again – recapture stolen youth. Boosting confidence through creativity. (You cautiously read every label in the aisle to ensure selected products are nonhazardous before purchasing, lest he ingest or inhale; he’s had enough chemicals pumped into his system at this point that he doesn’t need pigments absorbed as well. Juggling an assortment of medications is already an arduous task, and you still haven’t identified every element of whatever jumbled serum concoction Joker injected in him.)

…On occasion, when he concentrates hard enough (at least according to instruction to depict “contentment”), he can bring himself to conjure more common, colorful content via vivid red birds and sunset scenery, golden capes fluttering over city landscapes. (Somehow managing to effectively capture dynamics of flight with skilled crayon strokes.) Adding contrast to the composition with black masks and bats – before subsequently ripping every single sketch into shreds.

It takes him forever to simply go near a toaster again, let alone touch or use most daily power-driven appliances. Plugs, sockets, wires; all of them need to be kept out of reach and safety-proofed, as if for an infant. You deactivate all excess outlets, defuse and defang, insulate and inspect – constantly checking and conducting careful circuit tests in order to block potential conduction. (Not to mention subtly swapping the Bat Signal nightlight in his room for a plain one.)

There are other triggers as well, and you endeavor to learn them all, memorizing a meticulous list on how to neutralize them prior to exposure. Creating a sheltered atmosphere as per Leslie��s advice by minimizing ambient distractions – containing within a crystal cage, a modified crib. Limiting sensitive stimuli and stressors not just for the sake of aiding recuperation, but also for your own well-being. Anything clown-related is strictly prohibited, and God forbid he see a grill or smell barbecue… One time he tackles and nearly critically injures Alfred for daring to wear an apron in the kitchen (the latter might’ve ended up in traction had you not intervened), apologizing profusely afterward upon regaining clarity, but maintaining guard all the same.

The first few nights, he refused to even sleep on a real mattress, could scarcely stand a couple hours without getting up and crawling to the floor. As if he were uncomfortable being on anything but a hard surface. …Like he didn’t deserve it.

Even when he’s heavily put under, he’ll still toss and turn, often rousing in the middle of the night, kicking and screaming loudly. (It’s fortunate you don’t have any neighbors to upset, else the persistent racket would surely incite them to riot. If anyone were to file a complaint, not even Gordon’s influence could likely deter the launch of a full-on investigation.) You rush to his side, wrap him up along with thrashing sheets (pinning his arms on purpose to prevent self-harm), rocking until he settles down.

You don’t mind the screaming. It means Tim is still inside, just afraid to come out. Afraid to accept the harshness of a fractured fantasy, of abuse delivered by delusion of grandeur and blind devotion to an idol. Ideals displaced, manipulated and “molded” to putrid decay, serving another’s depraved needs. Scarecrow was a bogus; the real bogeyman must’ve thought it funny to disguise himself to the next generation as a disgusting bozo. A gloating glutton who feeds off dread, gleefully taking pleasure in distorting delight to despair. Converting a child’s unbridled joy into something more terrible than anyone could imagine.

…Still, at least you can somewhat comprehend that contorted notion, rationalize the motive for such behavior. The kid has every right to be afraid of the demons that plague his skull, dancing in visions only he can see. (If only you could leap in and slay them all you would.) Fear is natural, visceral. Primal. You know fear. Know how to use it as a weapon, strike others’ cores with it. …Know the damage it can do.

The laughter is something else though.

It echoes through the halls at odd intervals, even when he’s asleep. Dry, mirthless sound interspersed with bouts of hysteria, completely alien. Sometimes the uncontrollable giddy spells last for hours on end, and when mania reaches its peak he becomes uncharacteristically violent, vicious. A danger to anyone who comes near, as well as to himself. Aggressively lashing out like a rabid animal, hissing and growling, scratching savagely at any intruders to his space – or else invisible bands choking his wrists. Resorting to nails and teeth rather than fancy tools or fists, throwing a fully feral fit. Every now and then he’ll disappear afterwards into his shell, shrouding in a fort of blankets like a lair as he blankly transfixes on the walls. Reducing respiration, his senses enter a practically comatose state, a half-hibernation trance. Utterly rigid and unresponsive, inert. Non-alert. Remaining stiff as a statue until gurgling amusement ripples and rises to his throat again, transitioning to the first stage of the cycle.

You don’t know how to react to these… “fluctuations” in mood (wavering over use of obvious terms like “creepy” or “crazy”). Can’t even tell whether the hallucinations and hostility are induced or inhibited by drugs. Can only listen to hypnogely helplessly. Pray that it passes swiftly, that the morning will bring peace.

But when he snaps out of the snickering stupor (and you have to remind yourself that he will – he has to), whose hovering silhouette will be the one he sees vigilantly stalking by the foot of his bed: a stark, intimidating outline barely illuminated by moonbeams flickering through the window – tentative but tenacious, unwilling to leave to go on regular patrol except during rare respites – even when criminals are likely running amok in Gotham each evening you don’t show?

The hero who saved him

The man who betrayed him?

You ask – demand to know once, during one of his “episodes”:

“Where’s Tim?”

JJ looks at you and giggles.

“Timmy’s not here anymore.”

He’s in there somewhere. I know he is. Give him back.

“Timmy was weak. A crybaby. Little wretched shit wouldn’t shut up, wouldn’t stop whining. Waiting, wailing for Batman to come and save him. So Daddy kept hitting him, over and over… Even though the pathetic worm needed to be taught a lesson, I couldn’t stand back and watch anymore. You weren’t coming, so I had to take over.”

You locked him away.

He chuckles at the accusation, sneering derisively. “Coward fled by himself, ran off into his own little ‘secure’ realm. Couldn’t deal with reality anymore, I guess. But I was strong, I could take the hurt. I could protect him.”

You’ve done enough. Now let him go.

A twitch of irritation – or perhaps dissatisfaction. His smirk vacillates, vanishing before being supplanted by an obscure grimace. “Can’t. Daddy’s watching. Always watching. He’ll be mad at us.”

I want to talk to Tim.

“Yeah well maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you, old man!”

The costly ornamental clock smashes on the wall beside your head, followed by a China plate. But you don’t flinch. Don’t move. Don’t breathe.

Let me talk to Tim. Please.

Frustration wells, flooding against the dam – sentiment surging behind a barricade. Charging and churning until it crashes through the ruptured channel, unleashing a streaming barrage of wild expletives, a bombardment of blame that’s been long building up towards both parties. Inner turmoil roiling, exerting overwhelming pressure beneath a fortified exterior, mutely repressing resentment and (mutual) self-loathing. Ticking down to zero until he detonates. You don’t bother disproving or dodging projectiles, letting him lob and vent, explode into a volatile rant – at you, at himself – expelling all the pent-up vexation that’s been lodged inside, driving the wedge between you further. He flings obscene insults and (increasingly expensive) items everywhere as he proceeds to lividly demolish the living room, razing and raving in a razor rage, rashly upending furniture until the area approximates a combat zone. Shrapnel scrapes your skin, but you stand your ground, declining to budge. Toughly taking in the tirade without offering any retort or retaliation. (Rather, you idly reminisce to the time Alfred came under temporary effect of laughing gas and destroyed a priceless Ming vase. …If only you had let Joker fry then.)

Eventually he runs out of ammo, and when that doesn’t work to daunt or dissuade, he breaks – into tumultuous sobs. Trembling, he takes a faltering step towards you, stretching out like a bawling toddler. You catch him as he wobbles and falls, collapses into a colossal wreck – a crying, shaking, howling heap in your arms. Conflicted, he grapples between beating his paws on your chest and clinging to it. Gasping and grasping, flailing, failing to reject. His head is hectic, pounding – hounded by the deafening argument of split personas within his consciousness. Crisis of infinite identities. Separate psyches collide and clash, a whirlwind of whispers, taunting and haunting, wreaking eternal havoc as they all clamor for authority – each facet of a fragmented personality claiming “authenticity”: Id versus (alter) ego versus super(hero)-ego.

The quarreling quells, quieting as his sincere side wins out. He clutches your collar with all his might to keep from sinking further, desperately holding on to the vestiges of his sanity. His family.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. Oh God, I’m so sorry…”

Abandoning dignity, he weeps openly without reserve. You wipe dry his tears and soothingly embrace the huddled, shuddering mass (so slim and subdued and startlingly vulnerable), enveloping in warmth.

“I’m sorry too, son.”

You forgive – and forbid – from ever putting on the uniform again, and he silently affirms agreement. Closing his eyes, he leans his frail forehead against your breast – where the standard symbol of your shattered link would typically be – murmuring faintly through unadorned fabric.

“Was I a good soldier? Was I?”

You answer him, honestly.

“Of course you were.”

Tomorrow, and a lifetime later, he won’t be able to reflect on this declaration due to rebounding delirium and depression. Overcompensating for guilt by suppressing everything your partnership – relationship – friendship stood for, good and bad. Flashbacks to war but not ceasefire. Whatever foundation for a shot at happiness crumbled when he fired – when you “fired” him. For him there’s no fulfillment, only relief of duty. Dismissal. Disillusionment. Disappointment. It’ll take all his effort and will to climb back up from the bottom afterwards, impaired self-esteem slowly recovering from the whole sordid ordeal (only for it to ultimately consume him once again, “relapsing” after years – decades even – have elapsed). Until then, any accomplishments or approval he once sought will mean nothing. The breadth of bitterness broadening between you stings, but even when ages pass and he wants to try and mend the gap, you won’t permit yourself to cross that bridge. Instead you turn your back on the tide, wallow in waves of remorse. Resist the temptation of exoneration – of salvation. Because it’s easier to retreat than move forward. Beyond.

…Because even if, somewhere down the road, he finds the resolve within himself to reconcile – absolve your own stubborn conscience – you won’t forget you were the one wrong, for recruiting a bright-eyed boy into battle in the first place. Lured in with hope and a welcome hearth to escape your own loneliness, leading only to misery in the end. Your inadvertent contribution to the crime was unknowingly far greater, if you could have only foreseen the cost of captivating worship. He admired you, adored you – and you let him down. Invested more energy in cultivating and carving than caring, sculpting purity for your own selfish objective, preparing to succeed when you’re gone. Training to march as a mascot to your petty parade, a masquerade. …Some mentor – guardian – parent you were. For all your scolding and “molding”, tending a garden of flames for the future, fanning embers and glimmers of glowing prospect – in such a short span they were snuffed out. Smothered without a second chance to rekindle. Never to ignite – take flight – again.

Even though someone else sprung the trap, you were the one who set it.

You’ve dug your own grave. Now lie in it.

You found the suit at Arkham – stumbled straight into it whilst exploring the ruins for any evidence you missed – slipped over a dummy in a straightjacket, dangling from the ceiling of a bare cell by a noose. No doubt another cruel display Joker was planning to mock you with before dealing the final blow, had he been given enough time. …Or maybe, he strung it up as a warning – a grisly example to goad the victim it once belonged to. The thought makes your blood boil, simmer to a sear, swear and furiously punch the wall until knuckles are raw as you fume and speculate just how horrendous he could make a hostage’s experience. Seething with steaming contempt, you coldly cut the suspension and took it home, along with a disturbingly large collection of more films and photo albums you retrieved rooting through the remains.

You sift and pore over them all, one by one, to confirm the source of each and every scar on Robin’s body – internal or external. Defying but not denying suspicions a thousand times over. Each atrocity is worse than the last, owing exorbitance and… “originality” to that insane bastard’s inflated sense of self-import. (If points could be awarded for inspiration in causing suffering, the Joker seemed to be actively trying to amass them all.) Though you swell with pride upon seeing your brave warrior hold out for so long, such ruthless brutality is too much for any one person – let alone an adolescent – to bear, and you wonder if it’s a mercy it didn’t kill him. You doubt you could have even endured it without ultimately succumbing to the impulse to extinguish Joker – if not yourself – once and for all. (If JJ hadn’t ended him, then you suspect you eventually would have.) Some of the malicious acts recorded are so repulsive they make you retch. Yet you force yourself to compose and compile, review and revile. Rue every last gruesome deed, matching to marks of defilement. …Repress bile growing in your gut. Replaying until your stomach can’t take it anymore and wants to hurl, until you want to hurl a chair at the screen.

You place the costume delicately back in its case, next to Batgirl’s. Someday, Nightwing’s would join too, and so would yours, when you’ve driven yourself to the brink of moral abyss – over the edge in an endless, empty attempt at atonement. For murder and madness and mother and father and children who looked up to you, who had faith in you, would die for you. Would follow you to the ends of the earth, pledging fealty forever.

Never again.

…And yet, you couldn’t return the favor when it counted. You don’t know how to give back, reclaim what was lost. Restore honor to a dismantled mantle – nevermind a mind mangled beyond repair. How to even show grief or mourn anymore, as much as you lament the row of regrets rallied behind the glass. The only thing you can do is keep fighting, carry on the solitary mission (you’d rather sully your own hands, let them burn at this point than pass on the torch – inherit your liar’s throne and crown of thorns, your rotting empire of dirt – even though you’ll end up violating that vow too). For everything – and for nothing.

For “family”.

Even then, it won’t be enough. But – for now – this is how your legacy begins and ends: Not with a whimper, but a ”Bang”.

#Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #Return of the Joker #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Bruce Wayne #fanfiction #starstories #here have some pure angst #there will be one more one shot after this #and then finally the chapter fic

0 notes