#my hal is (waves hand) you get me. you understand.

[rillette]

You think Hal is a he/him lesbian

my hal isn't but my carol definitely is

[fractualized]

Three Jokers Are Not Better Than One

(or, cheap twists don't make a good story)

Would you look at that? It's time to bitch about Three Jokers!

(spoilers for a 3-year-old comic ahead)

Gotham War got me into hater mode, so I figured it was time to take a second look at Three Jokers, written by Geoff Johns and drawn by Jason Fabok. I first read it when the issues came out, and I thought it was possible that the story isn't as bad as I remembered. I don't know why, since for the past three years I've been haunted by the possibility of it being deemed canon.

Of course, at the time of conception, Three Jokers was intended to be canon. Johns set up the premise in the Darkseid War storyline of the 2011 Justice League run, in issues published in 2015/2016. Batman takes control of the omniscient Mobius Chair, and he tests it by asking who killed his parents. Then he asks a second question, which Hal Jordan presses him on several issues later.

[Justice League (2011) #42 & Justice League (2011) #50]

Four years later, when Three Jokers was set to be released towards the end of 2020, Johns did at first confirm it would be canon despite being released via Black Label, where books are not meant to be part of the larger continuity. In later interviews, however, this assertion got walked back in favor of saying the canonicity is up to each reader, which is kind of a wild thing to say. "Look, this story merely proposes that one of our most popular characters has actually been three different dudes the whole time, which totally has a negligible impact on how that character should be seen and has interacted with the world. Take it or leave it!"

But then, DC's idea of canon has been pretty squiggly of late, especially with the increasing multiverse shenanigans. In the final issue of Dark Knights: Death Metal in 2021, the reader is told, "with our past finally set, myriad new futures are opening up. And as hypertime heals, we'll likely experience flashes of them– and even alternate pasts– in pretty epic fashion." Infinite Frontier followed, with a press release declaring, "When our heroes saved the Multiverse from Perpetua in Dark Nights: Death Metal, everything was put back where it belonged… and we do mean everything. All the damage from all the Crises was undone [....]"

I have a lot of thoughts about this, revolving around what the heck does it mean for storytelling and how we should understand characters that apparently, somehow, everything is canon? How are we supposed to take this as anything other than the omniverse being an excuse for DC Editorial to wave off responsibility for a legible timeline? "Batman can be in two places at once because, uh, the Monitor sneezed?"

But this too-long essay is about Three Jokers, so I'll narrow my concern: if character histories can simply change with a multiversal glitch, in whatever overwrought way those are usually explained to us, then it sure feels like it doesn't matter that Three Jokers was published under Black Label. It sure seems like, at whoever's whim, Three Jokers can still get locked into the main storyline. I mean, Zdarsky still hasn't explained what that three Jokers shit in Batman #135 is about. On the other hand, we know that the explanation for the two Jokers in The Man Who Stopped Laughing does not involve the multiverse, and Joker is supposed to reunite with Batman over in Zdarsky's story when that story closes out, so… I actually have no reason to be confident that means anything.

"But why would Three Jokers getting canonized be so bad?" you may ask if you've never read Three Jokers (or if you fully enjoyed it).

Speaking for myself, it starts with the premise: taking a character and saying, "actually, this is not one complex guy but three different guys, which fractures the character's motivations and relationships over the last several decades." When that character is one you enjoy very much, this twist is not fun. It's a fundamental change to who they are.

Then five months before the release of Three Jokers #1, Johns and Fabok did an interview with Entertainment Weekly. Some things the pair said raised red flags:

1) Three Jokers' story would focus on the trauma that Barbara, Jason, and Bruce suffered at Joker's hands, per Johns. "If you suffer some trauma, you don’t just get over with it and move on with your life, it changes who you are. Sometimes it changes you for the better, sometimes it changes you for the worse. You can heal right, and you can heal wrong. That’s really what the book’s about: Healing right, healing wrong, and surviving."

2) Johns also said of the story: “It goes back to the beginning when Batman first encountered the Joker, but it’s also The Killing Joke and A Death in the Family that speak to the book and that we’re building off emotionally." And Fabok mentioned that the book's look would be based on the aesthetics of The Killing Joke: "I really want it to feel like it could be a spiritual sequel, at least artistically."

These remarks foreshadowed a disconnect. A key part of The Killing Joke itself is that both Joker and Bruce experienced terrible trauma ("one bad day"), but in responding to it, they made different choices: broadly, Joker choosing to hurt people versus Bruce choosing to help people. Johns excluding Joker from his comments about trauma felt like a sign that he ignored a key part of the character, despite Joker being a core part of a new tale "emotionally" inspired by TKJ.

(We're setting aside "you can heal right and you can heal wrong" for now. Ohhh, we'll get back to that.)

Johns' blind spot was confirmed a few months later when he was quoted by the DC Nation Twitter account: "There are very few characters that are, to me, as irredeemable as The Joker. There is nothing in him that is good."

Wow, what close analysis from Mr. Emotional Build.

Look, I don't need Joker to be redeemed or woobified. (Ask me about the "Pushback" storyline from 2004 and hear my gnashing teeth crack a filling.) But I would like the full breadth of his character acknowledged, especially when you're claiming you're writing about trauma, especially when you're creating a "spiritual sequel" to one of best known Joker stories (if not the best known one).

Then Three Jokers finally came out, and over three months it proved to be neither an examination of healing nor very interesting, at least not in an enjoyable way. What it has to "say" about trauma, for any of the characters, is no different than the limited conclusion made in previous Batman books: mainly the drumbeat of fighting off the darkness by being a bigger person— or at least not killing your enemy. Making Joker into a role played by three different people adds nothing; it amounts to little more than a gimmick.

Hell, even as a gimmick, it's flawed. Theoretically, the three Jokers represent phases of personality the Joker has embodied over the years— but the representations we get don't make sense. Here they are summed up in Book 3:

Sorry, what? The Criminal is less interested in theatrics? In what time period was the Joker ever not interested in making a big show of things in one way or another? Maybe this is supposed to be an "early" Joker in terms of the Rebirth/InfiniCrisisDarkCarnateTier/whatever more recent conception of him, but I'll wager that's not what people think about when they think of Joker at his start. They think about Golden Age Joker doing goofy shit and laughing maniacally. They're not expecting this morose man.

The other thing is that, in Book 1, the narrative "assigns" each of our three protagonists to a Joker: Bruce to the Criminal, who appeared at the start; Barbara to the Comedian, who shot her; and Jason to the Clown, who killed him. Now at first I thought Johns was saying one Joker took over after another, but since Barbara's attack and Jason's death happened 9 months apart in 1988, which are not different Joker eras, I think we're supposed to see them as sort of… cycling on and off depending on the needs of the scheme? Maybe? But the descriptions above are still confusing. Why am I supposed to see the Joker who got carried away with the fun of beating Jason with a crowbar and successfully blew him up as less sadistic than the other one?

Johns does appear to lampshade this confusion in the middle of Book 1, when we get all three Jokers in a cabin in the woods. The Clown and the Comedian have this exchange:

This and a later panel with the Comedian actually imply that he and the Clown are interchangeable, even though they're supposed to be different. So are they or not? Is there an actual reason we need three Jokers, or did Johns just think it was a neato idea and then spend four years trying to figure out a "layered" justification for it?

The other thing about this cabin scene, and about the Joker trio largely, is that it should be fun and it's not. There should be chaos! Zaniness! At the very least, all the narcissism in the room should generate a competitive friction, make their interactions more dynamic. (Really it should generate bloodshed and end with one man standing within like ten minutes, but I'll grant the choice to save that for Book 3.) Instead it's almost mundane. The cabin isn't even decorated! It's dark and dreary, like the Jokers are dark and dreary. If we're gonna have three Jokers, can't they at least be Jokering with each other?

The same thought comes when I consider the very beginning of Book 1. It all starts out like a typical Batman story: three deadly crimes are committed in one night, the Joker seemingly responsible for all of them, and Bruce, Barbara, and Jason are drawn together as they try to figure out what's up. Of course, thanks to the Magic Chair, Bruce already knows there are three clowns, but Barbara and Jason are thinking that Joker is working with two look-alikes to create confusion. And considering the basics of what happens in this story, what the Comedian's larger plan is meant to accomplish, why couldn't this have been written with just two look-alikes? I mean, yeah, it would require Johns to forget about his continuity bomb, but maybe the story would have been better (and shorter). Again, the creation of other Jokers isn't doing much for what the plot is getting at. The three crimes that start us off would still serve the function of reminding Bruce of how Joker's been a constant in his life. The taunting of a convincing Joker look-alike is enough to set off Jason's anger and sadness about what happened to him, and his fears of what he could become. The climax with Joe Chill would have to be redone, but the threat of him being Jokerized isn't the crucial plot point; the Comedian's film of him is. Bruce doesn't even have any substantial thoughts about there being three of his nemesis.

But, alas, the story goes how it goes. And as it goes, we also see that Jason behaves more cruelly in his search for Joker than Barbara and Bruce. For example, Jason attacks and threatens one of Joker's victims to get information, feeling justified because the guy has a rap sheet, while Barbara scolds him and Bruce tells the victim, "I'm sorry this happened." What I find notable about this is that while comics regularly present Jason as hot-headed and Barbara as reasonable, Bruce… uh… If you gather a random selection of Batman comics, you'll find that his level of violence is all over the place. This story, however, requires a more somber Bruce, whose violence is more reactive, because Jason and Barbara serve Johns' dichotomy of "heal right" versus "heal wrong." We can't have Bruce on the sadistic side of the scale fucking that up, and besides, Jason's long been the posterboy for healing "wrong."

That notion comes to a head at the end of the issue. The heroes have encountered and subdued the Clown at the aquarium when Jim Gordon calls. The GCPD found another Joker, and Bruce leaves Jason and Barbara alone with the Clown to assist.

Goodness me, who could have predicted Jason might kill a restrained Joker? Not Bruce, who absolutely should have. Barbara is there to talk Jason down, sure, but what else is the Clown gonna do but needle Jason to kill him?

The Clown cackles then, declaring that Red Hood is his Robin, for the very reason of his violent impulses and how much he upsets the Bat, and of course Jason shoots him in the head, because oof.

Honestly, on this second read I found this scene a smidge too oof. Jason was a determined little Robin, dedicated to saving his awful mother to the very end, and him cracking and declaring that he'll work for a criminal… I don't know. I don't think it's impossible, but it feels superfluous. I don't think such a reveal is necessary to get Jason to fire. I think the Clown focusing on how the new Red Hood is actually quite similar to the old, as well as how Jason matters less than the neverending battle between Batman and Joker, is enough emotional stress to get to the same end result.

But that's a minor quibble; we've got bigger fish to fry! Such as the specter of the "healed right/healed wrong" dynamic that reappears as Barbara and Jason argue over the Clown's corpse.

Barbara leaves angrily after this, but man. I wish the story overall took more cues from this scene, that in a Black Label story we could stray from the simplistic idea of how a Good One would save Joker and a Bad One wouldn't. I want to explore Jason's assertion that Barbara didn't do her best to uphold Bruce's one rule. I want to know if maybe she's tired of being the fucking Good One.

Hell, let's go further: what if we were surprised by Barbara killing the Clown before Jason could? The Clown's taunting about Jason could have gotten to her too. We could have a story about how being put on a pedestal as a Good Victim is a cage, about Barbara struggling with falling from that position, about Jason feeling unsure if he should commend her for an act that obviously hurts her or comfort her for something he would have done himself. That's an actual examination of the struggle to process violent trauma— that you don't need three Jokers for!

But the story we have never gets back to Jason's suggestion that Barbara let the murder happen, not in this issue or the following two. This issue just ends with Jason hoping that the Clown was the actual Joker and that he didn't kill the wrong guy, which is a pretty "LOL oh yeah" line when you remember that he and Barbara don't know there are three Jokers yet.

Book 1, truth be told, isn't that bad. On my reread, I started to wonder if my only real issue with the story is that it's not as engaging as all the hype insisted it would be.

Then Book 2 starts, and goddammit. GODDAMMIT.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: why can we not have more DC writers having fun with Joker's multiple-choice backstory? Why did Johns read The Killing Joke and decide his interpretation would be this?:

Ugh. UGGGHHH.

I don't recall the issue, but there's these panels that circulate sometimes of Harley Quinn encountering Joker in Arkham or prison, in which they exchange words about their relationship and he's a creep and she kicks his ass. I have no problem with Harley kicking Joker's ass. He deserves it. My problem is that those panels play out like an empowerment scene in a generic Lifetime movie. My problem is that it doesn't have the flavor of Harley and Joker. My problem is that it's lazy.

And that's my problem with what Johns does with Joker's backstory in TKJ. He could take it anywhere, and he goes gritty without an ounce of nuance. Because hey, this is Joker, and  "there is nothing in him that is good," right? We'll just ignore that one of DC's all-time classics, the one this garbage is ✨inspired by✨, has Joker reflecting on a past for which he is an unreliable narrator, but in which he laments how his comedy dream put his growing family in a bad spot, in which he desperately aligns with shady people so his family can be secure, in which he's devastated by losing the only person he has in the world and their growing baby. And these memories could be distorted or entirely fake, but what's interesting in TKJ is that Joker never tells anyone else about them, even in his big speech to Batman. The flashbacks are not part of an attempt to manipulate anyone or convince them his world view is correct. It's a tale in Joker's head that, regardless of the truth, deeply affects him. It's what drove him to go to horrendous lengths to prove his point, even if the point is wrong.

But fuck that, right? We're going lazy! We're going cheap! We're going with the Jeannie backstory, but actually Joker was only terrible to her. The Comedian fondly fantasizes about terrorizing her and their son, because he's 100% an abuser, because he must have always been that way, with not a single appealing quality that we need to reckon with as we so often do with toxic people in real life. Even the freaking stutter Joker had as he struggled with stand-up comedy is given to Jeannie. Seriously?

I cannot emphasize enough: fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck this "take."

On the other hand, when the Comedian is brought out of his stupor, we do finally get something super funny:

At least we'll always have this panel of Joker eating cat food.

The Criminal only interrupted the daydream because he's mad the Clown is dead, and the Clown was so eager to be dead I thought it was part of their plan buuuuuuut I guess not. Then we jump to Bruce figuring out that the "Joker" that Gordon cornered is just another victim, a dead judge. Barbara appears to tell Bruce what Jason did, and they discuss it over comms on the road.

Bruce, shockingly, says that they can't really do anything about what Jason did.

Pretty sure the guy who batarang'd Jason's throat rather than let him kill Joker would have a more intense reaction than this?? Or any reaction other than sober understanding? Maybe Bruce is still coping with finally dealing with three Jokers at once and will flip his shit when this all resolves. Or maybe he's just thinking, "it's okay, I still have two emotional support clowns left!" I don't know. He's so weirdly passive in this story.

What's more aggravating, though, is the other aspect of this conversation, that Jason "healed wrong." It would be one thing as a pat judgment Bruce is making, but we know from that interview that Johns positioned "healed right versus healed wrong" as the story's theme. It's not good. It's way too glib a framing for evaluating how people who've gone through trauma are dealing with it, in any context. Sure, there are better and worse coping mechanisms, better and worse outcomes, but healing is an ongoing process that can be so individualized. Reducing it to "right" and "wrong," saying that one is "strong" and implying that the other comes from some sort of deficiency… I hope Johns just spoke poorly and he does understand that it's not that simple.

Now, is it a stretch to apply that critique to Jason killing criminals at his whim? Sure, deciding that you personally should play the role of judge, jury, and executioner is not a good way to deal with trauma. But that's not exactly what's happening here. This "healed right versus healed wrong" framing is being applied to Jason Todd going after the Joker. Obviously, I like Joker, but can we be real about this? Can we be real in a Black Label book, the imprint where comic books (allegedly) have room to take things more seriously? Can we take the question of, "In this fictional world where Joker is an unstoppable fatal mayhem machine— now THREE machines— is it completely out of bounds for someone to finally kill him?" and be like, "Errr…not really?" When this story explicitly denies Joker even one teeny redeeming human quality, are we seriously still going to say, "Well, you know, if Jason takes the life of the man who murdered him and millions other people, because he doesn't want him to kill more people, which Joker will absolutely do and we all know it, doesn't that say something awful about Jason?" Are we really??

Plus the judgment about healing is put into the mouth of a man who— say it with me!— regularly dresses as a bat and beats the ever-loving shit out of people because his parents were murdered. Toning Bruce down in this particular story doesn't hide that.

Although, what I think is intended as a flawed assumption on Bruce's part is his other line, "Jason's suffering." It implies that Barbara still isn't, but we are shown Barbara reflecting on her paralyzation, even now when she's "strong" and has healed "right." And the story will get into this a bit later, but it absolutely does not let Barbara and Jason escape the dichotomy. To the story's detriment, their interactions go in a wild direction, but we'll get to that.

First, Bruce and Barbara's investigation leads them to Blackgate, because the fingerprints on the murder weapon for the dead judge belong to none other than Joe Chill. However, we learn that Chill has been in the medical wing for two months because he's sick with cancer.

Meanwhile, Jason's investigation leads him to a closed athletic center. The pool inside is filled with the chemicals stolen from Ace at the start of the story, as well as dozens of pale naked bodies with green hair. Jason's attempt to contact Barbara is interrupted when one of said bodies bursts to life and grabs his ankle, asking for help. Jason reacts with hostility, kicking the poor guy, and I'm not sure if it's because he's unnerved by a room of floating Jokers or if it's pretty normal for him to not keep his cool even for the sake of an obvious victim of a horrible crime. A Gotham City vigilante can't be that shocked by one guy being alive in a pile of bodies, can they?

But that's all setup. When the guy falls unconscious, the Criminal and the Comedian ambush Jason and drag him away, one saying, "He'll be perfect."

It's a line that meanly gets your hopes up, poking at a subject that could make all this more interesting.

Jason awakes, strapped to a chair and as naked as the bodies in the pool. The Criminal says he and his pals have spent a lot of time trying to find the perfect candidate for a new Joker, and he repeats the question of what's up with Jason taking on the Red Hood moniker.

It seems that, like DCAU Tim Drake in Batman Beyond before him, Jason Todd will be transformed into a fourth Joker! But it won't only be because it will wreck the Batman. It'll be because Joker already sees himself in Jason. This is something new to explore! There are places to go here; other comics hinting at Joker's past point to him having a childhood not dissimilar to Jason's, of growing up on the street, experiencing abuse, and learning unpalatable ways to survive. We could see Jason struggling with the possibility that he has more in common with Joker than he wants to think about!

But we won't. Inexplicably, the Criminal turns around and says that despite their similarities, despite Jason hating Batman as much as he does, despite the Comedian (presumably) saying Jason is perfect, and despite getting Jason ready for the pool, Jason actually isn't good enough, not "bright" enough. (Because all the Jokers we have in this dour story are so bright?)

And then the Comedian just beats the hell out of Jason (saying it's more fun than the first time, in another annoying nod to how he and the Clown are the same damn Joker) and says they're leaving Jason alive because maybe he'll prove them wrong and he'll become a new Joker after all? But the current Jokers aren't really going to go for it. Their interest is just abandoned.

The point is only to freak Jason out, so when Bruce and Barbara arrive, fight a horde of Jokerized victims, and find Jason alone and naked and vulnerable, he does not react well when Bruce tries to ask if he's okay. Jason turns on him and blames him for setting him on this path, for leaving him in the dirt, for replacing him easily. He lashes out at Barbara too, asking if she's going to lock him away, but ultimately it's easier to take comfort from her.

A direct reference to Return of the Joker here, focusing on the shadow Batman casts over the lives of his partners, the responsibility he bears in how Joker targeted them to hurt the Bat, and how poorly he offers comfort himself.

It does segue nicely into the next scene, when Bruce and Barbara get Jason to her apartment to rest. Bruce leaves to keep investigating, and Barbara is pissed because this is the exact lack of support that contributed to Jason going his own way. Support is highlighted again when Jason wakes in Barbara's room and looks around.

Aside from Barbara seeking out books to deal with her physical and mental struggles after Joker's attack, the old calendars show the help she received from her father and health professionals.

And this scene does get into something that's missing from TKJ, in which Bruce tells Joker that no, not everyone will retreat to madness like he did. How we react to trauma is greatly affected by the resources available to us.

This scene is nice. It's nice to come from the action to some place quiet and for someone to say this Jason, something he's wanted to hear. It's late in coming, but it's pain validated.

And then Johns fucking ruins it.

Man. Just. Ugh. Yeah, I know people seek comfort in moments of vulnerability, but… the reader knows. The reader knows moments like this aren't included to be like "oh, this was an isolated blip of human behavior! The story won't call back to it later!" Johns apparently wants Barbara/Jason to be a thing. And if you want a solid reason for that… well, we don't get any good ones.

Meanwhile, Bruce is in the cave, and I'm only mentioning that because these folder labels are incredibly funny:

Then the issue ends with Joe Chill kidnapped from Blackgate by the Comedian, who has a video camera and asks him to talk about why he really killed the Waynes. Dun dun dunnnnnnnn! Is that a twist on the way?! Well, yeah, but not really the one you think and it's incredibly stupid.

Finally we are at Book 3. Jason is suited back up, and he and Barbara have met up with Bruce in the cave to figure out how the Jokers plan to create another, better Joker.

Soooooo Jason and Barbara had that whole conversation. Jason was shaken by what the Jokers said to him. But now he's completely back on track. Allllllrighty.

Jason and Bruce then have an argument rehashing everything that Barbara said she was sorry Jason experienced, with Bruce saying of course he'd love to kill the Joker, and Jason pointing out that he obviously hasn't. Jason also says he thinks the only reason Bruce isn't turning Jason in for killing the Clown is to protect Batman's identity. Barbara just tries to de-escalate with her doe eyes. They're back to the status quo, and it sucks, which is the point. When they try to get back to the investigation at hand, Bruce pauses and attempts to apologize.

And again, with this blatant TKJ reference, it feels like we need to dig into the parallels between Jason and Joker! They both insist it's too late! They won't take help! But surely Jason isn't as far gone! There's something to chew on here.

But nah, this story is heading toward a big ol' revelation, foreshadowed here:

🎶 Why the fuck you lyin'? 🎶

Finally they get the alert that Joe Chill was kidnapped, and on investigating his cell, Bruce finds a bunch of letters addressed to… himself, Bruce Wayne. He seeks out the prison reverend.

Which is unintentionally hilarious, because in the storyline that started this whole three Jokers nonsense, there's a Batman Darkseid War one-shot where Joe Chill's behavior does not remotely align with this.

Lol comics are fun.

In the middle of Bruce investigating the letters, we get Jason being all repentant with Babs again.

You just said? You totally were?? Gonna kill more clowns??? How is this supposed to come off as genuine? Granted, Jason doesn't try to kill the other Jokers after this, but the apparently impetus for reversing course is... uh... we'll get there.

Anyway, among Chill's letters are tickets to the Monarch Theater, so the heroes all head over for whatever the Jokers have set up for them, which of course includes another horde of failed Joker zombies. During the fight, the Comedian's interview of Joe Chill plays on the screen, and the Criminal reveals they have Chill tied up in a chair suspended over a vat of green chemicals.

As Chill on screen explains that he killed the Waynes out of hatred and envy for how much they had, and how much he regrets his actions, the Criminal explains that he considered both Jason and Barbara as strong candidates for the new Joker. And wait. WAIT. Mr. Johns, sir, are you telling me it crossed your mind to write a story in which Barbara becomes the new Joker? That's so much more interesting than the bullshit we're getting! Imagine it: Barbara dealing with the dissatisfaction of being the "good, strong victim" and just losing her shit. You could combine that with how uneasy Jason is with his similarities to Joker, and maybe Jason is the one who convinces Barbara to turn back. This is Black Label! This could've been anything! Anything!

But we've got Chill. And the Criminal goes on to say the reason he wanted to make a new Joker at all:

Are… are you? I'm pretty sure Joker is pretty well fucking defined. He's a murderer with a very dark sense of humor who is obsessed with Batman. That's been a pretty good through-line.

Also, Joker pretty clearly means a lot to Batman, as that middle panel with Jason seems intended to remind us, but the Criminal does clarify that he wants to be "everything" to him, which is why he's pulling Bruce's parents' murderer into all this. I guess I can't blame him for reaching for the stars?

Cue big fight scene. The Chill recording continues to explain his regret, and soon the theater is on fire. Batman saves Chill and knocks the Criminal unconscious. Chill thinks Batman is going to kill him, but Bruce saves him from a falling brick wall instead— before the Criminal revives and tries to set off a bomb to kill them all, maybe. There's a BOOM flag sticking out of the dynamite a few panels later, after the Comedian shows up and shoots the Criminal in the head. TWIST!

The Comedian surrenders, and after a scene with Jason picking the most awkward time to suggest he and Barbara try being a couple and Barbara looking pissed she has to tell him no, we jump to Bruce and the Comedian in the armored police car.

As a batjokes shipper, looking at these pages is weird, because they are good food for the brainworms. The Criminal wanted to engineer a Joker who meant the most to Batman, but the Comedian wanted to be that Joker. It's a weird plan, considering that Joker prefers Batman over Bruce Wayne, so he would be more likely to not want to heal Bruce's wound lest the healing lead to less Batmanning, but still. This crazy plan is all about maintaining Batman's attention.

But I can only enjoy these panels out of context, not just because I'm pretty weary of insanely elaborate plans that manage to work out, but also because there's just so much to hate in the rest of the story, especially the real twist that closes it out.

Before we get to that, though, we're thrown back into the Jason/Barbara nonsense with a very gross letter he writes to her.

"Dear Barbara, I want to make a change. But I can't do that without you. I know I've come across cold and distant…"

1) Look, love can help people heal. Barbara could be a good friend advising Jason on what might help him. She could help bring him back into the batfam fold. This letter is not that. This letter is pushing someone to be in a romantic relationship with you for the explicit purpose of getting them to heal you. That's not how love works. That's using someone as a tool. It's supposed to be sad that Barbara never sees the letter but it's good, actually. Don't put that shit on her!

2) This romance came out of freaking nowhere and now we get Jason insisting he can simply stop being Red Hood for the sake of it— but only for the sake of it, apparently! Does Jason think his worldview as Red Hood is an impediment to healing or not? This is just surface-level melodramatic nonsense. And I wish that was the point, but no. Again, the letter getting swept away is presented as sad.

3) Speaking of which, who tapes a confessional letter that exposes your vigilante identity to a door where anyone can see it? You'd slip it under the door at least. Johns couldn't figure out any other way for the letter to vanish? Get out of here with this contrived nonsense. There should've been panels of Jason rereading the letter, realizing how unhinged it is, and throwing it away himself.

4) Is the "Funtime Cleaners" guy in his purple uniform supposed to be Joker? Or representative of Joker's influence on their lives? If yes and it's him, he's a goddamn hero. If it's symbolic, what does that mean, that even when you reach out to others… elements out of your control will keep you alone? 'Cause that sure is bleak for a book allegedly about healing.

With all that done with, now we get to the big twist, the dumbest fucking part of this story, the end, the takeaway. Of course it involves more crimes against The Killing Joke, which I'm increasingly convinced no one at DC has actually read in the past thirty years.

Bruce drives up to Alaska, and we get this reveal.

Do the kids still *headdesk* nowadays? That's what I'm doing. There will be a blood stain.

1) So Bruce has known the Joker's identity, or at least the Comedian's, basically the whole time. We're just retconning that the Joker question he asked the Magic Chair wasn't for information; it was a second test question. And all this is in the face of Bruce lamenting many times over the years that he doesn't know who Joker really is, of him lamenting it in The Killing goddamn Joke. "I don't know him, Alfred. All these years and I don't know who he is any more than he knows who I am. How can two people hate so much without knowing each other?" We're just. Fucking excising that. A line alluding to Bruce's motivation for visiting Joker in TKJ's opening scene.

2) We're rounding out the lazy revisions to the TKJ backstory with some copaganda! Geoff Johns doesn't think it's possible for Joker to have been anything but a horror to his family, but he does think it's possible that random officers in the friggin' Gotham City Police Department— in early Batman lore no less, when they were at their most corrupt— would fundraise for a "lady" they clearly don't know to get her out of the city to safety. Also, what was the plan for when Joker asked to see his wife's dead body?? Congrats, you've come up with something dumber than "Pushback."

3) This scrawls more highlighter on how bad the premise of there being three Jokers is, because the flashback in TKJ happens before Joker starts out. Like that's how Bruce always recalls it; he didn't meet the Joker until after what happened at Ace Chemicals. So isn't Jeannie then actually the Criminal's wife? Because the Criminal is the one who behaves as Bruce remembers Joker was at the start. So is the Comedian obsessed with the Criminal's wife for some reason? Or is the Comedian actually the first Joker, and the Criminal came later and used to be more wacky? What is going on here?

Under all these questions, per the final page, the point of Three Jokers is still visible: ultimately, his victims matter more than he does. But that's a hilarious point to a story that revolves around three of the guy, with very little payoff to the gimmick, and when part of the plot is that the heroes still shouldn't kill him.

And again, just because a story makes reference to healing, it doesn't mean it's "about" healing. The most we get is the knowledge that Barbara and Jeannie received support from other people. There's no discussion of how long it took either of them, of why Barbara came out the other side not wanting to kill Joker, of anything Jeannie has done since she left Gotham. The possibility that Jason could find connection is promptly throttled by a forced romance. It's implied that the Comedian's plan worked for Bruce, as we see Bruce at Chill's deathbed, holding his hand, and at Chill's grave. You might be interested in Bruce's thoughts as he juxtaposes Chill's repentance against the fact that his parents are still dead, so you can assess if this really would affect the feeling of loss that drove him to his lifelong mission, but you won't get them. The "how" of healing is up to the reader— who is never asked to extend the same thought process to the Joker. And you personally do not have to give a crap about Joker, but again, if this book is supposed to be about responses to healing, about Jason's response versus Barbara's, then taking an actual look at Joker feels relevant!

So there we are: fourteen pages of me venting my little heart out, hoping the premise of Three Jokers never gets looped into canon. I'm well aware that my personal attachment to a character means nothing against DC's incentives to promote stories with Big Twists (and endless events and multiverse bullshit), but then again, those incentives are based on what people will buy. So if I can add to the voices saying that Three Jokers is bad, and you should not spend your money on it or books like it, maybe I can be one vibe of many that keeps the Joker as one single bat-obsessed murderclown...

Though if not, I can always retreat to older comics. I still have plenty of those to get through.

[stuckasmain]

Dave’s old life is cast aside and he is reborn (semi-literally) as a star child. It is an ending that has left many baffled, including me, but is ultimately a touching end and beginning.

Dave ends the story an evolved being, yet not so far detached from his human origin. He still has a great deal of emotion and curiosity - he becomes a baby because he simply is one when it comes to understanding the universe. He could go anywhere, do anything and yet he goes to earth. He goes and watches over it like a shiny toy, while his physical ties have been severed he’s still attached to it- almost like a mother, if we stay with the baby metaphor.

Eventually he will move on from it but for now he is a protector of sorts. The guardian of earth. He stops the bomb not for his own sake but because he simply wants humanity to continue on- he stops a potential doomsday!

It’s too bad this is completely uprooted in the following bits of the series. He is “beyond” emotion, he is on Europa. I would be fine if the evolution or planet was focused on even remotely besides the same few paragraphs, he’s transformed and cast aside. All of the prior meaning is rebuked, all of his humanity removed. See it wasn’t the transformation that did it but the story itself— as it decided to pivot and couldn’t just have him watching. He must be a blank slate. He must be elsewhere- he can’t even enjoy watching the other planet or if he does we don’t really hear of it.

Dave becomes more of a plot device than a person, as a star child there’s so many facinating things you could do with him. For one thing a dressing the trauma that came from that and before, and — again either guardian of earth - self chosen- or we actually see his involvement elsewhere. He becomes a just as much of a tool as the monolith.

Not only is his humanity stripped but his agency, in 2010 he describes himself as a dog on a leash a good number of times. While I absolutely adore that metaphor, it’s so tragic and not even acknowledged as such?! (Again so much could be considered cosmic horror and it’s either had waved or blankly accepted) he went from a near omnipotent being to LOSING LARGE CHUNKS OF TIME AND BEING USED AS A PROBE. He’s suddenly beyond humanity when he was so attached before; he becomes apathetic incredibly fast. (Which, as a immortal being is understandable but it’s absolutely unearned and not in character) -> my issue isn’t with him becoming a tool of some higher power it’s that it’s sort of hand waved “it is how it is” and not addressed how messed up and interesting it is.

Now I’ve yet to read 3001 but my point here broadly stands. I fully believe it should’ve ended after 2010, as it comes across as very very clear it was a two book story and 2061 is a whole separate one with some characters tossed into it.

Arcs were over. There was a bit more explanation as to what happened in the first one; we got closure alongside Heywood. Things were set up for the future but it was more in a way for you to view them as fully developed not exactly a sequel. (Like the Hal 10,000 idea). It’s frustrating because Dave as a Starchild can lead to so many interesting things and it was a beautiful idea in 2001 but … after that it mistreats and mischarectetizes Him so fast in a way that frustrates me to no end. Maybe if there was an actual focus or exploration I could understand the direction but making him a cut out god figure is such a sad end.

A child of the stars still clinging to its former life, its humanity…

Oh what could have been. I’d like to imagine Dave would’ve never completely… not been Dave, yes over centuries he may subdue emotions, his interest may waver but what we get is a name and maybe some memory.

—

Clarification:

I fully enjoy 2010, my issues with Dave in that are minimal just that it’s a little sad he swaps guardianship but I can understand. I was excited and interested in Europa… only for that too also get sort of ignored.

There’s also some interesting points to come out of 2061 - how the monolith works, conversing with Hal and he does seem to have a genuine interest in study but it’s also where he’s sort of a name drop and little else

It’s the stripping him of his emotion and character that really gets me - as it’s a route that isn’t earned as Clark absolutely does not write about trauma or if he does it’s a off handed “ok so everyone dying and the monolith was a little scary but now I’m blue and don’t care” it’s even true for human characters idk

I pick and choose what I want to keep from the further books honestly, we’ll see if 3001 fixes this or if this rant grows longer. I’m just sad, Dave’s such a fascinating character and he’s so mistreated?

[sergeantsporks]

Witch Switch: All of Part 1

Part 2

Transcript Under the Cut

[Caleb is driving while Phillip sits grumpily next to him]

Caleb: So... are we going to talk about it, or...

Phillip: Oh, my god, Caleb, they made such a big deal about it when they called, it was NOT that bad! Some of the guys just bet me I couldn't climb to the top of the Noceda statue, and--

C: The guys? Your friends? Did they get in trouble, too?

P: No, of course not. I'm not a snitch, Caleb, but the point is, Principal Hal COMPLETELY overreacted. I was FINE. No one knows that museum and Statue like I do.

C: Hey. I'm proud you've made friends in high school I never had that. So I'm glad you've found a group to call your own. With that being said... promise me you'll be careful?

C: I know you want to impress your friends, but you don't have to do everything they dare or bet you to do. If you know it's dangerous, or wrong, then you need to stand up and say "no, I don't feel comfortable with that." If they're really your friends, then they'll understand. And if not... then you're better off without them, and I want you to get out of there. Stay safe.

P: Yeah, okay.

C: Good. Now that's discussed... I've got a late shift tonight. Evelyn will be coming over--

P: GROAN

C: --with dinner, so don't worry about food. Be good. Don't climb any more statues while I'm gone

P: No promises

C: Pip.

P: I won't.

[Cut to a Silent door]

[Repeated knocking]

[Silent door]

[More Knocking]

Unknown [muffled]: Phillip, I know you're in there! Let me in!

[Silent door]

U: Oh, for...

[Click as the door is unlocked]

[Panel is on Phillip, who is lying on the floor with headphones on]

Evelyn: Phillip, I know you can hear me

[Panel is Evelyn with her arms crossed, Phillip's face (smug) in a bubble next to it]

Phillip: Oh, hi, Evelyn. Sorry, can't hear you

E: Okay, cool. Guess that means you don't want dinner

P: [sitting up quickly] I didn't say that

[Evelyn's face is in a small panel next to him, smiling smugly/evilly]

[Phillip and Evelyn are sitting at table, Phillip with a fast food soda cup in his hands]

E: What are you listening to, anyway?

P: Podcast

E: 'bout what?

P: Kids who got away with killing their siblings' partners

E: Har-dee-har. What is it actually?

P: Gravesfield witch hunts

E: Ah

Evelyn: Heard about what happened today

Phillip: I'm sure you did

E: Pretty awesome that you got to the top.. [realization that she's supposed to be a responsible adult] Uh-- but-- you know-- don't do it again? And all that.

P: [Skeptical] Are you trying to be "the cool one?"

E: [half sarcastic] Oh, no, I could never be cooler than Caleb

P: Damn straight. Anyway, no one has to worry about it happening again. It was just a one time bet from my friends.

E: [with venom] Oh. Your "friends."

P: Yes, "friends." A novel concept to you, I'm sure

E: Oh, very mature.

[Cut: Phillip is now at the door, which is open]

Phillip: [gesturing towards the open door] Okay, thanks for dinner. Bye.

Evelyn: [arms crossed] No can do, Phil. I promised Caleb I'd keep an eye on you while he's--

P: [interrupting, frustrated, throwing his arms in the air] He's just at work! I don't need a babysitter!

E: [surprised and guilty] Yeah... work...

[Cut to a view of a street featuring the Robin's Roast Cafe]

E: [disembodied voice] I'm sure he's just... worried about you

[Panel features Caleb, wearing Robin's Roast apron/hat with a manager bage, twisting his hands nervously]

Caleb: Hey, uh. Thanks for meeting me here

[Panel features Principal Hal sitting grumpily at a table. Next to him, smiling and waving friendly, is Manny Noceda]

C: [disembodied voice over Hal and Manny] You... wanted to talk about Phillip?

[abiiors]

heyy! not to flood ur requests again and rlly no pressure abt writing something if u don't feel like it (i feel so bad abt sending requests cause i feel like it pressures ppl and i dunno haha)

anyways i had this idea of the reader being an actress and matty visiting her on set and getting kinda jealous of her w her co-star (sucker for angst here sorry!)

Hey :)

I feel like I know who this anon is just based on the way this request is worded but do not worry, I will not out you, haha. Can you tell who the co-star is based on lmao?

Pls don’t ever feel bad about sending requests! I love them and they give me so much motivation to write. Anyway, I hope you have fun reading this! ❤️🍒💞

Matty x female reader

Jealous Boyfriend

‘And cut!’ the director yells from her chair and the crew bursts into loud claps and cheers. 

Your co-star, Hal, looks at you, his lips swollen and his wavy hair mussed in a suggestive way, and his face splits into a huge grin. 

‘You were amazing!’ he gushes. 

You clutch the bedsheet around you tighter as you smile back at him. It doesn’t take your assistant long before she runs to you with a robe. 

Hal averts his eyes respectfully and waits for you to cover up. 

‘So were you!’ you reply with equal enthusiasm once you’re done. You talk to multiple crew members as you make your way to get dressed and tell them that you’ll see them tomorrow. 

The shoot has finally wrapped for the day (earlier than expected) and you’re excited to just spend a quiet night with Matty. 

‘So what’s your plan for the night?’ Hal catches up to you once you’re on your way to find your boyfriend. 

‘Oh hey,’ you smile, ‘my boyfriend’s on the set today so I’m just going home with him.’

‘It’s Matty Healy, right?’ he genuinely sounds excited and you nod back at him. 

‘Yea, he’s—’

‘Hey, love,’ Matty pulls you in for a kiss and you’re cut off from saying whatever you were about to. 

‘I was just telling Hal about you,’ you smile and turn to introduce him to your co-star.

‘Hey, man,’ Hal smiles, ‘I love your music!’ He extends a hand for a handshake. 

‘Thanks,’ Matty responds curtly and to your utter horror, doesn’t even bother to shake Hal’s hand. Then he turns to you as if Hal weren’t even there. 

‘Should we go?’

‘Um, sure,’ you mumble, still confused by his reaction. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ you tell Hal and wish him a good night. 

When he tries to go in for a hug, Matty pulls you into his side possessively. You awkwardly raise your hand in a wave and try to telepathically convey an apology to your co-star.

‘What the fuck was that?’ you ask as soon as Hal’s out of earshot.

‘What was what?’ he asks innocently.

‘You, acting like a complete ass!’ you fold your arms over your chest and look at him impatiently. 

‘Really?’ he asks incredulously, ‘you’re mad at me for not being best friends with the guy?’

‘Don’t twist my words,’ you warn.

‘Well sorry for not being all chummy with the guy who had his tongue shoved down your throat!’

So that’s what this is about… In the past, you’ve teased him about being jealous but him being a jealous boyfriend is where you draw the line. 

‘It’s my job!’

‘Sorry for not loving it when I have to see my girlfriend making out with other people,’ he sasses back. 

‘And you kiss fans on stage,’ you point out.

‘That’s different!’ 

‘How is that different?’ You try not to shout at him but this has been a long day and now he’s making it even more frustrating. 

‘I am not naked and moaning when I kiss them,’ he throws his hands in the air, rolls his eyes as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. 

‘And I’m not actually having sex with him!’ you defend. ‘It’s my character Sarah having sex with Hal’s character Cam! Why is that so hard to understand?’

‘Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,’ he argues. 

‘Well, you’re acting like a child!’ you argue back. 

You can feel the headache forming as you hold back the urge to yell and try to swallow your anger. It takes you another two seconds to take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

‘Hal’s my friend and this is my job,’ you explain calmly but he’s dead set on being an asshole. 

He scoffs and shakes his head. 

‘Your friend,’ he laughs bitterly, ‘that’s how it always starts.’

It makes you stop dead in your tracks.

That’s how it always starts…

‘What?’ you ask softly, give him one more chance to take it back. 

‘You heard me,’ he mutters petulantly. 

Does he not understand what he’s trying to imply? The pit in your stomach grows bigger as your restraint on your anger finally snaps. If he’s intent on being difficult then you can give him a taste of his own medicine. 

‘Well, fuck you, Matty,’ you spit, ‘don’t bother coming after me, I’m getting a hotel room.’ 

He opens his mouth to protest but you have no patience for him anymore. You turn on your heels and walk out of the set in a huff. 

He can come find you when he’s done being a dickhead but tonight he can just go fuck himself.

---

(there's part 2 now)

[dreadfutures]

wip wednesday

tagged by @shivunin | @ndostairlyrium | @effelants and some others I think, and coming in under the wire to tag some people:

@exalted-dawn | @warpedlegacy | @wickedsnack | @neontteeth | @oxygenforthewicked | @knightdawn | @queenaeducan | @fensyl | @victoriousscarf

Share any wip or recently completed thing of any fandom or medium!

and then to share myself: a conversation between Dorian and Ixchel Lavellan in my next chapter.

Outside the window a gentle rain fell, silent through the thick walls and thick glass, but Ixchel could already imagine the heavy droplets in her hair. Mahariel had been right: the weather would turn on them soon.

The moody, spitting sky reminded her of Hal, of course, for it was the same color of his cold eyes. She tore her gaze away from the window and cast it down at Dorian's shoes, for her head felt heavy with guilt. Unfortunately, she immediately noticed the new scuffs on his boot from where he must have been dragging his injured leg as he acclimated to using a cane.

It was an odd thing, she thought bitterly, to not be the worse off of the two. With that, her heart dropped into her roiling stomach. She knew how she would feel were she the one to be left behind due to a debilitating injury--she knew how she had coped with it after the Exalted Council, with the intoxicating depths of her bed to wallow in, and the bitter cut of isolation reinforced by her own moping. She had never liked wine as much as Dorian, but she could understand, perhaps, how life might seem just a little more bearable through the alcohol-softened eyes. How being alone might not feel like such a sharp wound at the bottom of a bottle.

She sighed and leaned over in her chair, propping her cheek up on her palm--the very same she would one day lose. She found him seated similarly, watching her with a look more critical than she thought she deserved.

"So am I to understand we are on the eve of your great departure?" he asked, and it was not the question she knew was on his mind.

"Seems so," she murmured. "I hope you'll see me off with the rest of my adoring followers."

"Mm, I do so love watching you leave," he drawled, and she smiled a little despite herself. "If only it didn't mean I would be left in your chilly old castle built in what was certainly the armpit of Elvhenan--"

"Aren't armpits usually hot and smelly?" Ixchel scoffed. "I would call Minrathous more of an armpit than here."

"Today, perhaps! You can't pretend to know what climates were like in the old magical days of yore." He waved his other hand at her without laughing, but even he had started to smirk again. "It will certainly stink much more once the Iron Bull returns, which I'm told will be soon. A sorry substitute for my best student, I will say."

Ixchel's eyebrows shot up, and her heart shot to her throat at the praise. Perhaps it was silly to be so injected with joy every time he acknowledged her more scholarly interests, but she couldn't help how comfortable it felt--how much like an olive branch, or an extended hand, it seemed.

"Yes, yes, I must begrudgingly admit I will miss the sorry old man," Dorian said in his most petulant tone. "I will have to settle for Miss Davri and Dagna for intellectual stimulation in Solas' absence. It's just not the same. A little conflict whets the intellect, you know?"

Ixchel reached for the nearest object to throw at him, but she never released her grip on it, amused that he didn't even flinch at her feint. As she settled the book back on her lap she took a glance at the cover; it turned out to be a heavy memoir from some Tevinter Dreamer from a long-past century.

"Of course, I'll miss you too, I suppose," Dorian said, and then whatever impish gleam might have been in his eye faded entirely. Entirely sober, he said, "Don't have too grand an adventure without me, Ixchel. I've had my own taste of debilitating injuries now, and I wouldn't recommend hurrying to get more of your own."

Ixchel sighed and flexed her fist. "I will do my best," she said, words heavy with the promise. "But you have to promise me you'll not go too feral left to your own devices here, Dor. I've spent enough time trapped in these walls, too."

She tried to hold his gaze to impart her deeper meaning, but she found she had to look away sooner than she wanted. It hurt, aching in the same parts of her that were left raw from telling Vivienne the truth of her life and death, and her conversation with Cassandra.

It wasn't just that it hurt to remind them both of how literally being left behind in Skyhold had killed her. Cassandra and Vivienne had both confronted her with a question she still did not have an answer to: did things need to be the same as they once were? Were her friends still fundamentally the same people they had turned out to be by the end her life?

Was she right to worry for Dorian, or would he steer away from the dangers she knew might befall him?

Dorian leaned forward a little in a half-hearted attempt to catch her gaze again. "I'll be here when you return, mula," he said. "Just make sure to come back in one piece, alright?"

[swordanddreamcatcher]

(modern day brotherband)

Hal: Hello? Jesper, where on earth are you?

Jesper: (on the phone) I waved to a man because I thought he was waving at me. Apparently, he was waving to the guy behind me. So to get out of the awkward situation, I kept my hand up so a taxi pulled over and drove me to the airport. I am now in new york . I should be home by Thursday.

Lydia: Wait, wha-

Edvin: Understandable, have a nice day.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Frozen in Time

Fandom: DC Comics, JLI, GL Corps

Summary: Daddy-daughter weekend does not go as planned.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Michael Jon Carter (DCU), Rani Carter (DCU), Michelle Carter (DCU), Hal Jordan, Helen Jordan

Additional Tags: Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Road Trip, Angst and Humor

Chapter One: Unicorns

"I'm a great dad," I defended myself. Michelle bounced her head from one side to the other sarcastically. "I am!"

"Okay... Try not to cause a world-ending crisis at the tea party," Michelle replied on her way out the door. I glanced over the checklist Skeets printed out and packed Rani's bag. He even color-coded it to show me what order to pack things in. I'd planned this weekend for months, hoping I'd finally get Rani to call me dad or some variation of the word. It was my chance to get Rani to see me as a real, genuine father figure.

I packed her bag, and then I packed lunch for our special picnic. I must've watched thousands of videos trying to figure out how to make unicorn grilled cheese sandwiches. I made every cool and trendy snack I could think of to impress her. It was a rare four-day weekend, and I planned on making it the best four days of Rani's little life. The plan was to be impressive and fatherly and show her I was all in on the fatherhood thing.

I understand people would say I'm not the most responsible, reliable, or predictable guy they know, but I had a chance to be something different with her. I figured I'd take her on a nice trip and follow it up with a tea party. My plan was foolproof. I finished packing and prepping with a few minutes to spare. I had enough time to walk to Rani's school and wait at the gate.

I put on my shoes and grabbed a snack, Rani's favorite toy, and her visor. I was so excited to see her that I took the hopscotch path. There was no rush to get home to dinner or a meeting. We had time.

I stood at the gate with the other parents. While I waited, a single mom struck up a conversation with me. "I didn't know your ears were pierced," she smiled.

I touched my ears and remembered I was wearing flower earrings. "Oh, yeah. I took Rani to get her ears pierced a few weeks ago, and I didn't want to make her do something I was too scared to do... So, I got mine done first," I replied, "That doesn't explain the earrings, though... Does it?"

"It doesn't have to," she laughed, "Were you scared?"

"Terrified," I chuckled, "I had to close my eyes and suck it up. But Rani was a champ."

The bell rang, and she waved goodbye. I power walked to Rani's class excitedly and scooped her up as soon as she came outside. "Hi, Mikey!" Rani laughed. I set her down and took her backpack.

"Here, I'll trade ya," I smiled as I handed her toy to her. I put the visor on her head and offered her a snack. Rani smiled and grabbed my hand. "Rani, I need your help with some stuff this weekend."

Rani pouted. "Is it a lot of work?" Rani questioned.

I nodded solemnly. I finally figured out how to get maximum excitement from kids. The trick is to seem as disappointing as possible so that reality would seem fantastic in comparison. She was so disappointed she couldn't muster the energy to swing my hand. It took everything in my power to keep from laughing.

When we got home, she helped me put all the bags in the car, and then it clicked. "Hey! Why are we putting suitcases in the car?" Rani questioned.

"You've got me! Okay, I wanted to take you on a trip this weekend... Just you and me," I replied. Rani jumped into my arms.

"Wow! Where are we going?" Rani asked. I shook my head and grinned.

"That would ruin the surprise," I replied, letting her back in the house. "I'll wait in the car."

Rani paused. "Is it a long drive?" Rani questioned. I nodded. "Then you should go to the bathroom before we leave."

I opened my mouth to speak, but I realized she was right. After we met at the car, Rani sat in the backseat and buckled her seatbelt. "Mikey, guess what?" Rani asked.

"I love a guess what," I replied.

"We saw a real firefighter today," Rani announced, "How come you don't have a big truck? All the helpers today had big trucks."

"That's a great question. You see, they're better drivers than I am. I could probably drive a big truck, but I think it'd be responsible driving a car I'm comfortable with," I answered. Minus ten cool points for the minivan dad.

"Everyone has different abilities. Not everybody can do your job," Rani reassured me.

"Thanks, Rani," I replied.

She fell asleep immediately after that, and I turned the radio on low. I got on the freeway and drove for almost an hour before Rani woke up to tell me about her dream. "You were there! And you had a sword," Rani replied, "You looked so cool."

Thank you to Rani's subconscious! "I could definitely get a sword... I could be a sword guy," I replied, "Do you think I should get a sword in real life?"

"Yeah!" Rani replied.

"Cool! I'll probably have to take sword fighting lessons and learn proper sword safety because safety is important—."

"You still get your toast out of the toaster with a fork," Rani interrupted.

"Okay, but—. Is that actually—? Do you wanna pull over and have a surprise snack?" I asked.

"Yes, please!" Rani shouted. I grinned and pulled to the side of the road near an orchard. I climbed into the backseat. "What's in there?"

"A surprise. I made these," I replied. I pulled out two neatly-wrapped unicorn-shaped grilled cheese sandwiches. Rani unwrapped hers and gasped.

"They're so pretty! How did you make rainbow colors inside the sandwich? Is it like marshmallows?" Rani questioned. I took a bite and shook my head.

"Take a bite," I replied. Rani took a bite and smiled.

"It's cheese!" Rani exclaimed. She took another bite, and I took a moment to soak in my victory. The grilled cheese was a hit! I finally managed to make something for her that we both liked.

[diracsea]

Vì đang không viết được fic nên mình sẽ ngồi tổng hợp lại những bài thơ, bài hát, đoạn văn... đã từng được mình trích dẫn trong Viết linh tinh.

1. Nothing Gold Can Stay của Robert Frost (Vàng nào ở lại)

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

2. We Have All the Time in the World của Hal David & John Barry (Ngày ta bên nhau)

We have all the time in the world Just for love Nothing more, nothing less Only love.

3. Look on Down From the Bridge của Mazzy Star (Trên cầu mưa rơi)

Look on down from the bridge I'm still waiting for you.

4. Chrysalism của John Koenig (Ngồi nhà nghe mưa)

Chrysalism (n.) The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.

5. Dream Fever cũng của John Koenig (Dù sao đi nữa)

Dream fever (n.) The intense heat on the skin of a sleeping person, a radioactive byproduct of an idle mind humming with secret delusions which then vaporize when plunged into the cooling bath of reality, thus preventing a meltdown that could endanger those close by, who tolerate the risk because it gives them energy.

6. Under the Harvest Moon của Carl Sandburg (Dưới trăng trung thu)

Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, [...] Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With a thousand memories, And asks you Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

7. Tiếng gọi của Bức Tường (Khung trời bỏ ngỏ)

Em kề vai tôi ngồi bên thềm Bỏ lại đằng sau những khúc quanh co Và cám dỗ để quay về Ở đó có tôi với em Này đây tiếng gọi rất êm Thổi ngọn lửa bừng trong mắt thêm sâu Hẹn ước ngày tháng êm đềm.

8. Get It Right của Adam Anders, Nikki Hassman, & Peer Åström (To get it right)

What have I done? I wish I could run Away from this ship going under Just trying to help Hurt everyone else Now I feel the weight of the world is on my shoulders What can you do when your good isn't good enough And all that you touch tumbles down? Cause my best intentions Keep making a mess of things I just wanna fix it somehow But how many times will it take? Oh, how many times will it take for me to get it right?

9. Quê nhà của Trần Tiến (À ơi hoa cải)

À ơi, hoa bay lên trời, cây chi ở lại? À ơi, hoa cải lên trời Rau răm ở lại chịu lời đắng cay.

10. Bàn tay em của Xuân Quỳnh (Tay em tay anh)

Vui, buồn trong tiếng nói, nụ cười em Qua gương mặt anh hiểu điều lo lắng Qua ánh mắt anh hiểu điều mong ngóng Anh nghĩ gì khi nhìn xuống bàn tay?

11. The Four Loves của C. S. Lewis (Một nghìn thói quen)

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

[navybrat817]

This is alpha Bucky and I need him! 🥵

Nonnie, that is prime alpha!Bucky and I'm here for it. And apparently I'm not capable of actually writing full one-shots at the moment, but here's a taste of alpha!Bucky and alpha!Hal no one asked for. Sorry? Enjoy, lovelies! ❤️

Thanks to @book-dragon-13 for helping me hash out details for our alphas and what's to come. 💙

The Start of Something New

Pairing: Mechanic Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader x Carpenter Alpha!Hal Carter

Word Count: Almost 650

Warnings: Alpha Bucky and Hal (those are warnings), bit oh fluff, pinch of angst, no smut (not yet at least)

Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please comment and reblog if you’re inclined! 18+ please!!! - Banners by the lovely @its-just-may and moodboard by yours truly.

Finding your new home was exciting and exhilarating, even if some of your loved ones worried at the thought of you being alone.

“Being an omega doesn’t make me helpless. If anything, I’m stronger because I’m allowed to be vulnerable.”

So when you moved into the small neighborhood, you weren’t intending to find your mates.

And you certainly didn’t expect your place to be right between their homes. 

Hal, the kind carpenter, introduced himself to you first when he offered to help move your things inside.

You took in his charming smile and tanned arms as you told him your name.

You were wary for a moment, but your instincts told you to trust him. He didn’t come on strong or aggressive like many other alphas you encountered. 

Something, however, told you not to mistake his kindness for weakness. 

And his scent both calmed your nerves and ignited a spark inside you. Oak, apple pie, and a hint of what reminded you of horses, as if you were running through a field.

Hal was so distracting that when he waved Bucky, the mechanic, over to help, you didn’t protest. 

The massive man was the quieter and more intense of the two as he joined his friend. You almost bared your neck, but managed not to.

When Bucky told you his name, you caught his scent, too. Bonfire, plums, and a hint of leather, like a jacket.

Their scents together should have been too strong… too much. But it blended into something you wanted to bottle and keep for your own.

They were trying to catch your scent, too. Your blockers made it difficult.

They called to you so strongly and you couldn’t help but wonder if they felt it, too.

“Living alone, omega?” Bucky asked quietly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I have a name. And yes,” you answered as you took the box from Hal’s hands.

They didn’t laugh as you raised your chin. If anything, they looked impressed.

“I almost pity the alpha who crosses you,” Hal said with a small smirk.

“Almost,” Bucky added with the briefest of smiles.

You bit your lip to bite back your whimper. The point of living alone was to be independent, not to be a simpering mess.

“If they mess with me, they don’t deserve your pity.”

You nearly preened when Hal’s bright laugh and Bucky’s low chuckle hit your ears, following you inside. You wanted to hear it again and again.

They were in sync as they worked together, at ease instead of fighting for dominance. That took a level of deep trust and respect. 

But the longer they stayed, the more their scents lingered. Except for one room.

“No!” you shouted before either could get into the room at the end of the hall. When they set the boxes by the door, heat flooded your cheeks. “It’s just…”

“You don’t want our scents in your bedroom?” Hal guessed, no judgement in his voice as you nodded.

“We understand, doll,” Bucky told you, but hurt flashed in his eyes as he went past you.

You almost reached out to stop him, not wanting to see that look in his eyes ever again. “I’m sorry,” you whispered as Hal began to walk away, too. 

“Hey, none of that. Your home. Your rules. I wouldn’t let strange alphas in my bedroom either,” he assured you, grinning when you smiled softly.

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a little better as he winked and caught up to his friend.

You sighed as you leaned against the wall, your thighs firmly pressed together. You were not going to let your body dictate your actions, no matter how perfect they seemed.

You didn't know them… but you wanted to.

How the hell would you survive living among these men?

Better yet… What the hell were you going to do when you had your next heat?

*****

More from our Alphas in A Proper Welcome.

[thelastranger]

Told you you'd regret posting the drabble list! I'm going to be utterly predictable and suggest Stefan/Jesper for 34, if you feel like it (hands up everyone who saw that coming) 😁

34. "I won't let this happen."

It was a quiet night on the Heron. The waves were gently laping against the side, creating a soothing lullaby. The rest of the crew was out exploring the best night life the port had to offer, but Stefan had felt out of sorts and wanted to stay in.

There could be a thousand plays and unlimited food and drink and the most witty people around and still there Jesper would rather wrapped up with Stefan in a hammock.

They'd sat together and watched the horizon darken by the small fire. While warming up the chicken, Stefan had been quieter than normal. Jesper suspected his mood stemmed from a Toscan merchant remarking on Stefan's resemblance to the lovely Lady Bianchi.

It was best just to enjoy the silence. Stefan would talk when he was ready and usually when he was, he didn't want any empty platitudes. No, what Stefan wanted was to have his words heard and only that.

Later, only after they were in the hammock and Jesper had almost given up on hearing Stefan's thoughts, it was late after all, Stefan spoke.

"Sometimes, I'm scared that I'll have to choose. That my family will bring me back in. I can love them and still not want to be involved in their fake empire."

Precious moments pass in silence and it's in the silence that Stefan finds understanding. Sometimes, you don't need to solve the problem, you just need someone who undertsand it. Stefan lets himself fall asleep, comforted by Jesper's arms around him, and before sleep fully overtakes him, he hears a soft murmur against his dark locks.

"I won't let that happen."

-- (Some years later.)

The mood was grim in Hallasholm. For all the war and strife that the city had seen in the past, this was the biggest betrayal so far. Not even the Andomal and the Heron's exile had torn a hole as big as the one now.

All anyone could talk about as they scurried about, harvearing crops, storing food, trying to get on with their daily lives, was when the fleet arriving and what would the Herons do to stop it?

For the Herons, silence overwhelmed them. It wasn't something all of the Herons were good at, but today it came easy. Hal was consumed by plans and imagining potential futures, Edvin was wound up tighter than string, and Jesper was ignoring all of the pitying looks aimed his way.

He ignored Ulf's attempt at a joke and Wulf's silent admonition of his brother via a punch as Jesper laces up his boots and fastidiously tightened his bracer.

One of the many things he learned from Stefan was the importance of pesentation.

Above the former partners, the sky was a ugly gray that turned the sand into a formless mush. It matched how Jesper was feeling. There was no end to it, no end to the gloom inside.

Erak and his council had received the message several weeks ago and the contents had caused the oberjarl to splinter his chair in a fit of rage and to charge the Herons with security and to stop the fleet. It was a daunting task in more ways than one.

Stig, adorned in his Maktig attire, strod forward in the sand, a good distance from the water, and crossed his arms. He could've been made of stone and in normal times, the mere sight of Hallasholm's greatest warrior would deter any invaders. Not this time.

No, the front line of the invasion knew Stig too well to be intimidated. Anyone who had seen Stig sob at the sight of a butterfly while drunk could no longer be properly intimidated by the man.

Most of Hallasholm had turned out to see the combined Toscan and Skandian fleet arrive. Or, rather to see the first vanguard arrive.

There's silence until the ship stops and the landing party gets off, jumping from the rowboat into the sand. Then there's the sound of murmured wards against traitors and, if Jesper's hearing correctly, a few spits of disgust.

The leader of the party ignores all the reactions as he ambled towards the crowd, pausing a few meters away.

Stefan's dressed in bright colors. They suit him well. They always had, that was why Jesper had made a point of finding the most colorful shirts he could find at ports. Now he doesn't even bother. Why would he?

"I'm here as a representative of the Bianchi family. Surrender the oberjarl to us, pay the taxes outlined in our treaty, and accept our rule. If you do all that, we won't destroy Hallasholm."

It's not Stefan's normal voice. The confidence is borderline bravado and Jesper can hear the slightest tremble at the end. It's faint, but it's there. The desruction of Hallasholm must bother him, even just the threat of it.

Jesper and Hal step forward, taking the lead. The motion comes easily, a memory born from countless times of the secretary scam. Today, even taking a step feels unnatural and strange.

Hal and Hal alone has the authority to negotiate terms ("Like we would ever surrender to this sort of tactic, scoffs Stig. Jesper takes no offense; it's just the way Stig copes, he doesn't mean anything by it.) but he brought Jesper with him. They pitch it to Erak's council as a way to humanize the city but Hal and Jesper know it will do more destabilization. It's the point; that's what they've hinged their entire plan on.

Stefan takes a step forward and Jesper can't help but take one too even though Hal stays back. He ignores the looks from the women and men gathered and he ignores how close Lydia's hand is to her dirk.

"I won't let this happen."

It's a deliberate callback that he knows Stefan will rember and a line drawn in the sand, agonizingly and carefully chosen. Those words cause Stefan to flinch, not that anyone else would be able to see the slip in the mask. Stefan had always prided himself on keeping a calm face, never letting anyone close enough to see precisely how he felt, but Jesper knew.

He always knows.

And this sort of statement, a statement he used to make with his whole heart to protect Stefan, was now being used to protect Hallasholm from Stefan and his family.

Jesper failed Stefan, but he won't fail in his duty to Hallasholm. In the past, one could've called Jesper a thief (patently true), a coward (now untrue), and even a traitor (untrue except if one counted the incident with the Andomal) but that was then and this is now.

Circumstances change.

People change.

[sinhasaheart]

hal trying to calm sinestro down due to him having a breakdown

It's a typical day on Oa. Kilowog is beating up recruits, the Guardians are being unhelpful, and Sinestro is strutting past with his nose in the air, a perfect picture of righteous indignation.

Hal can't help it. Amused and curious, he bounds after Sinestro like an eager puppy.

Only one thing, or person, can pull Sinestro from his black mood and it arrives in a sparkle of green flitting through the sky and stumbling inelegantly on the ground. Hal Jordan is a beacon of light through everything.

"Hey, Sin." With a leap, Hal is back in the air, can't stay away from it, as he flies backwards before Sinestro's approach. "Let me guess... The stars just aren't aligning in that perfect orderly manner today?"

"No..." It all comes rushing back to Sinestro and his eyes glow with renewed ire. "I intend to have someone disciplined."

That does surprise Hal and he examines Sinestro closely. "It's not me, is it?" he jokes.

"Of course not," Sinestro snaps, temper flaring. "Be reasonable. I would have spoken to you about it." He glances up at Hal and then says tersely, "Would it kill you to walk on the ground? That is what it is there for."

Lips pursed, Hal looks down. "It would kill me if the floor was made of lava - yellow lava," he points out. "I'm being responsible, thinking ahead to the possible dangers in my future." He smiles benignly.

Before the smile has time to fully form on Hal's face, he's grabbed by Sinestro, hands on his shoulders and a fierce yellow gaze gripping him even tighter.

"You are," Sinestro says and there's so much intensity in him that it makes Hal's skin tingle. "Never be told otherwise. This Corps is honoured by you as I am honoured." He's fierce, searching Hal's face for acknowledgement. "There is none more deserving."

It stuns Hal who rarely sees Sinestro in such a state. Sure, Sinestro gets worked up over injustice and disorder on occasion but this time, it's all on Hal's behalf.

As Sinestro turns away, his lips are curled into a snarl. "Now to ensure the rest of the Corps understands it," he declares, mostly to himself.

It clicks into place for Hal then and he grabs Sinestro's shoulder. "Sinestro -" He's still having trouble really believing it. "I appreciate the thought but don't you think that's a bit much? You can't make the Guardians punish everyone who doesn't like me. Be reasonable."

Uninterested in Hal's hopeless penchant for forgiveness, Sinestro waves him away. "This is reasonable. Your place is worth more than theirs."

All 3600 Lanterns can be thrown out if it means Hal will stay and Sinestro doesn't need to say it. That's written in his willpower, like iron, backing Hal without doubt.

Hal takes a step and then he's pulling Sinestro into a tight hug. "You're so... you, sometimes," he growls it into Sinestro's ear, part frustration, part gratitude. "But I really need you to think, hmm?" He steps back. "What can they do against us? They don't mean anything."

And it is true, Sinestro knows. He's acting emotionally, really truly desiring to simply end the issue of the ignorant and have revenge. Still, they are significant. He defers to Hal's judgement.

[ragingbookdragon]

A League Of Her Own

A Wondersis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.4K Warnings: None

Author's Note: I guess I now have to put a "Wonderfamily" portion in my DC Masterlist! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“And this! Dear sister! Is where my team and I meet to save the world!”

Her eyes were wide with wonder and awe, gazing around the room as she breathed, “Diana, you save the world here? Every day?”

Diana shrugged. “It is mostly every day. We typically arrive to the Watchtower when one of us has a mission.” She grinned. “It is usually Batman who calls us.”

Her head swiveled. “Batman? Is he here?” She smiled, taking Diana’s hands. “Oh, I so wish to meet all your friends! The Flash and Green Lantern and Superman and—”

“Peace, (Y/N),” Diana giggled. “I shall introduce you to them all.”

(Y/N)’s smile only widened. “You cannot blame me for being so excited sister. You come home and tell me stories of your adventures and it is all I can do to be—” she cut herself off with a gasp, pointing to something in the corner. “WHAT IS THAT!”

Her sister merely watched bemusedly as (Y/N) sped over to the machine, poking and prodding it. “That is an ice cream machine.”

“How does it work?” she questioned, and Diana walked to her side, grabbing a cup from the side before putting it under the nozzle.

“Like this.” She pulled the lever and couldn’t help but laugh as (Y/N)’s eyes widened, head cocking sideways as she watched the frozen treat swirl in the cup.

“Amazing,” she breathed, and Diana handed her the cup along with a spoon.

“This is chocolate ice-cream. Be careful not to—”

(Y/N) stuck a giant spoonful in her mouth, eyes widening as she blurted. “Iss o old!”

“Sister,” Diana sighed with amusement. “I tried to warn you.”

“Old—old—old,” she whined, snapping her mouth shut, and her expression morphed into joy as she swallowed. (Y/N) shoved the cup in her sister’s face. “This is fantastic! Who created this? I must congratulate them!”

Diana fell to pieces in laughter, her sister puffing her cheeks. “Why are you laughing at me, Diana! I am being completely serious!”

“I know you are, but the inventor is…no longer alive.”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled downwards. “How sad!” she stuck the spoon back in her mouth, holding out her hand. “Ow e ore!” Diana grinned and took her hand, leading her around.

***

Some twenty minutes later, the two women were walking down the hall when (Y/N) suddenly stopped, unbeknownst to Diana, who kept talking. “You would never know the Watchtower was up here. We have the ability to—(Y/N)?”

She turned, glancing at her sister who was staring out one of the bigger windows, eyes big and round with awe, mouth open slightly; her hands were pressed tight to her stomach. “Sister?” Diana worried, walking back. “Is everything alright?”

(Y/N) glanced at her, ushed tears in her vision. “The world…it is…beautiful.”

Diana’s face eased from concern to warmth as she wrapped her arms around (Y/N), resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. “It is.”

“I never would have believed I would be able to see it in its entirety like this. I am overcome with such emotion.”

“It is love.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yes. It is.” She reached up and wiped her eyes. “I also have an urge to paint this wondrous masterpiece.”

Diana laughed. “I do not know if the Watchtower could hold the beauty your painting would produce.”

“You flatter me, sister.”

“Nonsense, I speak the truth.” She pulled away, glancing down the hall. “If you will excuse me for just a moment. I need to use the restroom.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “I will wait here for you.”

(Y/N) watched Diana walk off before turning back to the window, stepping up to it; she raised a hand and rested the tips of her fingers on the glass, feeling the chill on her skin. It was absolutely beautiful, the flow of the clouds against the bright blue water, along the green and tan of the lands. Her fingers itched to paint. To create. To weave and design tapestries that would remind her of this moment. All of it.

Someone’s arm fitted around her waist. “Hey Wonder Woman, you look absolutely beautiful in this light.”

She turned her head, seeing a brown-haired man with caramel eyes gazing at her. “Who are you?”

He blinked, eyes widening as he said, “You’re not Wonder Woman. Who are you?”

“My sister and I are two completely different women.” (Y/N) pulled from his grip. “But I asked you first. Speak or I shall drag the truth from you.”

“Is that a promise?” he flirted. “Because I totally have a thing for—NGH!”

His response was cut off by (Y/N) who yanked him forward by the arm and shoved him up against the window, pinning his arms behind him.

“Answer my question!” she shouted, shoving his arms up until he let out a grunt and raised on his toes to keep from feeling the pain.

“Hey! Easy! I need those arms!”

“You will need more than arms if you do not tell me who you are!”

“Hal Jordan!” he shouted. “I’m Green Lantern!”

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. “We shall wait for Diana to return to confirm that truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

“And we shall see.”

Footsteps sounded from down the hall and she glanced over, seeing Diana coming down, a man in red and another in blue following.

“Sister!” she called out. “I have apprehended this man! He claims to be the Green Lantern!”

Diana sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “(Y/N)…Hal is.”

She looked at Diana, then to Hal, then back to Diana. “Truly? Him? He looks so…plain though?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” he muttered, cheek still smushed up against the glass; he glanced at the man in red. “Hey Barry.”

The man, Barry, snickered. “Having fun, Hal?”

“Oh, you know, this is just another Tuesday night for me.” He wiggled his fingers. “Is that your breastplate, pretty woman? It’s awfully cold. I’d be happy to warm it up for you.”

(Y/N) scowled, stepping away from his hands. “You are absolutely disgusting. Diana you cannot possibly work with such a lecher.”

Diana giggled at Hal’s outcry of offense. “You get used to him, sister.” She waved. “Now please, let him go. You’ll break the poor man’s arms.”

She did as Diana commanded, letting him go and Hal sunk back to the floor, shaking out his arms. “Damn, you’ve got a strong grip, pretty woman.”

“My name is not ‘pretty woman’,” she griped. “I am Princess (Y/N) of Themyscira.”

Hal grinned at her. “Pleasure you meet you, Princess.”

(Y/N)’s lip curled, and she turned her attention to Diana. “Are all men like this?”

“Thankfully, no,” her sister said, placing hands on both Barry and the man in blue’s backs. “May I introduce Barry Allen the Flash and Clark Kent, who is Superman.”

(Y/N)’s disgust fell away to happiness as she stepped up and hugged them both. “It is my honor to meet you both! Diana has talked about all of you in great detail.”

“Has she talked about me?” Hal questioned and she turned her head.

“No.”

“Darn shame. I’m a great conversation topic.”

She looked at Diana. “Is he always this arrogant?”

“No,” she shrugged. “Sometimes he is asleep.”

The sisters laughed whilst Hal pouted, and Barry asked, “Princess (Y/N), would you like to come to the cafeteria and eat some lunch?”

She smiled. “You may call me (Y/N), Barry. But yes, I would like to. That is, if Diana is coming too?”

“I would sister, but Clark was coming to get me for a meeting with Batman.” Diana excused, turning to Superman who nodded.

“We’re discussing some changes to the Watchtower communicators,” he said and (Y/N) merely smiled.

“I understand. We shall meet up later then.” Her eyes drifted to Barry’s. “Are you going with them?”

“Nope,” he said, popping his bottom lip. “Bruce said it was okay for me to skip out. He held out his arm. “May I escort you?”

Laughing, she looped her arm with his. “You may.” As she passed Hal, she held out her free arm. “Are you coming?”

He glanced at her. “I thought you didn’t like me?”

“It is too early to decide such a thing. Do I think you are a lecher? Absolutely. But that is merely my first opinion.” (Y/N) smiled. “I believe you will change it.”

Hal cracked a grin and looped his arm with hers. “See, if you really wanna change it, you should let me take you flying.”

“Oh? Like in a jet? Diana has one,” she chirped, letting the two men lead her down the hall.

“Of course in a jet. See there’s this place in Coast City—”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

let me be your ruler.2

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, handjob.

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You try to forget about Peter but he won’t forget about you.

Note: I hate that I am the way that I am. I wanted to keep this to two parts but you know me. 

Anyways, I’m excited for this and hope you are too.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Drowsy in the afterglow of sex and alcohol, you fell quickly into a deep sleep. You didn’t even change before you sank into bed. You hardly recalled the elevator ride up or stumbling into your apartment and tripping around the shadows to your room. It was only a fractured journey from the car to your mattress.

You woke as your phone vibrated under your pillow. You must have buried it there before passing out. You groaned and rolled over as you dug it out. There were several notifications next to a single name; Peter. You thumbed through each message; written in the same tone as his voice. Demanding, without question.

‘Great night, Princess.’ ‘We’ll do it again Saturday.’ ‘Wear something nice.’ … The messages escalated smoothly from doting to commanding. It jolted you back to the night before, the way he seemed to just thrust you through the night. The dress, the drinks, the men, the guns…

You sat up, your panties crooked on your hips. You muttered and swiped away the messages. You weren’t seeing him again. You couldn’t. You had stuck your toe in too deep already. It was best to nip these things in the bud. Not to let yourself get dragged in so far you couldn’t see the surface. 

Peter was more than mysterious; he was dangerous.

You went to the kitchen and waited for the machine to grind as the scent of coffee filled your heavy body. You drank too much, did too much. You still felt Peter’s hand between your legs. It made your chest tight and your head spin. You looked down at your body, the red dress wrinkled and askew.

You left the coffee to brew and retreated to your room. You tore off the dress and your panties. You pulled on a cotton shirt and loose pajama pants. You stormed back into the kitchen and shoved the clothing in the bin. You snatched your phone from the counter and swiped up the lock screen.

‘Sorry, I don’t think this is going to work out.’ You typed. Your hand shook as you hovered over send. You heard Halle’s door and you pressed your thumb down. You looked up at her before you pulled up the block option.

“How was your night?” She asked as she inhaled the aroma of your morning ritual.

“Eh, you know, another dead end,” you pushed your thumb down and the conversation disappeared. “Just not my type.”

“Really?” She whined. “He seemed so nice. And he liked you so much.”

You blackened your screen and placed your phone face down. “Well, you know, things don’t always turn out.” You shrugged and pulled out a mug, “You want some?”

“Are you at least going to tell me about it?” She pouted. “And yes, lots of sugar.”

You poured her coffee and handed her the sugar dish. You frowned at how much powder she scooped into her cup but it was her most endearing trait. She knew what she wanted and she didn’t care what anyone thought.

“Uh, well, it wasn’t anything special. He took me to a party but… I don’t know. What kind of first date is that? Take me somewhere I don’t know anyone…” You ran your finger around the rim of your cup. “Maybe when I was younger but now.”

“You sound like such an old lady,” she snickered, “Oh my god!” She stood straight, “Are we old?”

“I am, but you’ll always be young at heart, Hal,” you rolled your eyes.

“So you’re not going to try a second?” She prodded.

“I don’t think so,” you cradled your mug, “He… hasn’t even messaged me back.” 

You hated lying but Halle had gotten you into this mess and you knew she’d harp on you for not even giving Peter a chance. But you had. He wasn’t what he seemed and you didn’t want to stick around and find out what exactly he was hiding.

“What?” She huffed. “Well, fuck him then.” She sipped from her coffee and her lips curved as she swallowed. “Wait, did you…”

“Hal, come on,” you snipped.

“Oh, fine, but you know, maybe if you got laid, you wouldn’t be so uptight.” She teased.

“Not this again,” you groaned and slid your phone off the counter. “You know what, I got work to do.”

“Uh huh,” she hummed as you turned to leave, “Work. When did you get so old and boring?”

“One of us had to,” you called back over your shoulder, “And we both know you’re never growing up.”

✨

Your phone was pleasantly still for the rest of the day. You felt a twinge of guilt having blocked Peter but then you recalled the men and their holsters. You found your mind drifting away from your work and your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you thought back. 

The company he kept added to the uneasiness in your chest. Steve was friendly but arrogant. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, what was it he introduced you as, “Peter’s girl”. And that man, Bucky. He didn’t seem too fond of Peter but the way he’d grinned at you, as if he knew something you didn’t. Well, he did, they all did. Your head stormed as you tried to figure out their secret.

You shook off the curdling paranoia and hunched as you squinted closer at your computer. You made yourself focus as you skimmed the tight font and added your suggestions in the margin. You sent off your edited draft as your stomach groaned; empty and churning from the acidic coffee.

You grabbed your phone and your mug as you stood. You checked the time. Almost noon. You grumbled and went back to the kitchen, thankfully empty as Halle had left for work an hour ago. You set your cup down and expanded your notifications. A single phone call from a private number and a new follower on your mostly empty Insta.

You opened the neglected app and hit the notification. The profile was emptier than yours. the profile pic was just black and there were no posts. The name gave you no hints as it was obviously generated by the site. 

You went back and a comment popped up on the picture of your and Halle at last year's winter market. ‘Gorgeous, Princess.’ You read and reread the two words as you leaned against the counter. You bit your fingertips and went back to the mysterious profile. You hit ‘block’ and locked your phone.

Surely, he’d get the hint sooner or later. It was one date and the man seemed to have no trouble with women. He’d move on and you’d both forget about that off putting night. You just had to wait him out.

✨

A week rolled by as you kept yourself busy with your work. The phone calls stopped after the first day and you had no more peculiar alerts awaiting you. Your plan had worked. It wasn’t exactly the best; it was a bit cowardly, actually. Yet, knowing how Peter was and how ‘no’ seemed beyond his vocabulary, you had more faith in your evasion than his understanding.

As the weekend approached, Halle convinced you to come out with the girls. You had eluded those opportunities for the past year as you found yourself disillusioned and disinterested in the club scene. You felt as if you were aging out of it and seeing all those fresh-faced coeds assured you of it. Even so, the girls liked to dance and in their words, you need to ‘let loose’.

You couldn’t disagree. You had been on edge and the mounting emails in your inbox didn’t ease the stress of everything else.

With a pre-drink burning a whole in your stomach, you pulled on a pair of flats as your bag hung across your chest. You were comfortable but not stuffy in your tight jeans and the bright pink top with the criss-cross straps. You felt pretty good and the vodka made you optimistic.

You headed down to the street and caught a cab. The dread evaporated the closer you got and as you pulled up to the front of the flashing club, Molly and Desiree waved at your approach. The four of you joined the line as you searched out your ID.

“So,” Molly said, “Halle told us about your little date!”

“Date?” You blinked. “Oh, yeah, that didn’t pan out.”

“Of course,” Desiree scoffed, “That guy was so cute though.”

“Yeah, he was nice, but we just didn’t…”

“He’s ghosting her!” Halle interjected, “Didn’t even text the next day, ugh.”

Halle crossed her arms and you nodded. You weren’t going to correct her, you didn’t need the other two piling on about your dormant love life. You came out to have a good time, that’s what they promised you, and you didn’t want to think about the night that still stood so vividly in your mind.

As you stepped up to the bouncer, he barely looked at your card. You were almost offended as he waved you through and carded the next party more closely. You glanced around at your friends but they hardly seemed bothered. Well, only Halle had reached that big three-o with you, and the other two girls still had a year or two to go.

Madonna’s voice pumped from the speakers as you neared the bar. You looked around at the streaming lights and the bodies shadowed in the strobe. You were surprised you recognized the song and you nudged Desiree as she waited for Molly to order the first round.

“What’s up with the music?” You asked.

“It’s retro night! Duh! Just for you!” She giggled and you elbowed her harder.

Molly turned and passed out the plastic cups with their thin straws and you followed Halle to the low stage where the smoke machine billowed. You coughed at the taste of the fog and sucked on your straw. You began to sway as the other girls led the charge. You could help but be enlivened by the deep base and the energy all around.

As you danced, the girls yelled back and forth about their recent drama. Desiree’s date had been more successful than your own, Molly was certain she was in love with Charlie? You still didn’t know. And Halle was just riding the vibe.

You finished your drink and the other girls stacked their cups in yours before you crossed the stage to leave the garbage on the table just beside the platform. 

You looked over at the bar, pondering another, and your eye was caught by a figure who seemed out of place. The cut of his suit, the way he leaned on hand on a stool, and the intense gaze sent in your direction startled you.

You blinked and stumbled over to the single step down to the floor. You pushed through the bodies, nearly tumbling as a tipsy guy crashed into you. You got to the bar and looked up and down it. Girls waved their hands to get the bar tender’s attention and guys sidled up to them. 

Bucky was gone. It was him. Maybe the air was filled with smoke and the lights were flashing like a siren, but you were certain. Why was he there? How had he found you among the city? Among the reverie in that club? Why had he been watching you? And where had he gone?

You went to where you’d seen him and searched the perimeter of the bar. You went back through the club and slipped past those just getting in. You tapped on the bouncer’s shoulder and he grumbled before he turned and bent to hear you. “What is it?”

“Did you see a guy in a suit leave? Dark hair and--”

“There’s a lot of people here,” he shrugged you off.

You snarled and turned back. You got ahead of the flood of new arrivals and fought your way back to the three girls on the stage. As you walked up, Halle pouted and grabbed your elbow. “Boo, we thought you were getting another round.”

“No, no, I…” you squirmed and tried to get back into the rhythm, “I had to use the restroom.”

“Well, how about now? Wanna refill the tank?” She jibed.

“Uh, sure,” you picked at the purse. “Be right back.”

“Make mine a double,” Molly called after you. “Thanks.”

✨

Despite drowning yourself in alcohol, you barely slept and when you did, you were back in the club, staring at a man you never expected to see again. You wondered if maybe you’d imagined it or if Peter had sent him after you or if it was someone else and you were just tipsy and blind. Whatever it was, you couldn’t shake the foreboding that followed you into the next morning.

Your Saturday was painful and lazy. You spent your hangover on the couch and barely saw Halle as she cowered in the dim light of her room. You fell asleep there and dragged yourself to bed just before nine. You really were old, or at least, getting there.

Sunday slapped you in the face after another night of disjointed dreams. Peter and the room full of men, Bucky at the bar, and static in between. Responsibility called you from your mattress and you cleaned up and dressed for your weekly trip to the grocery store. 

As you came out, Halle was glaring at her phone. “What’s up?” You asked as you shoved your wallet in your purse. “You coming to the store?”

“I got called in for one.” She pouted. “Tell me why I fucked that asshole?”

“Shit, Hal, I’m sorry. Well, I’ll just do the shop myself.” You frowned, “Let you get ready to deal with all that.”

“It’s all because he fucking texted me on Friday and drunk me decided to reply and then… urgh, why do I do this?”

“I don’t know why you’re asking me?” You grinned.

“Oh, please go before I throw this at you,” she shook her phone, “And don’t forget my oat milk.”

“Whole milk?” You asked as you slipped your shoes on, “Got it.”

“Don’t,” she warned.

“Alright, alright. Hopefully I catch you before you go,” you stood and grabbed your keys from the hook. “Have fun with Mr. Bossman.”

“Shut up,” she buried her head in her hands, “Oh my god!”

You tried not to laugh as you left. You felt bad for her as you didn’t know what you’d do in her situation. Looking for a new job had been her first thought but the market was never very good and the man who was driving her away, wasn’t exactly a shining reference.

You took your usual route to the grocer. You had your list on your phone and loaded your cart. You filled the reusable bags and set off for a very inconvenient subway ride home. Your arms screamed as you carried the load up your street and struggled to find your keys at the door. The elevator was too slow and you ended up hauling it all up the stairs. You were out of breath as you got to your apartment.

You turned the knob just a little and kicked open the door. You stomped in and dropped the bags. “So, I got your damn milk--” You stopped short as your voice collided with Halle’s. She was already dressed for work but her braids were still loose. She stood behind the couch as she talked to your unexpected visitor.

“Oh, there she is,” she said snappily, “I wouldn’t blame her for kicking you out but I’ll leave it up to her.” Halle turned to you, “Look who’s here. Only took him a week to come around.”

“Hal,” you said softly as you set the bags down. “What--” You lowered your voice, “Why’d you let him in?”

“So he can apologize to you,” she huffed loudly and passed you to close the door, “Don’t you worry, I still gotta finish getting ready so you have lots of time to hear him out.” She looked at him sharply.

“Really, it’s…” You gulped as you peeked over at Peter. He sat calmly in the chair as he watched you. “Yeah, okay.”

She marched into her room and as her door closed, you reluctantly approached the back of the couch where your roommate had just stood. You stared at Peter, uncertain what to say. You hadn’t been prepared for this; for him to be there in your apartment, your home.

“Peter,” you ran your hands over the couch cushions.

“You lie to everyone you know?” He asked. “As I recall, I’m not the one who’s been… ‘ghosting’, as your friend says.”

“I…” You shifted and picked at the seam, “Look, I told you it wasn’t going to work--”

“You barely gave me a chance. Gave us a chance,” he said as he pushed his legs apart. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Well, you know, I have work and it’s just not a good time for me right now.” You sniffed. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but--”

“Ha, princess, I don’t hurt so easy,” he smirked, ���Why don’t you sit down and we can talk properly… finally.”

You scratched your brow and cleared your throat. “I don’t think we need to do that.”

Your voice trailed off as Halle opened her door again. She swept out and you waited as she scooped her purse off the counter and sidestepped the groceries still sat on the floor.

“Gotta go,” she sang, “I’ll see you after work.” She stopped by the door as she wiggled into her heels, “Let me know how you deal with… him.”

“See ya,” you said quietly and watched her go. You looked back at Peter slowly as he chuckled.

“What did you tell her about me?” He wondered.

“Nothing. Really.” You said. “I have your jacket. You want it back--”

“Sit,” he gestured to the couch. “We’ll worry about that later.”

“No. Peter, please. I’m just not interested, okay?”

“You seemed pretty interested in the car,” he purred, “Seemed real interested.”

“I…” You looked at the wall and squirmed. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You were asking for it in that dress,” he intoned. “Now,” his movement drew your eye as he reached into his jacket, “I don’t like playing things like this.” He pulled the pistol from its holster and rested it on the arm of the chair, his hand firm on the handle. “Please, sit down. Let’s talk.”

You stared at the gun. Your blood burned hot and you felt blindly as you came around the couch and dropped down. Your eyes never left the muzzle. Would he use it on you?

“Oh, princess, don’t you worry, I’m just getting comfortable.” He taunted. “Now, I’ve been tryna figure out where I went wrong. I got you a pretty dress, I took you to a nice party, I fed you champagne, and I even gave you a little dessert,” he mused and his lip curled, “So I gotta confess I’m confused as you why you’ve been hiding from me.”

You were paralyzed. You clutched your knees and gritted your teeth. You didn’t know what to say. You’d convinced yourself that you’d never see him again. Your method was tried and trued, at least, when it was used against you.

“Don’t be afraid. You can tell me. I really would prefer the truth.” His finger slid along the short barrel as he spoke. “So?”

“I… Peter, I don’t think that we would, uh, work out. Look, I don’t like guns and…” Your lashes fluttered, “I don’t really know that I wanna be around someone who carries one. Not too mention, your friends--”

“My friends. Princess, your mine. They won’t touch you.” He raised his chin. “They’re not that bold.”

You were silent. Your heart pulsed loudly and you took a breath. You stood cautiously and crossed your arms. “Peter, we talked. I told you my reasons. I think you should… go.” You said as firmly as you could.

He laughed again. His cheek twitched and the smile fell away from his face. He rose slowly and turned his gun to tuck it away under his jacket. His eyes never left you as he did.

“You really want me to go?” He asked.

You nodded and held your breath. “Yes.”

He threw his hands out and clapped them against his pants. He shook his head and crossed the room. You turned to watch him as he passed and suddenly, you were thrust towards him. His hand was on the back of your neck as he pulled you against him. He held you tightly and you felt his gun poking through his jacket.

He grinned, his lips only an inch from yours. “I’m going, princess, but not without you.”

“Let go of me!” You struggled with him. “Get off!”

“Princess,” he warned as his fingers dug into your neck, “Settle down.”

“No, I told you to go.” You hissed as you grabbed his wrist. “Please.”

“Let’s get this straight,” he said, “You don’t tell me what to do. Even if it gets me hard.” He crushed his lips to your suddenly and you wrestled with him, your teeth grazing his lip before he pulled back sharply, barely escaping a bite. “You don’t wanna do that.”

His hand went to your chin and he looked you in the face. He rubbed his nose against yours and growled. You beat on his chest and he squeezed tighter.

“Shit, let’s not just rush out of here,” he released you, “You should get those away before they spoil.”

He stepped back and placed his hand on the front of his jacket, where his gun was hidden. You gaped at him and your eyes flitted to the door.

“Ah, don’t worry, we’ll be on our way soon enough,” he said, “So long as you hurry up.”

You swallowed and he moved with you as you went to the bags. He blocked the door as you pulled the straps apart and began to unpack shakily. You dropped a can and it rolled along the floor before he stopped it with his foot. He kicked it back and leaned an elbow on the door frame.

You picked it up with several other cans and went to the cupboard. You snapped the door closed as you felt around the drawer with your other hand. You heard a click and looked to Peter as he aimed his pistol at you. He tilted his head. 

“Don’t do that,” he intoned as your hand lingered just inches from the knives inside the drawer.

You went back to the spread of groceries and tried to ignore him as you put everything in its place. As you bent to fill the crisper, he purred, a sizzly ‘princess’ under his breath. You finished up and packed the bags one into the other. You left them on the counter and again, he put his gun away.

“Princess, let me tell you something,” he gripped the door handle, “I don’t take that out without using it very often so don’t press my patience.” He turned the knob slowly, “I’ve waited on you long enough.”

✨

The car ride was tense and long. Peter drove you uptown and you watched out the window helplessly. You rubbed your palms together nervously as they dampened with sweat. He’d taken your phone when you reached for it. He tossed it and it was somewhere on the floor.

He drove past the condos and the walk-ups and continued on nearly the exact path he’d taken on the momentous night. Another grand house awaited you but you remained in the seat as Peter climbed out. He opened your door and still you didn’t move. He reached across you to unbuckle the seat belt and grabbed your arm. He jerked you out onto your feet and sighed.

“Peter,” you begged, “What’s going on? Please, you’re scaring me.”

“Princess, have I done you wrong?” He asked but you didn’t answer. “I won’t hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me right now,” you wriggled your arm and he shoved you ahead of him.

“In,” he demanded as you stumbled up the rounded steps. “Now.”

You opened the door and stepped inside. You crossed the marble floor of the foyer as he directed you from behind. He followed at a pace, close enough that you couldn’t flee. Even if you did, you wouldn’t make it far.

“Pete,” the voice startled you and you stopped at the bottom of the wide staircase. Bucky stood in a doorway to your left. His gaze moved from you to Peter and back again. “I didn’t realise you brought company.”

“You’re still here?” Peter snipped.

“Was I supposed to leave?” He sneered. “You got me and Steve running around and you’re gonna kick us to the curb.”

“You don’t look very busy to me,” Peter growled and neared to rest his hand on your lower back. He leaned in and whispered in your ear. “Upstairs, turn left, the room at the very end. I don’t like hide and seek, you got me?”

You nodded and looked at Bucky again. His mouth slanted knowingly and his tongue poked out for just a moment. You turned up the stairs and left Peter behind. You reached the top and listened for a moment to his muffled voice.

“You and Steve do your fucking job and leave me alone. Understand. I don’t want to be bothered.” Peter snarled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna be interrupted either,” Bucky snickered. “Not with her.”

“Go,” Peter barked. “Now.”

“Ay, you might be Tony’s man but you still gotta watch yourself,” Bucky warned. “This little arrangement isn’t gonna last forever…”

You went to your left and to the door at the end, like he said. You entered and couldn’t help but gasp at the immense bedroom. The black and white decor was expertly matched in marbles and exotics woods, plush velvet and polished sconces. You couldn’t help but admire the luxury.

You didn’t close the door. You glanced around dumbly and stood in one spot as you feared you might break something. You wrung your hands as you heard the steady footsteps and you spun as Peter entered. He looked even more agitated as he cracked his knuckles.

“Sorry about that, Princess,” he said, “Now where were we?” His eyes roved the room as he thought, “Ah, yes, an apology.”

“Apology. I…”

“Should I close the door?” He raised a brow, “You’d be surprised how sound carries in here.”

You frowned and he laughed as he swung the door shut. He neared you and bit the tip of his tongue as he considered you. His brown eyes bore into you and you took a step back. He stayed near and caught your wrist. His other hand fumbled with his belt and he let out a slow breath through his nose.

“Princess, I’d love to treat you how you deserve but you gotta be good to me too.” He pulled on your arm and twisted as you tried to resist. You hissed and he pushed your hand against his crotch. “I don’t forgive easy but I’m sure you can change that.”

“Don’t... don’t make me do this,” you uttered.

“Oh, but princess, you did this,” he pressed your hand around his bulge. “You take care of me and I’ll do the same.”

You parted your lips to argue and he grabbed the back of your head. He kissed you roughly and guided your hand to the top of his boxers. He slid your fingers under the elastic and urged you on, wrapping your fingers around his dick with a groan.

He squeezed until you gripped him firmly. He led your hand up and down as he held you to him, his hot breath filling you as it picked up. He forced his tongue into your mouth and you clawed at his jacket as he kept your other hand around him. He parted from your mouth at last and pressed his cheek to yours.

“Keep going, princess,” he purred as he slowly withdrew his hand from around yours. “You don’t wanna use your hand, I might think of something else.”

You quivered and slid your hand up and down his length. He nuzzled your neck and nibbled as he moaned against your skin. You could only move your hand as you stood against him stunned and rigid. He gripped your waist as you felt him tense and he murmured hungrily.

“Oh, princess,” he breathed and pushed his pelvis against your hands as he came. 

You felt the slick heat seep down your hand and slowed until he was breathless. He stilled your hand with his and carefully eased your hand from his pants. He stood straight and eyed your glistening fingers.

“Shit,” he swore as he caressed your cheek, “You made a mess of this suit.” He dropped his hand to the front of his pants as he smiled. He inhaled and pushed his shoulders back. “I forgive you, Princess.”

[haldenlith]

Ship Repairs

More random writing.

I just felt like having another fun little scene with Crow and Hal, given that, when you think about it, shit is really damn bleak and tense right now. So I say, let them have some childish dumb fun, if only for a little bit.

“And this is why you should let Amanda work on it.” Hal lightly waved Ghost away as he popped off a scorched panel on the Queen of Hearts. Turns out, despite his fast flying, it actually is possible to still sustain damage from enemy fire. It didn’t help that the ship had some underlying issues from Hal not entirely understanding Cayde’s own jerry rigged work under the hood.

“It’s fine. I can fix it,” Hal grunted out, getting to work on deciphering the exact issue and, well, attempting to remedy it. “Just keep your eye out for any trouble. You may be able to revive me, but that doesn’t mean getting shot in the head hurts any less.”

“Says the guy who throws himself into fatal situations in order to see visions,” Ghost replied dryly. Hal shot him a withering glare and huffed.

“That’s different,” he muttered before turning his attention back to his work. He was managing to figure it out, though only barely. He ended up having to take his gloves off so that he could feel what he was doing. Unfortunately, that meant getting shocked was all the more likely.

Which is precisely what happened.

Hal hissed and yanked his hand away. “Fuck! Piece of...” He growled at the ship, but his irritation was cut short when his ears caught the soft rustle of something moving through the forest brush. If Ghost didn’t make any noise about it, it must be a Marauder. Hal was quick to pull Crimson out and whirl around, ready to take the shot at the first shimmer he saw.

Instead, he saw a familiar man in white and black, with the faint glint of sunlight on the beak of the helmet. Hal always found it funny how the helmet matched well with his name. Crow even had his hands on his hips, sauntering onto the scene.

“You sound like you’re just having a great time over there.” Crow’s tone was that of extreme amusement, as he had heard about how protective Hal was of that ship in particular from Amanda in the past. Or, rather, he heard via Amanda complaining about the fact.

“Oh shut up.” Hal may not have known exactly the reason for the teasing sarcasm, but he could tell enough. Crow closed the gap of the forest’s edge of the clearing to Hal, pushing his hood down and pulling his helmet off.

“Looks like you took a pretty nasty hit. You want any help?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be scouting?” Crow tucked his helmet under his arm, nodding.

“I am. I happened to hear you while I was doing exactly that. It’s a little hard to miss your loving words to your ship.” He motioned to the area Hal was working on. “Faster we can get that bird flying, faster I can go back to scouting. Also means the faster you don’t have to worry about taking a shock lance to the back. A lot of Eliksni around that still aren’t particularly fond of us, unfortunately.” Hal gave a grunt and waved Crow away.

“Go back to scouting, I’m fine.” Crow inclined his head to the side a bit, narrowing his eyes a bit.

“It sure didn’t sound like you were fine a second ago.” Ghost sighed, flying down to rest in between the two Guardians.

“He gets like this about Queen. You’re better off just moving on. Otherwise, you’ll be arguing with him all day.” Glint popped out, taking notice of a particular emblem on the ship. He floated around to be in Crow’s line of sight.

“He’s right. We don’t have time to deal with Hal’s stubbornness right now.” Crow looked between the two Ghosts, raising an eyebrow, before stepping around Glint and striding past Ghost. He leaned on his shoulder, against the ship, next to Hal.

“I’m serious. The two of us will work a lot faster. I promise I’ll be out of your hair after that and I’ll keep my hands off of your baby here.”

“I’m fine. I don’t want your help.” Crow sighed, giving his head a bit of a frustrated roll all the while.

“I don’t get why you’re so resistant to letting me help you with this! You know I can help, and I won’t break anything. Just let me help you.” He turned to begin pacing a bit. “I get that you’re protective of that ship in particular, but accepting a little help isn’t going to-” In his pacing, he wandered beneath the wing, and caught sight of something that stood out in his memories. A spade. Even with a different paint job, Hal was careful to make sure that, at least the spades remained.

Crow saw a flash of that spade on a gun, tucked away in his, no, Uldren’s memories. He stopped, casting his eyes to the ground. Hal turned, caught off guard by the sudden pause. “Right. I guess you wouldn’t want me of all people touching his ship,” Crow said softly. He started to put his helmet back on. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. I’ll watch your back while you work.” Hal shook his head. He didn’t even think about this being an issue, and now he felt a little bad for the insensitivity of it.

“Crow, wait.” He quickly went to grab Crow’s arm to stop him, since he knew better than to think that the man would stop at just his verbal insistence. “That’s not it at all.”

“You don’t have to make me feel better about it. I get it.” Hal’s grip remained firm.

“That’s not it. Stop feeling bad about yourself and listen to me. That’s not it. That’s not why.” Hal’s grip started to loosen a bit as he looked down, falling quiet for a moment, before he brought his eyes to meet Crow’s. “Yes, it is his ship. Yes, I do have a sentimental attachment to it. Your past has nothing to do with me being resistant to your help. I just... He had it a certain way, and... I...” Hal’s hand finally fell from Crow’s arm, and he looked to the side. “... I guess I’m a little too protective of it. Look, um...” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze still everywhere but Crow. “I... I don’t entirely understand everything going on underneath that hood. I... guess I could... use your help. You seem good with that sort of stuff.” Crow stared at Hal for a moment, then looked at the ship. After a few beats of silence, he looked back at Hal.

“... You sure?” Hal nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Crow looked down, a small little smile creeping onto his lips, before he let out a dramatic sigh.

“I guess I can help you.” That smile grew, and he inclined his head towards the ship. “Let’s take a look.” The two of them headed over, with Crow tossing his helmet over to the side, letting it roll and clink against Hal’s own helmet. As they worked, a few droplets began to pitter and patter on the ship, and on the flipped up panel shielding their work. Crow groaned a bit, looking up as rain began to fall on his face. “Really?!”

“If you’re worried about the ship, she’s a sturdy bird. She can handle a little rain on the inside.” Crow shook his head, looking back down to his work.

“It’s more about having to work in the rain. I know I should be used to it, but it’s... still kind of unpleasant. You know how heavy this cloak gets when it’s wet?” Hal chuckled and handed him another tool.

“Can’t be any worse than wet robes. Besides, it’s hot enough that the rain’s kind of nice.” He wagged a finger at Crow while continuing, “You want unpleasant, you should try trudging through all of the swamps and moats and all that nonsense in Savathun’s Throne World. I swear I have to dump muck and water out of my boots every time I come back from there.” It was Crow’s turn to laugh.

“That’s true. That place has its fair share of unpleasant locales to get soaked in. Hey, that wrench I said I wouldn’t need? Yeah, I need it.” Hal nodded and meandered over to the spot he had the tools. As Hal crouched down, Crow looked down and noticed the puddle of rain water that had formed around his feet. He turned his amber gaze then from the puddle to Hal’s crouched form, and pursed his lips as a certain sense of devious mischief grasped him. They were both already wet, on their way to being soaked (though it wasn’t raining quite that hard yet), so... what was the harm in a bit of harmless fun?

He kicked the water Hal’s way, splashing the crouching Awoken.

“Hey!” Hal spun around to find Crow staring innocently at him.

“What?”

“... You splashed me.”

“No I didn’t.” Hal narrowed his eyes at Crow and slowly stood, filled with suspicion.

“... Right. Anyway, here’s the wrench.” He handed the tool over to Crow. They continued to work as if the “mysterious splash” never happened, eventually completing the repair job.

“Well, you should probably work on it more when you get back to the Tower-- and let Amanda help you, but that should do the trick. For now at least.” Crow shut the panel and gave it a small slap. Hal nodded.

“I guess I owe you one now?” Crow began stepping over to his helmet lazily, lifting a hand to his chin.

“I reckon you do.” He grinned, and moved that hand up to push a bit of rain slicked hair to the side. If it was going to be stuck to him, it might as well be on the side of his face rather than in his eyes. He bent down to grab his helmet, only to find himself splashed with water. He jumped and looked at Hal, who was staring very pointedly at him. His splash was bigger, given that the puddle was sizeable now. Crow narrowed his eyes at the man. “I see how it is.”

“Oh, so you admit it.” Hal crossed his arms over his broad chest. He looked far less regal and warlord-like with the fur on his armor soaked, but he was a big man all the same. Crow stood, abandoning his helmet for the time being.

“I never said that.” His dodgey answer got another bit of now somewhat muddy water kicked his direction. He made a light show of trying to avoid it, yelping (though honestly it was for show). “Okay, listen, if you do that again, you’re going to regre- HEY!” Hal didn’t even give him a chance to finish his threat before kicking more water his way.

“Bold threats from a guy that can’t fly.” Hal began backing up from Crow, smirking. Crow wagged a finger at Hal, shaking his head.

“Oh, don’t you dare think that’ll protect you.” With that, Crow bolted towards Hal as the Warlock did exactly as he said he would, kicking up off the ground and floating upwards away from him. Alas, he had forgotten, for a moment, that while Hunters can’t fly like Warlocks, they could scale a great deal of distance in any direction, and that included up. Crow ended up tackling him out of the air, the both of them landing with a splash against the wet ground. What followed was a brief bout of wrestling before Crow found himself thrown off, being quickly reminded once again about Hal’s strength. Thus, the cycle of them chasing after each other in the rain began anew. It was essentially a game of tag with pauses of mud wrestling as one tried to get the other to, in essence, apologize for their splash transgressions. Or, at least, that’s how it started. The actual reason eventually was lost in the silly fun of the moment, since it ultimately wasn’t important.

Their respective Ghosts watched from their dry spot under the wing of Queen.

“We should probably stop them. Crow’s already in hot water still with Zavala, so him goofing off like this probably isn’t wise. And Hal was on his way back to make his own report. He only stopped here in the EDZ to drop something off with Devrim. Well, before he essentially got shot down.” Glint turned to Ghost, shaking his shell a bit.

“It’s fine. Let them have their fun. I think they both could use a little break and be silly for a bit.” Glint looked back at the two Guardians chasing each other about in the rain, occasionally yelling various playful insults at the other, though that was usually followed up with laughter. “Besides, listen to them. They’re having fun.”

“You know, they kinda remind me of the kids I see playing around in The City.”

“They do resemble kids a bit, don’t they? Let’s let them play in the rain for a while. If Crow gets in trouble, I’ll vouch for him.” Ghost looked at Glint and then looked back at the Guardians.

“... I don’t think they’ll get another chance to just let loose like this.” Ghost’s tone was soft as he drooped a bit from the spot he was floating. Glint didn’t look away or change the spot he was floating in, continuing to watch the two from his spot.

“I don’t think so either,” his tone matched Ghost’s. The two Ghosts fell silent for a moment, before Glint finally looked at Ghost. “I like your new shell!”

“Oh! Thank you! Hal got it for me! He’s got a weakness to buying me shells. Tess gets him every time with ‘Guardian, we have some new shells in stock.’ Every time.”

“Crow’s such a hard sell. I can’t get him to buy me any of the nice shells she sells.”

“I could give you one of mine. I have a lot. Hal even has a nice little display shelf for them all in his home. It’s crazy! I keep telling him to stop buying me shells, but you know him. He doesn’t listen.”

The two Ghosts chit-chatted for a while, letting their Guardians play, for they had a feeling darker days would be ahead of them.

[thestarrynightslover]

So Many Times Before

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 3,190

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst.

Summary: (y/n) and Jay used to be best friends who had always, secretly, wanted more. Now, after years of not seeing each other, what happened to all those feelings? 

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first actual fanfic and I’m quite unsure about it (especially since English isn’t my first language), but I really wanted/needed to give some use to my obsession with Jay Halstead, lol. Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

"So, honey, you are never gonna believe who I saw the other day at the district..." You remember your dad saying, in a conversation that made your heart skip a few beats, weeks ago.

"Oh yeah? Who?" You asked with a soft smile on your lips, not paying much attention at the moment.

"Jay Halstead." He said simply as if just waiting for you to freak out. God, your dad really knew how to make you drop your cool-girl act.

"Oh, that's nice... Wait. What??? Did you say Jay? What was he even doing there? Is he okay? Did he get into some sort of trouble? How can we help?" And there it was, you were totally losing it and your dad just stood there with that smug smirk of his, that says: I knew this was coming.

"Relax, (y/n/n), he’s okay. He was just there to get some files from a case my unit was handing over to them." That would've been a completely acceptable statement if Jay Halstead wasn't still in the army for all you knew.

"Sorry, handing a case over to them?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, apparently that scrawny kid — who's not so scrawny anymore — is, now, a detective working with CPD's Intelligence Unit."

"What? But when did he leave the army?" By then you were drifting off the conversation with your dad and he knew it, so he did you the favor of leaving you alone with your thoughts and memories. 

Now, with the very same (well, not the same, he really wasn't scrawny anymore) Jay Halstead standing right in front of you, that moment with your dad inevitably came back to mind.

"Wow, (y/n) (y/l/n)!" He said with a huge bright smile that made you wanna go back to your high school days, yep the smile was that awesome.

"Jay Halstead. Wows are definitely in order." You said between giggles. "Oh my Gosh, it's been forever! How are you doing?"

"I'm- I'm- I'm good, thank you. How are you?" He looked absolutely shocked as he scanned you upside-down.

"I'm good too. You look great, by the way."

"Thanks," he smiled again. Wasn't he ever gonna stop doing that? "you look, hum, you look great too!" He said that, while looking at you in a way that was, for sure, making your cheeks heat up. "So hum-" Your phone just had to start ringing at that moment, didn't it?

"I'm so sorry, but I gotta take this. Work." You said, waving your phone in front of his face.

"Oh, okay, no problems, go ahead!" Jesus, he was acting like a teenager. After all these years how was it even possible that you still had so much effect on him? He started thinking, as he watched you take a few steps away and confidently boss someone around over the phone, was that really you? His high school best friend? Because who could tell? You were generally so quiet and shy with everyone. You would never lead any groups, almost choked on your words every time you had a presentation... Remembering that made Jay think of a moment in particular, when he first knew he loved you as more than just a friend. 

You were 16 and he was 17, a year ahead of you in school too, as he was already a senior. But you guys never really minded that. How could you, anyway? Jay was your best friend in the world (okay, your only real friend after Will left for college).

The two of you were walking back home from school, as you always did, him dropping you off at your doorstep – even if that meant he had to go back a few blocks every day, all he cared about was making sure you got home safe.

That day was different, though. He stopped you at your house's fence and said he needed to tell you something important. God, your heart literally stopped, as you thought you knew exactly what he was gonna say. "Oh, jay-"

"No, please, (y/n/n). Just let me tell you, otherwise, I'll lose my courage." He stopped for a second, breathing hard and watching your expression attentively. "I, I, um, I need to tell you that… That I, um… That I enlisted the army." He said like he was ripping off a band-aid.

"What???" You were shocked, to say the least, "You did what, Jay?" You asked again, whilst trying to calm your nerves.

"Look, don't be mad at me, just let me explain, please." He pleaded with you. "I just need to get away from here and you know it, (y/n), you know why" You did know why, just, God, the army, seriously?

"Jay, you don't need to do that." You tried reasoning with him.

"Of course I need to, (y/n/n)!" He said and you could see him beginning to get upset. Or was it desperation? "I can't stand him any longer! I just can’t.” Geez, you didn’t want him to go. You definitely didn’t want him to go, but you could see the sadness in his eyes when he said that. Still, you tried a little more: 

“But what about your mom? Your brother? What about me?” You felt yourself blush after that last part, but continued: “Jay you’re really important to me… my best friend, my… my… my only friend! I can’t lose you.”

“And you think that that doesn’t kill me? Will and my mom will be just fine, they’ll miss me, sure, but they’ll be fine. You on the other hand? I don’t wanna leave you! Especially knowing that you’ll have to go through the rest of high school alone…” He looked genuinely apologetic and concerned “That’s why I told you before anyone else.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” You stated simply.

“Tell me you don’t want me to go, and I won’t.”

“What? You’d… You’d really do that for me?” 

“Of course, (y/n/n)! You mean the world to me and you’ve gotten me through so much already…” He sounded sincere, but you also knew what led him to make such a drastic move and you couldn’t just let him throw away what was probably his best shot at getting out of Chicago for you. You wouldn’t.

“Jay… I could never ask you something like that. You’re right. I know why you’re making this choice.” You said and tried to smile a little so that he’d stop worrying about you. Your life was better and easier, in many ways, because of him, so you couldn’t or wouldn’t make his any harder than it already was.

“Are you, are you sure? Because I came here ready to argue with you about this. To try hard to make you understand my decision, but now that I’m actually here, talking to you about it…” He looked so confused and you only wish you could pull him close to you and say that everything was gonna be okay as long as you two were together. Just like he did with you on the hard days, but you couldn’t. He deserved better from you.

“I’m sure! Look, I know what I said before, but… But I promise you I’ll survive this without you! It’s gonna be harder and a lot more boring… But I’ll be okay, you don’t need to worry.” At that moment you looked down to your feet, unsure if you really had it in you to let him go like that. But of course you did because you loved him. So you went on, “You said this is how you get outta Chicago, so you should do it. You’re my best friend and I love you. And I really just want you to do what’s best for you. What’ll make you happy.” You said with a small smile, even though the tears were already in your eyes. 

And that was when he knew he loved you, for the first time, as more than just a friend. The way you supported him – like no one else had ever done –, even though it pained you… That really stuck with him. In Jay Halstead’s opinion, time and distance and other people all sucked. Because they had pushed you away from him. Well, he was to blame for that too, but now you were standing right there. At his District. That’s gotta count for something.

As you came back, he noticed you looked upset. “Everything okay?”

“What? Ah, yeah, sure. Just work stuff. Anyways it is a huge surprise to see you, Jay.” That made his heart drop, you were surprised to see him?

“Oh, yeah? I thought the reason you were here was that your dad told you this is where I work. I mean, because we ran into each other the other day…” Now it made sense. Of course your dad would wanna play matchmaker between you Jay! Even more, now that he was a cop.

“Oh, God, he did mention something about you the other day. But you’re telling me that he isn’t here?” At that, Jay just looked at you like you were crazy.

“Today? I haven’t seen him… He works at the 26, no?”

“Yeah, I know he does. It’s just... He told me to meet him here for lunch today. Something about a joint op. Anyways now I know why he said that.” 

“What? He lied to you, then?” Jay asked, laughing his ass off at your cost. Unbelievable, you being played by your cupid father and Jay Halstead laughing at you. He stopped when he realized just how angry you were getting. But the stupid smile was still there.

“Forget it, this was a waste of time.”

“No! Wait, why don’t I take you to lunch instead?” He shot you such a charming smile that you could have said yes to marrying him at that moment. “C’mon, at least you don’t end up with an empty stomach.”

“I gue-” You almost said yes, but, thank God, your brain went back to working properly and you remembered how you promised to never let yourself fall for Jay’s “ways” another time. “Actually, I already spent most of my free hour here chatting with you, so now the only way I won’t be late is if I just grab something on the way back to the office.” You saw him opening his mouth and said: “And I can do that by myself.” You added so that he wouldn’t have a chance at convincing you.

How can Jay Halstead make you feel like this after all this time? It's absolutely ridiculous because the man hurt you the way he did, he left you behind (for a good reason, but still), and you just spent the rest of the day torturing yourself for being too rude with him?

You have no self-love. That has to be it, because, now that you left work, you're calling your dad just to embarrass yourself and make him feel like the achieved cupid. Oh, right. And to beg him for Jay's address. This was the wrong move in so many ways, but you just had to go there.

Or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself as you reach his building entrance. There it was: 3B - J. Halstead. You pressed the button hoping he would be home. He was; he answered. Okay, why did you do this again?

“Hello?” You hear him calling out.

“He- hey! Hum, hi it’s (y/n)...” He doesn’t even let you finish your rambling.

“(y/n/n)! I mean, hum, (y/n). Hey, let me buzz you up!” With that, the door opens and you get inside, you’re so unsure about this that the next thing you know you’re standing at his door about to knock, but being met with a grinny Jay instead. “Hey, I was pretty surprised when I heard your voice…” He states while running a hand through his perfect hair. “I honestly thought that I had somehow managed to order food and forget about it!” Gosh, he really wasn’t gonna stop smiling like that, was he? “Hey, you okay? What happened?”

“Hum, no, no, no! Everything is fine, really! Thank you for asking though, it’s very sweet of yours.” After hearing that, his concerned expression started softening until he started smiling again, damn Jay! “Actually, I’m here precisely because, hum, after I left the District, I ended up doing some thinking and got to the conclusion that I was a bit rude with you… Maybe even more than just a bit and I’m sorry. It’s no excuse, but I guess I just got upset because of how my dad played me and took it out on you! Anyway, it wasn’t right and I’m sorry.” Instead of just saying it was okay, or agreeing with you, he just gave you a funny look and silence. “So, huh, what do you think about that? Say something, please?” Still nothing, unbelievable. “Seriously? You’re giving me the silent treatment? What are we, ten?” Hearing that, he bursted into laughter, leaving you very confused, to say the least. Once he caught his breath, he finally started talking:

“Jesus, (y/n)! Of course, I’m not giving you a silent treatment!” He said while shaking his head and still laughing. “You say you were rude, but I was trying to remember exactly when, during our less than five minutes talk, that happened. I kinda asked you out and you declined, I’m not gonna think you’re a bad person because of that! Especially after all of our history…” That kinda surprised you, but, then again, Jay was never the kind of guy to get upset over some mild rudeness.

“Ah…” Was all you managed to say before he spoke again:

“But, since you’re already here, let me pry on your guilt a little and ask you to come inside for a beer, maybe?” You nodded your head giggling and followed him inside. “So, um, your dad mentioned you were moving back here…” He half asked, handing you a bottle.

“Thanks. Ah, yeah, the company I work for decided it was time for a transfer.” You answered with a shrug of shoulders.

“Oh I see, you’re an engineer, right?” The conversation was beginning to get awkward, and both of you could feel it.

“Yeah,” you said while calculating how fast you could make it to the door after standing up from the couch, “chemical engineer, listen, it’s getting late, and I have an early morning tomorrow, so-” 

“Wait, please don’t leave just yet.” He breathed out, softly grabbing you by the arm. “Ever since our fight that day I’ve been hoping for a chance to make things right between us, (y/n/n)...” At that, you just close your eyes and rub your fingers against your temples. “I never meant to hurt you, I swear!” Really? That was what he was going with?

“You never meant to hurt me? I crossed the Atlantic just to be by your side, leaving a lot of important stuff behind, and you didn’t wait a single moment to trade me for the first cover girl you could find, but you didn’t mean to hurt me?” You always thought you’d start crying if you had to confront him like that, but instead, you were just angry.

“(y/n/n), I’m so sorry! It’s just that I couldn’t be with you at that moment... I-”

“You couldn’t be with me? Right, because I wasn’t half of what they were… It’s not like you’re telling me anything new, really.” You tried to make it sound like nothing but, damn, that hurt deep.

“What? No, of course, not! You got it all wrong, baby!” Baby. He used the pet name you two sometimes used with each other to mock all those popular couples in school… “I couldn’t be with you because I was so messed up! I’m not proud to say it, but none of those girls ever meant anything to me! They were just a distraction from everything that was happening, from everything that had happened… You, on the other hand… (y/n/n), you were there at my mom’s funeral when I wasn’t! Don’t think I forgot about it!” His eyes softened a little. “You were my best friend in the world!”

“Oh my God! You still don’t get it? I didn’t want to be just your best friend, Jay! I spent most of my high school days just wondering when you were gonna trade me, your mere friend, for one of those pretty girls, who would happily be more than that to you… But you never did… Until that time! I was expecting to find you messed up! Because I knew that I wasn’t gonna give up until you got better! But, that?” Now there was just no stopping the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. He was on the verge of crying as well, so the two of you just stayed there in silence until he decided to speak again:

“I’m a complete idiot. That’s all I can say for myself. I’m so sorry I never realized it, (y/n)!” He seemed sincerely sorry, but you weren’t sure you could forgive him just yet. “You know,” he started, while laughing bitterly, “I made a real fool of myself with you, cause I used to dream about having a shot with you, romantically, I mean.” After hearing that, your jaw literally dropped, while Jay just kept laughing lightly. “Will even used to bug me about it, he’d say that you were just as fallen for me as I was for you,” he said, chuckling, and shaking his head, “and I never believed him, I’d actually beg him to stop saying those things whenever you were around because I thought it could make you uncomfortable…” You didn’t even know how to respond to that.

“Jay, I…” You began, but he interrupted you:

“You, um, you don’t need to say anything, if you don’t want to. Now I see that I hurt you a lot more than I thought I did, and I am so sorry! I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t, so if you ever feel like you can give me another chance, even if just at our friendship, I’ll be so thankful! The happiest man! But if not, well, I’ll just stay out of your life,” you could see how hurt he was, “because I don’t ever wanna make you cry again.” He said that but it looked like he was the one about to break into tears, so you did the one thing you could think about doing; you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. Just like you had thought about doing so many times before. It took him a while to correspond since he was sort of stunned, but when he did… Oh boy, it was everything that books always told you about, there were butterflies and fireworks, and you knew that your transfer back home couldn’t have come at a better time.