#oh right i should probably tag bernard

[lisatheforgiving]

[LISA The Forgiving Chapter 1 Part 9]

Speech Bubbles Used

Honestly it feels like its been way longer since I last updated... "I wanna update more consistently!" she said... mhm suureee... Anywho yeah uni is kicking my ass so I will not be updating consistently :( but I'm glad I was able to get to updating this eventually!!! It's a lil rushed but I had fun making it :)

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Index

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 14

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: Penguin attack; implication of violence, possibility of SA mentioned briefly

wc: 1.9k

Chapter Selection

In an instant, Jason was between me and the men running in from the broken windows. Chaos erupted; people were running and screaming all around us. I clung to the back of Jay’s suit jacket, shaking. Everything was numb as he guided me toward the door, always staying between me and the danger.

“Everyone against the wall! Money and jewelry in the bags!” A sharp voice cackled.

Fuck! The necklace! The thought struck me like a bolt of lightning, and I scrambled to remove it; sliding it into my bra. I took a moment to beg the universe; let these goons be non-groping goons. Jay pulled me along toward the doors, we were almost out! Just a few more feet…

“That means you, Red!” One of the goons shouted, stepping between us and the doors, his gun pointed straight at us. I froze, gripping Jason's hand tightly. He growled, a primal sound in the back of his throat, staring the man down. The goon shifted on his feet, shouting; “I … I mean it; against the wall!”

I gently tugged Jay’s hand, pulling him toward the nearest wall with me. He continued to watch the goon in front of us, pulling me against his chest. I caught the briefest glimpse of Jason’s eyes; the green flecks seemed more prominent than usual in this light. He kissed my forehead and whispered; “I won't let them hurt you…”

I smiled softly, leaning in; “I know. … Just gotta wait for a few Bats to swoop in, right?”

He sighed and nodded, glaring at the goon that approached us with a big canvas bag. The kid couldn't have been more than 18. He faltered a bit under Jason's intense gaze, mumbling; “... J- jewelry in the bag … Miss.”

I nodded, moving slowly to remove my earrings and hair pins, letting them slip between my fingers and into the bag.

“... What's in the purse?” He nodded to Stella's clutch tucked under my arm.

“Just my phone and makeup. … Do you want it? I don't think any of it is worth much, but …” I held the bag out, opening it so he could see the phone, lipstick, and compact inside. The kid gave me a confused look before shaking his head, moving on.

Jay pulled me close again, sheltering me against the wall while the goons went down the lines. A short man in a suit was cackling in the center of the room, shouting directions to the goons; when I caught a brief glance of him I realized it was the Penguin. At least it wasn't one of the truly deranged ones…

I scanned the room, looking for Babs and Steph, but couldn't find either. Bruce was against a wall, clearly trying to talk the Penguin down. Tim was standing in front of Bernard, glowering at the goons in front of them. I snorted softly, gesturing to them. “Gee, I wonder where he picked up that expression.”

Jason looked over and frowned down at me; “how are you so calm?”

“Oh, I'm sure panic will set in sooner or later.” I chuckled weakly; “hopefully after the Bats get here. … Who do you think it'll be anyway?”

Jason frowned more, stroking my back. “Be?”

“I'm thinking … a Batman/Nightwing team up tonight.” I nodded decisively. 

He chuckled softly, “... Ah. Maybe…”

The goons got through most of the guests before the lights flickered and shut off. The guests shrieked, and I could hear people running for the doors again. It was so dark, I couldn't really see anything. Jason’s large hand grabbed mine, guiding me away from the wall.

He held my hand tightly, but in the darkness and chaos I got shoved out of someone's way and out of Jason's grip. I fell to the floor, and by the time I stumbled to my feet again I wasn't sure where Jason was. I wasn't even entirely sure where I was anymore; with so many people running all around, and no moon to offer any light, I could barely tell which way anything was.

“Jason?!” I called out, frowning. I heard something rustling next to me and reached toward it, hoping he had found me. Instead, a small hand grabbed mine and yanked me along. I was pulled down behind the bar and pushed toward an open floor panel.

On instinct I looked back at the person who'd grabbed me. I wasn't expecting to see a child's silhouette. There had been no children at the gala, Damian had blessedly planned to spend the night at the Kent's. So who …

“Get in already!” It was the fake deep voice of a baby bat doing their Batman impression. It wasn't deep enough to stop my brain from short-circuiting. I knew Robin was young, but knowing something and being confronted with it during a villain attack were very different.

The boy pushed me toward the opening again and I grabbed his hand, trying to pull him along with me. He pulled back, growling; “let go!”

“No, get down here!” I hissed, tugging more. He was so little, he did not need to be doing this. Where were his parents? Did they know he was out here? I growled softly, pulling harder on his hand.

“I have a job to do!”

“You are a child; your only job should be going to school. And if your family isn't going to protect you, I will! Now get down here!”

He tugged back firmly, growling softly. After a moment, I felt strong arms wrapped around my torso. Jay whispered; “darling, you have to let him go.”

I looked over my shoulder at him, tears filling my eyes; “no! … This shouldn't be his responsibility …”

Jason gently peeled my hand off the boy's. The second he was released Robin was gone, and Jay was pulling me into the cellar, shutting the door behind us.

“Jason!”

He cupped my cheeks, holding me close; “I know, baby. It's not fair. But he's trained for this, and we have to trust him.”

I burst into tears, letting Jason hold me tight to his chest. It wasn't fair… Robin was so little, and he was doing this because the police in our stupid city were too inept to do their jobs themselves. I still didn't know where Steph or Babs had gone, or if they were ok. Last I saw of Bruce he was arguing with Penguin. And the last thing I'd said to Tim was to teasingly threaten him! What if … no. No what if's. My heart couldn't handle that right now.

“... You were half right, by the way.”

“... What?” I sniffled softly.

His thumbs gently swept my tears away as he kissed my forehead. “You guessed that it was a Batman and Nightwing night. I saw Nightwing out there. So Robin's not alone, ok?”

I sighed softly, clinging to Jason's back. That didn't make me feel any better. “... He's still just a kid.”

“... I know. He's been doing this for years though. He knows what he's doing.”

“... If I ever find out who Robin is, I will have some choice words for his parents. …”

He chuckled softly, kissing my forehead. “If anyone can convince them to take better care of their kid, it'll be you.”

We stood in silence for a while. The sounds from above eventually stopped, and the door was opened, bathing us in the warm glow of the lights. Bruce called down; “you two ok?”

Jason gestured for me to head up the stairs; “all good, B!”

Bruce offered me a steadying hand as I returned to the ball room. Several of the Penguin's goons were being taken away in handcuffs, and the few remaining guests were giving their statements to the police. There was no sign of Robin, but Nightwing and Orphan were talking to a police officer on the other side of the room.

“... How did you know we were down there?”

“Before he left, Robin mentioned sending someone into the cellar.” Bruce looked us over, his eyes lingering for a moment on me. I frowned a bit, confused by the sad look on his face.

“... I … I'm glad you're both alright.” He blinked a bit, looking away. I looked down at myself, unsure what was making him so upset.

Jason stroked my back gently; “yeah, we're ok. … Think the cops will get her jewelry back to her soon?”

“Oh! Hang on, don't make that face yet!” I grinned, reaching into my dress. Bruce looked at me, confused, and immediately looked away when he saw where my hand was going.

“Ah … what face?”

“The sad face, like a kicked puppy.” I triumphantly slid Martha Wayne's necklace out of my bra, holding it up; “ta-da!”

Bruce glanced back at me, blinking repeatedly. “... How?”

Jason froze, staring at me; “... Honey?”

“Yeah?”

His voice sounded a bit strangled; “... Tell me you were not going to fight Penguin goons over a necklace?”

I laughed hard at that; “of course not! But if they didn't see me slip it off, they might not realize I had it in the first place, so it was worth trying to hide it.”

Tim ran over, frowning; “what's all the shouting over here?”

I showed him the necklace, grinning; “I gambled on Penguin goons not being the grope-y type, and I was right!”

“... So you let them take your new earrings and pins but not the necklace?”

“Well they had to take something off me, right? They had to think they'd won. Besides, if the earrings or hair pins don't get returned it'll be sad but not too sad. But I am not going to be the reason one of Martha Wayne's necklaces goes missing, and I don't trust the cops in this stupid city to actually return everything.”

Bruce shakily reached out and I placed the necklace in his hand. He practically whispered my name; “... Don't do that again. Your life is worth more than a necklace.”

“O- ok… like I said, I wasn't going to fight them if they found it anyway.”

He nodded once, frowning a bit. Jason held me close against his chest, kissing my cheek. “... Am I the only one impressed here? I didn't even see her take it off! I was so focused on the goons, I didn't realize she didn't put it in that one's bag!”

I chuckled, stroking his hair as I leaned against him. “Thank you, baby~”

Tim sighed; “yeah, it was clever, but … you couldn't save one of the hair pins?”

Jay tilted his head toward Tim, regarding him suspiciously. “... You're awfully focused on those hair pins, Timmy…”

Tim froze, looking at me with an expression that screamed ‘help!’.

“... Don't look at me like that, you did this to yourself!” I giggled.

Jason frowned, pulling me closer as he growled softly; “Why are you so focused on my girl's jewelry, Tim?”

“... It didn't mean anything! I swear!” Tim took off running, and Jay started to go after him until I whined softly, clinging to his arms.

“Baby, no, … please? … I just want to stay right here in your arms, don't let go … besides, he was just trying to do something nice for me, after the background check.” I looked up at him poutily.

He sighed softly, holding me close. “... You're so goddamn lucky, Tim!”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa

[suzukiblu]

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think. 

So maybe an idiot. 

A very hot idiot, though. 

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence. 

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else. 

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here. 

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there. 

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him. 

The hell? 

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded. 

Bernard is mystified. 

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell? 

Weird. 

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot. 

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that. 

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube. 

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably. 

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them. 

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible? 

That sounds amazing, actually. 

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much. 

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight. 

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced. 

And so is his belly button, it looks like. 

Ngh. 

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that. 

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun. 

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls. 

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow? 

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be. 

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought. 

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing? 

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever. 

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . . 

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery. 

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window. 

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption. 

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . . 

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever. 

“Uh–what?” Superboy says. 

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?” 

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him. 

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . . 

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it. 

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway. 

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife. 

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.” 

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead. 

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?" 

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one. 

"What?" Superboy says. 

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.” 

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks. 

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?” 

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears. 

. . . well, that can't be good.

[waterfallsilverberrywrites]

Writing Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @lord-aldhelm! :)

About me

When did you start writing? Age 16, during school, but I didn't technically start writing fanfiction until my 20s. I was recovering from a nasty surgery and had nothing but time on my hands and so I started to write as a way to pass the time.

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write? I enjoy reading a lot of horror/thriller books, and law dramas too.

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often? Oh gosh, that's a tough one! As much as I love Bernard Cornwell, Stephen King, Mari Mancusi, and too many author authors to name, I want to say no, I'm not compared to anyone that I know of, but ultimately I want to still sound like "me" when I write.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space? I have my own writing office. A desk that I keep with minimal clutter but have made it into a cozy ambiance so when I sit down to write most nights I'm not distracted (much).

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse? Honestly, most of my muses tend to come to me while either dreaming at night time (random but it happens) or while I'm bored at my day job and letting my mind wander and it starts to go into "What If" mode...

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about? No.

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you? Redemption is a troupe I will never get tired of. Also romance!

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? I have to pick just one? Lol. Joking aside, Thyra from The Last Kingdom is probably my favorite character right now. She's a woman who's suffered so much torment and abuse and is absolutely the definition of "deserved better." And since Beocca is her husband and I can't bear to separate the two, I would say Beocca/Thyra are a package deal here. But a few close seconds are Jack/Sally (Nightmare Before Christmas) and Finan/Eadith, the ship for The Last Kingdom that should have been and sadly never will be.

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life? Hmm, definitely Thyra/Beocca, and he'd probably annoy me, but I think I'd get on with Haesten too (TLK) even though he's a weasel on the show, and for Harry Potter, probably my OCs Norah and Ollie Black from my Harry Potter fanfics as well, I think we'd get on great. Oh, and Jack/Sally from my Nightmare Before Christmas fics.

Which characters would you dislike the most if you met them? Aethelwold, Tidman (Last Kingdom), Voldemort (Harry Potter)

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters? Most of them are already made for me but for the few OCs I have, I tend to just find pictures I like online of people that I think fit the image of the character I have in mind, and then I build a character sheet for him/her and go from there. (sort of like a character sheet for DnD)

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters? Anger management issues (Beocca!), stubbornness, and perhaps a little naive (definitely Thyra and Sally for sure),

How do you picture your characters? I'm a big fan of Mood Boards on Pinterest but I also dabble a little in Photoshop and make my own character manips/images to use to have pulled up to look at while I write in their POVs. It might sound odd but it helps me imagine their look while I write and also to get into their headspace.

My writing

What’s your reason for writing? To fulfill a void the canon source material left in my heart or just because I came up with a "What if this happened" instead of the way that it did in canon.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating? Any and all comments are welcome, especially at this time when comment culture in fandom, at least for fanfics, has definitely changed since I've been a part of it!

How do you want to be thought about by your readers? As a good writer? Lol, not really sure how to answer this one. Hopefully good and that my stories made them happy if they enjoyed them!

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer? Angst and drama

Have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others? Angst and writing character voices true to their forms

How do you feel about your own writing? Most of the time I feel like it's okay, but I do have spells where I look at chapters and think I could improve that or do better next time and then I struggle not to totally overhaul what I already have posted lol, a curse for me, honestly. I'm constantly working to improve. I suck at smut/fight scenes though, I would say those are my two biggest weaknesses.

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write? Yes, if only to keep myself company and maybe read my stories out loud.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both? I write purely for myself and I treat where I post as an archive of sorts, with the mindset that I put them there where they'll be safe if something ever happens and my computer goes on the fritz, but if others happen to come along and enjoy the content I create, then that's an added happy bonus!

Feel free to play along! @holy3cake; @silverhyenaart; @foundtherightwords

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 301

Funeralla/Rosa

“Funeralla”

Plot Description: eager to find Gabriel, Sam, Dean, and Castiel consider some risky options. Rowena’s tampering with fate puts all of humanity in danger

Did I talk at all about how Gabe really and literally burned Azmodeus up? I feel like I didn’t and I feel like I should have

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: I would NEVER make an enemy of Rowena, so she’d have no reason to kill me. I’d be more like the boy toy she had tagging along with her

Also Cas saying “Rowena’s right. You never go to parties” like….sir, do you remember what show we’re on?

Sorry, more Cas thoughts…babes, why do you think Dean wouldn’t know what a Hail Mary play is? Like…you only recently learned all human idioms. They had to create Jack to take your wide eyed, confused about humans place

Yes, Sammy, justify Rowena’s setting that rich woman ablaze. Join my side

Dean’s giving into too many bad ideas, I think

I like this angel that’s supposed to be guarding the gates of heaven. Oh no…he was being snarky to cover up how depressed he is and how little he believes anything matters anymore 😭

Nooooooooo. I’m glad Castiel is getting help from the angels but are they gonna try to put him in a leadership position again??

I sure hope nothing bad happens to this reaper. She’s apparently been keeping tabs on the boys since Dean almost died when Billie was revealed to be the new Death. She knows entirely too much about them (please don’t eat that three day old burger in your room, Dean. Please throw it out when you get back. NO! IT IS NOT FOR EMERGENCY CASES ONLY! IT IS FOR THE TRASH CAN, DEAN!!)

All-powerful Rowena is very hot

I can’t believe they’re summoning Jessica the reaper like she’s Siri or Janet from The Good Place

I have to know what Dean thinks is Ashton Kutcher’s best movie…

This is me officially turning my back on Sam forever no matter I say in his favor ever again. He’s destined to kill Rowena, and I can’t forgive that

THE WAY MY STOMACH TURNED HEARING NAOMI’S VOICE

Lmaoooo the angels lost their wings so long ago, Dean got unused to people just popping up in the backseat of his car

Hmmmmm…is Rowena trying to negotiate immortality for herself??

I did not realize the angel shortage was THAT DIRE. There’s about eleven left….anywhere, and that’s why heaven’s having power surges

God I love Rowena. Is she killing bad people in the pharmaceutical industry who lied about their product and hurt thousands of sick people? Yes…but she’s not doing it for the “right” reasons

Ohhhhhhhh, oh. She wants Crowley back 🥺 that’s why she’s trying to get Death’s attention

Bernard (Roro’s boy toy) is the most relatable character to me “she’s powerful, she’s gorgeous, and she’s paying me a small fortune. That woman didn’t have to cast a spell on me” I need him protected, but Dean’ll probably kill him :/

I love that she can stop witch killing bullets now 💖

Billie’s hands off policy for reapers is getting to be a liability for the boys. Rowena’s got Sam, and Dean could have gotten there sooner if Jessica could have helped him kill Bernard

Billie’s fair but….it still feels cruel.

It’s really off putting to hear that, in this universe where heaven and hell are very real places, “everything ends” includes heaven

Normally when you fight Death and lose, you die. But Rowena is special like that i guess

“Rosa”

Plot Description: the Doctor and her friends encounter a seamstress named Rosa Parks

Fuck that bus driver. Stole her money and drove off

1955 Alabama is…an interesting place to forget is very dangerous for Ryan to be running around with his modern sensibilities

It’s not often that the local police force of an American town is a potential hindrance for the Doctor and companions

Who is this dude following them around?! I know that’s not what the new Master looks like

Pfffffft, the Doctor insinuating she could be banksy

Omg Graham telling the officer he’s Steve Jobs

The optimism expressed in this show is nice and I have to remember that this is a family show because…otherwise I’d be a little too jaded for it

Why does this guy want to stop Rosa from being on that bus so badly??

To be fair, if we’re in a room with Rosa Parks and MLK, I’d have a hard time not constantly using their full names, too, Ryan

Oh. The guy who was trying to stop Rosa was just racist……not the most interesting motivation, especially since Ryan got rid of him pretty quickly and easily with the dude’s own vortex manipulator

Obviously living in the Jim Crow south is harder, but strictly speaking from a character perspective, it must be hard for Graham to be one of the white people on that bus. His recently deceased wife ADORED Rosa Parks to the point that on their first date, when she found out he was a bus driver, she made sure he wasn’t like the one who told Rosa to move. This must feel like he’s betraying her

But they kept history from being nudged so I guess that’s that

[alovesongshewrote]

Oops, I Did It Again | Connor DBH

Plot:  Sometimes you get bored.  Sometimes you get crepes.  Sometimes you get tackled by a St. Bernard [Connor DBH x Gender Neutral!Reader]

Word Count:  1,508

Warnings:  dog

A/n:  this is a direct sequel to this, and like most other sequels, it’s worse, lol.  though, you do get to hang out with sumo in this one, so

Tags: @deviatedwinter​

masterlist​

There are certain situations in which charges get dropped.  I can’t be bothered to list them, but trust me when I say an android revolution is one of them.

So, after like, a week on the run, you were free to go.  No breaking and entering charge, no theft charge, no nothing.  Just the memories of adrenaline in your veins, soft lips on yours and the joys of screwing over your employers.  

After you’d obtained your freedom, you stayed in Detroit.  It wasn’t like you had anywhere else to be or anything else to do.  In truth, you were kind of bored.  Believe it or not, there was not much to do in a rebuilding city except for supporting small businesses.  So you did.  Every Saturday was crepe day, that’s just how it was.  Or at least, that’s how it was supposed to be.

One particular Saturday, you were halfway to the creperie.  Your headphones were plugged in, your music was blasting, and you completely neglected to notice the very large St. Bernard headed your way.  You had no choice but to take note, however, when the dog jumped on you, knocking you right to the ground.  Another person may have been upset by this, but not you.  You like dogs because you are a normal and good human being overall, so getting knocked over by a lovely pup such as this one kind of made your day.

“Hey there buddy!  How are you?  I am well,” you said, allowing the large beast to sniff you.  Once the dog decided that you were worthy™, it rolled onto its back, allowing you to do the honour of petting it.  You rolled with it, deciding to pet the heck out of this random dog.

“Awww, you’re such a good dog!!  You are baby :),” you cooed, as the dog stuck his tongue out, very clearly enjoying himself.

Connor, the android sent by Hank, was not feeling the same way.  Post-revolution, the deviant detective had moved in with his partner in solving crimes, and so had been sent to walk the lovely jewel of the household, Sumo.  Usually, an activity such as this brought Connor joy, but somehow, the St. Bernard had escaped from his leash and run off through the streets of Detroit. 

Connor was, obviously, not okay with this.  He was in, as the kids call it, deep shit.  Maybe, with a human dog-walker, losing a dog of Sumo’s size might be a little more understandable.  A dog like that could easily send a toddler, or some other unsuspecting person flying through the air.  Big dogs tend to be pretty strong, and Sumo was, in fact, a big strong dog.  Connor was not some other unsuspecting person though.  He wasn’t a toddler either.  He was an android, a deviant android made of literal fucking metal.  So, how did Sumo escape his grasp?

Plot contrivances.

But that wasn’t exactly an answer Hank would accept, so when Sumo fled Connor gave chase.  You would think he’d be good at that considering his background as a detective.  He’d chased several people and androids through the streets of Detroit, his thirium pump beating out of his chest,  racing, surging forward as a familiar thrill raced through him.  He’d run through this city, forward and back, too many times to count, feet hitting the ground in time with each simulated breath.  

So, chasing a dog should be nothing, right?  Ha, no.  Out of all the things Connor had ever chased in his life, a slip of paper lost in the wind, an umbrella during a storm, deviants, criminals and the like, Sumo proved to be the most difficult creature Conner ever had the pleasure of chasing down.  When he found the dog, though, Connor found the other most difficult creature he’d ever dealt with in his android life.

“Awww, you’re such a good dog!!  You are baby :)”  

“How did you say that out loud?”

You stopped petting the St. Bernard, purely out of shock.  Now, there was a voice you’d never expected to hear again.  You’d hoped for it, of course.  Maybe you’d heard it in some of your stranger dreams, and maybe it had come in across your T.V, like, once, but you never actually believed you’d hear it again.  At least not in person.  However, when you turned, there he was.  That fucking cop.

“Well, hey there Connor sent by- huh.  Probably not Cyberlife anymore, huh?”

“I-”

“Oh, you weren’t sent by the police, were you?  I swear anything you find in my apartment isn’t mine, I stole everything-”

“I-I’m… what?”

You stopped, standing up to face Connor directly.  Sumo whined, though, so you stopped what you were planning on doing and resumed petting the dog, “Damn, I made you speechless.  I am proud of myself just so you know.”

Connor looked at you, and then at Sumo.  It seemed that the great beast liked you.  With a sigh, the android took a seat on the other side of the dog and watched as you rubbed circles into the pup’s fur.

“So,” you smirked, “It’s nice to see you again!  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of a police department before, so this is cool.  I like your shirt.”

Connor had no clue what the fuck you were on about, which was becoming a regular thing at this point.  You were referring to a plain white shirt.  He had no idea what there was to like about it.  When you grinned at him, though, he didn’t care.  He just wanted to say something to you.

“Thank you.”

“No problem!  So, is this big guy yours?”

“Uh, well, yes, I suppose.  His name is Sumo.”

If possible, your smile widened.  You rubbed the fluff around Sumo’s face and cooed again, as if you were slowly becoming a pigeon, “Sumo!!  Sumo, Sumo, Sumo.  It’s perfect!”  

For a moment, Connor found himself staring.  He wasn’t sure what the word was for how he felt watching you fuss over his dog, but he knew it was… nice.  Seeing you smile felt like seeing the sun come out after weeks of rain.  It felt like a fresh pot of coffee in the station, or the joys of a case well done.  It was nice.  Really nice.  It was just as confusing as everything else you did, though.

“Well, he is just the cutest thing!!” you squeaked.  It actually took Connor a minute to realize you were talking to him.

“I’ve heard Hank call him a ‘good boy.’”

“He is!” you exclaimed before realizing you had no idea who Hank was.  That, you decided, would not be a problem for you today.  Maybe it would be for a future you, but you weren’t going to deal with it now.  Now, you were going to cause other problems.

“So, how've ya been, Connor?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you, the last time I saw you we didn’t exactly talk, and a lot has happened since then, so… how are you?”

“I’m…  I’m doing well.  What about you, have you been alright since you…”

“Since I kissed you and fled the police station in the wee hours of the morning?”

“Yes, I believe that covers it.”

You giggled, the smile on your face growing soft as you remembered that night, “Yeah, that was fun.  The charges were dropped so I’m generally free to go.  I just have to avoid committing any other crimes and I should be in the clear.”

There was a moment of silence that almost broke you.  Fortunately, Connor broke the silence first, “Did you not say everything in your apartment is stolen?”

You could not help the loud and obnoxious laugh that escaped you, “You got me there officer!  Perhaps you’d like to visit sometime?  Y’know, to investigate,” on the last word you made sure to wiggle your eyebrows intensely.  You weren’t sure if Connor got the joke, but he did smile, so that was a win.

“So, (Y/N), where were you headed before Sumo interfered?”

“Damn, Con!  It’s always straight to the point, huh?”

“Straight t-?”

“I was actually on my way to grab crepes.  I enjoy supporting local businesses.”

The android raised an eyebrow and gave you a very fun smirk, “Are you sure you aren’t stealing from them?”

“Positive.  You could join me if you wanted to check?  They allow dogs, so...”

Once again, there was a moment of nerve-wracking silence.  Thank god for Connor, honestly, “I think I would like that.”

His answer was semi-unexpected but entirely welcome.  You jumped to your feet, instantly ready to go, “Come on then!  Let’s go!  Rock and roll, buckaroo!”

Once again confused and charmed by your antics, Connor followed your lead, standing and calling Sumo to his side.

Yeah, you were still odd.  And you made him feel weird, but it was the best kind of weird.  You were a lovely type of strange, the exact type that made him smile.  And you got along with his dog.  That, my homeskillet, is a good thing.

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

No One Lives Forever Not Even God

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Language, Insomnia, mentions of antidepressants, mentions of drugs, drug use, mentions of addiction, mentions of nazis, parental neglect, mentions of the dead, cemeteries, mentions of meltdowns,  corrupt government, mentions of cancer, low self esteem, self destructive behavior, medical testing, thoughts of murder, mentions of injury, and mentions of knives, 

Word Count: 6.1k

Songs: Mother- Pink Floyd, He Can Only Hold Her- Amy Whinehouse, A Pearl- Mitski, Me and My Husband- Mitski, Saint Bernard- Lincon, Why Didn't You Stop Me?- Mistki, Nuestro Planeta- Kali Uchis, You Know I'm No Good-Amy Whinehouse, and Love Is a Losing Game- Amy Whinehouse.

 "I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too. Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you.”

A/N: I only did one proofread so sorry if there are typos and this is just more of an infodump to set up other chapters so enjoy ig. I almost gonna start another series a social media AU let me know if you'd want to be tagged in either of these series.

Series Masterlist Previous Part   Next Part

Nightmares come while I’m asleep but, when I’m awake the nightmares of the day just come for me then, so really I’m just stuck. I would like to say the antidepressants are working, it's just the insomnia that comes with them isn't working for me. I’m honestly starting to think mood stabilizers would do me better.

Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?

I’m not sure I could blame this all on the pills though. I’d have to give some of the credit to the massive bombshell that a certain ex Avenger had dropped on me. 

It's almost like every five seconds a new giant secret about my mom is unveiled to me. Like sure I saw from the video that she’d left me that she had associations with some bad people like Kingpin but nazis? 

SHIELD had apparently collapsed because it was infiltrated by Hydra but it was prevalent while my mom was still alive. Seems like she had worked for or with everyone who was anyone. I’m just gonna give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she didn’t know because up until two weeks ago I didn’t either. 

Her and Natasha had been recruited at the same time and worked together but for someone who claims to have been so close to her you’d think she’d know that she was dead. “She went off the grid and that was the last I heard from her,” is all she gave me with a smile that even I could tell was fake and I’d just met the woman. 

You know when grown folks come up to you and expect you to remember them because they met you once while you were like in the womb that’s kinda my relationship with Natasha. She knows so much about me and I know absolutely nothing about her save for the fact she's a spy meaning she’d be a great liar. 

She used to babysit me sometimes if I could trust what she says that is. Apparently I called her “Auntie Nat”. For some reason no one ever thought it was a good idea to inform me that I had a godmother. Maybe they did and I just forgot. 

I thought they were supposed to take care of you when something happened to your parents. And the one who’s alive is about as useless as the other. It might be fun to have another person that was considered family. Just maybe not a spy at least I’d know she’d walk out of my life so I won’t get attached. 

Mother, do you think they'll like the song?

“Hey mom,” I sighed sitting down in the light dusting in front of her tombstone. “I know it’s been a while and I’ve got a lot to catch you up on,” 

It took a bit of digging before I found what I was looking for in my bag. I ran my fingers along the cold surface of the small jewelry box. There was puffy white glue holding the larger pieces together. 

I placed the box in the grass sitting next to the tombstone. I removed a purple coiled bracelet and sat it next to the box. 

I tucked my legs under my body admiring the piece of jewelry. 

“I brought you a bracelet,” I spoke. “It’s kinda like a friendship bracelet cause I have the other. I don’t know if I should leave it here in case someone steals it,” I laughed. “You’d have to be a real shitty person to steal from a cemetery though,”

I curse so often I didn’t realize I did it until I had already done it. 

“Ah sorry! Excuse my French,” I chuckled.

“I met Natasha Romanoff and she said she knew you. She said she knew me too. I don’t remember her though…” I trailed off. 

For someone who claimed to have a lot to say I sure was at a loss for words. I just didn’t know how to get any of them out. 

“Oh! You’re not gonna believe me if I tell you but I got to meet some of the Avengers. Most of them were new though. You’d know some of them. Like Captain America I wanted his help but he couldn’t provide it,” 

I had a bit of an episode when I was told no one knew where Thor was. I think it was justified though.

 How the fuck do you lose two Avengers let alone the ones that can’t possibly be hidden. One is green and huge and the other leaves lightning bolts everywhere they go.  

Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?

“The other is Natasha but I don’t think I really knew that yet. She went by Black Widow. I’m sure you knew that though. You probably know a lot,” 

I wonder how many secrets she never told me about. I mean I could only imagine all the secrets working for the government would let you in on. Like she probably knew about big stuff like the Tesseract and aliens maybe she could’ve known about that. 

“Okay I have a question. I have a lot actually but I think if you answer them I’m gonna get up and run out of here,” I joked. 

“Number one is my middle name Natalia because of your SHIELD buddy? Like it might just be a coincidence but it could also be a godmother typa situation or something,”

It was a running theory. She would’ve known my mom before I was born. And if what I was told is true they’d be pretty close too and Natasha translates back to Natalia and I know she’s Russian. It makes sense. 

Ooh

Mother, should I build the wall? 

“Uh… there’s this boy,” 

When was there not? It seems like there was always someone in my life. Carmen in therapist mode said it’s because I put my self worth into my relationship status.

 “He’s really nice. Like really really nice. Nicer than anybody I’ve ever been associated with. It’s just he’s like…” I didn't know how to put the next part into words. “He’s just too nice. Too nice for me at least. Like he’s such a good person and I’m just me,” 

“And it’s I feel bad,” I sighed. I was getting myself too worked up over this. “Like I keep playing like a game of tug a war with him where I let him in and kick him out again it’s tiring. I don’t even do it on purpose. I feel like we could be something maybe. But I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. It’s a self defense mechanism. At least I think.” 

I do it with everyone. I shut them out before they can get it. The less people you let into your life the less people that can walk out. 

It’s a bulletproof tactic. At least I used to think it was. Never realized people could get hurt including myself. 

“I saw dad,” I informed myself? I guess I’m not sure how healthy it is to have a conversation with someone you know can’t respond and isn't listening. “Like two days ago actually I didn’t say anything I freaked out and ran away. It made me think though,”

Mother, should I run for president?

Made me think about how I’d done so well on my own. Well I’m not gonna take all the credit, most of it was Carmen keeping my ass in line. I haven’t talked to her in a while. I haven’t talked to anyone in a while. 

”I found a small studio apartment in Queens. It was the cheapest one I could find. I’m just renting it like an Airbnb right now. I need to find a permanent place and a job,”

 I couldn’t find a permanent place at my age unless I had full autonomy which leads me to my next topic. 

“So I was thinking about getting emancipated which everything would’ve been a lot easier if you were here then we could just go to court for custody cause you’d win for sure.” 

Mother, should I trust the government?

“I know you never got to know how corrupt SHIELD was but do they like keep tabs on everyone who does anything to them or related to them? Because like I did a little snooping and I know they had files for all the Avengers and other people like Kingpin.” 

I knew I was going to have to do more than sit here and ask a dead person what to do but ranting to someone who couldn’t spill my secrets was a start.

 “I was just wondering how deep it went or if they had hidden stuff on me,” 

Mother, will they put me in the firing line?

It’s probably common knowledge that if you mess with the government they’ll mess back. I’d like to think they were like bees. You leave them alone they’ll leave you alone. Only stinging when provoked. 

But every branch of the government is like a wasp. They don’t die if they sting and they’ll sting you for no reason at all. They just like to see people in pain.

And I’m sure the energy research branch of SHIELD would probably be more than interested in a walking fire bomb that can move things without touching them. 

I mean I’m not going to stop poking things around until I figure out what’s wrong with me. So might as well not complain. 

“So I don’t have many things figured out right now and the whole you and SHIELD thing only confused me more so if you could just like come tell me what to do just this once that’d be great,” I laughed.

 At first I was contemplating if this was weird or not but hearing me say that I now know this is pathetic. It always has been.

Ooh

Is it just a waste of time?

But I didn’t know if I should keep searching. Maybe I should just pretend like I’d never gotten introduced to the world of powers or mutations at all. For all I know Peter, Carmen, Felicia, Wade and I are just normal people who do normal people stuff. 

Sure I wanted answers but I didn’t want to end up like those people who spend their whole life searching for an answer they won’t find any and end up never living at all. 

Like a quote my mom used to say all the time “The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all,” 

She really just used it so she didn’t have to listen to being put on bed rest but it obviously had a deeper meaning and she knew that. 

I keep finding myself stuck on that phrase. That and the whole when the dust settles poem. 

I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too.

 Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. 

But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you. 

“Uh I don’t know if I should even tell you this cause you died before it was even a problem in the first place but…” I blew out a breath digging my feet deeper into the ground.

 “I’ve been clean for like two weeks now. Which is actually a thing I’m pretty proud of right now.” 

I’d stopped using everything except weed, nicotine because those weren’t drugs and even then I used it way less than before. Oh, and my antidepressants too but that’s obviously okay they’re prescribed. 

I hated the word clean made me seem like an addict which I wasn’t. I’m many things but I wasn’t an addict. I just didn’t know of any other words to use. 

I wasn’t an addict but I’d say the lines between recreational use and dependency were blurring just a bit. I had gotten it straight though. I’m good now. The antidepressants are helping. 

Hush now baby, baby, don't you cry

“You have a superpower of just making people feel better immediately. I don’t know if it was the fact you were my mom or what but if you even just put a bandaid on a stab wound it’d probably stop hurting and disappear,” 

I wasn’t even exaggerating there was this one time I got hurt at the zoo and she just kissed it and I forgot about the fact that I even fell. 

I’m not sure how true that is though because I couldn’t actually recall the memory I was just told about it by my mom a few years after it happened. So I guess I remember not remembering then being reminded. Weird. 

“I wanna see the giraffes!” Aaliyah cried, stomping her feet down on the concrete.

This was one of the only times mom didn’t have to work on the weekends and Liyah had to have her way like always. 

“Mom!” I screamed “Tell her you said we could see the lions first,” 

She just sighed. “Well since she’s the youngest do you think you could be nice and let her go first please?” 

“Fine,” I huffed. I wasn’t doing it for Liyah, I was doing it for mom. Even a blind person could see how tired she’d been lately. 

Liyah laughed at me sticking her tongue out. She’s such a brat.

“You’re so dumb.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“I know you are but what am I ?” She teased hitting my shoulder before running away.  

I took off after her. She may have been fast but I knew I could catch up to her. 

I almost had her when my foot got caught on something. It launched me towards the ground and I put my hands down to catch myself but I still hit my knee.

I slid on the concrete scuffing my leg. I didn’t scream because that would make me weak and it didn't hurt that bad. I just bit my lip and stood up. 

I didn’t want to limp but it hurt too much to put pressure on my leg. 

Liyah had beat me back to mom and when I reached them she was already apologizing. 

Fake.

 She was just scared to get in trouble. I wasn’t gonna snitch on her anyways. 

“Let me see it,” Mom asked, grabbing my arm, pulling me to sit down on a stonehenge. 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a first aid kit. She always had everything in her purse. It was kinda like a super power. The black Marry Poppins. 

She wiped the scrape with an alcohol wipe and I just barely hissed. It didn’t even really hurt anymore. 

She placed a bandaid on it, smoothing her hands on top of it before placing a kiss there. 

“There,” She wiped her hands on her thighs before standing up “All better?” 

I nodded my head and we went off to see the giraffes because I’m nice like that.

“In case you were wondering, Aaliyah still always gets her way even now. I’d say she’s got me beat on the manipulation game honestly,” 

It’s fine though I taught her everything she knows not everything I know. I could still get one over on her if needed. 

Mama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true

“I found your pendant, the SHIELD one. Which I guess makes all of this real no matter how much I want it to be fake. I just want this to be a poorly written book where I wake up and the past five years were all a dream,” 

God knows how much I meant that. Well maybe I didn’t mean it too much because some people I’ve met in the past five years are people I don’t think I could survive very long without. Even though I kinda exploded on everyone so maybe I’m gonna have to test my theory on how long I can really survive. 

“Hey Doc,” I greeted pushing up the door of the restaurant. 

“Hey sweetheart, how ya been?” He queried.

“I’ve been better,” 

“I hear ya,” He nodded. 

Once we were in the back of the restaurant aka his office. I pulled out the diamond. Doc knew everything about everyone and anything. He could also make a duplicate of anything you gave him. 

“Whatcha got for me?” He asked, rubbing his hands together. 

“This, I’m not sure what it is,” 

I placed the bird pendant on the desk. I found it in a shoe box filled with my mom's stuff. 

“I was wondering if you knew,” 

He lifted it up to his eye to get a better view, His eyesight so bad that his glasses were practically a magnifying glass. 

“It’s a crest, I don’t think I’ve seen this before it’s most likely from a government branch,” He placed it back down on his messy desk. “I can do some more extensive research for you if you’d like,” 

“Yes, that’d be great,” 

“Stop by again tomorrow and I’ll fill you

I wish I never went back to Doc’s place or found out about flash drive, Vulture, SHIELD, any of it. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get anymore fucked up the devil came out the woodworks and spit in my face. 

Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you

“I remember all that testing they did after I agreed to do whatever Stark needed me to do sooo badly. I still don’t really know what he did- or he’s doing with all that DNA and other stuff he’d gotten from me,” 

Aren’t the Avengers and by default Tony Stark products of SHIELD so wouldn't that mean whoever’s behind all of that could’ve been the one to tell Tony about the fire thing in the first place. 

That had been the main thing about the whole Stark situation that I still couldn’t figure out. Someone needs to tell me how he found out and they better tell me now. 

“There are multiple lacerations 1-2 inches lining the upper and lower abdomen,” The doctor lady announced to her assistant. Before moving her cold hand away from my side pushing my shirt back down. 

Okay that’s chill nothing I haven’t had before. 

“We’re gonna have to do another X-ray is that okay?” Her assistant asked. I wasn’t going to bother to learn their names. I was planning to stay that long anyways. 

What’s the point? They’re just going to come back and say the machine is broken and then do another blood test. 

“Yeah sure,” 

I was led into a much bigger room than the last. There was much more machinery too. 

I was strapped down to a cold blue cushioned table by leather straps. Straps weren’t really necessary, not like I was planning on lashing out and mauling anyone. 

I closed my eyes when the flashes of the machine went off. Apparently I had fractured three of my ribs and bruised my sternum. 

You’d think they’d let me go now but noooo they need more blood and then when they were done drawing blood. 

They had to hook me up to a machine to monitor- I don’t even fucking know what they were monitoring. 

I just know I had all the pads with wires on my temples and chest and everywhere else. It reminded me of that one time I had to do a sleep study. 

Except they didn’t have holographs to read off and fancy probably government funded tech then. They sure as hell didn’t have all this whispering either. Or maybe they did and I was just unconscious.

Still I didn’t even want to actually be here and I was cold for once. 

“How much long do we have here?” I groaned.

“Not much longer. We just have and MRI left,” 

Yeah right. I was gonna be in here for the rest of my life

“I could probably go back there if I wanted answers,” I spoke quietly. 

“But I don’t want the government in my business like that well at least just not more than they probably are already at least and the tests are so invasive,” 

Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing

That’s not the only invasive thing in my life. Or should I say was in my life? I don’t fucking care really.

 My dad was somehow the strictest and the most lenient person ever. I think he just wanted control.

 I used to blame his alcoholism for everything he did but no really he’s just a shitty person. A shitty person who likes to beat on women and take doors off the hinges. 

“You are so pathetic!” My mom screamed at my dad. 

 They had been at this all night. For so long that I’m seriously contemplating jumping out of this small window right now. 

Sapphire had no qualms sleeping on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Aaliyah and I however were still wide awake. 

I’m not sure exactly what was going on in her head but I’m assuming we're still up for the same reason. To kill our dad if he even touches our mom. 

I had a kitchen knife in hand as I sat on the bathroom sink. I always had a knife every time my dad started yelling a little too aggressively just in case but this time felt different. Like I was really prepared to stab him this time. 

I didn’t know what it was but something felt off. 

“Are they done?” Aaliyah asked, rubbing her eyes. The apartment had fallen silent. 

“I don’t know. Stay here,” I hopped down off the sink. 

I should’ve known she wasn’t gonna listen to me. The kitchen was empty which means they must’ve moved to their room.  

The next moment was the sort straight out of a family sitcom except the family was falling apart and the kids were going crazy but otherwise it could’ve very well been an “oopsie” misunderstanding moment. Where the younger child asks “Are mommy and daddy getting a divorce?” 

Then the oldest child pulls them into their body and whispers “I dunno kiddo,” or “No they’re just going through a rough patch,” anything like that.

 Except it wasn’t that. That wasn’t what she said and that wasn’t what Aaliyah asked me. 

God how I wish that was what she asked me. 

I have a bad habit of acting before I think. I opened the door opening my mouth to let out the words in my brain. 

“You’re dying? How are you dying?” 

They both turned to look at me like they were just noticing they weren’t alone. 

My mom sighed moving closer to me grabbing my arm. 

“I’m- Im not no ones dying,” 

The door creaked as Aaliyah pushed her way into the room. 

“But you said ‘I need you to step up you need to know how to handle it when I’m dead’,” She paraphrased cleaning out the cuss words. 

“It didn’t mean literally dying right now,” 

Now I could see how this could be us just jumping to conclusions from like two sentences but she had been weird lately. Like she’s always traveled a lot and been secretive but lately she’s been extra secretive. 

And I could tell the secret wasn’t to protect herself so whos to say it wasn’t the fact she was currently dying. It actually makes perfect sense. 

I’m starting to wish I wasn’t always right. Stage 4 Lymphoma. Basically we should go coffin shopping pretty soon. 

If only she wasn’t so selfish and would get treatment for it. She couldn’t leave me here by myself. Who’s gonna take care of us if she dies.

 I’d thought about it before and I decided I’d take on the role of caregiver for my sisters but then it was only a what if situation. 

Wade has cancer and he’s not dead but that’s only because he got pumped with like super drugs shit. 

Now I just needed to find some super drugs and figure out how to get her to take them. 

Fuck Cancer and fuck my dad. Why couldn’t he have gotten the diagnosis instead of my mom. A life for a life type beat. 

I guess that wouldn’t have made for a good tragic backstory would it. And what fun is life without a tragic backstory.

 My only question is when does the backstory end and when does the actual plot begin because clearly I’m not there yet. It’s only tragedy after tragedy.

 Maybe that is my story, just pain and suffering. Someone has to be the butt of the joke. 

She won't let you fly but she might let you sing

“You always told me to surround myself with people who you could block out the rest of the world with. Peter’s like that so was Olivia she was one of those people for me. When we weren’t yelling at each other or crying, I mean. Still wish you could’ve met her though,” 

“AH YES!” I exclaimed, pumping my fist. “I found it,” I waved the joint in the air. 

“Alright come sit down then,” Olivia laughed, patting the seat on the couch next to her. 

“Shit,” I muttered. “Where’s the lighter?” 

She just laughed at me again. Before reaching into my pocket and slipping it out. I couldn’t help but smile at how intimate that action felt for no reason at all. 

I quickly and lightly pressed my lips to hers muttering a quick “thank you,” 

About three minutes had passed and I could feel the weed taking course through my system. 

My head was in her lap until I abruptly shot up gasping at the beginning of Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean. 

“Dance with me,” I pleaded it didn’t take much convincing because here we were twirling around. Although it was much more giggling than dancing. 

I bumped my leg on the glass coffee table and immediately apologized making Liv and I laugh so hard I almost peed my pants.

I was laid out on the soft white fur rug with Olivia laying her chin on my chest. I ran my hands through her hair. 

It was actually very easy there were no knots my fingers just glided smoothly through. 

“I mean shit,” I breathed “I know I can’t run from the rest of the world forever but until then? Bitch you can call me Flash cause I’m zoomin’.” 

She giggled at that before speaking up.

“You don’t have to run you can just stay here with me forever,” 

Her words were so genuine it made me want to cry. She basically just said “I love you” in more or less words. 

“You know what? I think I might,” 

She gave me a tired smile, turning her head to place a kiss on the top of my breast. 

I smiled back at her and how adorable she looked right now. I just want to kiss her for the rest of forever. 

When I glanced back down at her I could hear her breathing slow and her eyes had fluttered shut. She was asleep. 

I felt all warm and fuzzy and at peace and I couldn’t tell if it was the weed or if it was just being in Olivia’s presence. 

I wasn’t ready to say these words to her when she was conscious yet maybe I’d never be ready but I’d say them now. Just to get them off my chest. 

“I love you,” I whispered. 

I never really felt comfortable saying that to anyone. Probably a result of not hearing it enough as a child or something. My family’s never been affectionate anyway. That’s fine because I wasn’t my family, I was my own person. 

Stroking her hair gently before drifting off to the land of dreams myself.

So much for forever huh? 

It’s funny to think how I took times like that for granted if only I knew those were some of the only moments of normalcy I’d get for a while. I’d spent too much time thinking about what could’ve been with almost everything. 

So much so that I didn’t take much time to actually be. Now I feel like I’ve made it to the point of no return. Not mentally but like with everyone else around me. I think I pushed people too far away this time. Not so sure I could get them back. 

“Uh I can't really remember what I’ve already told you so I’ll run through it all. This vigilante or superhero Spiderman started doing his thing then I got caught up in his mess.” That was most definitely an oversimplification but what do I look like telling my mom I was a well known thief. “Then his relation to Tony Stark got extended to me so now I kinda do stuff for him but I don’t work for him.” 

I don't work for him he might think I do, but in reality he works for me. I had almost everyone at the compound wrapped around my finger. 

“I don’t think I really wanna work for anyone. I was offered to be an Avenger in training but that isn’t really my style. I will use his gym though.” I rambled on. 

It was kinda weird how easy it was to rant to my mom like this because not like she could voice her opinions about anything. I guess I hadn’t visited in so long that I forgot what it was like. 

Mama's gonna keep baby cosy and warm

“Oh!” I exclaimed remembering a very important factor that I left out. “Then we have the whole Staten Island fiasco that I told you about. I remember telling you that. I’m still searching for answers on how I did that too,” 

Like some real answers not that radiation BS.

“Your phone’s broken,” I pointed out the cracked screen sitting on the wood. 

“Oh shit!” Peter cried “May’s gonna kill me this is the second phone I’ve broken this month,” 

I came off way calmer than I was feeling. I’m surprised I wasn’t running around screaming right about now. I was probably just paralyzed in fear. 

How do you react in a situation like this in the first place. 

“Okay how long are we going to be sitting here? What are we waiting on?” We’d be up here looking down at the fire crackling underneath the pier for like 15 minutes now. 

“I don’t know actually,” He sighed. 

“Uh…” 

How was I supposed to respond to that? That was the driest response to anything in the history of the world.

 “Well since I’ve already pinky promised I won’t spill your secret can I ask some questions while we wait for you to figure it out?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” He nodded, shaking his arms. 

“Okay number one did you think I had died or something because if someone burst into flames in front of me I’d probably think Satan was coming for me. I’d cry too,” I laughed but had to stop myself as the stabbing in my ribs ran through me. 

“No, I didn’t think you were dead, you had a pulse,” He pointed out “Maybe I could’ve thought you were dying though. And I wasn’t crying,” 

Liar. He so was crying. 

“Aw you don’t have to lie I think it’s cute,” I teased if I didn’t feel like my body was falling apart I might’ve poked his side.

“Alright, second question: do the webs like come out of you? Cause that’s kinda disgusting,” 

“No, I make them with chemicals ‘n stuff. I’d explain the science to you but I’m not sure how much you’d care.” 

I let out a small laugh knowing what feeling would come if I laughed too hard. 

“I mean you could explain it ‘m just not sure how much of it I’d understand,” 

We both laughed at that. 

“On the topic of the webs what’s there integrity like how well do they hold up or like how long,” 

“Uh…” He blew out a breath running his hands over his face “As far as I know they last up to two hours. That is unless someone cuts them or something,” 

I couldn’t help but wonder if Thorn was one of those someone’s to cut the webs maybe I was the only someone. I didn’t really need to ask the question. Aaron had already answered the question for me when he told me about the deal at the ferry. I just wanted to see what Peter would tell me honestly. 

I spent the rest of the night asking questions and cracking jokes. I was talking for so long I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten. 

It should be a world record how fast I managed to fuck up 5 friendships. Well it’s my personal best at least. Only took like 4 minutes. 

I feel like that’s all I do is just fuck up everything. I used to believe there was a difference between being fucked up and being a fuckup but the older I get the more I realize that there isn’t. 

It’s like someone built a self destruct button in my head and every time something good happens to me I feel the need to run away. 

Like Peter he’s literally perfect he's smart, respectful,  adorable, and selfless. He’s literally a fucking superhero for godsake. 

I was trying so hard not to fall asleep. I really was but all the Trigonometry chapter was doing was mixing with the sound of rain outside and triggering the urge to fall into a deep sleep. 

“Okay,” Peter tapped his textbook with his pen. I wish I could be confident enough to do math with a pen. 

“So sin is equal to the opposite of whatever angle you’re trying to find so first you have too…” 

He droned on, I knew he was talking about the math problem lying on the bed in front of me but I wasn’t listening. Maybe if I sat at the desk I could actually be paying attention right now. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hmm?” I sat up on my elbows yawning.

“Are you tired?” 

I just hummed again. Until I realized what the question was. I reached for my phone and it was already 9:03 that woke me up for sure.

“Oh shit! I gotta get back,” 

Not like I’d get in trouble or anything but Carmen would get on my ass about the fact I didn’t come back when I said I would then she’d make something out of nothing. 

I scrambled around trying to find all my things to put them back in my bag.

“Wait it’s raining though,” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah,” I chuckled “It’s New York it’s always raining,” 

“Yeah but it’s cold and wet and dark so if you tried to skate you’d probably get hurt,” 

I knew what he was doing and it was working because frankly all his excuses were shit because one I don’t get cold and two I could just walk and there are lights everywhere but I was gonna stay anyway. I was too tired to argue right now. 

“May!” Peter shouted.

“Yes?” She called back. 

“Can Y/N stay for the night?” 

“Yeah if her parents are okay with it,” 

That’s how I ended up wearing some shirt with some dumb science pun sitting on the couch watching Aladdin for like the millionth time ever. I was singing along to One jump ahead  when I felt eyes on me. 

I turned my head but before I could make eye contact with Peter he acted as if he was watching the movie the whole time.

“What?” I giggled. Fuck, I hadn’t like genuinely giggled in the longest time.

“Nothing,” He replied, turning back towards the TV again. 

This time I was the one to stare at him wondering what was going on in his head. Not even the fourth song in and I was already yawning struggling to keep my head up.

 This goes to show how much willpower I had because I couldn’t even stop my eyelids from falling shut. I deserved to sleep though I’d been exhausted lately. 

There’s only like 6 people on this planet that I trust enough to fall asleep around and surprisingly Peter had become one with like 5 months of knowing me.

 I would still trust him if given the chance I’m just not sure how much he trusts me right now. I understand though. I don’t deserve anyone’s trust. 

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious​

[archadianskies]

Whumptober Day 21

Infection → part 1; part 2

Whumptober Masterlist | 21/31 of RK900 short stories

↳ on Ao3

Tags: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Team as Family × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Infection × Toothache

For all his quick reflexes and heightened senses, there’s still no accounting for human error. The pen hastily slapped onto the table begins to roll towards the end of it, so Freddie darts over to catch it just as Isaac crouches to lift up the heavy crate of equipment. Crate meets jaw. Audible crack upon impact. Damage to top and bottom left second and third molars. 

“Oh shit Arlo!” Isaac cries, the shift in attention causing him to drop the crate in order to reach out in concern. Freddie grabs the crate before it hits the floor with a crash, straightening slowly to place it on the workbench. 

“I am alright.” He reassures the panicked human, who gives him a look of disbelief.

“Buddy I heard that sound.”

“Impact damage to my left molars.” He concedes, cupping his jaw. “But nothing more than fractures. My self-repair program should take care of it within an hour.”

Isaac looks at him warily and the concern is warranted; he’s only just beginning to associate physical pain with negativity after having spent the past eight months prior to his rescue being treated as a piece of equipment by Special Agent Perkins. 

“And if it doesn’t, I’m taking you to First Aid, got it?” Isaac huffs, fixing him with a stern glare. He nods obediently.

“Got it.”

*

It heals within an hour. Mostly. There is one fracture, the deepest one, on his bottom left second molar yet to seal completely but it’s making progress. He says as much, reporting to Isaac who concedes with a sigh that alright, yes, that sounds fine and no he won’t drag him to the First Aid room. 

Dr Olive calls him to the morgue because there’s a new cadaver brought in from the Red Ice lab case and Freddie knows there will be quite a lot of chemicals to process. Connor had already warned him with a quick message stating there had been several shots exchanged and a lot of the lab had been damaged, sending chemicals spilling onto the floor and contaminating the newly deceased. No matter. He is an RK900 and his toxicology abilities are far superior than any android created before him, even Connor. 

Dr Olive waits for him to put on his full length vinyl apron and gloves, and he forgoes the surgical mask given he has no saliva to spit, and must have quick access to his mouth. She begins the Y incision and he touches the smudge of dried liquid on the victim’s forehead. 

Cause of death is extremely clear, but what isn’t clear are the concoction of chemicals spilled on site. It didn’t seem to match those usually found at Red Ice labs, so the lab seemed to be cooking up something else on the side, coupled with the fact all the deceased have needle marks on the inside of their elbows which is at odds with the usual method of Red Ice inhalation. Freddie swipes what residue he can on the tip of his tongue.

*

>sample insufficient 

 *

“Anything?”

“Insufficient. The liquid has dried and the residue left behind is not enough to provide clear chemical analysis.” Freddie frowns. “We will need to see if there’s more on other parts of the body.”

“Or more on other bodies.” She quips. “Not the only one we’ve got to do today. Your dad’s sending in at least three others.”

“The track marks are inconsistent with the consumption of Red Ice.” Freddie points out, turning the victim’s arm to reveal the crook of their elbow. “It is possible they were working on something else, a new drug that uses Thirium 310.” 

“How much blood do you need?”

“Not much.” Freddie dips his index and middle finger into the body, smearing what blood he can onto his tongue. 

“We’ll still need to spin it up to make it official.” She reminds him, and he frowns as his HUD fills with new information. “What have you found?”

“Nothing good. Nothing I can confirm until I’ve checked the others.”

*

In the end, when they forward the findings to the DPD after analysing four bodies and multiple tubes of various chemicals sampled from the site, Freddie knows the arrests made today, the destruction of the lab, has been done in the nick of time; they were in the midst of creating a new drug, a stronger one with highly addictive properties. 

“Good job, Frederick.” She commends with a smile as they bin their gloves. “Lab will process everything for the secondary round of tests to make it official, but from what you say, DPD nipped this one in the bud.”

He attempts to smile in reply, wincing as a sharp burst of pain resonates from his bottom left jaw.

“What happened?” She demands, hand immediately on his shoulder.

“Oh um, it’s alright I- I um, knocked my jaw on some equipment.” He stammers, fidgeting under her intense, matronly gaze. “Very minor fractures on some of my molars but they’ve mostly healed. This last one just needs a bit more time I think.”

“Well we’re all done here, so I’m sending you home to get that checked out.” She declares and any thought of protesting shrivels up when he sees her stern expression.

“Yes, doctor.” 

“Good. Now out of your uniform and call a cab to Jericho.”

**

He doesn’t go to Jericho. It cannot be that bad, surely, and so he takes a cab home instead. His molar just needs time to heal and now he has no more lab work, his system can focus on self-repairing the tooth. Unlocking the door, he crouches immediately and welcomes the Saint Bernard as Sumo lumbers over enthusiastically and mushes his face into Freddie’s middle. 

After making sure he had fresh water and had been let out to pee, Freddie set about searching the fridge for a bottle of cherry cola Tearium. Where Connor prefers hot Teariums, and Caleb the alcoholic ones, Freddie much prefers the chilled, carbonated ones. Hank always buys a pack during the fortnightly grocery run, and keeps a couple in the fridge ready for consumption.

Settling on the couch with Sumo, Freddie blinks the television on and resumes the documentary on space exploration he’d started the other night. The cherry cola is sweet, and the carbonated liquid fizzes on his tongue. A moment later, his entire left jaw and cheek explodes with pain and he nearly drops the bottle, clumsily pawing to set it down on the coffee table before cupping the side of his face. Sumo whines in concern and he squeezes his eyes shut as the pain rolls in waves, a strong throbbing, piercing ache drilling right into his jaw.

The door clicks open and even through the pain, Freddie knows his dad and brother won’t be home for at least another hour. He looks up just in time to meet the surprised gaze of his twin, Caleb, who immediately sets down the small bag in his hands onto the console table in favour of closing the distance between them.

“Freddie you ok?” His brother rushes to his side, and Freddie shakes his head rapidly. “Show me?” Caleb offers his hand, retracting the skin. It takes a considerable amount of effort for Freddie to do the same, having to fight through and sweep aside the pain in order to execute such a basic command. He grasps his brother’s hand and shows him his recent memories and spills over the question of ‘what are you doing here’ through the link because he doesn’t think he can manage speech quite yet.

“Oh, I thought I’d drop by and surprise you all with some drinks. Our mission wrapped up quicker than we thought and David’s got some boring admin meeting.” His twin shrugs, still distracted by his pain. “I think your tooth is infected? All the chemicals you processed today probably hindered your self disinfecting cycle and prevented a proper repair.”

He whines in frustration and Caleb laughs, looping his other arm around him and drawing him close into a hug. 

“We should probably get you to Jericho.” A pause. “Or, I mean. Maybe I could take the tooth out? Dad’s got a toolbox in the garage. I’ll sanitise the pliers. Your whole jaw will need to be detached temporarily so I can inspect it for infection and then we can ask Fabrications to print you another tooth.”

He doesn’t want to go to Jericho, and it must be plain on his face too because Caleb nods with a determined sigh. “Alright. Pliers it is.”

**

Long day. Long shitty day, but apparently some good came out of it: they stopped the production of some new drug being released onto the streets. Hank yawns, stretching languidly and standing aside so Connor can unlock the door. He’s not sure if Freddie is home yet- the boy keeps odd hours depending on what lab work is needed. So he expects one android, and won’t be disappointed if there isn’t one but instead he walks in and there are two androids.

“Caleb?” The other RK900 is holding a pair of pliers in one hand which he quickly and quite comically hides behind his back.

“Uhh hi dad.”

“...Do I want to know?” His eyes flick over to Freddie who is, for lack of a better word, sulking with the couch throw wrapped tightly around his shoulders and Sumo sprawled on his lap. He’s cupping his cheek, rubbing it as if he has a toothache. Can androids even have toothaches? 

“...Do you think the tooth fairy will come, even for android teeth?” Caleb asks sheepishly, slowly bringing the pliers from behind his back to show Hank the single tooth in its grasp. “Freddie had an accident at work today.”

“That’s nearly split in half.” Connor frowns, reaching for the tooth and plucking it free from the pliers so he can inspect it. “But given its position in your jaw, how come your self-repair capabilities did not seal it together?”

“Because he was working your case.” Caleb reminds him. “Mouth full of chemicals.”

“And a cherry cola.” Hank nods in the direction of the bottle on the coffee table. “That oughta do it.” Freddie whines, rubbing his cheek again and Hank chuckles, tousling his hair fondly. “What’s the android equivalent of ibuprofen?”

“Nothing.” Connor shakes his head. “We could disable your sensors for a little while though, Freddie, until the infection site heals up?”

The younger RK900 hesitates for a moment, eyes darting to Hank’s as though seeking reassurance. “Go for it, kid. Don’t want you to suffer through the night.” With his blessing, Caleb touches Freddie’s LED and after a moment, the twin’s face relaxes, no longer pinched up in pain. Hank sighs, the tension unwinding from his shoulders. Surely now he can have a perfectly ordinary, lazy evening with the boys?

**

He has his own room, but most nights he spends in Connor’s instead. Last night had been no different, and something about the dull ache in his jaw and having a part of him missing exacerbated his fear of being locked away alone in the dark again. It felt a little too much like being locked in the armoury, left to repair himself and clean the gear and guns of the FBI SWAT team. 

He feels safest when he’s with a family member, and most nights it’s Connor. His brother tells him each time it happens that he doesn’t mind at all, and Freddie knows this to be true and revels in it. Connor makes him feel safe and wanted and cared for. Connor would never lock him up in the dark and expect him to clean anything. 

They rise at the same time, Connor pausing to lean over and bump his nose against his fondly before they start getting ready for the day. Freddie heads back to his room and notes the pillow has been disturbed despite him not using his room last night. Curiously, he rounds the side of the bed and lifts up the pillow to reveal a dollar coin. Picking it up, he turns it over in his hand and smiles brightly, taking a photo to send to Caleb. His twin replies a second later.

[Tooth fairy doesn’t discriminate!]

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 2: The Bloody Pit (Transcript) - 23rd March 2015

tw: death, claustrophobia, racism (H. P. Lovecraft), ghosts

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

Most people are afraid of the dark, and while this is something that we expect from our children, adults hold onto that fear just as tightly; we simply don’t talk about it anymore. But it’s there, lurking in the back of our minds. Science calls it nyctophobia, the fear of the dark, and since the dawn of humanity our ancestors have stared into the blackness of caves, tunnels and basements with a feeling of rot and panic in their bellies. H. P. Lovecraft, the patriarch of the horror genre, published an essay in 1927, entitled “Supernatural Horror in Literature”, and it opens with this profoundly simple statement. “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown”. You see, people fear the unknown, the what-if, and the things they cannot see. We humans are afraid of the dark. We’re afraid that our frailness and weakness might become laid bare in the presence of… whatever it is that lurks in the shadows. We’re afraid of opening up places that should remain closed. We fear what we can’t see, and sometimes, for good reason. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The Berkshire Mountain Range in Western Massachusetts sits in the very top left corner of the state. It’s not the Rockies by any stretch of the imagination, but in 1851, those hills were in someone’s way. The Troy and Greenfield Railroad Company wanted to lay some track that would cut through the mountains, and so they begun work on a tunnel. On the western end sat the town of Florida, with North Adams holding up the eastern end. Between those towns was about 5 miles of solid rock. This building project was no small undertaking, no matter how unimpressive the mountains might be. It ultimately took the crew 24 years to wrap things up, and came at the cost of $21.2 million. In 2015 money, that’s $406, 493, 207. See? It was a big deal. Monetary costs aside however, construction of the tunnel came with an even heavier price tag. At least 200 men lost their lives cutting that hole through the bones of the earth.

One of the first major tragedies occurred on March 20th , 1865. A team of explosive “experts”, and I use that term loosely because nitro-glycerine had just been introduced to America about a year before, entered the tunnel to plant the charge. The three men, Brinkman, Nash and Kelley (who, by the way, his first name was Ringo, which I think is just awesome) did their work and then ran back down the tunnel to their safety bunker. Only Kelley made it to safety. It turns out that he set off the explosion just a bit too early, burying the other two men alive. Naturally, Kelley felt horrible about it, but no one expected him to go missing, which he did, just a short while later. But the accidents? They didn’t end there.

Building a railway tunnel through a mountain is complex, and one of the features most tunnels have is a vent shaft. Constant coal-powered train traffic could result in a lot of smoke and fumes, so engineers thought it would be a good idea to have a ventilation shaft that extended from the surface above and allowed fumes and water to be pumped out. This shaft for the Hoosac Tunnel, as it became known, would be roughly 30ft in diameter, and eventually would stretch over 1000ft down and connect with the train tunnel below. By October of 1867 it was only 500ft deep. Essentially it was a really, really deep hole in the ground. To dig this hole they built a small building at the top which was used to raise and lower hoists to get the debris out, as well as a pump system to remove ground water. Then, each day, they would lower a dozen or more crazy, Cornish miners (not underaged kids, by the way, the other kind of miner) into the hole, and set them to work. You see where this is going, right? Please tell me that you see where this is going.

On October 17th, a leaky lantern filled the hoist house with natural gas, a naphtha, an explosive gas found in nature, and the place blew sky-high. As a result, things started to fall down the shaft. What things? Well, for starters, 300 freshly sharpened drill bits. Then, the hoist mechanism itself, and finally, the burning wreckage of the building. All of it fell five stories down the tunnel and on top of the 13 men working away at the bottom. Oh, and because the water pump was destroyed in the explosion, the shaft also began to flood. The workers on the surface tried to reach the men at the bottom, but they failed. One man was even lowered into the shaft in a basket, but he had to be pulled back up when the fumes became unbearable. He managed to gasp the words “no hope” to the workers around him, before slipping into unconsciousness. In the end they gave up, called it a loss, and actually covered the shaft. But in the weeks that followed, the workers in the mine frequently reported hearing the anguishing voice of men crying out in pain. They said they saw lost miners carrying picks and shovels, only to watch them vanish, moments later. Even the people in the village nearby told the tales of odd shapes and muffled cries near the covered pit. Highly educated people, upon visiting the construction site, reported similar experiences. Glenn Drohan, a correspondent for the local newspaper wrote that “the ghastly apparitions would appear briefly, then vanish, leaving no footprints in the snow, giving no answers to the miners’ calls”. Voices, lights, visions, and odd shapes in the darkness, all the sorts of experiences that we fear might happen to us when we step into a dark bedroom or a basement.

A full year after accident, they reopened the shaft, drained out all 500ft of water. They wanted to get back to work, but when they did, they discovered something horrific. Bodies… in a raft. You see, apparently some of the men survived the falling drill bits and debris long enough that they managed to build a raft. No one knows how long they stayed alive, but it’s pretty clear they died because they had been abandoned in a flooding hole in the ground. After that the workers began to call the tunnel by another name: the “Bloody Pit”. Catchy, right?

About 4 years after the gas explosion, two men visited the tunnel. One was James McKinstrey, the drilling operations superintendent for the project, and the other was Dr. Clifford Owens. While in the tunnel, the two men, both educated and respected among their peers, had an encounter that was beyond unusual. Owens wrote: “On the night of June 25th, 1872, James McKinstrey and I entered the great excavation at precisely 11:30pm. We had travelled about 2 miles into the shaft when we finally halted to rest. Except for the dim smoky light from our lamps, the place was as cold and dark as a tomb. James and I stood there talking for a minute or two and were just about to turn back when I suddenly heard a strange, mournful sound. It was as if someone, or something, was suffering great pain. The next thing I saw was a dim light coming along the tunnel from a westerly direction. At first I believed it was probably a workman with a lantern; yet, as the light grew closer, it took on strange, blue colour, and appeared to change shape, almost into the form of a human being without a head. The light seemed to be floating along, about a foot or two above the tunnel floor. In the next instant it felt as if the temperature had suddenly dropped and a cold, icy chill ripped up and down my spine. The headless from came so close that I could have reached out and touched it, but I was too terrified to move. For what seemed like an eternity, McKinstrey and I stood their gaping at the headless thing like two wooden Indians. The blue light remained motionless for a few seconds, as if it was actually looking us over, then floated off towards the east end of the shaft, and vanished into thin air. I am, above all, a realist. Nor am I prone to repeating gossip and wild tales that defy a reasonable explanation. However, in all truth, I cannot deny what James McKinstrey and I witnessed with our own eyes”.

The Hoosac tunnel played host to countless other spooky stories in the years that followed. In 1874, a local hunter named Frank Webster simply vanished, and when he finally stumbled up the banks of the Deerfield River three days later, he was found by a search party without his rifle and appearing to have been beaten bloody. He claimed he’d been ordered into the tunnel by voices and lights, and once he was inside, he saw ghostly figures that floated and wandered about in the dark. His experience ended when something unseen reached out, took his rifle from him, and clubbed him with it. He had no memory of walking out of the tunnel. In 1936 a railroad employee named James Impoco, claims that he was warned of danger in the tunnel by a mysterious voice, not once, but twice. I’m thinking it was Ringo, trying to make up for being an idiot. In 1973, for some unknown and god-awful reason, a man decided to walk through the full length of the tunnel. This brilliant man, Bernard Hastaba, was never seen again. One man, who walked through and did make it out though, claims that when he was in the tunnel, he saw the figure of a man dressed in old clothing of a 19th century miner. Again, not a kid. He left in a hurry, from what I’ve read.

Stories about the tunnel persist to this day. It’s common for teams of paranormal investigators to walk the length of the tunnel, although it’s still active with a dozen or so freight trains that pass through each day. There are rumours of a secret room, or many rooms, deep inside the tunnel. There’s even an old monitoring station built into the rock about half way through, though few have been brave enough to venture all the way there and see it. Those that have report more of the same: unexplained sounds and lights. Oh, and remember Ringo Kelley, our sloppy demolition expert who got his co-workers killed in 1865? Well, he showed up again. In March of 1866, one full year after the explosion, his body was found 2 miles inside the tunnel, in the exact same spot where Brinkman and Nash had died. He had been strangled to death.

Lore was produced by me, Aaron Mahnke. You can find a transcript of this show, including links to source materials, at lorepodcast.com. Lore is a biweekly podcast, so be sure to check back in for a new episode every two weeks. If you enjoy scary stories, I happen to write them. You can find a full list of my supernatural novels, available in paperback and ebook formats, at aaronmahnke.com/novels. Thanks for listening.

[ontherun-writing]

[compliments (1/4) - poetry] RK800/Reader

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! It was overall just really fluffy and sweet (maybe tooth-rotting) so it was therapeutic almost.

Takes place post-pacifist ending where everyone lives + Connor becomes a police officer at DPD + Gavin with more personality than being an asshole etc + Connor lives w Hank. This will probably be two?? parts; it was supposed to be one but uh lmao.

Comments/Reblogs w tags much appreciated :)) I wanna know what ya’ll think

Part 2

Summary: Upon meeting you, Connor learns that he is surprisingly good at giving honest compliments, among other things.

Word Count: 4k+

The first time Connor met you, you had picked up a stray coin and asked it if it was his. He had been walking Sumo at the park nearby Hank’s apartment in the early afternoon when you passed by him, adjusting the strap on your backpack. He hadn’t expected you to pay any attention to him at all, so it had taken a moment to realize that you were talking to him. You held the quarter in between your thumb and index gently, waiting for his response with polite patience.

Connor did not remember taking out his coin on the duration of the walk, and feeling the pocket of his khaki shorts that Hank kindly gave(forced) him to wear, he knew that the coin was still there. Conclusion: that was not his coin.

Still, he took it anyways, giving you a lopsided smile that he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. It was something about the way you asked him, shyly but with a touch of levity, that made him want to agree with you. Or was it the way your eyes flickered down at his body before meeting his eyes on the way back up.

You were attracted to him, he realized, analyzing the way your pupils dilated ever so slightly and how your temperature increased ever so slightly. His LED light was still attached to the right side of his forehead, so it was evident he was an android. But still, you found him sexually appealing.

Stumbling on his thoughts, Connor thanked you and pocketed the coin, hearing it ‘clink’ with the quarter that he already had in his pockets. Bringing his attention back to the present, he was surprised to see you still standing there, but your attention was already elsewhere, more specifically towards the large Saint Bernard that was wagging its tail furiously in hopes of getting petted. You looked up with him with an undisguised expression of excitement. “Can I pet him?” You asked, and when he nodded, you immediately began to coo at the large dog who was only too happy to oblige to your affectionate belly rubs.

Connor couldn’t help but feel vaguely disappointed. He looked to the side where you had placed your backpack (a student?) and watched as you quickly rolled up your black windbreaker sleeves to vigorously pet the dog.

He had almost missed your question, but could catch enough of your words to know that you were asking if he came here often. “Recently, I have been frequenting this park to walk Sumo,” he said, listening to you echo the dog’s name delightedly. “I have only recently moved to a neighborhood in close proximity to this area, so it’s most likely you would not have seen me prior to this month.”

You agreed, “I think I would notice you and such a cute dog,” you cooed at Sumo before reverting your voice back to its normal tone, “if you came around often before.” You scratched at Sumo’s ears absentmindedly as you looked up at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” you said, “I never got your name.”

“My name is Connor.” He had learned to leave out the rest of his introduction a while ago. “And yours?”

You responded back with your own name and got to your feet, seemingly satisfied with the amount of dog love you acquired through Sumo. You stuck out your hand and grinned widely, and as Connor shook your hand, you said, “It’s nice to meet you, Connor! I hope I’ll see you around more often!”

Just as casually as you began the conversation, you just as easily said your goodbyes. You waved eagerly, and he imitated the action but with less robustness. He watched you walk away until Sumo tugged at the leash, finally impatient enough to want to continue down the sidewalk. With a last glance at your retreating figure, Connor apologized to Sumo about the delay before following the dog on its mission to find a squirrel. He could only hope he would meet you again.

And he did the very next day.

“Connor! Hey!” You called for him, waving at him exuberantly. Connor had just exited the donut shop with an entire box of assorted ones for the police force when he heard your voice from down the street. When Connor met your eyes and raised his hand in a small wave, you beamed so clearly that he had a hard time figuring why it was so endearing you were so excited to see him.

Connor watched as you quickly told the two friends you were with something before bounding (yes, because there was an extra hop to your steps today compared to yesterday) to him with a warm smile. Again, there was that appreciative gaze you gave him as you looked up and down, the quickening of your heartbeat indicating that you very much liked the way he looked in his police uniform. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” you said teasingly. “I thought donuts were just a stereotype, officer.”

“Unfortunately, the lieutenant likes to consume unhealthy foods on a daily basis,” Connor explained, feeling a smile raise his lips as you huffed in amusement. “I would normally not indulge him on this, but it seemed that everyone else in the precinct wanted one, so I was sent.” It was Gavin that told him to go, telling him that since he made money now the least he could do was buy donuts. It was funny how their relationship developed, but at least they weren’t at each other’s throats, literally. Connor paused, unsure if his next words were overstepping anything. “Would you like one?” he offered.

“Oh, no! No, thanks.” You grinned. “I’m not that into donuts, surprisingly,” you said. “I’m more of an ice-cream kinda person, you know?”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Connor said, liking the way your eyes gleamed.

“So, what is it like, being an officer,” you said, pointing at the DPD logo on his shoulder.

It hadn't been quite long since Connor was officially reinstated as an official detective after the revolution. An adjustment had to be made, of course, for both the precinct and for Connor himself as androids could not only hold their own jobs but also be protected under the law like a human.

It was an even bigger adjustment for him to be helping androids after weeks of deliberately hunting them down. Connor mindfully pushed that thought away.

“It’s not quite that big of change from what I was before,” he responded, smiling, hoping it was as warm as he could make it. “I get to protect both androids and humans, so that’s certainly something new. If anything, it’s… nice to be able to get paid, even though I have yet to figure out what I should spend on, besides pastries for the precinct, of course.”

You let out an appreciative laugh. “The job suits you,” you said, and he watched your eyes glanced over his attire again in approval. “You look good in uniform.” Your eyes widened in panic after your comment, pink blooming on your cheeks. “I--I mean,” you stammered, raising your hand to your lips, “you look good as an officer-- wait, uh, I mean, you do look good but--”

Connor quickly glanced at your attire: an apricot floral skirt that ended right above your knees, a top that complemented its color, twine-aesthetic sandals to finish the look. “You look nice as well,” he replied easily, watching as you snapped your mouth shut, the color on your cheeks continuing to spread. “Your outfit very much complements both your physical features and your personality,” he said as a matter of fact. “You look like the embodiment of a summer day.”

“I--” You paused, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the growing, but shy, smile on your face. Your eyes glanced at him ever so often. You let out a laugh as you looked back at him, face completely flushed, but your voice was as teasing as ever. “I never knew you were into Shakespeare,” you commented, but your tone told you that you were undeniably flattered.

(He quickly researched Shakespeare and received results about a poet that used a certain meter to tell stories and more famously, write love poems. If Hank knew he was accidentally quoting poetry, Hank would have gagged.)

“I’m not,” Connor said honestly, blinking. “That’s just what I saw.”

You laughed again and playfully pushed his shoulder as you gushed about what a poet he was and then proceeded to give him your phone number. “I want to get to know you more,” she said, and he agreed. All he really registered was that he would get to see you again. “Soon,” you had said to him hopefully before going back to your friends.

It had been a few days since the last time you had met Connor, and it was only through Hank’s insistence that he had sent you a text asking how your day was. “How the hell is she going to talk to you if she doesn’t have your phone number?” Hank had grumbled as Connor received his first text message back from you with a set of smiling emojis. He pretended not to care when Connor thanked him for his help, saying something along the lines of “don’t fucking mention it.”

It was then that Connor began to learn more about you. You were a second-year graduate student at a nearby university, living in an apartment with three other roommates. You liked pastel colors, dogs (he heard how you nostalgically talked about your own dog and made note to let you see Sumo again as soon as possible), and singing (though you said you were no good at it). There was very little things you disliked eating, and you had no allergies except to “maybe dust,” you had texted to him with a ‘laughing-crying’ emoji. It was apparent you conveyed your emotions through these small faces and hoped that you didn’t mind his lack of usage. Apart from texting, you would actually call him at night whenever he was free, mindful of his work schedule.

It was on a quiet Thursday night when you had called him at the usual time, 8 PM, and he picked up the phone knowing it was you without looking. “How are you?” He always began, feeling himself relax as he heard the laughter in your voice as you replied as the same as ever. Connor placed his jacket on the dining hall table and loosened his tie, speaking through the phone as he settled himself on the couch with Sumo soon following after him.

“So, I was wondering,” you said, the tone in your voice changing from playful to bashful. “If you’re free this Saturday, I was thinking maybe we could hang-- uh, go out together?”

Connor looked at the blank TV in front of him, watching as his LED swirled yellow momentarily. “I am free Saturday, and I’d be glad to be able to see you again,” he said. “What were you planning for us to do?”

“I was thinking about going to the aquarium,” you responded, sounding more flustered on the phone. “I remember you saying that you like animals, and you liked fish, and I thought maybe it’d be nice for us to go look at them together.” You mumbled something else, and Connor pressed the phone closer to his ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the last part of what you said.” He continued, “But I would be delighted to go with you to the aquarium.”

“Just the two of us,” you said, though it sounded more like a question.

“Yes, of course.” Connor hoped he sounded as confused as he felt. “Is this not a date?”

Connor was alarmed at the loud crack over the other side of the call as he distantly heard you yelp. “Are you alright?” He asked in concern.

“Yes! Yeah, sorry, I dropped my phone.” He heard you fumble with the phone and breathe out deeply.

“I’m sorry,” Connor began nervously, pulling at his collar as the temperature seemed to increase. “Did I interpret your invitation incorrectly? Because--”

“No! I-- I was asking you out on a date, for sure,” you exclaimed, quick to fix him. “I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable going out with me. But yes! So you can make it?” You grew more excited. “I can buy us the tickets online--”

“I would be pleased to accompany you to the aquarium as your date. As for the tickets, I have just bought them,” Connor replied, his LED flickering as he made the purchase for the aquarium. At your protest, he said, “I insist. I need something to spend on, after all. You can pay for our food and drinks during the date.”

“Connor,” you pointed out, amused, “you don’t eat or drink.”

“Yes,” he agreed, not really understanding why you laughed, but happy to have caused you to nonetheless. “When should we meet?”

“10AM? I’ll pick you up.”

“I’ll send you my address,” Connor responded, feeling thirium rush through his bio-components, imitating what it would feel if adrenaline was coursing through him. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

The warmth in your tone was enough for him to tell you felt the same.

The only thing standing between Connor and meeting you again was Hank, arms crossed. “No,” he said. It was late, and everyone was eager to go home on a Friday night. Connor would have thought Hank would feel the same, but it was apparent he did not. Not today, anyways.

Connor pressed his lips together. “I don’t see why--”

“You can’t show up on a date in your uniform,” Hank said in exasperation, “not even your Cyberlife outfit; it’s too formal for something like going to an aquarium, and it's like bringing your work with you.”

“She had indicated pleasure to seeing me in uniform,” Connor said defensively.

“That’s--” Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not the point. You can look good in other outfits, Connor. You need to make it a special occasion by… dressing up nice. She’s probably going to do the same for you.”

Connor thought deeply as Hank watched his LED swirl yellow for a few moments until he spotted a certain detective in the distance. The last time he had borrowed Hank’s formal clothing, it had either turned out too gaudy or large. Who could Connor borrow from that was his size (more or less) and was still here?

“Detective Reed,” Connor called out, ignoring the way the man turned to glare at him as his usual greeting. Hoping he was pulling out the best appeasing smile, Connor said, “I was wondering if you would like to go out for a few drinks with me.”

“And why the fuck don’t you have your own clothes, fucking plastic?” Gavin said hours later, watching with an exasperated expression as Connor looked through his closet for ‘date clothes.’ It was a good thing they had met after hours or Gavin would have rather died than talk to Connor civilly let alone offer Connor an opportunity to look in his closet to impress a girl; he pushed down the urge to regurgitate the five shots he had downed in an hour.

Picking up a plain white shirt to accompany a light blue jacket, Connor could only shrug. “I hadn’t thought I would need it,” he said honestly, scanning the closet before settling on khaki colored pants and white shoes that would accompany his top. “I was content on borrowing the lieutenant’s clothes.”

“Maybe your new girlfriend can help you get a goddamn fashion sense,” the other officer groused. Connor could see him rolling his eyes without actually turning around.

Blinking, Connor looked back at Gavin as he gathered the clothes. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

This time Connor did see Gavin roll his eyes. “Sure, tin can. Whatever you say,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You’re going on a date but you’re not dating, makes sense to me.”

“Thank you for the clothes, Detective,” Connor replied, giving the detective a small, albeit smug smile. “These clothes are shorter than my stature, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless--”

Connor ducked just in time to dodge the white sneakers that he had requested from Gavin which were exactly his size: a nine-and-a-half.

You rang the doorbell exactly ten minutes before the given time. Not that it mattered much since Connor was ready to go hours ago. He opened the door, watching as your face seemed to light up the moment you saw him. “Sorry,” you said immediately, “I came a little earlier than I thought.”

“Wow, it really has been too long,” you teased, evidently scanning your eyes up and down appreciatively before winking. You laughed when Connor stammered, unsure how to respond to both your flirtatious comment and also to the bombardment of emotions that rammed into him. It was like watching a flower in bloom: was it possible for you to be sweeter than last time you met?

Connor made a motion to welcome her in, and she abided, cheerfully greeting Sumo as he came up to her and sat at her feet. He couldn’t help but watch her in silent awe.

Your dark hair falling down in soft rivulets at your shoulders, it complemented the white top of your dress. Small bouquets of pink and red contrasted with the blue of the bottom half. Considering you topped it off with sandals that made you much shorter than Connor, forcing you to tilt your head up at him, did not help him deal with the fact your presence screamed “cute!” in his face.

It seemed that he had paused for too long of a moment because he hadn’t noticed that your attention had turned to him. “Connor? You okay?” You asked, going on your tip-toes to peer into his face.

“Yes! I’m perfectly fine.” Connor coughed, which made you even more confused, because when did androids need to clear their throats? “I apologize,” he said, “I was taken aback by your appearance. You seem to increase in attractiveness every time we meet.” When you began to blush, he continued with a hint of the same flirtatious tone you had used on him, “I’m afraid that someday you’ll be too stunning for me to look at.”

“Connor, stop!” You giggled, covering a snort that was nothing short of adorable as you objected to his admittedly corny lines. “I should say that to you!” You said, voice warm, “You look really good, honestly. I’m so glad we could go to the aquarium together. It’s been a long time since I last visited.”

Thinking back to the last minute advice Hank had for him, Connor politely stuck out his arm for you to take, pleased when you hooked arms with him without a second thought, smiling brightly. “Shall we go then?”

“I’ll lead the way!”

It was like a world on its own, for the most part. Certainly, neither of you could ignore the crowd that shuffled the two of you down a popular show of whales or sharks. (Connor didn’t mind this; it gave him an opportunity to hold you hands so you wouldn’t get separated from him.) That didn’t stop Connor from glancing over at you ever so often and simply admire the unadulterated emotions on your face. He liked to pinpoint the mole you had on your eyelid (“Almost like a beauty mark,” you told him) and see your eyes widen when a particularly pretty jellyfish floated its way across the glassed containers.

Perhaps it wasn’t a mystery why he thought you looked more attractive. Being able to know you, understanding why you were so fascinated by otters (you liked the fact they held hands in their sleep; Connor glanced down at his own hand that you had never let go) or even knowing why you fussed over buying him a souvenir (because how could you let him pay for everything?). He even liked the way you ate with such enjoyment even though you seemed to hold back because “Connor, come on, I can’t just swallow the entire sandwich whole; we’re in public.”

It was these little quirks about you that made you you that made you so attractive. There could be no one else out there that could be exactly like you, and he knew that he particularly liked every part of that made you unique to him. “You’re similar to this kaleidoscope,” Connor commented when you had gushed over its sea-related designs. When you had laughed, he continued with a smile on his face. “You have many facets, all of which are completely distinct from everyone else,” he said, turning the octoscope for a moment. “No matter how much I turn it, it continues to give me a unique array of color that creates a beautiful work of art that I can never tire of.”

If he noticed the wetness of your eyes or how determined you were to buy this for him, Connor said nothing. He only gripped your hand tighter as the two of you continued down the tiles of the aquarium.

The two of you walked slowly, hand in hand, looking in awe at the abundance of life in each window of the aquarium. Connor stopped for a bit longer at one section, watching the dwarf gourami swim leisurely through the water. When he felt a tug at his hand, he immediately switched his attentions toward you, who had begun to dreamily follow the dimly lit blue lights down the tunnel of water where seals circled around without a care in the world. They stepped down in a dome-like fixture of the seal exhibit, letting a group of tourists by so they had the room to themselves.

It was at this moment Connor felt your attention waver. He watched in mild confusion as your temperature began to warm and your heart beat increased without a change in scenery. “Is there something wrong?” He watched as you climbed up to a higher stair-step, never letting go of his hand, and it was hard for him to hide the immense amount of adoration he held for you when you weren’t turned his way. Even now, as you faced away from him momentarily, he could still see the tinge of red high on your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, finally standing tall enough that you no longer needed to look up at him. “I just-- I just wanted to be your height for a sec.”

Connor tilted his head, as he always did when confused. “Alright,” he said. “Not that I mind, but I’m growing rather concerned about your rise in temperature; are you sure you--”

“I’m fine, Connor,” you said, laughing, gripping his hands tightly. “I-- um,” you licked your lips, “I just thought it’d be easier for me to kiss you if I was like this.”

You looked at him shyly. Connor could barely feel himself think.

“Is that… okay?” You asked nervously, bunching up your hands in front of you.

Connor opened his mouth, surprisingly dry, and closed it. It wasn’t as if he lacked words to say, but he doubted his voice could function well at all. Instead, emulating the scenarios from rom-com movies Hank fell asleep to, Connor stepped closer to you, noting the way your breath hitched, and lightly held onto your waist.

“That is…” he began, feeling his thirium pump work towards overheating when he saw your eyes dilate as your eyes trailed over his lips. He watched you as if time slowed, your eyes fluttering closed and your face growing closer. “That is more than okay,” he said before your lips pressed against his.

Connor couldn’t describe it. It was difficult to string his thoughts together let alone put his thoughts into words. It was softness, passion, nervous energy, eagerness, and something heated all combined into the kisses you shared with him. You reached up to hold his face closer, and he slid his hands across the fabric of your dress to pull you closer, closer. He was no good at kissing, as it seemed practice actually did make perfect in these cases, but for what mattered, it didn’t seem as you cared, based off the way you breathed heavily and combed through his hair in a way that made him shiver.

When you pulled away, he was delighted and adoring in how your face was flushed in embarrassment as if you weren’t the one to initiate the kiss in the first place. You stammered something Connor couldn’t hear, but he was at least glad that he wasn’t the only who could barely think straight.

“Sorry,” he said, making you look up at him with starry eyes. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.” And he swooped in for another kiss.

Connor’s emotions came in likes waves, pushing and pulling him along without direction. It was overwhelming, the way he felt the need to hold your waist so he could press your body to his but also the desire to simply caress your face and just be. Connor recognized this feeling; he had swam against the current last time, trying to regain control of himself because of the sense of instability. This time was different. He didn’t mind this tidal wave of feelings for you lift him up higher and higher.

You were an ocean that he wanted to drown in.

Connor knew he had a lot to learn about you and about human emotions. Still, in the back of his mind, there part of him that was still drifting along the tide, thinking to himself that perhaps this was the start of his journey of falling in love with you.

[xenosaurus]

Vermilion City Pokemon Shelter (chapter 1)

Rating: T Tags: animal shelter setting, original characters, lesbian protagonist, worldbuilding

also available on ao3!

By this point in her career, Marianne Joy has learned to be wary of calm.  It’s the same for the shelter as it was for the pokemon center her mother worked at when she was growing up-- if things seem relaxed, that means you’re either missing something or it’s about to get very loud.

After 45 minutes of paperwork with no noise except for her Nidoking’s gentle snoring, Marianne is ready for an interruption.

Right on schedule, the receptionist knocks on the door.  Marianne knows it’s Lilo even before the door opens-- she’s the only one in the office who knocks like she’s setting the beat for a song.

“Yeah, Lilo, you can come in,” Marianne calls back.  Her Nidoking, curled up in the enormous pokemon bed set up next to her desk, makes a snuffling sound and lifts his head in response to her voice.  Marianne gives him a quick pat between the spines.

Lilo hovers in the doorway to Marianne’s office, an apologetic look on her face.  She’s a short young woman, dark-skinned and pretty.  She’s wearing orange lipstick today, the exact same shade as the trim on her uniform.

“Sooo, we have a situation.” Lilo draws out the word ‘so’ like she’s trying to delay having to actually finish the sentence.

Marianne puts down the paperwork she was reading with a sigh.

“Pokemon situation or people situation?”

“People situation,” Lilo says, grimacing. “Mrs. Bernard is here again.”

Marianne mirrors the sentiment.  She’s heard stories about this one, and it must be serious if Lilo came for backup.

Marianne gets up from her desk, grabbing a clipboard from the rack on the way out of the room.  Her Nidoking watches her sleepily, before deciding the situation isn’t worth sacrificing his nap.  He’s back asleep almost immediately.

“What’s the clipboard for, Mar?” Lilo asks, while Marianne takes a random packet of papers from her desk.

“Makes me look more official.  She’s obviously not scared of the damn Garchomp in the lobby, but maybe human authority will work.”

Marianne leaves her office.  Lilo follows her, and out of the corner of her eye, Marianne can see the receptionist’s shadow jump unnaturally.

“You have your Gengar free-roaming today?” Marianne asks as they walk down the hall towards reception.

“Yeah!  She’s doing so good, isn’t she?  She even came out from under my desk!” Lilo turns to address her own shadow, which currently shows no sign of concealing a pokemon as far as Marianne can tell.  “Did you hear that, Lucy?  You’re such a brave girl!”

Sure enough, Lilo’s shadow shifts in response, swaying side to side.  Marianne smiles.  This is a good pick-me-up right before she has to deal with entitlement personified.

“Ma’am, you really should go through the Good Start program.”

Shit, that’s Tyler.  Marianne turns to Lilo in alarm.

“You left Tyler alone with her?” she whispers.

“Peggy’s on lunch, somebody had to stay with her!” Lilo protests.  Marianne just sighs and pushes open the door.

“Hello, Mrs. Bernard.  How can I help you?” Marianne asks, customer service voice in full effect.

Mrs. Bernard is a middle-aged woman with the least practical fake nails Marianne has ever seen.  Tyler, the shelter’s volunteer coordinator, is a tall black man with a honeycomb tattoo on his wrist and braids pulled back with a yellow elastic.  His Ribombee, Daisy, is perched on his shoulder.  Behind the front desk, Lilo’s Torracat and Garchomp are watching the humans with a shared sense of boredom.

“Nurse Joy!  Finally, someone reasonable!” Mrs. Bernard exclaims, ignoring Marianne’s question entirely.

Lilo and Tyler exchange a look and Marianne resists the urge to throw the clipboard at their guest.

“Mrs. Bernard, as I’m sure you’ve already been told, we don’t have any pokemon that would be appropriate for your daughter--”

“I don’t see why I can’t go in and see for myself,” Mrs. Bernard interrupts, which greatly amplifies Marianne’s desire to throw something.

“I already explained the training class to her,” Tyler says, arms crossed over his chest.  Daisy starts patting his cheek with her tiny hands, trying to soothe him.  Tyler tilts his head into the gesture to acknowledge her efforts.

“She’s already taking lessons through the school!  She knows how to handle pokemon,” Mrs. Bernard argues.

“Ma’am, the pokemon we have here generally aren’t appropriate for a kid just starting out, especially if she isn’t going to have adult supervision,” Marianne explains, desperately willing this woman to understand.

“I know multiple families whose children got their first pokemon through your organization!” Mrs. Bernard is only getting more agitated, and Marianne really wishes she’d brought her Nidoking along after all.  Butch is good at looming until people stop yelling at his trainer.

“Oh, they probably got them from the Good Start event we hold in the fall!” Lilo jumps in to explain. “When we get very young pokemon or eggs, some of our fosters raise them special for the Good Start program so they’ll make perfect partners for new trainers.”

“And why can’t I have one of those pokemon?”

“Um.  Because they all go into the program.  So that kids from the smaller towns can get starter pokemon too.  The Good Start program finds trainers for them much easier than we could, so we really don’t keep suitable pokemon around unless Good Start’s doing one of their local events.  It’s mostly pokemon with issues or older pokemon that--”

“Then give me an older pokemon!”

Lilo’s good cheer falters a little, and her Torracat finally comes out from behind her desk.  He nuzzles her knee, then sits at her feet, glowering up at Mrs. Bernard.

“The older pokemon are rescues.  They have specific needs--”

“I know some of your pokemon come from retired trainers.  Those pokemon would make <i>great</i> partners for a new trainer!”

Lilo’s Torracat does not appreciate his trainer being interrupted.  He meows at Mrs. Bernard-- it isn’t terribly threatening, because he has a particularly small, cute meow, but Marianne is fully aware he’ll start spitting embers next.  As much as Marianne would love to see that, it probably wouldn’t be good PR for the shelter to light a visitor on fire.

“Ma’am.  I don’t mean to be rude, but we are not denying you a pokemon for your daughter out of spite.  I’ve seen otherwise tame pokemon take bites out of beginner trainers seemingly out of nowhere, because the kids don’t know the pokemon’s limits.  The pokemon in Good Start are trained from birth to be safe partners to young trainers who are bound to make mistakes.  Pay Good Start’s registration fee, or, if you can’t afford it, talk to someone at the pokemon center,” Marianne says, in a tone that brooks no argument.  Mrs. Bernard tries to interrupt her twice, but Marianne just talks over her.

That’s actually enough to make the woman falter, which Marianne takes as a victory.  After a moment, Mrs. Bernard speaks again, less indignant this time.  She isn’t addressing Marianne, having apparently decided Tyler is a safer conversational partner.

“So, um.  What was that you said about classes?”

Marianne groans.  Lilo’s mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile.

“Come back with your daughter, then we’ll talk to her about classes,” Tyler says, staying remarkably calm.  Lilo loses the fight against her smile and covers her mouth with a hand instead.

*

“I can’t believe you told her to get her daughter.  I mean, you’re totally right, the ten-year-old is more likely to be reasonable, but it’s like telling a little kid to put mommy on the phone,” Marianne shakes her head and laughs.

Now that they’ve got Mrs. Bernard out of the building, she’s sitting across from Tyler in the break room.  They’re sharing a styrofoam container of greasy takeout stir fry, their pokemon eating lunch nearby.  Tyler’s Ribombee is sipping nectar from a special bottle, still sitting on his shoulder, while his Volcarona devours a large bowl of alfalfa on the floor.  Marianne’s Nidoking is snacking on some high-protein kibble (figy berry flavor), occasionally trading morsels with her Audino, who prefers the pecha berry blend.

“I don’t know what her problem with the Good Start program is,” Tyler complains, gesturing with his chopsticks.  He talks with his hands, even when there’s something in his hands.  Marianne has seen him point to things with a Caterpie before. “I wish they had that program when I was a kid!  My first Weedle stung me four times in my first week!”

“Probably would have helped if you hadn’t tried to hug him.  Don’t try to tell me you didn’t, I’ve known you for half a decade.”

Tyler points the chopsticks at Marianne.

“Bug pokemon are adorable and they deserve hugs.”

His Ribombee squeaks in agreement and throws her arms around Tyler’s neck.  He raises his free hand to pet her, grinning.

“See?  Daisy knows what’s up.  You too, right, Cinder?”

Tyler’s Volcarona makes a tiny chittering sound but doesn’t even pause in her quest to devour her bowl of sprouts.

“Admittedly, I also got poisoned a lot when I first started.  Hugging may have been part of the issue,” Marianne says, tilting her head towards her Nidoking. “But I had basic medical training.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Tyler says. “We can’t all come from globe-spanning families of doctors.”

“That woman knew my name without an introduction.  There are downsides.”

“Wait, you hadn’t met her?  Lilo seemed to think you had.”

“Nah, Peggy dealt with her last time, and Lilo got her out of here herself the first time.”

“Holy shit, Marianne, you shaved your damn head and you’re still getting recognized?”

“It’s the cost of my beautiful face.  Everyone I’m related to has the same one.”

“You should have taken your wife’s last name.  Maybe they’re reading it off your nametag.”

“Do I need to get out my family photos?  We all look identical.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of cloning--”

“Tyler, do not start with the cloning theory again.”

Tyler laughs and leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Come on, you don’t know--”

The door to the break room swings open.  Tyler startles mid-sentence and turns to look at whoever has interrupted the conversation.  It’s Peggy, the shelter’s adoption counselor, her Togetic fluttering over her shoulder and one of the Pichu she’s fostering tucked under her arm.  She has long brown hair and oversized glasses, a fashion choice Marianne has never fully understood.

“I’m gone for 20 minutes and I miss Mrs. Bernard?” she asks without offering a greeting, sounding affronted. “Did anyone die?”

Tyler laughs and pulls out a chair for her.

“Come sit, we’ll tell you everything.”

[northelypark]

I wish you'd write a fic where...Bernard. Just Bernard. (and maybe a tongue-tied Clive who forgets how to human because he's in the presence of a beautiful chess goddess :)

Apparently I can’t even write a drabble without turning it into a 2000+ word fic. But thanks, friendo~ I had way too much fun with this. 

Bernard and Clive have their first ever heart-to-heart.

Finally.

Bernard shut his Maths textbook with a satisfying whumph. Now that homework was out of theway, it was time for a bit of leisure reading before bedtime. He turned to hisbookshelf, scanning the top right corner where all his current reads were shelved.Gibson’s The Perception of the Visual World, a shorter work by Bandura onaggression and social cognitive theory, and a few of his father’s old issues ofthe Journal of the Chemical Society (nothis favorite subject, but several of the articles had caught his interest).

He stroked his chin, considering each in turn. It was adifficult choice, but he finally decided on Gibson. There was one chapter inparticular that had given him trouble the other day and he wanted to see ifcouldn’t straighten out what the old bloke was going on about.

Settling in the small crevice between his desk and hisdresser (a new reading spot that was surprisingly comfortable), he cracked openthe musty hard-cover to the page his tattered bookmark had saved.

He had just broken into the first sentence when anexcruciating sound flailed his ears.

Thud, thud.

Bernard swore. Never failed. At least it wasn’t coming fromthe ceiling this time.

“I heard that,” came the unruffled reply.

“Good.”

Bernard squeezed himself out from hisreading spot and opened the door. Clive was waiting for him on the other side.He wore casual clothes, layered, suitable for an evening made cool by the spring shower that had let up only that afternoon.

“What.”

“Are you ready?”

Bernard gazed blankly at him.

Clive’s eyelids dropped, hooding his eyes in apatheticannoyance.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

Forgot… A terrible dread writhed in Bernard’s stomach. Hispeaceful evening. Ruined. What had he forgotten? A meeting in the “secrethideout”? Some plan to break into a restricted area of the school? Spying onthe Patrol whilst they performed ridiculous rituals?

“The London Symphony Orchestra?”

Bernard shut his eyes. Even worse then he’d expected. But heremembered now. It had all been Gemma’s idea, of course. The London SymphonyOrchestra was holding a free concert in a park near the school that evening.Dreycott’s choir director had arranged for a bus to take any pupils who wereinterested in attending. When Gemma had found out, she had insisted they all gotogether. Something about doing more “fun” things together besides working onexposing the school’s layers of corruption and secrets. As if that wasn’tenough.

“Oh, that,” Bernard crossed his arms, “No. I changed mymind. I’m not going. I’ll weather Gemma’s wrath tomorrow.”

Despite the lingering threat of facing Gemma, he allowedhimself a small, smug smile. Nothing quite so satisfying as canceling one’splans and remaining a recluse for the evening.

“Gemma dropped out,” Clive said, “Emergency drama practice.”

“Oh? Good. Let’s all drop out, then.”

Clive hesitated, his hand moving to fiddle with his collar.Bernard prepared for the worst.

“It’s just…Amelia is rather keen on going now, I think.”

“Okay. Then you two go together. Problem solved.”

A look of panic crossed Clive’s face, as if a train wasbarreling down at him and his foot was caught in the track.

“Are you sure youdon’t want to come? You like the orchestra, don’t you?”

“Not especially.”

Why that pleading look in his eyes? Bernard had known Clivefor almost two years now, but he had never seen his friend look so desperately miserableas he did now.

“I know Amelia wanted you to come.”

Amelia. Clive’s eyes had darted to the side when he’d spokenher name and his collar-fiddling had increased slightly. He knew how to concealhis emotions well, but Bernard prided himself in his ability to read even themost guarded of persons. When he felt like it, anyway.

So. That was it. He was just needed as a sort of third wheelto keep the outing from becoming awkward. Or something. Which was ridiculous.Weren’t the two always off playing chess alone together? Why was cramming intothe back of a sweaty bus in order to cram into the back of a sweaty crowd tolisten to some strains of Mozart by musicians who knew they weren’t gettingpaid any different?

Bernard sighed. Clive was still looking at him with thoseoncoming-train eyes. If he wanted to keep his evening to himself, he’d either have to convincehis friend to stay or convince him to go. He would undoubtedly think it ungentlemanly tolet Amelia go by herself, so that left the other option.

“Come in,” Bernard said, turning on his heel.

“But what – ”

“Shut up and come in or I’ll charge double for my services.”

Clive followed him into the room and sat down on the edge ofhis bed, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

“Your services.”

“Yes. I’m going to diagnose your problem and offer suitablerecommendations for solving it.”

Bernard sat down at his desk, retrieving a notepad and pencil. If hewas honest, he and Clive mainly communicated through quips, insults,and their shared interests in reading and sarcasm. As muchas he hated to admit it, Clive was the closest thing he had to a brother, arather paltry wish he had given up on years ago.  But they rarely talked about any problemsthey had. Not seriously anyway. Bernard wasn’t even sure he could carry on aconversation like that…what did they call it? A heart-to-heart. He shuddered.It sounded like some type of high-risk surgery.

Still. Clive was his friend and it was evident he need a bitof encouragement. Bernard had a feeling that even if he did decide to tagalong, Clive would remain miserable. There had been something between him and Amelia for awhile now. Something neither seemed capable or willing to properly address. Perhaps there was a way to save hisevening of leisure reading and ease Clive’s anxiety without sacrificing eitherof their dignity…or at least his own. He had to have a bit of fun along theway, after all.

“The bus leaves in five minutes,” Clive said, “And I don’t have a problem.”

“That’s all the time I need. And you do have a problem. Myanalysis of your sorry face tells me everything.”

Clive closed his eyes.

“Why do you do this?”

“To torture you. Also, to help you using the latest in clinical psychology. Now, what are your symptoms? Particularly when you’re around Amelia.”

“I don’t know. This is ridiculous.”

“Answer the question or I’ll have to pry it out of you usingunethical methods.”

“Unethical methods,” Clive cocked an eyebrow, “You’re threatening my life, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Now answer the question. You’ll feel better. Maybe. Probably not, but answer it anyway.”

Clive rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “Sometimes nothing. I just feelnormal around her. But other times, it’s as if all the air is being sucked out of me,as if I’m screaming inside. Into the void of space. Or I wish I could besucked into space. One of the two.”

“Hm. Yes,” Bernard looked up with a professional frown, “It’s most definitely infatuation. Textbookexample. A horrible disease, really. But not without known treatment options.”

Clive’s furious blushing was all the evidence he needed.

“What? No. I – ”

“Shut up, please,” Bernard scribbled in his notebook. “Nowthe preferred treatment option is to become a hermit and avoid all humancontact for the remainder of your life.”

“Bernard – ”

“Or to remind yourself daily of the crushing weight of your own fragile and meaningless existence.”

“Okay, I get it.”

Clive sighed again, his creased brow and slash of a frown revealinga mixture of irritation and impatience.

Bernard stopped writing. Perhaps he really was no good atthis sort of thing.

“I’m kidding,” he rolled his pencil between his fingers.

What to say? Hisdiagnosis was only half the story. It wasn’t just a matter of infatuation.Clive and Amelia were friends. They’d been through a lot together this pastyear. Cared a great deal for one another.

He racked his brain for suitable words. Words that wouldn’tcome out biting and sharp as they usually did. Advice that could help and not simplyadd salt.

Think.

He’d fancied a girl in primary school once. But then she’dstuck gum in his hair when he tried teaching her what the word photosynthesismeant. No good. He continued to pick through the last fourteen years. Lookingfor something useful.

And then, out of countless gray memories, one took form that didn’t seem to relate to Clive’s problem at all. Old, but strangely luminous. 

It was of when he and his parents had lived in that housenear the empty lot, overgrown with trees and sagging bushes. It had been abusy, and stressful, time for his parents, he recalled, when both had beenworking long days and longer nights at one of London’s biggest hospitals. Theyweren’t around much, but when he did see them they still smiled and talked andpoked fun at the other. And sometimes they would shove everything aside, allthe bills and paperwork and to-do-lists and go to that empty lot. His dad wouldlight a small fire in a homemade fire-pit, as if they were out in the middle ofthe woods, instead of the middle of London. It was most likely illegal, but noone was ever around to care. And then they would take turns reading to him, ashe was still too small to quite know how to do it himself.

Sometimes he would end up nearly asleep, curled up in the lap of oneor the other, but still alert enough to listen to their conversations.Sometimes they’d argue. Quietly. But other times they’d simply talk about howthe other’s day went. And that was enough to reassure him for the time being.

Clive stood.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll just tell her that – ”

“That you’ll go,” Bernard said, “I think you two should go. And I’m not just saying that because I want you to leave me alone.”

Clive’s brow creased, but he waited. Bernard shrugged, stillturning the memory in his mind.  “Tomorrow we’ll all be back to being busy. Dry lectures. Bland food. Four-page essays. Exposing evil livingstatues. Better take a break while you can and, I don’t know, it’s good to gosomewhere for a while with someone. To check-up on each other and sharebeing miserable, even. To remind yourself that even though you hate most everyone, there’s still one or two or three people you can stand to be with.”

He was rambling. Why was he rambling? What was he evensaying? “I guess what I’m trying to say is, maybe you’ll look back and regret notspending more time with certain people if you’re only ever worried about things. And by the time you realize it – well…” He shruggedagain, “That’s it, then.”

Clive remained silent, rubbing his chin. Considering.

Bernard looked away. He never usually wished to take backwhat he said, but he did now.  Because itwas stupid or because it was true? And if it was true, what did that make him?

There was a long pause before Clive finally spoke again, his voice quiet and thoughtful.

“I’d better go find her then, before the bus leaves.”

Bernard stood, feeling a bit disoriented.

“I’ll go with you. Make sure you don’t run away.”

Amelia was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps to the girls’dormitories. She wore a jumper with a white pawn stitched across the front, rain-boots, anda peach ribbon in her hair.

Bernard noticed Clive looked ready to pass out. He placed asteadying hand on his back.

Amelia smiled teasingly when she saw them.

“There you two are. Thought you might have gotten lost.Ready to go?”

“Yes, but Bernard’s decided to stay and read in his darkenedroom,” Clive said.

“Oh, so – ”

“Yes, just, er, just me and you, if that’s alright?”

“Oh, um – alright. I’m mean, yes, if it’s alrightwith you…”

Bernard looked between the two of them, blushing andstammering and fiddling with collars and hair, and wished he were blind anddeaf and living in Antarctica. 

“Alright. Time to go. Get out of here now,” he said, shooingthem along.

Amelia waved.

“See you, Bernard.”

“Thanks, mate,” Clive said. He smiled, but his eyes were solemn. 

Bernard nodded.

His friend’s smile shifted to a cheeky grin, “You know, you make a pretty good therapist.“

“I’m glad you think so,” he grumbled, “I expect my fees by tomorrow. One hundred quid per minute, so, that’ll be five-hundred, altogether.”

Clive’s grin faded.

Returning to his room, Bernard watched the two out the windowas they made their way towards the long drive where the bus stood idling in the pale dusk. They were laughing at something or other, dodging puddles, shoulders brushingnow and then. The bus honked and Amelia grabbed Clive’s hand, pulling him alongso he nearly tripped over his own clownish feet.

A tolerable match, Bernard decided, allowing a faint smile.He gave himself a mental pat on the back. His good deed was done for the week. Maybe it would make up for being a hypocrite. 

Then again, he thought, as the stars came out, sometimes it’s necessary to be miserable alone, too. 

With this in mind, he slipped back into his dark, dusty creviceand cracked open his book once more.

[strawbebehmod]

Borrowed Happiness for a Friend

A pre COS fic I’ve been working on for a few days Featuring Edward Elric and Alfons Heidrich I hope you enjoy

Slightly OOC Ed due to drinking (which he is of age to do cause this is germany, not america)

BA-bum! Bum! BA-bum! Bum! The tuba’s bounding beat reverberated across the warmly lit room as the people mulled about. Alfons sipped from his beer glass, smiling as he listened to the clarinet and trumpet play while watching the couples on the dance floor. The whole dance hall was filled to the brim with laughter, music, and life, as it should be considering the celebration taking place: an old school friend of his, Hannah had married her sweetheart of three years, Bernard. She had invited all her family and friends, new and old, to celebrate the occasion, and celebrate they did indeed. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, drinking, eating, talking and dancing…well except for one person. Alfons turned his head to look at a table where Edward was sitting, watching the crowd as he absent mindedly picked at his now empty plate of food. Alfons sighed and shook his head. He had hoped bringing him to the reception might help him. He had been in such a downtrodden state as of late. He hated seeing his friend so upset. He thought he might be able to unwind if he brought him to the reception, or at the very least, a little alcohol might help him seeing as he was now of legal drinking age. However, that didn’t really seemed to be the case. He hadn’t spoken to anyone else all night. Scratch that. He spoke politely to those who approached him but didn’t actively try to make conversation with anyone. He thoroughly enjoyed the food however, having gotten himself a big plate of steak, potatoes, and sauerkraut with dumplings to start with and then helping himself to a nice slice of the cake once it had been cut. The only reason he hadn’t gone for more was for fear of taking too much! Alfons shook his head before walking up to his friend. “You alright, Edward?” he asked, gaining the other blond’s attention, “You’re all by yourself.” Edward shrugged. “Sorry. I just don’t really know anyone here is all,” he said, “It’s just a bit awkward. I wasn’t exactly invited, you know.” “I invited you here, and my friend said it was alright if you tagged along,” he said, “Come on. If you don’t know anyone else, you can hang around me. Have you tried any of the drinks yet?” Edward shook his head no but smiled. He then got up and followed his friend up to the bar where Alfons ordered him a frothing glass of the deep brown liquid. “This one’s local, I think it’s a specialty of the brewery about a mile from here,” he explained handing him the glass. Edward took a sip and nearly balked in surprise, scrunching up his face and blinking rapidly at the bitter taste. Alfons chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry,” he said, “Forgot to warn you. That one’s a bit strong. If you don’t like it I can get you anoth-” Edward cut him off by waving his hand. “It’s fine,” he said, taking another sip, “It’s not bad so long as you’re expecting it.” Alfons smiled again. The two stood by the bar chatting and enjoying themselves, Edward ordering a second drink as they did so. A few times some young ladies waved at them as the passed by to the dance floor with their partners. Alfons smiled and waved at one group before leaning over to Edward. “Maybe you should spend some time mingling on the dance floor. It might be fun,” he coaxed, “There are plenty of young ladies here who would probably love to dance with you. They probably know about as many people hear as you do anyways considering hannah invited almost her entire extended family as well as friends.” Edward rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. “I think I’ll pass,” he said, “They’re playing polka music…not exactly my kind of music.” Alfons shrugged. “Sorry, Hannah’s got some more traditional tastes, although they’ve been mixing in some regular waltzes too,” he responded. “Not that I can tell,” Ed responded, rolling his eyes, “Sounds the same to me. Doesn’t matter though. Never learned to dance.” He shrugged with a smile. “I doubt any of them would appreciate me stepping on their toes,” he added. “Suit yourself,” he said, before looking at something behind edward. He smiled at it before glancing back at his friend and nudging his head at it. Edward gave a confused look before all of a sudden, Edward felt a tug on his pant leg. He looked down to see a little girl about half ed’s height in a lavender dress with little white gloves. Her black hair was done up in curls and she played with her fingers bashfully as she looked around the room glancing up at Edward occasionally before darting her eyes away. Alfons recognized her. She was Hannah’s youngest sister. “Hello Marie,” Alfons said, smiling, “Is there something you need?” The girl nodded quickly but bit her lip before speaking up. “Mr. Alfons can I dance with your princy friend? I don’t want to dance with the other boys cause they just hop around like monkeys.” The two young men blinked in surprise before Alfons broke out into an amused grin. In truth Ed did look a bit odd his attire. His hair was pulled back in a braid while most men at the party had short hair. He didn’t own a tux or a complete matching three piece suit so while his pants were a dark brown, his vest was deep rusty red color and he had no suit jacket to match, his shirt also wasn’t tailored the best-although it was the nicest he had-so it was a bit puffy looking near the cuffs. He could see how he may look a bit more prince-like than the other men present. Edward didn’t quite know how to respond, scratching the back of his head as he thought about it. “Come on, Ed!” Alfons goaded, “She asked really nicely.” Edward stuck his tongue out at him before turning and smiling at her. “Alright sweetheart,” he said, crouching down a bit, “I’ll dance with you for a bit.” The girl smiled brightly before grabbing his hand and dragging him out onto the dance floor. Alfons also smiled as he watched his friend hunch over and carefully move across the floor in a slightly waltz like motion. He was clearly struggling to not stumble in the uncomfortable position, but Marie didn’t seem to mind. She looked like she was having the time of her life. Edward himself even looked like he was having some fun. However as soon as the song was over and he bid the little girl goodbye, another young lady(this one closer to his age) invited him to dance…and another, and another! Alfons watched his friend in amusement as he found himself unable to say no to the many requests(although as time went on his desire to clearly diminished) and he didn’t find himself making it back to the bar for a full thirty minutes. When he did he finally managed to finish off his second drink. “Looks like someone’s popular,” Alfons noted, “Having fun?” Edward smiled. “Yeah…I guess the music isn’t too bad…and the girls are quite the conversationalists,” he said, “I didn’t think anyone at this party would be very interested in physics, but Elena could talk all day about it.” “That’s great, Ed!”he said, “Glad you’re getting along well.” “Edward!”a woman’s voice called. They both looked to see a tall brunette waving at them. “That would be Elena, I presume?” Alfons asked. Edward nodded before downing the last sip of his drink. “Coming!” he responded before turning back to Alfons with a grin, “Let me know when you need to leave. Otherwise I think I might like to stay awhile…Oh! And order another one of those for me for when I get back! It was really good.” Alfons nodded as he watched his friend head back out onto the dance floor, standing up a little straighter as he did so, a bit proud of himself for thinking to bring Ed along. He really looked a lot happier. Maybe all he had needed was to get out of that stuffy apartment? …. (Two hours later) “Wow…It really managed to fly that high? That’s got to be world record,” Hannah said with a chuckle as she listened to Alfons’ talk about rocketry. “Well, it wasn’t near record breaking but it was my personal best so far,” he said, “I hope I can get one on the edge of the atmosphere someday, but I’ve still got a lot to go until I get there.” He’d missed chatting with his old friend. They hadn’t spoken to each other in person for almost a year and the blond had honestly missed it. Hannah was a curious as she was kind and always loved being up to date on whatever adventures her friends had gotten up to, including himself, and her stories were always extremely interesting to hear as well. She could make any old story sound interesting from the way she told it. “So how’s your new roommate doing? Edward, was it?”she asked. “Yes that’s him,” Alfons confirmed, “He’s a bit odd at times but a very kind man. He’s been a little down for a while now, but that seems to be turning around.” “Odd how?” she asked tilting her head to the side. Alfons nearly cursed at himself for mentioning that. Although it was true Edward was a bit strange, he had no right to out him on his delusions like that. He was a good man, an intelligent one too, but if anyone else knew he believed he was from another world he get carted off to a mental ward. He forced a smile anyways. “Well, he is a scientist like me,” he lied, “We’re all a bit mad, but that’s what makes us innovators. We’re crazy enough to try anything.” Hannah smiled and chuckled, her slate grey eyes flashing in amusement. “Where is your friend, by the way?” the black haired woman said, looking around, “It’s getting late and I haven’t had the chance to speak with him…I’d really like to meet him…” Alfons looked around the dance floor as well to see if he could spot him…only to have to stop himself from laughing as he saw a very inebriated looking edward stumbling around on the dance floor, giggling and beaming away as he practically leaned on his partner: a blonde girl about his height who also looked buzzed herself. Although by this point in the evening, everyone still dancing looked a little bit tipsy, Ed looked ready to topple over. His face was flushed as he smiled like an idiot and his movements slow. He wasn’t even really following the beat of the dance anymore as he swayed back and forth with the girl. “Oh dear…” Alfons chuckled slightly nervously. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to leave him to his own devices for so long…especially considering this would be his first time drinking. He wanted to slap himself. “It looks like you might need to be getting him home,” Hannah noted with a mix of concern and amusement. All of a sudden there was a gasp as Edward tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the floor, the girl yelping as she fell on top of him. Alfons bit his lip in worry and stood up in his chair as this happened, but relaxed as Edward and the girl began giggling. Alfons breathed a sigh of relief as Edward, and now the rest of the dancers laughed at his own misfortune as he struggled and failed to get up and his partner got to her feet. “Having fun down there?” Alfons asked his fallen friend as he reached down to help him up. Edward snickered again in response as he allowed himself to be dragged to his feet. “Alright Edward I think its about time we-” he was cut off as the music started again and Edward began dragging him across the dance floor in a staggering waltz. People from the audience looked on in amusement while Alfons couldn’t help but start chuckling in confusion at his friend’s random behavior. “Edward!”he half cried in amusement as the smaller blond attempted to swing him around, “Edward what are you doing?” “Dansssing!” he slurred, “You offfered me your hand, Alfonzzz.” “No Edward,” he said still smiling, “I was helping you up.” “Aw, don’t wanna dansse wif me?”he responded as he stopped moving, although now he was teetering in place a bit, using Alfons to balance. “Sorry, Ed I’m afraid not, sorry,” he responded. Edward shrugged before trying to walk away. “Alright then…” he said as he went to wander into the crowd. “Edward no!” Alfons said, grabbing his hand and nearly causing ed to stumble and fall over agian in the process. “Edward, we need to go home,” he explained. The inebriated blond gave a confuse look. “Huh?” “It’s time to go home Edward,” Alfons restated. Edward pouted. “But-” he started, trying to pull away from the taller blond, “But we’ff only been here fer like…an hour or somethin’.” “It’s actually been over two hours,” Alfons argued, “And you’re very drunk, Ed. Its best if we start heading home.” Edward gave a grumpy, childish look, glaring at Alfons several times before throwing his head back and letting out an annoyed groan. “Ffffine…” he grumbled before letting his head roll forward where it ended up resting on Alfons’ shoulder. “Wait…is there any cake left?” he asked. “No, sorry the cake’s gone,” he said truthfully. Edward let out a muffled curse into the fabric of Alfons’ suit jacket. “Ok…” he muttered, “Let’s go.” Alfons nodded as he wrapped an arm around him to support the struggling man as they made their way towards the door, Edward muttering incoherent things as they walked. “Edward?” Alfons asked, “Exactly how much did you drink tonight.” Edward paused in his step for a moment before holding up 5 fingers. Alfons raised an eyebrow at him. “No wonder you’re in such a state.” “Huh?!” Edward said, head popping up again with a furrowed brow, “Wha ja say about me?!” “Nothing Ed, you’re fine,” he said, patting the blond’s head, thus causing it to flop back down on Alfons’ shoulder as they made their way over to the coat rack to pick up their winter coats. Edward hummed the song the band was currently playing as he shuffled over to said coat rack. As they were getting their coats on, they were suddenly stopped by Hannah. “Were you two really going to leave without a goodbye?” she asked. “Whoops!” Alfons said, running a hand through his hair as edward leaned against the wall, “so sorry!” He then moved to hug his friend. “Congratulations!” he said, squeezing her tightly, “And thanks for inviting us!” He then let go of her and motioned Ed over. The blond smiled before engulfing her in a hug, causing her to laugh. “Congrats Maria. And thansksss,” he slurred out as he let go. “Uh Ed?” Alfons said, tapping on his friend’s shoulder, “This is HANNAH, remember? MARIE is her little sister!” Edward gave his friend a confused look before turning back to the woman with short black hair to give her a sideways look. “Could have sworn…” he muttered before shaking his head, “Ssorry.” “It’s alright,” she said waving him off, “have a safe trip home you guys.” Alfons nodded. “We will! Don’t worry!” He called over his shoulder as he lead his friend to their car. Alfons help him in and buckled his seatbelt before getting in on the driver’s side. He smiled at Ed in the passenger’s seat. Who was leaning his head against the car window. “You feeling alright?” He asked. Edward grunted in response, eyes clearly drooping in the reflection of the window as he pressed his forehead into it. Alfons sighed. “Guess we’ll find out…” he said to himself as he started the engine and began driving along the country road back to Munich. The trip was quiet, much more so than the trip to the reception had been. It was dark and quiet, with not a single other car on the road and nothing but the sound of the engine to keep Alfons company. Edward didn’t say a word for almost half the car ride home, until he started snoring softly. Alfons glanced occasionally at his friend as they got closer to home. He debated waking him up so he wouldn’t have to drag him up the stairs, at the same time, he knew Ed would need to sleep off all the alcohol he consumed. After about ten minutes of debating he reached over and gently shook him awake. “Edward?” He whispered in a soft voice as he did so, “Eeedwaaard.” Edward groaned as his eyes opened blearily. He lifted his head slightly to just hover over the window as he glanced around the car to get his bearings. He stopped  and froze however, and sat up straighter as he saw Alfons, a strange look in his eye as he did so. “Al?” he whispered quietly. “Sorry to wake you Ed,” he said, “But we’re just about to reach the outskirts of Munich, and I wanted you to be awake so-” “AL!” Alfons was suddenly tackled by Ed as he reached over in his seat to hug him. Alfons screamed and veered wildly as Ed slammed and clung to him. The tires screeched as the car swerved, spinning out of control. Alfons slammed on the breaks causing Ed to be flung from him into the passenger’s side door. He clung to the steering wheel for dear life as the world sped around him the light of headlights becoming images of his past flashing across his face. Finally it all stopped suddenly and the car teetered for a moment on the edge of the road before falling back onto the dirt path. Alfons sat their for a moment, clutching his chest and and hyperventilating as his whole body shook. Everything was quiet. He felt cold. So cold. Had they died? Is this what death felt like? No…His heart was still beating. He could feel it beat a mile a minute in his chest. He continued to breath heavily for a minute, putting the car in park as he melted into his seat. He turned his head to the side to see Edward was lying in his seat, looking extremely dazed. Rage boiled in his stomach for a moment abd his teeth gritting together. They could have died…They should have died considering everything! They were just extremely lucky they hadn’t rolled into a ditch. “What the hell, Ed?!”he cried, “What the hell were you doing?! You could have killed the both of us!!! What is wrong with you?!” He huffed as he finished shouting, only for Edward not to respond. Alfons furrowed his brow as he became confused. “Well?! Ed? What do you have to say?!” He questioned, but still didn’t get a response. “Edward?” He questioned a bit more quietly, worry seeping into him, “Ed? Ed are you alright?” Edward’s eyes were open but he wasn’t reacting. He grabbed Edward’s shoulder and shook him slightly. “Edward? EDWARD?”he cried, voice getting higher in fear. After a moment Edward suddenly blinked and turned to him. “A-alphonse?” He whispered. Alfons nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank God Ed…” he whispered before Edward hugged him again. Almost immediately the smaller began sobbing loudly. “Alphonse…” he slurred/whimpered, “Alphonse-I-I-I…I’m so-” He got out before continuing to sob. Alfons, despite still being a little mad at the drunken idiot, wrapped his arms around him and patted his back. There was no point in yelling. Out of it as he is, he still seemed to figure out his mistake and was trying to apologize. And frankly, he could use a hug right now too. Edward continued to mutter and sob nonsensically next to his ear…until he said one particular thing “My little brother…”  he whispered as he hugged Alfons tighter. The german froze in confusion. Before he could question what edward had meant, he continued. “I missed you. I missed you so much I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I nearly killed us again I’m so sorry,” he continued, “What kind of brother am I? I’mmmm-I’mmmmhmm-” The “mmm” descended into more sobbing intermittant by apologies. Some were specific, apologies about their mom, apologies about leaving him, and some less so, just apologizing for “what happened to you”, and “how I hurt you.” Alfons just sat there, listening the young man sob. He didn’t know what he could do. Edward was clearly mistaking him for his little brother in his drunken state, though whether this brother was even real or one of the man’s delusions he didn’t know. What was he to do? Should he play along? Should he try to bring him back to reality? “I’m so glad…” Edward sobbed, “I’m so glad you’re ok. You have your body and you’re ok! You’re finally ok, Alphonse I…” Alfons sighed and squeezed him tighter. “It’s ok Edward,” he said soothingly as he went back to patting his back, “Everything’s alright. You’re fine, I’m fine. It’s ok. Shhhhhhh….” He repeated this and things like it until Edward stopped sobbing, and continued patting his back until his grip loosened. When he heard Edward’s breathing become regular and soft again, he set the sleeping man back in his seat and drove the rest of the way home in silence. He didn’t bother waking Edward up and just carries him up the stairs to the couch, pulling off his boots and setting a blanket over him before retiring to his own room. He sat in his chair for almost an hour after that, hands folded and his chin set on them. He was in way over his head. Edwards issues were deeper than he had imagined. There was no way he could solve them by just taking him out for a night on the town to lift his spirits. His pain was deep and, even if his delusions causing them weren’t, it was very real. This little brother he calls the same name as him…Being without him clearly was hurting Edward more than he lets on. Alfons sighed, rubbing his hands down his face. This situation was terrifying. Edward’s pain was something he at the very least needed a psychiatrist for, and he was definitely no psychiatrist. If only understanding the mind was like rocket science…he was good at that. Aside from standing by him, there was nothing he could do. …But maybe that’s what Edward needed. He had the same name as his supposed little brother, and apparently looked enough like him to be mistaken for him. Maybe he needed someone to fill that void in his life where family should be…He could do that. If Edward needed someone to be his family, he’d be more than willing to take up that role. He just hoped it would be enough.

[lawful-evil-novelist]

The Quinzel Family

Hi I still can’t write Teddy but since @the-mighty-sorceress took Todd to the Krank house, it’s time for Teddy to experience the literal mess that is the Quinzel house.

It’s not as dysfunctional as you think.

“Promise you won’t freak out?”

“I’m not my dad.  I think I can handle your family.”

“Promise your dad won’t freak out?”

“I can’t do that.”

Todd gave Teddy an irritated look.

“No,” Teddy repeated, “I can’t promise my dad won’t freak out.  Your dad is still the Joker.”

Todd heaved a heavy sigh and leaned on the door as he opened it.

“I brought a friend home!” he announced loudly.  As if to announce that both his mom and dad were home, there was high pitched yipping and a clattering of uncoordinated claws as Bud and Lou clambered down the steps to greet the small Harley spawn.  Bud nearly took Todd out while Lou covered him in slobbery kisses.  Todd tried in vain to get them off but it was a little tough when his arms were noodles and Bud had a paw on his chest.

“Oh sorry Toddy!” Harley clambered down the steps and pulled the two hyenas off by their collars, “I forgot to put the gate up.  You okay hun?”

Tod sat up, rubbing his chest and trying to catch his breath.  He couldn’t quite speak, as Bud had just about knocked the wind out of him. Harley pulled Todd to his feet and gestured for Teddy to come in.

“Deep breaths pumpkin,” she whispered, “J!  Bud and Lou knocked Todd over!  I think we need his inhaler!”

There was a loud crash in another room and a mad scrambling before Joker ran in and chucked a bright pink inhaler at Harley, who caught it and handed it to Todd.  Todd pressed down on the inhaler and breathed slowly for a few seconds, then lowered the inhaler and nodded, a hand still on his chest.

“Better,” he coughed, “by a margin.”

“Oh thank god,” Joker leaned on the counter, “Please, please put the gate up next time Harl.”

“I will,” Harley snapped, then looked at Teddy, “sorry sweetie, gotta treat Toddy with a little extra care n’ all with stuff like this.”

Teddy shrugged, “Didn’t know you needed an inhaler.”

“Not much anymore,” Todd shrugged, “Oh, right.  Mom, dad, this is Teddy, Teddy Krank.”

Harley smiled and gave a wave, “Hi!  I love your hair!”

Joker didn’t do much more than salute Teddy and walk into the other room, “Busy.”

“As usual,” Harley scoffed.

“I still have heists to do Harl, as much as you don’t like it.”

Harley sighed and brushed Todd’s hair aside.  “How’s my little Jester?” she asked, “I’ve been away for so long.  Missed you.”

“I’m doing fine mom,” Todd promised.  Harley gave a somewhat sad smile, then raised her eyebrows.

“And Zeke?”

“Mom!”

“If you were trying to hide that, you shouldn’t be doting on him in front of Ivy’s girls, they tell me everything.”

“Mom I have a friend here.”

Harley looked up at Teddy, smiled, and then stood.

“Be careful, she pinched Todd’s cheek, “Harvey doesn’t much like me or J.  Have fun, be good, don’t bug your father too much.  I’ve got some paperwork to take care of for Dr. Thompkins.”

“Mmhm,” Todd nodded, and Harley skipped out.  When Todd was sure she couldn’t hear, he smirked, “They’re great aren’t they?”

“Good timing,” Teddy complimented as Todd turned on the TV and put his feet up, “if it were on a cartoon, it’d be funny.”

“And didn’t involve me nearly having an asthma attack?” Todd guessed.

“It’s asthma?” Teddy raised his eyebrows.

“Yeup.”

The two stared at the TV before Todd spoke up, “Did my mom make you uncomfortable?”

“Why?” Teddy asked.

“Well, your mom’s not around anymore, and you got kinda quiet when she started talking to me.”

Teddy shrugged, but Todd could tell something was bothering him.

“You know our dads are pretty similar in a lot of ways,” Todd changed the subject.

“I am nothing like Cosmo!” Joker shouted from his work room.

“I beg to fucking differ,” Todd shouted in response.

“Personally, I think Ryder’s closer to J,” Harley added.

“How dare you!” Joker mocked an insulted tone, complete with an exaggerated voice crack and they burst out laughing, Todd and Teddy joining into the hilarity.

“In all seriousness,” Todd leaned on Teddy, “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but one of these days, you should tell me about your mom.”

“I’d rather not,” Teddy replied.  He’d gotten uncharacteristically serious.  His mom was a touchy subject, as Todd had gathered.

“You know not talking about it is probably why people think you don’t have any problems,” Todd pointed out, “like Max.”

“I don’t like talking about it.”

Todd nodded and shrugged.

“So how funny was Bud knocking me flat on my ass?”

“Comedy gold.  They’re like hunchbacked Saint Bernards.”

“I think they’re closer to Newfoundlands,” Todd countered, “I mean, have you seen the Lynns family dogs?”

“What now?”

“You don’t know Aiden Lynns?”

“I know him.  I just didn’t know he had pets.  He’s so scrawny I assumed at most he had like, a goldfish.”

“Yeah no, they’ve got like, five Newfies.”

“That’s a lot of big dogs. And Aiden’s puny.”

“You should see his dad.”

“How short is he?”

“Let’s put it this way,” Joker leaned on the couch between Todd and Teddy, “I’m 5’4, Garfield Lynns is three inches shorter than me and has the same frame as Jonathan Crane.”

Todd looked up at Joker and noticed he was turning his dogtags over in his hands.  He came to ask something, but primarily to get out of the heist room for a few seconds before he shot something.

“Boy’s lucky Drury’s there, or he’d never handle those dogs.”

“Did you need something?” Todd asked, trying to pull his dad’s attention away from his dogtags.

“Yes actually,” Joker nodded, lowering the tags, “is Teddy staying for dinner?”

“He might be,” Todd replied, “why?”

“Because it’s my turn to cook dinner,” Joker straightened up and stretched, “was wondering.”

“Don’t make anything gross,” Todd insisted.

“I am not a bad cook.”

“I beg to differ.”

The door swung open abruptly and Barbara ran in, nearly bowling over Joker in the process, a tall, lanky blonde in tow.

“I’m home!” Barbara bellowed, hurrying up the steps.

“Watch where you’re going!” Joker shouted.

“Sorry,” the lanky blonde gave a shy wave and hurried up the steps after Barbara, “Hi Teddy, hi Todd.”

“Hi Sarah,” Todd leaned back, “I think your dad’s gonna kill you for coming over Teddy.”

“Think so?”

“Yeah, I’ll hold a funeral. We’ll even cremate the body.”

“You could always lie and say we were at Tobi’s house.”

“He won’t buy it, Tobi has Ziti.”

“Tobi has a pet noodle?”

“Ziti is not a noodle, Ziti is a blood python.”

“Ok cool,” Teddy gave a nervous laugh, “remind me never to go to Tobi’s.”

“And that’s why your dad won’t buy it, pretty sure he knows about Ziti.  Luthor and Bloom do military work sometimes.”

Teddy nodded, “I’m grounded.”

“Indubitably.”

In some respect, this word must have been utterly hilarious to Joker, because Todd could hear him snickering in his heist room.  Todd settled comfortably on the couch and smirked.

“Can I have your allowance if you’re grounded?”

“I don’t have an allowance.”

“Dammit.”

[aureasadrisit]

ABOUT THE MUN.

ONE

name:   Skells, skells bells, skells hells, skellog, skully it goes on forever

nickname:   oh yeah my name is my actual nickname, that’s totally my real name mmhm

zodiac sign:   cancer

height:   5′34

orientation:   bi af m8

ethnicity:   Caucasian, I’m 100% portuguese who the fuck knows if we go down the percentages. Caucasian it is.

favorite fruit:   pomegranate ( I literally don’t know how to write this without googling it )

favorite season:   fall

favorite book:   Written in Bone, Simon Beckett

favorite flower:   *shrugs off to infinity* I don’t like flowers, fuck them and their allergies.

favorite scent:   I can barely smell anything, smell of food is p great

favorite animal:   Cats

coffee, tea, or hot cocoa?  black tea

average hours of sleep:   between 5-7 hours

cats or dogs?   aogjwprig cats but both, both is good

favorite fictional character:   *scratches own face* can I have the help of the audience? Bernard Lowe from Westeworld is a good pick

dream trip:   scotland, hopefully sometime next year

when was your blog created?   december of 2015?2016? Help?

what do you post about?   aesthetics and rp

do you get asks on a regular basis?   nope, sometimes from Alice because she’s lovely <3

aesthetic:   salt.

favorite band/artist?   who the hell knows, right now I’ve been listening to a lot of Tessa Violet

fictional characters I’d date:  *steeples fingers* I would drive myself insane with most characters that I like from fiction.

Hogwarts house:   Hufflepuff and proud

TWO

countries I’ve lived in:   portugal

favorite fandom:   dragon age, witcher, mass effect, the dark tower, disney I literally don’t have a favourite have you noticed that by now?

languages you speak:   english and portuguese fluently, can understand french and spanish and maybe even say a few words but nothing written

favorite film of 2016:   ?? Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, I don’t watch a lot of films. 

last article you read:   It was one about climate change deniers

shuffle your music library and put your first three songs here:   Skepta, JME - That’s not me, Witcher 3 - The Hunt is Coming, Alt J - Bloodflood

last thing you bought online:   cat food

how would your friends describe you?   sarcastic af

how would your enemies describe you?   that i should probably keep my mouth shut more often. I don’t?? have enemies though

who would you take a bullet for?   *shrugs off to infinity* bf? my parents? my cats? who the hell knows until you are there

Tagged by: @niennaful ( thank you <3 ) Tagging: @servesorlais @molioanimatra @onthesirenscall @thescorcher @deathbefore @archontem @vezely

[multapohja966]

tagged by: @mara-kki

i almost forgot to do this, i love these.  thanks for taggin me <3

RULES: Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 92 truths about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged.

LAST… Drink: lame juice Last phone call: apparently my friend’s sister? still don’t know what she wanted.. Last text message: my grandma. we’re going to see a ballet and were planning the time. Last song I listened to:  Drake - 0 to 100/the catch up (szunaka remix) Last time I cried: actual tears? yesterday. but the mood was present today too.

HAVE YOU EVER… Been cheated on: nah Kissed someone and regretted it: i regretted it after it happened, but now I think it’s good that that mistake happened. Been depressed: yesh Been drunk and thrown up: naa Kissed a stranger: nope Drank hard liquor: vodka probably doesn’t count if it’s been mixed with tons of juice or smth. Lost glasses/contacts: yup. glasses. a dog also once almost ate them.  Been arrested: no.

Turned someone down: yeap. i regret some of them.  Cried when someone died: i cried when my mom cried at my grandma’s funeral but i don’t think it was because of the death, i still can’t guite comprehend death. Fallen for a friend: yesssss

IN THE PAST YEAR, HAVE YOU… Made a new friend: yes!! many and I’m really thankful for them. Laughed until you cried: yes! it was prolly a bad joke too. Met someone who changed you: hmm…. got retouched with my childhood friend in a way that we didn’t have before. it didn’t change me much, but it did a lil. Found out who your true friends were: not really? Found out someone was talking about you: yeah, my bro said that a lot more people know me than i thought? fucking small towns..

GENERAL: How many people on tumblr do you know in real life: i dunno. quite a bunch tbh Do you have any pets: two chinese crested dogs and 1 saint bernard and one landseer Do you want to change your name: i wish my name was more gender-neutral. but at the same time my name has a lot of meaning to me. so it’s a dilemma. What time did you wake up this morning: umhh.. first time at 7:40 and actually up at 8:10. What were you doing last night: being fucking pissed over shameless and went on a jog at 10pm to 11pm. Name something you cannot wait for: I get to live with my friend for a week when her parents go on a vacation! Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: i don’t think so… maybe without knowing. What’s getting on your nerves rn: how I watched more than 5 seasons of shameless only to find out they fucked up mickey’s character and wrote him out of the show. Blood type: i dunno :/ Nicknames: darude, tarzan, ruu, hammastahna, tarutin, taruzuki. (this is a mess) Relationship status: single, afraid of commitment but desperate.  Zodiac sign: scorpio Pronouns: he/they/she are all cool  Favourite tv show: SKAM, shameless(during it’s good moments) mp100 Hair colour: blond, but hopefully soft pink soon. Long or short: i’m tall? Oh. It means hair.. short. Definitely. Crushes: my childhood friend (if anyone i know irl knows what i’m talking about, yeah, it’s who you think it is and also: stfu.) Tattoos: none, but i wished i had. i want text and this geometric 2D picture of optimus prime’s face.or tbh anything made by nathalie hall. Righty or lefty: righthanded?

FIRSTS… First surgery: my appendix at the age of 11. i thought it was fun lol First piercing: one in both ears. i want more to my ears and a septum. First best friend: probably this girl named jenni from kindergarten. we haven’t talked for 10 years. i saw her in a shopping center 2 years ago. I’m pretty sure she realized it was me when our eyes met, but I was too chocked to go to her. First sport you joined: figure skating. but football was my longest hobby. First vacation: when i was a baby my mom and her sister and my cousin went to some warm tourist resort.

RIGHT NOW… Eating: nothing Drinking: water I’m about to: look for a summer job Listening: redbone - childish gambino 

WHICH IS BETTER? Lips or eyes: uuhmmm… eyes artistically, lips sexually? Hugs or kisses: hugs? they held so much power in them. but wuldn’t mid kissing people atm. Shorter or taller: hmm.. doesn’t really matter…k if a dude is shorter than me it’s attractive. very. Older or younger: older i guess.  Sensitive or loud: loud. I’m loud too and i don’t want to bother anyone who isn’t used to it. Hook up or relationship:  Troublemaker or hesitant: both? i give no shits but i always think like four times before i act

DO YOU BELIEVE IN… Miracles: not really..  Love at first sight: not deep love, but crushes ye. Heaven: No Santa Claus: No (fun fact, when i went on second grade my grandma gave me a talk where she said that i was so old i had to know the truth about santa claus because all the other kids would know too. turns out everyone else’s parents were still rolling with the illusion and i got into fights about lmao. i love my grandma tho.)

tagging: @somebody-you-should-be-afraid-of @v-aippa @kirerin

no need to do this if you don’t want to.