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heartbreakgrill · 3 years

Text

Love Song; Corbyn Besson

description: yeah just some good ol’ friends to lovers 😋

Your face clenched up as the nurse swabbed your nose. The urge to sneeze came over when she tugged it out, and you quickly pulled up your mask. After a round of watery eyes and the oddest facial expression, the sneeze subsided.

“Thank you,” you told her, a laugh dancing at the edge of you tone.

Her eyes crinkled, showing the smile beneath her mask. “You’re welcome. It’ll just be a minute.”

You stood from the chair, plopping down beside Zach on the couch. He was playing on his phone, but looked up when he noticed your presence.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” He watched your hand rub at your nose over the mask.

“Uh, yeah,” you chuckled.

Zach went back to his phone and you unlocked your own, crossing a leg over the other. Soon, his name was called and he snapped off his mask. Negative.

Daniel replaced Zach in the seat beside you. You bid him hello and he said, “Hey. How are you today?”

“Was doing fine before I had to have a stick in my nose,” you giggled.

Daniel laughed as well. “Yeah, but whatever we have to do to get to celebrate.”

“New normal,” you nodded.

“Y/N!” The other nurse called out from her clipboard.

You flashed your eyebrows at Daniel and stood from the couch. Slipping your phone into your butt pocket, you walked over to the table.

“You are negative, my dear. We’re having everyone who has already been tested to stay in the kitchen.”

You took the packet of your information from the nurse, thanked them again, and joined Zach, Corbyn, and Christian in the kitchen. You slipped the pink mask in your jean jacket pocket as you took the empty bar stool next to Christian.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted.

Corbyn perked up at the sound of your voice, peaking up from his phone. He was directly across from you, leaning his chin against the ball of his palm. You glanced around at the boys, meeting his eyes over the top of his phone.

“Hey, Y/N, when did you get here?” Christian spoke, drawing your eyes away from Corbyn.

You cleared your throat and folded your hands in your lap. They were clammy now, budding heat throughout your face. His eyes.

“Like ten minutes ago. I said I was here in the group chat,” you reminded Christian.

He shrugged, “I don’t really pay attention.”

“Rip,” you laughed.

Zach and Christian went back to their conversation about the album, the only valid topic of interest for the night ahead.

You glanced back over at Corbyn, who had shifted so he could pretend like he hadn’t blushed at your presence. You sat there for a moment, contemplating saying anything at all. Ultimately you settled on tugging out your phone again.

You leaned on the counter, scrolling through people’s Instagram stories. You swiped past Why Don’t We’s shared page and fell on Corbyn’s. It was a selfie, one he took mere moments before you sat down. You flushed red, eyes gently lifting to take in how he looked right now.

His eyes.

You forced an awkward smile at the awkward eye contact, feeling...awkward.

You looked back down at your phone. It seems everyone of the boy’s friends and family members had posted about the album. Except you. You felt slightly guilty, voicing your concerns to the boys before you. Jonah and Daniel had since joined you guys in the kitchen, talking with Christian and Zach.

“No worries, Y/N. I mean, you’re here,” Jonah shrugged it off.

Zach added, “Yeah, but if you wanna post something go ahead.

“Why don’t we just take a selfie or something?” Daniel suggested, tipping his water bottle towards the phone in your hand.

“Oh, yeah. That’s good. I know it doesn’t matter, but I really want you guys to get number 1 on the charts,” you grinned sheepishly.

Jack appeared beside you, slinging on arm around your shoulder. You noticed Corbyn shift again, gulping and eyeing Jack’s arm.

“Oh, we will, Y/N, we will,” he winked at you.

You laughed loudly at his expression. “I believe in you, Jack Avery.”

He squeezed your shoulder. Everybody moved to stand around you, Corbyn ending up too far away. You tried to see where it was he was standing, just because you felt comfortable being able to see him, seeing you. But you couldn’t.

You were attempting to hold the phone out far enough to get everyone in frame, but your arm wasn’t long enough. Everybody laughed at your struggle. Jonah took the phone from you and angled it at the group. He snapped the photo and everyone dispersed.

Jonah ended up in the seat across from you, Zach next to him where he had been. Daniel, Jack, and Christian decided to start pouring drinks, since it was nearing 11 pm. Corbyn stood there for a minute, contemplating running off the edge of the world.

He settled in the seat beside you which drew your attention from your phone. You had been captioning the Instagram post, struggling to come up with something interesting.

“Hey, Corbyn,” you weakly smiled.

He smiled. “Hey.” His voice made your knees weak.

You flashed the screen at him, pushing down the red blush willing itself to paint your face. “What do you think I should caption it?”

“I don’t know,” he let out a breathy laugh, “uh, maybe a joke. Like, track 4 was written about me.”

You shared a laugh with him, happy nothing felt stuffed of weird energy for even a mere few minutes of conversation.

“That would be really funny, but probably cause some drama. How about, like, ‘dibs on Love Song?’ Because I genuinely feel like that ones gonna be so good.”

Corbyn gulped, “I wrote that one with Daniel.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “Then, I call it.”

Red cheeks all around.

You quickly posted it. Soon, the room was engulfed with music, the 3 singles the boys had released filling the air. There was a single camera on the band, standing around the kitchen island you had once been sitting at.

You stood to the side with Anna and Kay, a glass of champagne in your hand. You had since abandoned your Jean jacket, revealing the flowery, thin strapped corset that left your midrif out in the open. You felt really hot, be it because of the outfit, your sparse interactions with Corbyn, or the alcohol beginning to take hold of your bones.

See, there was something there with Corbyn, something nobody really even knew about. In fact, you didn’t even know if Corbyn himself remembered.

You had been good friends with the entire band since they moved to LA, attending concerts when you weren’t in school and hanging out constantly. Of course, as any pathetic pining story went, you’d been in love with Corbyn since you’d met him, but his heart had always belonged to Christina.

When you discovered they broke up, you felt elated for half a second. Then, he called you in tears.

“I know we’re not expectionally close, but I need somebody. The guys, they just don’t understand.l

Since that moment, you guys had been attached at the hip. Quarantine had been boring at first, terrifying, even. But, then you’d begun to spend every waking moment with Corbyn. You were the one who suggested he dye his hair black, had helped him do it. you’d gone with him when the tattoo shops opened again and helped him pick which one looked best. You’d helped them move into their new house, helped Corbyn decorate his new space. Hell, you’d even suggested a song lyric or two when laying on Corbyn’s bed, listening to him across the room on his guitar.

And then, on your birthday a few months ago, you had gotten exceptionally drunk to drown the sorrows of lusting after your best friend. When the clock struck midnight, Corbyn had already hauled down a taxi from the bar, slung your arm around his neck, cradling your waist as he tried to get you inside.

Out of nowhere, the sky began pouring buckets of rain. You fell against his chest, laughing hysterically at the ironically cliche moment. Corbyn somehow nuzzled his nose into your neck, giggling along with your drunken haze.

You pulled back gently, the closeness emitting a fierce confidence in your gut which enabled you to lean up and kiss him. He kissed you back, but when he remembered how drunk you were, he tugged away.

“I can’t do this,” he urged, but you mistook his respect for consent as rejection.

You mumbled, “But I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t remember for a few days after, what had happened that night. All you knew was you had woken up in Corbyn’s bed, his clothes on you, a headache in your head, and your dress soaking wet over the bathtub.

Then, a few days later, when you were perched on Corbyn’s bed, watching an episode of Big Mouth, he made a joke about how, “in love you are with,” him. Your eyes widened, breath hitched, and a memory pulled itself from your brain. You suddenly stood up, his arm dropping to the comforter since it had been around your shoulders.

You made some excuse about homework, though you both knew you had finished your finals the night prior. Since then, neither of you had really spoken at all.

You clenched the champagne glass between your fingers, turning them white from frustration. You felt a hand on your shoulder, turning towards Anna.

“Everything okay?” She glanced between your eyes, noticing the tears welled up there.

You sniffled and blinked the tears away. One dribbled down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away. Anna’s bottom lip jutted out in a pitiful expression and she pulled you into a hug. You wanted to collapse into her, sobbing your way through the album’s release. But, you squeezed your face shut and grabbed the composure that was running away from you.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you tugged back and set your glass on the table beside you. You quickly strode to the bathroom, shutting it behind you.

You wiped under your eyes with a wet cloth, salvaging your eye makeup. Your eyes were still red, though, red and pupils blown up in a sad countenance.

There was a knock on the door and you tensed up. Daniel’s voice came from the other side of the door, soft and sweet.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

You already knew he had seen you crying on Anna, and probably watched you storm away as quietly as one could when they were this upset. You were taking him away from his night and that made you feel just horrible.

“Yeah,” your voice was weak.

Daniel gently opened the door. He didn’t try to hug you or tell it was going to be okay. Instead, he cradled your face in his head, pushing the hair back from your cheeks.

“I know. You don’t have to explain or try to push me away. I just know. All I can give is the fact that we wrote these songs about our lives. These songs are personal.”

You met his eyes, swimming in the undemanding answers he was laying in front of you. “What do you mean?”

He gave a warm smile, “Corbyn got really good at songwriting. Just listen.”

You hugged Daniel quickly before shutting off the light. He slung his arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to the kitchen. Everyone counted down for midnight and soon enough, the new songs were blasting through the kitchen.

You anticipated Love Song through the entirety of Be Myself, barely paying any attention to the song that you knew Daniel wrote exclusively by himself. Soon, Daniel’s voice was dancing through the speakers in an upbeat rhythm, singing the literal love song.

Right after, Corbyn’s voice came again.

“You came out of nowhere like a hurricane.”

You perked up, holding yourself together with your arms. Daniel caught your eyes and nodded firmly. Your eyes flickered across the room and met Corbyn‘s. He’d been watching you for a while, you settled. Though his band mates and friends were dancing around the kitchen, he was solemnly drinking his own champagne. His hair was damp from the bottle Jonah had cracked open at midnight.

“Pulled me in and kissed me in the rain. And I fell for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You found his eyes again, your face bright red. An overwhelming grin came over you. Corbyn smiled in response, a dry chuckle shaking his shoulders. He shook his head, finally relieved.

You set down your glass again, tapping Anna on the shoulder. “I’ll be back, k?”

She squeezed your shoulder again, still feeling sympathetic. You looked to Corbyn and nodded towards the back door.

You slipped outside, taking a seat on one of the pool chairs. It was dark outside, only the light from the kitchen washing through the glass sliding doors.

You heard the doors open and close again, looking up from your shoes. You stood up, breathing in deeply. Corbyn stopped in front of you, fingers squeezing each other.

You nervously smiled up at him. “So...” you ached, “so, um, I guess I really did call track 4.”

Corbyn laughed, his hands coming around to your back. He pushed you into his chest, yours going up around his neck.

“Yeah,” his face drew back, “and it was about you.”

You grinned, pursing your lips to try and push it down. But, you were tired of pushing it all down, so you let your lips widen before landing themselves on Corbyn’s.

“You could be the one, girl you’re driving me crazy.”

#corbyn besson #corbyn besson x reader #corbyn besson imagine #Corbyn besson x y/n #Corbyn Besson imagines #why don’t we fluff #why don’t we x reader #why don’t we imagine #why don’t we #why don’t we x y/n

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mr-walkingrainbow · 3 years

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battle for abimel? i want a power showdown.

BATTLE FIGHT WITH POWER SHUT DOWN HERE WE GO!!

Basically OverWitch + I guess the rest of the charmed ones, face the new demon of the day, the Cancellor, which nullifies any power thrown at them.

They have to really think hard to figure this one out.

But like, mainly gay OverWitch.

“Ugh,” Macy groaned audibly for the fourth time in the past two minutes, “What’s taking her so long!”

“Ok could you tone down the whine today?” Mel replied exasperatingly, “It’s not like Abby lives next door. And she can’t orb like Harry. It takes time to get here.”

“Yeah and by the time she does the DotD will be long gone!” She stated in annoyance.

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I think the demon of the day can wait for a few minutes. I doubt their in a rush for a Appointment at the nail salon.”

The eldest huffed, “Yeah but Abbys just taking forever!”

“You rang?”

Everyone turned to the source of the voice, which oddly, seemed to be nix.

But more understandingly, smoke started to swirl, practically a mini tornado, until it took the form of Mels beloved.

“Abby!” The Latina cheered, running over and giving her girlfriend a hug.

“Hello lovely,” Abigael grinned, before smirking in Macy’s direction, “Now what’s this about me being slow? Shall I remind you how long it took you and Witchbanger to actually bang?”

Macy made a squawk of protest, while Harry looked on in mute surprise.

“Witchbangers new.” He commented, although Mel couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or curious.

Abby gestured towards him with a flourish, then nodded towards Macy, “Well, this pile of nerves is Whitebanger, only fitting we have the other half.”

Harry seemed to nod in numb acceptance, before turning back to the gadget in his hands.

“Now that we’re all here, I introduce, the Cancellor !” He waved his arms dramatically for the reveal, the gadget projecting a hologram of a dark woman in a white suit.

Maggie stared blankly, “the counselor?”

Harry looked a bit miffed, “No, the Cancellor.”

Macy tilted her head, “The chancellor?”

“NO, lovely, the CANCELLOR.”

Mel narrowed her eyes, “Cancer?”

Harry gasped for breath, “-wha- how?? It’s the CAN-CELL-OR.”

Abigael smirked, snickering lightly, “Oh Harold, why didn’t you just say so?”

Everyone offered nods of agreement while Harry sputtered for words.

Macy graciously took this time to step forward.

“As my dear was beginning to, ahem, say?” She broke off to give the sputtering whitelighter a concerned look, “This is apparently, in fact, the Cancellor. They have the power to nullify or ‘Cancel’ any powers used against it.”

“Oh but who needs powers when your in the middle of fighting a bloodthirsty demon!” Abby snarked typically.

Mel would normally scold her for such a comment, but found herself cracking a smile at the humor of it.

Macy looked annoyed, but shrugged it off, “As I was saying, something good to note, the Cancellor takes the form of whatever it nullified last, so it might not look like this. That’s just the last recorded form.”

She gestured to the regal woman in white. To which Abby purred delightfully.

“At least it’s last participant knew how to dress well.”

Mel shot her a glare, giving her a slap to the arm.

“What?!” The Britt squeaked. She just rolled her eyes in response.

“Aww,” Abby cooed, wrapping her arms around Mels smaller frame, “Is someone jealous of a power taking, identity stealing demon of the day?”

The Latina grumbled a bit, embarrassed of the blush that had indeed made its way across her face.

“No.”

“Oh I think you are.” The later whispered, “But don’t worry my love, no matter how amazingly dressed someone is, they cant even manage to come close to your overall beauty.”

Mel blushed again, this time for an entirely different reason. And a bit bashfully, she turned and gave Abby a chaste kiss.

“I hate you.” She stated grumpily.

“Love you too grumpy.”

“Ladies,” everyone turned to harry, who had finally recuperated, holding an Orb, “Will you generously accompany me to fight a fashionable identity stealer?”

“Oh Harold,” Abby sashayed forward dramatically, “I thought you’d never ask!”

Macy growled jealously while Mel shared a secret laugh with Maggie. The two of them had slowly found Abbys wit more humorous then insulting.

Harry threw the orb, the Group proceeding to jump through it into a wide circular stone covered room.

“Where are we?” Maggie questioned, peering around, their seemingly was only one entrance, a small archway carved into the surrounding rock. Leading into another room.

“We’re in the Cancellors Lair, that ark leads to the cancellor.” Harry answered informatively.

Mel was confused, however, “If so, how do people get in?”

“I think I have the answer to that.”

Everyone turned to Macy, who was staring at the ceiling. They followed pursuit, only to find their room was not really a room, but the bottom of a very deep pit.

“What a treacherous trap.” Abby seethed respectively, if possible, “Some loner demon falls down the pit. And if they survive. The Cancellor can steal their powers and harvest their body.”

“No… no that can’t be?” The youngest stated sadly, ever the empath, “Some have to escape. What about the innocent humans who fall?”

“I guess some could escape,” Abigael reasoned blatantly. If they realized where they were before the Cancellor found them. They would have to have some type of powers that could propel them upwards, like smoke phasing. Because no lucky Jim could climb these walls. Their smooth as stone.”

She wasn’t wrong, Mel found herself absentmindedly feeling the slick walls with her hand.

Someone tapped her shoulder, and she turned to see her girlfriend smiling at her bashully, and hand held out.

“Head in the Clouds my love?”

“Yeah,” the Latina grinned, taking the britts hand, “Thanks for always finding me.”

“Oh why of course!” The hybrid proclaimed, “What else is a loving girlfriend supposed to do?”

“Oh you know, fight demons, slay monsters, make out from time to time.” She monologued coyly.

-“while I’d love to hear this agonizing conversation,” Macy interrupted, “We have a demon destroy.”

Both of them rolled their eyes, but gladly shared secret smiles.

The ragtag group of magical beings entered the room. Nearly immersed in pitch darkness.

Mel felt Abby take her hand, and she tried to send soothing vibes, squeezing it to show she understood.

Abigael wasn’t a fan of the dark, it wasn’t cause she was afraid of it specifically, moreover, it reminded her of being locked in the crate. And mentioned it made her feel quite claustrophobic.

A lot of her fears spiraled from the singular subject of her childhood. It didn’t make them any less valid, however.

“Macy.” Mel whispered in the dark, “A light please?”

“Since when are you afraid of- oh.”

Her sister caught on, a tad second too late. But thankfully, mentioned nothing when the room was engulfed in flames. Just sending Mel a understanding nod.

Abby may get on Macy’s nerves, but she truly did care about her overall well-being.

“Oh thank you Lovely, now we can see where the Cancellors coming from.” Harry commented, subtly driving attention away from Abigael.

The Latina still could see the flush on her girlfriends face. And squeezed her hand again. Trying to say it was ok through touch.

Annoyingly, even with Macy’s flame, the room was not very bright. And from what Mel could see, it was another circular room, but with a domed ceiling, and vine-snaked walls.

Everyone sorta teetered around, peering closely at the cylinder wall, some parts holding ritualistic type carvings underneath the vines.

“How interesting.” Abby mused lightly, tracing a line finger in the indentions.

Mel winced slightly, as the light behind her got abruptly brighter.

“Hey Mace, good job with the light! Didn’t know you were practicing.”

“Mel…” Macy’s voice sounded nervous and halted, “Mel that isn’t me.”

“What do you mean who else would it-“

She cut off, as everyone turned to the center of the room.

Somehow, submerged in the darkness, a middle platform was completely unseen.

But now, from a spotlight coming from nowhere, it was illuminated in a ghostly, nearly theatrical glow.

And on top of that platform, posing dramatically, was the Cancellor.

Maggie scrunched her nose, “Wait… is that-“

-“LIL NAS X?!?” Mel exclaimed abnormally loud.

Her brain was completely shot. How could this be possible. This shouldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

But yet, it was, no one else rocked Red dreads, tiny black & white boxers, and thigh high leather boots then the number 1 black gay pop artist.

Macy looked thoroughly confused, “Who..? And are you sure that’s him?”

“I thought he looked familiar.” Maggie mumbled to herself.

Harry’s eyes were bugging out of his head, caught between staring and trying to give the Cancellor some privacy. The bulge in his CK boxers leaving nothing to imagination.

“No that’s definitely him,” Abby purred, practically hypnotized, “No one wears those raunchy underwear but him.”

Mel blushed jealously, “He’s gay Abby. As in into penis.”

Abigael jerked her head, trance broken as she gazed at her pouting girlfriend.

“Aww,” she cooed once again, leaning in close, “Is someone jealous of a LilNausex clone?”

The lesbian flushed, hating how adorable Abbys mispronunciation of his name sounded in her accent.

“It’s Lil Nas X.” She stated huffily.

Abby frowned, just a tad, “Oh come on Lovely.”

“Don’t lovely me!” Mel denied stubbornly.

It was a bit childish, yes, but right now the Demon straddling a chair from literally nowhere was undeniably hot for the Men lovers in the room. And she was green with envy.

“Oh you should know by now,” Abby whispered, her tone seductive and lovely, “Your the only one I want to see in those flamboyant boxers.”

Mel hated how much she was turned on right now.

“Also,” her girlfriends voice was now soft, “No matter how much I may ogle or tease, you really are my one and only love.”

Ok, now she could love her again.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

“Not to break up this repetitive conversation,” Macy once again interrupted, “But how is ‘Lil Nas X’ in the room?”

“Yeah,” Harry piped up finally, “He’s human. And it’s not like he’s killed and stolen the crown, and powers of some random leader.”

“OH MY GOD.” Mel screeched, going straight back to mortified.

“I THOUGHT THAT WAS JUST IN THE VIDEO!?”

Everyone turned to her for an explanation, while she blushed from the heavy gaze, and sexual nature of the rationale.

“I-In his recent music video,” she whispered meekly, “he kills satan and steals his power.”

Her blushed increased dramatically at the implication.

“Not that I’ve watched it or something.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Abby whispered with a devilish attitude, “I’ve watched it plenty enough for the both of us.”

“Basically he stripper poles his way down to hell, does a Lap dance for Satan himself, and then proceeds to kill him in the middle of the throws of it. Ergo stealing his crown. And then his powers. We avid fans all assumed it was apart of gay pride and acceptance and sticking it to the homophobes. Turns out it’s that, and becoming all powerful.”

True to their personality. Mel loves what Abby says, Maggie nods appreciatively and nonchalantly, while Macy and Harry look seconds away from dying of pure awkwardness.

“Um, why isn’t he saying anything?” Maggie points out. The sexy demon staring at them all unblinkingly, thoroughly creeping them out.

“Maybe the voices doesn’t carry when he takes the form?” Macy suggests, “So he tries to hide it by not talking? False sense of security?”

Lil N’as Cloné then opened his mouth, revealing a large jagged set of teeth, jaw unhinging slightly.

“Or!” Maggie says with a state of panic, “He was just waiting to eat us alive!”

The demon crouches low, nearly spider like. Swaying from side to side.

“Ladies! Backs to the wall!” Harry announces, “And make sure to show some type of power, we don’t know how long the transformation takes, so we need to keep track on who still possesses them.”

Mel needs no second affirmation, grabbing Abbys wrist and yanking her back.

“Mel?” She looks outraged, “We need to fight it!”

“Yeah we’ll I can’t fight it if your powers are stolen and need someone to protect you!”

Abigael huffs, “I can take care of myself Melanie. See?”

She holds her hand up as if to summon a flame.

Head jerking when none appears.

Her expression changes to one filled with fear and confusion, “Bloody hell??”

Abby continued to unsuccessfully summon a flame, hand whirring to a blur.

“Mel!” She exclaimed in a frenzy, “Mel, it’s not working, why isn’t it working? To hell with this!”

“Hey! Hey,” the Latina soothed, rushing to place a hand on her arm in a calming motion, “Carino it’s ok. Don’t panic. The lil n’as dude just took your powers assumingly.”

“Are you sure?!?”

It seemed kinda like a controversial question to ask; considering she couldn’t activate her fire powers, but Mel understood it was from fear rather then logic.

“Well, try to smoke phase.”

Abby nodded tentatively. Raising her hands once again.

The very tips of her fingers produced ashy whisps, but aside from that, their was nothing.

“Your smoking.” Maggie unhelpfully stated, as she edged towards them.

“Why thank you Captain obvious!” Abby snarked bitterly.

The brunette looked concerned, glancing at the Latina instead, “Mel, what’s wrong?”

Abby was outraged, “Mel?! I am RIGHT HERE y’a know, if your just gonna stand their like a blathering idiot you might as well-“

-“She’s been cancelled,” Mel interrupted blatantly, witch just a tad of irritation at her raving girlfriend, “Her powers aren’t working and she’s lashing out.”

Maggie shrugged, “Naturally.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN NATURALLY?! I have a RIGHT to be upset I-“

-“So you sure their fully gone?” Her sister continued, “I never saw the Cancellor do anything? And he still looks like Lil N’as!”

Mel turned back to the center, brows furrowing at the now empty stage.

“Where’d he go?”

The dead silence, and lack of demon, filled the room with an eerie unsettling vibe.

“Mel, I don’t like this.” The empath warned.

She didn’t either.

“MACY!” The Latina called out, “WHERED HE GO?”

Macy looked just as panicked, probably even more, “I DONT KNOW! HE WAS JUST HERE?!”

“Oh for gods sake! We should rejoice for all I care! I’m the one with my powers gone and if you would STOP bloody ignoring me id-“

Mel whirled around, placing one finger in front of Abbys lips, the other hand firmly around her waist.

“Abby. I love you. I know your freaking out right now. But please, can you refrain from ranting till we leave?”

Abbys eyes were both murderous and loving, and softly, Mel kissed her until it changed to a lightly irritated.

“Better?” She puffed quietly.

The Britt nodded silently, blushing lightly at the affection showed.

Mel scrunched her eyebrows, briefly seeing the abrupt look of horror sweep it’s way across her girlfriends face.

“What’s wr-“

-“MEL LOOK OUT!”

Abby had shoved her aside roughly, the witch groaning as she hit the ground, but enough adrenaline rushing through to allow her to roll to her elbows.

She glanced up, Just in time to see a dark shadow drag Abigail to the the darkest parts of the room.

“ABBY!” She screamed, arm outreached and terror in her eyes.

“MACY!” Mel barked, “MORE LIGHT.”

Her sister didn’t have to be told twice, “ON IT!”

Immediately, the softly glow from Macy’s flame turned into a raging fire, illuminating all that it could without burning something.

Dead silence followed.

Maggie gasped, “Oh no.”

Standing before them, with the shadows gone and dust settled, was two identical Abigael Jameson-Caines. Each with matching clothes and injuries.

“By all things science.” Macy blanched.

“The Cancellor has taken Abbys form!” Harry informed quickly, “Ready yourself for an attack from either one.”

Mel rose to her feet on shaky limbs, reading an icicle from the air particles around her.

“Alright,” her voice was steady, although she wasn’t calm in the slightest, “One of you is the hot pain in my ass who I love dearly. And the other is a cannibalistic identity stealer. So. Who’s who.”

Immediately both of them rushed to ensure her trust, voices perfectly identical.

“I’m the real Abby!” The one on the right said.

“No!” Lefty said, “Don’t listen to them I’m the real Abby!”

[Authors note - Right side Abby will be in bold.

Left side Abby is in Italics.]

“Their perfectly identical,” Macy stressed, “How are we gonna tell them apart?!”

“Their must be a logical way to solve this.” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Come on guys, really?” Maggie shot them a glare, Mel seemed to catch on, “It’s easy really.”

“We quiz them.”

After a quick group huddle, and their bearings regain, they were ready to give a life or death quiz.

“Alright Abby clones,” Maggie narrated, “We’ve each prepared a question, something only the real Abby should know. Based on your answers, we will decide if your truthful or not.”

“Great just don’t dose me with truth serum while your at it.” Both Abbys snarked in complete unison, before shooting matching scowls at the other.

Maggie looked drastically discouraged but the display, voice wavering.

“U-uh, um, y-yes. Questions. H-Harry your up.”

The man walked up a few feet, nervously wiping his palms against his button up.

“Alright, ladies,” he gave his habitual gentlemen nod to the two of them, “When one of you invited me over for dinner, what was the main course?”

“Duck!” Righty said immediately. Grinning proudly.

“Hey! That one was too easy!” Lefty argued, “Duck is the best meat for a date! Everyone knows that! Not to mention I gave Harold a massage beforehand.”

“Of course it’s the best! What else would you eat, bloody chicken like an uncultured heathen?!”

Righty paused to glance at Harry, “Uh, I get the point for that one right?”

Harry looked overwhelmed, panic evident on his face.

“Uh, um. Undecided!” He then quickly scampered to the back of the pack, face flushed while doing so.

“Completely identical.” The Whitelighter whispered to no one.

Macy shrugged, “Guess I’m up.”

She approached the twins glancing at either with an impassive face.

“Let’s see, what’s Abbys favorite nickname for me?”

“Whitebanger.” The two answer in synchronized perfection. Shooting yet another glare at each other.

Macy looked tired, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Of course that one was too easy. Any Abby could apparently answer that in her sleep. Let me think of a harder question.”

It wasn’t long before her poker face soon returned. Leveling them up once again.

“When You fake poisoned yourself, what was that one question that was actually subserviently a dig on me?”

“To spoon!” Left jolted, “I asked you to spoon!”

“Actually! I asked her if she was the big spoon or little spoon.”

“Well excuse me for messing up one tiny detail! At least I got the spoon part before you!” Left rolled her eyesz

“Well mine was actually accurate, so yours doesn’t count!”

“Yeah it does!”

“Does not!” Right argued.

“ENOUGH!”

Macy had both hands out, face strained, “You two need to stop arguing so I can think!”

The clones shut up, as she stormed back towards the group, shaking her head.

“They share a freaking mind.” The eldest stated bitterly.

A few minutes passed as they waited for Maggie to step up. Who looked severely intimidated by the task at hand.

Mel coughed, “Maggie it’s-“

“I KNOW!” The Latina shrieked, “GIVE ME A SECOND!”

“Okayyy!”

The youngest took a couple very hesitant feet forward.

“Hello!” She waved awkwardly, “I’m Maggie -wait ugh, Abby already knows that of course! Gosh stop talking to yourself and think of a damn question!”

She bit her lip nervously, looking at them with a fearful expression.

“Ok, um. Let’s see. What’s some things Abby likes to do?”

“Oh that’s easy, Alcohol, Mel, making Macymorts life miserable!” Righty laughed to herself.

Mel ignored the fierce blush that rose to her face at the implication.

“But that’s easy,” Lefty sneered meanly, “I like to do many things, all which someone could easily guess.”

“Pray tell, tell me how you could ‘guess’ I like those things?”

“Well I-“

-“Ok!” Maggie squeaked, “Another question then!”

She then proceeded to flounder for a few moments. Hands waving rapidly in anxiety.

“Um, ok then. Who’d you save my life from?”

“My brother.”

“My half-brother, Parker.”

The answers seemed to be the same, yet lefty seemed to be happy with how specific she was.

Maggie, however, had paused. Eyes narrowed at the two, caught in a thought.

“Maggie?” Mel whispered, “What did you see?”

The Brunette jolted, plastering a fake smile on her face, “Oh nothing! Just a trick of the light!”

Mel grabbed her arm once she returned closer to the group, “Pfft, trick of the light my ass, you saw something? What was it?”

“I honestly don’t know,” her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, “It was something about how they said it. They said the some thing, yet one sounded right, and the other wrong?”

“But how is that possible?” Macy interject lowly, ever the logical person.

“I don’t know!” Maggie whined, arms flailing, “It just was!”

“We’ll don’t stress,” Mel soothed, “We definitely have something by now from other questions.”

“We definitely, do not, have something from any of these questions.” Harry muttered a few minutes later in a group huddle.

“Maggie,” he glanced at the youngest, “Were you able to get anything, you know, empath wise?”

Her gaze snapped to his, a bit of fire in her pupils, “Don’t you think I would have said something if I did?! It’s hard enough that their identical, but their emotions are too! The Cancellor apparently has the ability to copy someone completely! They know everything about the other, because they know it themselves!”

Mel gasped, realization hitting her in a flash, “Oh my god Mags, that’s it!”

Maggie looked confused, as did the rest of them, “What’s it? What did I say?”

“I can’t be something Abby already knows,” she explained carefully, in a deep whisper, “If it’s something she already knows, the Cancellor can immediately pick up on it. He has a copy of all her memories! It’s gotta be something she doesn’t know, or, Moreover, something we know that can get a honest reaction she doesn’t know she makes.”

“But that’s practically impossible!”

“Don’t say that Macy, it’s not impossible if your the girlfriend of Abigael Jameson-Caine!”

Mel pulled from the group, walking up to the two with a confident swagger.

Both, of course, seemed a bit taken aback by her bold demeanor.

“Ok Siamese freak from hell,” she grinned, cracking her knuckles, “Your in my court now, It’s my turn to ask the questions.”

“One of you is the woman I love, and the fact she’s currently having to take a quiz for her life is sickening, so that stokes the fire of hate I have for whoever is causing this. And once I find out who is it, I promise you will regret ever messing with us, and mi Cariño!”

Mel let her monologue be a distraction, gradually advancing forward as she spoke. Until she was directly in front of them.

“Now, it’s time for your final question.”

She stared them in their chocolate orbs, lingering over the right one. Mel couldn’t understand it, but she felt as if the righty was the true Abby. Even with no proof. Their was just something in her eyes.

“Can you kindly hold you hands like this?”

The Latina then proceeded to hold one hand up, baring the wrist, the other slightly bellow, pressing on a very specific patch of skin.

The two were confused, both tilting their heads to the side slightly, in a way Abby would commonly do when she was thinking.

Mel let her hands drop to her sides, watching like a hawk as the complied. She could feel the groups eyes on her, and was desperately praying that this worked.

A few seconds passed. Nothing happened. Perfectly identical.

Then, it happened. The Abby on the right legs swiftly crumpled.

Mel rushed in, and in one move, caught Abby with one arm. The other, which had been hidden from sight, stabbing the duplicate with a quickly formed air icicle.

The demon gave a feral screech from the weapon embedded in its chest, clawing at it weakly.

The group watched in awe as it switched between numerous forms, one which of was lil n’as, the others it’s countless victims.

“How?” It gasped hoarsely, “I’m completely identical.”

“That’s where your wrong!” Mel smiled proudly, “You see, in a way, you were identical. You knew everything Abby did because you could copy her mind! But what about something she didn’t even know of? Like the fact that from years of being put in shock cuffs consequently damaged the nerve in her right wrist? That when pressed, would cause her to pass out?”

“But how?” It wailed, “She would have known!”

“Except she didn’t!” The Latina cradled the unconscious body gently, kissing Abbys crown lightly, “I only found out by accident. And she didn’t remember a thing about it when waking up. I didn’t want to worry her, so I just stayed quiet. I soon understood why it happened due to her trial. But as a demon who can only copy what the person knows, you wouldn’t have.”

The creature let out a few more pitiful whines before crumpling to ash and dust.

“MEL!” Maggie shrieked in happiness, giving her a gigantic hug, “That was AMAZING! How did you figure it out?!”

“Just by what you said,” she answered honestly,” Their emotions were the same, and physically they were too. But the body is an amazing thing, and it does many things were not even aware of!”

“That is factually correct!” Macy complimented with a smile.

“I suppose this calls for a celebration when we get home, err, when do you think she’ll wake up?” Harry gestured to the peacefully resting girl.

The lesbian grinned softly, “Oh, any moment now. It only knocks her out for a minute or two.”

“Oh!” Maggie perked up, “I just remembered what I noticed about her response!”

Everyone stared with great interest.

The youngest smiled, “Abby called Parker ‘Brother’. Even though he’s only half related, she always adressed him as her brother. I guess the clone thought we wanted more specific.”

“She truly is just that amazing.” Mel noted warmly, lips parting when she felt Abby starting to stir.

The group took this as their key to leave, telling Mel to meet them back in the other room.

She nodded, expression soft when Abigaels eyes fluttered open.

“W-what happened? D-id we do it? Is it gone?”

“Gone Cariño,” Mel cooed, smoothing the stray hairs off her face and stroking her forehead just the way she liked, “All thanks to you my love.”

“Me?” Abigael questioned, “What did I do? All I remember is, ugh, I have a killer headache, I just remember doing some weird hand signs and then darkness?”

“Oh my love, you were yourself! Undeniably, and amazingly yourself. And no Lil N’as, fancy identity stealer could ever imitate you perfectly. For theirs only one of you. And for that, I am greatful.”

“Why?” Abby arched an eyebrow, smiling erotically, “Because I’m too hot to handle?”

Mel scoffed, chuckling despite herself, nearly dropping her girlfriend in the process.

“More like because i can barely tolerate one of your personality!”

The Britt pouted slightly, “Your mean.”

“Oh am I?” She leaned in and kissed her pouty lips, “No but actually? It’s because I’m reminded to never take you for granted. I only get one of you. And it be the worst mistake of my life to waste it.”

Abbys lips turned to a fond smile, “And their you go again, making me feel things and generally be a better happier person.”

“Oh the audacity of myself!” The witch smirked.

“Ugh, I hate you!”

She grinned, “Love you too.”

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colorfulandblack · 3 years

Text

So did you notice how every single song in JATP is dedicated to different character? I'm going to skip all the Dirty Candy cos obviously, and same goes to Caleb's HGC numbers. Bit for the rest:

Now or Never - this is the ultimate and only Sunset Curve song. It's THEM. But also have you read the lyrics?

"Clocks move forward but we don't get older, no" and "When all the days felt black and white those were the best shades of my life" it can be read two way. It's both about 1995 and 2020 and their life and afterlife. It's almost prophetic but you don't know it unless you keep watching the show. Also "we're the revolution that's been singing in the rain" watch out for the rain but cos it's echoed in another song.

Wake Up - so at first this seems to be Julie's song but hear me out. It's not. It was written by Rose, Julie's mom. The lyrics: "And you use your pain, cause it makes you you though I wish I could hold you through it. I know it's not the same you got living to do and I just want you to do it". Rose knew she was going to die and she wanted Julie to keep living. To keep playing music. It's her guidance from beyond the grave. It's precisely why this is the first song Julie sings in a YEAR. Because it's the LAST message her mom left for her. It's Rose's song for Julie.

Bright - this is Alex's song and you can fight me on it. Mind it was written back in the 90s - Luke gives it to Julie because it was one of the songs that Bobby hasn't stolen which means that they either played it before, live when they were alive (which seems sort of unlikely because it has more of a pop sound to it than say Now or Never) or because it was never played to the public before. Because it was private. Now again it wasn't something that was kept a secret either because the band joined Julie on stage and executed the song perfectly and they haven't reversed it before, couldn't have because at this point the boys didn't know they could be seen when playing. They sort of joined last minute. They were standing by and watching Julie to the almost last second. And now the lyrics:

"Sometimes I think I'm falling down I wanna cry, I'm crying out for one more try to feel alive. And when I'm lost and alone I know that I can make it home fight through the dark and find the spark" and "In times like that I doubted myself I felt like I needed some help stuck in my head with nothing left. I feel something around me now so unclear, lifting me out I found the ground I'm marching on" this is Alex, anxious, worrisome Alex who came out to his parents who weren't accepting. And his band was there for him. "I can make it home", home being the garage, his band, his friends. They helped him find his 'ground that he's marching on'. Also, I ain't saying that Alex and Luke dated back in the 90s but they definately dated. Just look at this:

"Life is a risk, but we can take it close my eyes and jump. Together, I think that we can make it, c'mon let's run" and "And rise through the night, you and I, we will fight to shine together, bright forever" WE WILL FIGHT TO SHINE TOGETHER, BRIGHT FOREVER. Shine as in unapologetly being themselves. As being happy and accepted and themselves.

Sure when Julie sings it it's about her incredible talent and trying to get back into the music program but again this song was written back in the 90s. It's Alex's song.

The Band is Back - Reggie's Jam. This is pretty self explanatory and the song might be simplistic and upbeat and very beach, summer like but is not without dept. The boys don't know where they stand with the band. They know they are dead and can be heard when singing and seen when playing with Julie but they are still dead. Now remember this song plays right after the boys leave the studio when Ray talks about his happy times with a wife that died. This hits close to home because well they are also dead. But also the way Ray talks about Rose. So much love and admiration. And now Reggie's parents who were "one fight away from divorce". And on top of that his house is gone so there is no way of him (at this point at least and without Julie's help) to find his family or even to learn if they are alive. This song, Luke says that he knows how to cheer Reggie up. But notice this. It's not something that Luke or Alex sing. No. Reggie is. I'm not going to mention that it is kind of weird that they had a song in the ready that's called "the band is back" as if they had a fallout before or something like that. But this aside, this is a song to remind Reggie that they are still friends and that they are family. The only family they are going to need. And they are going to stick together, life or afterlife.

"Can you, can you hear me?" "Loud and clear!" Is such a simple thing that is used on so many concerts to get the audience's attention. But here is different. Becaus eits reaffirming that Reggie is valid. That his voice is being heard and that he's safe. And by having Reggie sing the song - it's like saying "hey Reg we know this is terrible and it sucks but if you'd like we'll be your family and will me always stick around". By making REGGIE sing it, by making him announce that the back is back together is like giving him a choice. A choice to have Luke and Alex as his family. If Luke sang it it was as if he said: "we're your family" but the way it is it's more like a question: "we will be your family if you'll have us" and of course Reggie would that's why the band is back.

Flying Solo - Flynn's song. One of my personal favourites actually. Nothing much to add really. The lyrics are from Julie's dream box because the boys were looking for the kitchen again and are very personal. Flynn is a constant in Julie's life and by having her sing a song about her best friend, SING (a big change that has happened recently in Julie's life) is letting her in once again, having her in her life when the change happens. Letting her on the secret about the ghost band. And it's also an apology and giving her thanks. Because Julie is so thankful to have Flynn there. "My life would be real zero, flying solo without you"

And one more thing, notice how the boys sing nothing but chorus. On every other song the boys get a line or two to sing on their own, except Luke who is not ready to give up his front man position (which is quite fair since he writes the songs too). This song is entirely BY Julie and sang by Julie but is still a Flynn's song.

Finally Free - this is JULIE'S song. This is her first song playing PUBLIC (yes I know it was Bright but it was different. There was no band then yet.) It's her metamorphosis. The song reflects the change in Julie every time she sings:

"I'm awakened, no more faking so we push all our fears away. Don't know if I'll make it cause I'm failing under, close my eyes, and feel my chest beating like thunder. I wanna fly. Come alive. Watch me shine. " it starts off with noting Julie's life without music and then its restoration of it back in her life. Here is this word again, SHINE. It refers to the same thing just different situation. Sine as being themselves. Being true to themselves and singing their heart out.

"Hands up if you believe, been so long, and now I'm finally free. We're all bright now. What a sight now. Coming out like we're fireworks. Marching on proud. Turn it up loud cause now we know what we're worth" Now this can be applied to the entire band. They are visible again, they can be heard and seen. They are feeling as if they are alive again. But more importantly- remember how Julie couldn't sing in her class? How she choked back tears as she run away and Carrie's bitchy comment (it's not that I hate her but y'know if they used to be friends she must have known that Rose died so low blow). "COS NOW WE KNOW WHAT WE'RE WORHT" She proved to everyone that she can sing. She proved to her friends and family that she is getting better with her mother passing. And most of all that she feels closer to her when she sings. She is free. Free of pretending to be fine so her dad wouldn't worry. Free of bottling up all the fear of singing before Flynn and the inevitable disappointment because her friend knew Julie can sing but didn't to say with her in the music program. She is done proving things to people. She is shining bright and she is free.

Edge of Great - ultimate Juke song or a BAND song. Now let me explain, I love the ship I really do but-there is a but,however, I'm not going to go in about my slight concerns regarding Juke as it is canon so let me just jump into the analysis.

Of course it can be read as a Juke song but also as an Julie and Luke's song separately. "Running from the past. Tripping on the now. What is lost can be found, its obvious. And like a rubber ball we come bouncing back. We've all got a second act inside of us" essentially it's about how they all had their past, their demons to battle but they come together united in music. "This is an interesting little relationship you and I have" Luke said. And he was right. Because their relationship is not physical. Its a bond forged by similar life experience and the pain they draw from joined in music.

Now this bit, this 100% Juke right there: "I believe that were just one dream away from who we're meant to be. That were standing on the edge of- something big, something crazy our best days are yet unknown. That this moment is ours to own cause were standing on the edge of great" this gives me some serious throwback vibes to HSM. Also note how this is possibly the only song where Reggie and Luke don't share the mike. They stand next to each other but just watch Julie instead. Also, I think mentioned in other lengthy post about how Reggie and Alex intentionally poofed out giving Luke and Julie that last harmony moment by the piano.

Now this bit: "We all make mistakes but they're just stepping stones. To take us where we wanna go it's never straight, no. Sometimes we gotta lean. Lean on someone else to get a little help until we find our way." Now listen I mentioned the band. See I know this is the almost acoustic chilling chemistry packed moment when Luke and Julie sing. It's obvious they mean so much to each other. By the lyrics itself. It applies to the entire band. They were there to pick each other up and to provide a shoulder to rest their head on.

But as I said untimalte Juke song.

Unsaid Emily - now this, this is LUKE'S song. Obviously. But it's not only because it's dedicated to his mother. It's like Wake Up. It's the second song that is sang acoustically but just one person throughout. And it gives up such a great insight into Luke as a character.

"First things first, we start the scene from reverse, all of the lines rehearsed" THIS is how much his family means to him. He was going over this moment over and over and over in his head. Thinking what he would say. We saw in the show that he approached his house few times checking on his parents. Possibly hoping to come back but never doing it.

"I should have turned around but I had too much pride" he KNEW his parents were only looking out for him. But he was Luke. His music was EVERYTHING to him. Luke has a very single way of thinking of things. He didn't care, doesn't mean he didn't know, how hard it would be to make it. All that mattered it was his music. And it must have hurt. Because he says that his parents regretted buying him his first guitar. It's obvious that he was close with his parents with his mom so they must have not completely condone him being in the band. They just wanted him to have an option if the band won't work out. But Luke didn't see it like that. Because every time his parents tried to convince him to think about it for a moment to think about his future they were looking out for him but to him it felt like betrayal. Because to Luke it sounded like they had no faith in him, on his talent in his band and their chance or making it big. And it hurts SO FUCKING MUCH BECAUSE HE KNOWS IT. He knows it but as he sings he was too prideful to admit it. To come back.

"No times for goodbyes. Didn't get to applogise" and " conversations in my head and that's just where they're gonna stay forever" it's goddamn HEARTBREAKING because this song was written when he was still alive. He still stalked his house and his parents but THIS indicate that he thought things were beyond repair. Like he wanted to come back and apologise but thought it was too late. Like he would never get a chance to say he was sorry and ultimately he never did. Not until Julie.

"If I could take us back, if I could just do that. And write in every empty space the words I love you in replace and everytime would not erase me if you could only know I never let you go and the words I most regret and the ones I never meant to leave" everything he said was in the heat of the moment. He was hurt. But god, at this point I'm crying don't mind me, he thinks that he apologise would mean nothing. He says that if he could replace EVERY SINGLE WORD with I Love You he would but he think it would be erased. It would never be received. Thay it would dissapear. And ultimately it was. Because he died. He died and never got to say how sorry he was.

This song shows us the other side of Luke. Not only the side that only the band has seen before because I think that noone really saw Luke break down like thay when he was singing Unsaid Emily. He was bottling all of it inside and wouldn't let his friends to help him out. Because I refuse to believe that the boys wouldn't try to comfort him knowing that he was hunting around his parents both when he was alive and after.

And this song makes me ugly sob in every form, written, sang, seen in the show so thanks Kenny for it.

Stand Tall - this is the JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS song. The first one of many. And it's almost as heartbreaking as Unsaid Emily. First of all let's lay out the situation. Julie decides to sing ALONE and UNCERTAIN whether the boys would show up or not. Even if she still believes thay they are still there lingering, fighting to play the Orpheum with her and complete their unfinished business she would still lose them. When they cross over they are gone. And if they don't they will cease the exist in the afterlife. So no matter what Julie does she says goodbye to her family. And she STILL DECIDES TO SING.

"Whatever happens even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall." THIS FUCKING MOMENT. This is when the boys are supposed to come in. BUT THEY DON'T. They are still trapped in the HGC so JULIE LITERALLY IS THE LAST ONE STANDING. Because she thinks it's too late. She thinks they boys are dead.

I shit you not I scream everytime the boys appear and Luke flickering gives me a heart attach every single time but it's so powerful in terms of showing how much they mean for each other. When Alex and Reggie break free they are so happy to see Julie but when Luke can't get there quite yet the tension is palpable and I will never forgive Charlie for being the little shit when Luke finally appears exactly on his cue with a shit eating grin like he didn't almost die.

"Right now, I'm loving every minute. Hands down, can't let myself forget it, no cause everything is rushing in fast. Keep holding on never look back. And it's one, two, three, four times that I'll try for one more night. Light a fire in my eyes." This is so bittersweet because she is playing with the band. THEY MADE IT! But also she knows it's the last performance. And it's so powerful because she knows it and she will still keep trying. Keep playing music. Keep creating.

This is the ULTIMATE JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS, BAND UNITED AND TOGETHER SONG

But I want to note the literal chills I get everytime Alex and Reggie get their separate "whatever happens even if I'm the last standing I'ma stand tall" because it speaks VOLUMES. For Alex standing tall is being who he is. Unashamed and happy and loved. For Reggie is being with his family. Doing everything for his found family.

This is incredible performance and on top of that the boys disappear barely finishing their bow. If you listen closely. The second Julie stops singing all the music dies down except for the last line guitar strum, Luke's guitar strum and everything is quiet. You can hear Julie's voice, alone, still echo but that's it. The boys are gone.

House is Where my Horse Is - ok, I know it was a joke cos they are in the rock back and this is country song. But you ever listened to a country music? And I'm not talking about modern stuff but a good old fashioned country ballad. I had a moment of little musical crisis in my life and listened to some songs and honestly they are so bittersweet and full of longing and melancholy. 90% of them are about loss, whether that be of a parent (almost always father and almost always cancer) or love and hardships of life and struggle. And I think it's really interesting to give Reggie, a person who is nothing but optimistic and cheerful this characteristic. Because if anything it only underlines what we have seen before that he is not the sharpest tool in the shed but he's smart. He sees things, and he might get lost in the conversation but he sees everything else. And it's not the fist country song he has written either. Luke says "stop putting your country songs in my journal". It's an occurring thing. I just think it sheds a light a bit on Reggie's character as someone else than the goofball.

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songtoyou · 3 years

Text

Epiphany - Part Three

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,136

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery.

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.

A/N: We learn a little bit more about the Reader as she heads to Shirley's for dinner. Awkwardness occurs, but Reader slowly realizes she may have deeper feelings for Luke or possibly develop feelings for him. Which she quickly dismisses. This chapter was very easy to write. It was like the words just flowed out of me and onto the screen. That usually never happens. I think it helps that Luke is such an interesting character to write for, along with the other Crain siblings.

Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.

Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people are actually liking this fic.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

~Hill House – 1992~

“Mommy,” spoke Nellie.

“What is it, sweetie?” asked Olivia. She placed her book down to give her youngest child her undivided attention.

Nell got up on her mother’s lap and said, “This house is too loud.”

“Too loud? What do you mean it is too loud? Are you talking about all of the work daddy is doing to fix the house?” Olivia questioned. Nell’s statement took her by surprise.

Shaking her head, Nell explained that it was not the renovations that Hugh was doing that made the house loud. “At night, there are noises. Dogs are barking. You can hear the floorboards squeak like someone is up walking the halls at night. When Luke and I checked to see if anyone was up, there was no one. Everyone was in bed. It isn’t just me who thinks this house is weird. Luke says it has a smell.”

“Sweetie, this is an ancient house. Weird noises and bad smells are bound to occur,” replied Olivia earnestly. “Trust me. There is nothing in this house that can hurt you. Not while your daddy and I are around. We will always protect you and your brothers and sisters. Okay.”

Nell looked up at her mother with her big hazel eyes and said, “You promise?”

“Pinky promise,” Olivia assured and held up her right pinky. With their little fingers intertwined, Olivia rested her head on Nell’s forehead. No one could deny that Olivia loved her children very much. They were her whole world. She would do anything to keep them safe from harm. Little did anyone know how far Olivia would go to keep her children safe.

“Fuck,” Luke let out and sighed. He was currently working on his final essay for his creative writing class. The assignment was to write a 1,000 essay about an event that happened in their life and turn it into a story. Luke was chop full of moments to choose from; however, he was unsure if writing about his mother and sister was appropriate. He talked with his instructor about his reservations on the subject. He did not want to be accused of copying Steve on writing about Hill House. To Luke, that time at Hill House was just as much his story as it was Steve’s, or Theo’s and Shirley’s.

But with the right encouragement and support, Luke felt more comfortable writing about his past. It turned out to be very therapeutic. He was finally able to complete the fourth step of recovery: ‘Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.’ He sent letters to each of his siblings, expressing his gratitude for their support and apologized for his past behavior of lying, untrustworthiness, and addiction. Shirley and Theo were appreciative of the letters, along with Steve. All three of the older Crain continued to express to Luke that they were proud of him for staying on the straight and narrow path. The Crain siblings knew they all had a clean slate to restore their once broken family.

Unfortunately, there would be times where Luke worried that everything would come to a crashing halt. That he would wake in the Red Room once again. That all of this could be fake like His sobriety, the strengthened relationships with his siblings, being in school, and most of all, his friendship with you. The Red Room was the stomach of Hill House, as Nell mentioned. It would eventually eat anything and everyone that came into its residence. It was how the world between the dead and the living coexisted.

He brought this fear up the day before you were to come over to Shirley’s house for dinner. The one thing Luke really appreciated about you was that you always validated his feelings. You never doubted his feelings or worries. You never tried to gaslight him or thought he was making stuff up. It was refreshing to have someone believe him right off the bat. Well, besides Nell. She always believed him. You sent Luke some articles about how the brain can differentiate between reality and imagination. It was intriguing for Luke to read about the way the brain processes information. You shared that you had the same issues early on in your sobriety.

“For me, while I am dreaming, the way I can differentiate that it is not reality is that sometimes I have trouble walking in dreams. It is like my legs are refusing to work,” you told Luke. “I looked up what that meant, and it indicates that I am hesitant in proceeding forward in situations or I am trying to distance myself from facing certain life experiences, which didn’t surprise me. We all have obstacles that we don’t always want to face.”

“That is good to know. Lately, I have been dreaming that I can’t dial a phone. Like, I am trying to put in the number but keep making mistakes, or I can’t remember the number. It’s weird. What do you think that means?” asked Luke.

You told him to hold on as you looked up his concern. “It says that ‘the non-working phone or the inability to dial the phone indicates a breakdown of communication. Or the feeling of being distant or not heard when you need help. Is this the first time having these dreams?” you asked Luke.

Letting out a sigh, Luke responded, “Yes, which is weird to have them now. I don’t feel like I am having trouble communicating. Maybe it is my self-consciousness that has some issues it still needs to resolve. Before that, I would dream that my teeth would fall out. I actually dreamt about them falling out last night.”

“I used to have those dreams too. There are different meanings behind teeth falling out in dreams. Sometimes it is associated with loss, important life changes, a feeling of powerlessness, or stress, anxiety, depression, and poor personal health,” you provided to Luke.

Luke chuckled. “I have experienced all of that and more. I guess it is part of the course.”

To say that Luke had some anxiety about tonight's dinner with Shirley, Theo, and you would have been an understatement. The last thing Luke wanted was a repeat of the dinner with Joey, Steve, and Leigh. Granted, his sister-in-law was nice that night; however, his brother, not so much. Of course, that was when he and Steve did not have the best of relationships. This would be different. You definitely were not like Joey and his sisters…well…that is why he put forth some rules.

He was watching Shirley move back and forth in the kitchen as she prepared dinner. She asked Luke about possible meals that you would like so she could make something that you would enjoy. Luke shared that you liked almost everything and that you were not too picky of an eater. Shirley decided on making lasagna as it was Kevin and her kids' favorite dishes of hers. As she was already finishing up the last layer, Luke did not have the heart to inform Shirley that lasagna was not one of your favorite foods.

Soon, Theo walked through the front door of Shirley's house carrying additional groceries. "I got the wine. It's red. Your friend can drink wine?" she asked Luke as she set down the bags on the counter.

Luke mentioned that you do not drink. "Oh well, more for me," teased Theo.

Shirley confirmed with Luke that you would bring dessert. She wanted everything nice for tonight. She knew this was important for Luke, and he wanted everything to go right just as well.

"Now that you both are here, can we go over some ground rules for tonight," said Luke.

"Come on, Luke. It's just dinner with your sponsor," Theo spoke up.

"No, Theo, this isn't just dinner with my sponsor. This is dinner with my friend. Someone who I have come greatly respect and admire. I don't want either of you…to make her feel uncomfortable in any way. No interrogations or psychoanalyzing," Luke ordered.

"Okay, Luke. We promise not to step out of bounds," Shirley assured. "Right, Theo?"

Holding up the girl scout's sign, "I, Theodora Crain, pledge not to embarrass you in any way."

As Shirley and Theo stifled laughs about their little brother's worry, Luke leaned against the counter and contemplated on the next thing to tell them. He decided to the best way was, to be honest with them. Luke interrupted his sisters' conversation to inform them that he told you about Hill House…about everything that occurred.

"You what?" Shirley questioned, unsure of what he actually meant. "What do you mean? What did you share?"

"When you say everything…do you mean everything, everything?" asked Theo with a hint of irritation in her voice.

"She knows what really happened to mom, Nell, and dad," Luke replied and mentioned that it was important for him to tell you the truth. "I don't regret it. If the two of you are upset, then be upset with me. Just don't take it out on her, okay." He wanted Shirley and Theo to understand that you meant well. That you had no ulterior motives. "This isn't like Nell and her shrink. I know, deep down, that you were worried about that being a possibility, Theo."

The light slam of the oven door made Theo and Luke turn their attention to Shirley. "Okay, lasagna is in the oven. It should be done when our guest arrives. Luke, do you mind setting the table. Theo, start making the salad," Shirley ordered. This night was important for Luke, and by golly, she was going to see that it goes accordingly.

“Mom…Dad, I’m heading out. I should be home by 9 o’clock or earlier if tonight goes south,” You shouted while putting on your jacket. Before you could grab your keys and head out the door, your mother popped in suddenly from the kitchen.

“Honey, where are you going?”

You could not stop the annoyed sigh from escaping. “I told you. I’m going over to Luke’s for dinner tonight. I have told you and Dad this many times already. Now, I don’t want to be late…”

“Hold up there, kiddo. You don’t forget this,” Your dad emerged with the cake box.

“Oh shit! Thanks. I can’t believe I almost forgot the dessert.” You grabbed the cake box and made your way back towards the front door.

“Call us when you get there, sweetie,” requested your mother.

“I’ll text you when I get Shirley’s house, okay. Now, I have to get going.”

“Ask Luke if he would like to come over here for dinner,” your mother offered. “I know your father, and I would love to meet him.”

“Mom now is not the time. I’m out of here. Love you both. Don’t wait up,” You replied and walked out the door to your car. Letting out another sigh, you started the care and proceeded to drive to Luke’s.

You knew that your parents meant well. They loved you very much. While there were times both could be very overbearing, you understood where it came from and could not fault them for it. It was just them being protective of you. At the end of the day, they would always worry about you. The constant worries your mother and father felt towards you could be jarring at times. All you wanted for them was to trust you fully. However, it shamed you the number of times you let them down. Luke shared with you the troubles he had with completing the fourth step. You told him you were not able to tackle it until the first year of your sobriety.

“We have all done shitty things to the people we love. To the people who stood by us while we walked all over them. I’m surprised my parents stood by me for so long. Sometimes I wished they had given up and just let me go to die on the streets,” you revealed honestly to Luke the night after going to the movies. “They didn’t deserve the constant Hell I put them through. I because I couldn’t handle certain…things… feelings…. emotions. The problem was…that I felt weak if I wasn’t taking heroin. Shooting up made me feel invincible. Like, nothing could touch me. I guess you know that feeling all too well, huh, Luke?”

“Yeah. I guess that is why we choose to shoot up in the first place. To not feel like ourselves. In some cases, to not feel at all. I know for me, it was to get some sense of peace,” Luke countered truthfully.

For some reason, it felt like it took longer than usual to arrive at Shirley’s house, which would have normally taken ten minutes. Every traffic light seemed to turn red as soon as you got closer. When you finally reached your destination, a quick text was sent off to your parents to let them know you arrived safely. Gathering your bag and cake box, you exited the car and walked the front doorsteps. You rang the doorbell and waited.

Thankfully, it was Luke who answered the door with a sweet smile on his face.

“Hi,” he said and ushered you to come inside.

“Hey,” you replied, wiping your shoes before stepping in the house.

You handed over the cake box to Luke, who then asked, “What kind of dessert did you bring?”

“Baklava cheesecake. It is a new item at the bakery that we’re selling.”

“Sounds really good. Uh, look, just fair warning,” Luke began to speak in a whisper, “Shirley made lasagna. I hope that is okay. I know it’s…”

“It’s fine, Luke. I can muster up the courage to eat lasagna for one night,” you answered with a light chuckle.

As you hung up your coat and bag, Shirley and Theo entered the foyer. Both said hello, and Theo introduced herself. Luke stood back as he eyed his sisters closely to make sure they both remained on their best behavior.

“It is nice to meet you finally. Luke has been keeping you all to himself, so we are glad you could come over,” Theo mentioned while leading you into the kitchen to get you something to drink. Shirley took the cake box from Luke and followed the two women.

“Oh wow!” exclaimed Shirley when she opened the box. “This looks really good. Did you make this?”

“No. Sophie, the owner of the bakery I work at did. She does most of the actual baking. I help with cake decorations. She’s a longtime family friend, so I work there to help out when she needs it,” you shared as Theo handed you a glass of iced tea.

“How about we go sit in the living room,” Shirley instructed everyone out of the kitchen. “We have about fifteen minutes until dinner is ready.”

You sat next to Luke on the loveseat while Shirley and Theo took the couch. An awkward silence ensued, with no one really knowing what to say. You could feel each of the Crain siblings’ emotions, which ranged from curiosity from Theo, indifference from Shirley, and anxiousness from Luke. You felt a strong urge to reach out to Luke to help calm him, whether it be holding his hand, linking your arm with his, or placing a gentle hand on his knee. It was a weird feeling for you to have since Luke was not only your friend but mentee. Now a sense of guilt took over you.

You were Luke’s sponsor. There is no way you could develop any deeper feelings for the man sitting next to you other than friends. It would be unethical. Luke trusted you. Breaking his trust or misguiding him would lead to a horrible conclusion. It could lead to the ultimate betrayal. When you felt a pair of eyes on you, it made you look up to see Theo staring as she took sips of her drink. You could tell she was assessing you in any way she could. You noticed the gloves on her hands, which reminded you of the story Luke shared about Theo’s ability to feel emotions through touch. You are tempted to say, “fuck it!” and give Theo your hand for her to take to get it out of the way.

“So…,” Shirley spoke up when she said your name, “Luke shared with us that you attend Middlesex Community College as an art major.”

“Yes. Studio art, to be exact. My mom really would rather I do graphic design, though. So, I might do that when I get this degree program wrapped up,” you revealed.

Awkward silence resumed. “I have some of her artwork,” Luke piped up. “It is amazing. Like, crazy good.”

“Where did you learn how to draw?” Shirley asked.

“It was just something that I always liked doing. It helped calm me when I was…not feeling the best. I guess during my stints at different rehabs throughout the years helped…build up my artistic skills,” you replied.

You noticed Luke began shaking his right leg at the mention of rehab. You reached out to touch his left arm, and he looked over at you. “Have either of you read any of Luke’s stories he has written for school?” you asked Shirley and Theo.

“No!” Theo piped in and added, “Our little brother tends to keep his writings all to himself.”

“Well, from what he has shared with me, he is an excellent writer,” you stated. “Did you tell them about the ‘A’ you got on your last assignment?”

“Uh…no. I hadn’t,” Luke said and immediately got up from the couch. “Hey, shouldn’t dinner be done, Shirley?”

“Oh shoot. That is right. Let me go get the lasagna out of the oven.”

“I’ll get the salad and bread on the table,” asserted Theo and followed Shirley back into the kitchen.

Luke let out the breath he was holding and turned to look at you.

“Are you okay, Luke?” you asked him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You three seem a tad on edge. Is there any safe topic your family can talk about?” you enquired.

“Not really. I know them. They want to ask you about your addiction story and how you overcame it…all that stuff.”

“You know what…fuck it. Let’s you and I control the conversation by talking about the things we talk about, like movies, television shows, music, books…all of the stuff we talk about regularly. If your sisters join in, then that is great—the more, the merrier. But let’s not waste a whole evening because we’re worried about what your sisters think of me…or you,” you encouraged Luke.

Letting out another breath, Luke agreed. “Okay, that sounds good. You take the lead, and I’ll follow.”

“Will do,” you smiled and pushed Luke towards the dining room.

#luke crain #luke crain x reader #luke crain x female reader #luke crain x you #the haunting of hill house #oliver jackson cohen #oliver jackson-cohen

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bubblyani · 4 years

Text

Bail Out : 09

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 09: Loyalty

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 7300+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence

Author’s Note: Heeyyyy!! Sorry for the 3 week absence. Needed to get some personal stuff on track and finally writing once again. Perhaps I am also sad to end this series also. But, I am determined to end this perfectly. One more chapter to go so it’s not the end yet. Enjoy lovelies!

CHAPTER LIST

(10 am)

Concern came over John Blake, thus translating into physical pain when his fingernails dug into his palms. All the while the young woman sitting before held his attention for a few seconds that seemed like pure torture.

Her graceful, manicured fingers danced across the computer keyboard, pressing in a rhythmic manner as she searched for specific piece of information. Looking up finally, she displayed a choreographed smile: “I’m sorry, but there’s no record of an appointment with…Officer Blake” She said. Bowing his head down, John chuckled with disbelief: “No...” He replied, shaking his hand before putting it on her table, “There has to be a mistake...” His voice rife with seriousness, “You see, I called you…you’re Simone right?” “Yes?” “Yeah, I called you yesterday and I was told…10 am” John stressed on it, eventually growing irritated. Finally, with approval granted by Commissioner Gordon himself, Officer John Blake finally was in the clear to approach Erik Henderson for further questioning. There was a game to be a played, and he played it well. He followed the rules, he made the appointment with his secretary, all in the hopes that today will not proved to be a hassle.

At least, that was his intention. Until now.

“So sorry, Officer…” the cold smile continued to linger in young woman’s face,“...but no appointment. But…” she paused, grabbing John’s attention, “…if you can wait a bit I can fit you in on a free time slot, how about that?”

Though her smile grew wider, it was evident her intentions were far from sincere. With a huge sigh, John smiled back tightly.

“That would be great, thanks” He said politely, for the game was still on, and he had to keep playing. Joining Officer Nina Langdon, they made their way to the hallway together.

Henderson Incorporated Building proved to be lavish. And it certainly exuded a different energy from Wayne Enterprises. The decor had over-compensating written all over it, as if gold had a massive explosion, while the scent of strong lavender invaded their nostrils without permission. Nina sighed:

“Bet we’re gonna get ditched, I’m 100% sure” she muttered, with her arms folded. “Yeah...” John agreed, as they collectively gazed upon the secretary from a distance, “…especially now that it’s pretty obvious Henderson doesn’t wanna see us” He said. Turning back to the redhead, he sighed, “You didn’t have to come with me, you know”

“You kidding me?” Nina asked, shaking her head slowly, “I assigned myself to this case…” she stated, “…like it or not, I’m with you all the way”

John’s lips curved upward, for the subtle affection she delivered was not to be ignored, “Okay…” he accepted. For truthfully, he was always relieved to have her around.

“Although I’m definitely not happy with the waiting part” Nina pointed out casually. “Wait…What?” Laughing, Nina put her hand on his shoulder, “I’m kidding…” she added, “Cause…” suddenly her laughter disappeared, leaving nothing but a serious facade, “We’re NOT leaving until we talk to Henderson”.

Surprised, yet convinced, John nodded before dialing a number on his phone.

“Ma’am?” He began, with the phone pressed against his ear, “It’s Blake…”

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A call from John Blake was not expected by you that morning. Truthfully, you didn’t expect any call from anyone for you had no intention to answer any. But given the situation you did answer his. Sitting by the edge of the neatly made bed, you listened to Blake on speakerphone whilst dressed in nothing but the white towel.

“But…couldn’t you just go back another day?” You inquired with concern.

“We could…” the policeman replied, “But I won’t be surprised if they suddenly find it inconvenient to see us then” “Fair point…” you agreed with a nod. Looking up, you involuntarily smiled by the sight of Bruce walking towards you in a bathrobe, “I really appreciate the help, Officer” You added. “Well, this definitely is a case unlike anything I’ve ever seen…” he said, “So we’ll keep you posted”

The moment you hung up, the mere device that was the mobile phone suddenly seemed insignificant as you stood up to face your lover. It was not long before you and Bruce Wayne possibly had the time of your lives making love without any sense of restriction nor interruptions, while the morning was the sole witness. It was not long before this neatly made bed had been full of crumpled sheets, and one destined wet towel. For others, it may have appeared to be a complete state of mess. However, for you it was a sweet reminder of total satisfaction, for that mess was a memory worth treasuring for eternity.

A gentle breath exited your lips the moment he pulled the towel off your nude frame. Gingerly placing a bathrobe around your shoulders, Bruce dressed you up with care. He even took his time proceeding to the smallest detail by tying up the robe tightly, all the while he maintained an unbreakable gaze at your direction. You felt attended, you felt cared for. Truthfully it had been sometime since you had this felt from a man. And it simply proved more than satisfactory.

“Thank you…” You murmured, closing one’s eyes in pleasure when he placed a loving kiss on your forehead. With a gentle tug on the sleeve, he guided you towards the chairs that faced the large windows. The moment your eyes graced over the outside world, you could not help but chuckle all the sudden.

“What?” Bruce inquired, and his confusion was valid. “Just…” You shrugged as you took a seat across from him, “...never knew I had to literally worry about someone trying to have me killed” you added, feigning laughter. It was no laughing matter. For this was not an average matter of concern. It was much bigger. Given the manner your fingers nervously held the others, it was simply clear as day how you worried for your life. “Well, I’m here…” Bruce’s gentle voice anchored you back to the light. For all the sudden, you remembered who exactly you sat across from. The guardian, the knight. Your knight. “I know….” You replied, smiling softly, “And I’m glad” you said, taking in a deep refreshing breath in what you were blessed with before you.

As much as the Dark Knight was glorious in black, Bruce appeared ethereal in white. He always did, ever since you laid eyes on him. For you, he was the poster boy for crisp white shirts, pulling them off well it seemed criminal. And even this bathrobe he donned, came to a close second. The manner his hair gently had fallen over his face, the manner his side profile was proudly flaunted by mother nature, you could be nothing but grateful to witness them. You indulged then sight as he turned his head, gazing across the Gotham skyline with interest. Rays of sunshine illuminated the high rise buildings and other structures nearby, and the sight clearly had brought a huge smile to his face.

“Wow…” He finally breathed, “it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He said softly, his eyes still on the skyline.Your own eyes widened with disbelief.

“Please don’t tell me this is your first time realizing that!” You exclaimed, raising your eyebrows. “It is…” “What?” Leaning forward, your jaw dropped involuntarily,“But...” you scoffed, “...how is that possible?” “Guess I’m not blind anymore...” Bruce replied, except his eyes were not glued to the skyline any longer. Where they were glued, you need not proof, especially when your cheeks began to flare up. His gaze, that gaze, it was what you always longed for. All these years. A gaze full of content. A gaze full of genuine affection. So wholesome it seemed unfathomable. “Why me?” Those words escaped you before you could take control. Bruce raised his eyebrows. “I don’t follow...” “I mean…” you paused, shyly bringing your legs up to sit cross legged, “I was too busy falling for you...that I didn’t even bother to ask you…” you chuckled, “…out of all the people, why pick me?” Truthfully, this was riffed with genuine curiosity. Thus, you did not blame yourself. Surprised by your inquiry, Bruce did not rush to answer. However, that in turn made your pulse race: “Cause, granted Bruce…” you interrupted, “.. I’m not this beautiful foreign ballerina, model or even an actress-” “You are very beautiful…” he protested gently. “Oh! I know I am…” You were surprised by your own confidence, “It’s just that…” taking a deep breath, you continued, “Wow! I actually can’t believe you think so…” you found yourself say, suddenly lost in the hazel orbs, “What? that’s not the real question…” you said, scoffing whilst shaking this spell away.

“You seem distracted” Bruce purred, his gaze affixed on you.

“All thanks to you…” you chuckled, blushes making an appearance once again. Inhaling deeply, you looked at him with genuine earnest: “Why...did you risk everything just to come bail me out that morning?”

You inquired, sitting up straight, “You’re Bruce Wayne...you’re someone who could definitely hold up your own…” you added, pointing at him with a sense of grandiose, “…and what I did was colossally embarrassing, not just to you but for the whole company...so…why?” “Loyalty…” Bruce’s reply, it made you blink. “Sorry?” He smiled, “Your loyalty…it…struck me…” he said, “And honestly...” he added, “... bailing you out was simply my way of thanking you…” “And I will always be grateful for that…But why-” “-did I fall for you?” He finished the sentence for you, but in a different way. One that made your heart skip. “I was gonna say...care for me but, I’ll take that instead” you said, smiling shyly. He chuckled: “I wish I could give you a clear answer on that…but I can’t…” he replied, in all honesty, “I mean, can you?” That was when you came to the simple realization. Not everything was a checklist, some phenomena in life are simply many a reasons infused into one entity. “No…” you breathed, “I guess I can’t…” you chuckled, “I mean, it’s not like it’s a Math Test where everything is technical, right?” You said, to which he nodded in sheer agreement. “The moment we started to talk...” Bruce began, “It just felt…so familiar…” he said, in a dire attempt to grasp the words, “…It felt like we were two-” “-friends?” This time, it was you who finished it for him. And he agreed here as well.

“Exactly…” he said, “And then I just…I just couldn’t stop…” “I get it…” you said, “I get it a lot” you agreed with a chuckle. It was no difficult task to do so, for your heart was brave witness to all the suffering undergone within you, the suppression of emotions brought up by him, “And, I know what I’m gonna say is very, very cheesy-” “Cheesier than the dinner last night?”

You could not help but guffaw, “No…” as he laughed alongside you, “Oh! come on! I trying to be serious here…” “Sorry…” Exhaling deeply, the laughter died down. Composing yourself from the humor, you were a surprise to your own self as you rose up from the chair.

“As I was saying…” you began, walking towards him while running your fingers through your hair, “…clearly there were the obvious signs of…wealth…and luxury surrounding you…” stating the obvious, you had an air of professionalism that seemed to amuse him, “…but from the moment I spoke to you in the car…” you said, certainly full of surprises as you sat across his lap, “I realized that…I really just wanted to spend time with…you”. A deep breath was indeed necessary, drinking in the man that was Bruce, “I really wanted to win the heart of Bruce...not the billionaire. Just…Bruce-”

His blessed name exited your lips in the best possible manner, especially when his own greedy lips captured you in a kiss. A kiss that traveled deeper to the trenches unknown in your soul. Your hands found haven in his hair, fingers tangled in his luscious locks, allowing your affections to transmit to him through the mere follicles of his existence. Bringing you closer to him, his hand rested gently on your back, stroking with a sense of care and even more. His lips, they seemed essential to you day by day, kiss after kiss. And that realization seeped in to you the moment he pulled away.

“Don’t go today...” His words, they brimmed of a plea. Yet, in truth, you did not seem to require much convincing. “I won’t…” you said softly, against his lips, “Cause… luckily for you…” your face lit up with cheer, “…. this employee rarely takes leave…”

Chuckles filled the room between the two. This, this simple form of comfort, happiness, it was all you ever longed for in life. And when it kissed you and held you tenderly, you found it quite difficult to believe.

“But seriously, I honestly think we both deserve a good break” you added with conviction, “Maybe we can watch something nice. Maybe I can cook for you, feed you, …” your affectionate tone had him throw you a hopeful gaze, “….Maybe watch you do pushups , and act like a lovestruck teenager” you chuckled by the mere thought of it.

“Anything you want…” Bruce certainly did not seem to mind, holding on to you with a sense of high value.

And in truth, those plans were simply perfect.

Even in the comfort of home, it certainly was a vacation. Just you and him together, the world was suddenly your oyster. Excitement bubbled within you both, when it finally was possible to experience the life of a normal couple. And you certainly was surprised when Bruce found it equally enthusiastic. Be it cooking, and cleaning which seemed to have some familiarity already. Be it an unexpected nap, curled up in each other’s arms, occasionally indulging kisses by the sofa whilst engaging with the television. Or be it gazing into each other’s eyes whilst slow dancing together in your sweats and t-shirts. Dusk was welcoming, bringing in nothing but softness while soothing music played in the background. Seeing him this content, you only wished Alfred had returned to witness.

“Do you like this?” You inquired gently, brushing one’s nose against his. And against the changing colors of dusk, you saw him nod. “So much so, I wish I could show you off to the whole world” he breathed.

That heart stirring phrase, surprisingly left you with a needful reminder. With your pulse growing fast, you were overcome with an urge.

“Bruce…” you began, “There’s something I want to tell you…” you said, which suddenly captured his attention. You took a deep breath “I-”

“Master Wayne!”

Alfred Pennyworth’s booming voice never failed to gain attention. Both of you released each other from seeing the older man walk fast. Bruce grinned at him.

“Missed us already, Alfred?” He inquired. However, pleasure or amusement was the least of his concerns. In fact, his face was filled with concern.

“It’s about Arkham, Sir”

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

“A security breakdown? at Arkham Asylum?”

Shooting up from his seat, Blake cried out into his phone, “But… how is that even possible?”. Shocked from what she just heard, Nina could do nothing but watch him.

“Yeah, man. That’s what they told us” Officer Dave Ramirez replied from the other side, “We’re on our way to hold down the place. It’s all good, John, don’t worry. I’ll look into it…”

“Thanks, Dave”

Hanging up, John sighed heavily, sitting next to Nina, “Something doesn’t feel right…” he said. He was not mistaken. For must that happen now? Out of all the times? Or had he just become the victim of a delusional nightmare?

It would seem fair, considering the fact waiting was all John and Nina had to do from morning, the one giant hurdle to overcome in order to reach their goal. At times, it seemed like a punishment, yet they kept waiting. Hours passed, and still they waited. They may had to go run down to satisfy their need for sustenance with some sandwiches, but they did not hesitate to return with more motivation and wait once again. Only upon looking through the glass windows were they informed of the arrival of dusk. And now with the news of Arkham, everything seemed out of reach and uncontrollable.

The young secretary suddenly stood up from her desk with a huge smile on her face. “Mr.Henderson is waiting for you…”

She said brightly. John and Nina looked each other, wondering if it finally was their chance as they got up. But to their disappointment, it seemed she was addressing the 4 men in suits carrying suitcases that just arrived behind them. Given their appearances and features, Blake quickly identified them to be the Henderson Legal Team. Shooting cold glances, the men swiftly entered Henderson’s office one by one. And this time, Nina Langdon scoffed out loud:

“Unbelievable…” she muttered under her breath. “Nina…” filled with hopelessness, John muttered with concern, “…we can go bac-” “No!” She interrupted, looking at him, “We waited this long…” she said, “Not now…”

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It was not shameful to acknowledge the simple fact you were nervous. For it was not the time to be in denial.

“Would you like to return to the Penthouse miss?”

You halted. Pacing back and forth in constant motion, you certain had forced Alfred Pennyworth to take notice. And you were embarrassed by it.

“No, I’m good…” you shook your head, “Thank you” smiling softly. Suddenly, you were overcome with a sense of unprofessionalism. You took a deep breath, “Did Bruce always use this place?” You inquired, looking around the underground concrete chamber.

“Not when he was in the Wayne Manor�� Alfred replied, sitting in front of the CCTV monitors. With the fire burning most of the Wayne Manor down a few years back, it seemed to make quite the sense to find solace in the Wayne Penthouse and here. Though the news blamed the man’s intoxication for the fire, you wondered if there was reason deeper at play. His enemies? Could tonight be a trap set out for him as well? Involuntarily you found yourself rubbing your forearms as a result. “It’s Master Wayne, Miss” Alfred said, “He will be alright” Smiling at him gratefully, you stood next to him to watch the screens. He was right. You hoped to believe him above all others. It was not too long since Bruce left. Thus, the memory remained fresh in your mind.

“But, but...wasn’t the Asylum supposed to have firm security?”

Your naive and loud inquiry also was fresh in your memory, as the three of you descended to the concrete chamber. Your eyes were filled with quite a sight of the lair, the moment the white lights began to illuminate.

“It was supposed to…”

Bruce replied, hurried walking towards the monitors. Truthfully, when Alfred came in with the news, you assumed you would have been ask to head home. Therefore, being asked to accompany was unexpected. However, you worried of your possible lack of helpfulness.

“And we just have audio?”

“That’s what Gotham PD got…”

He said, as he kept replaying the phone call. The caller presumably from Arkham, was filled with fear. The more times the clip was played, the more you sensed the atmosphere in the room tense with every second. And by the 5th replay, you saw Bruce get up.

“I gotta get over there…” he said.

“What?”

Your involuntary response leaped out as your eyes traced his movements. As much as you were filled with wonder by the sight of the Bat suit, hung on a transparent rack that emerged from the concrete floor. “The police is going to need all the help it can get, if a breakout happens…” He added standing with arms crossed, “Especially with the patients in there…”

“You mean like the J-” “Yeah…” “Of course…”

You said quietly. This certainly was not the time to protest for his safety or panic. A sense of responsibility came over you, the responsibility for your own emotions here. You were obligated to offer him your trust in this moment. Turning towards you, Bruce flashed a soft smile:

“Sorry I couldn’t give you the full tour…”

You shook your head without hesitation, “There’s time for that later…” you said, walking over to him, “Just-”you paused, “Be careful, okay?” For that all you could utter. That was what you should utter.

“I will…” Bruce replied, with you a reassuring look, “You stay put”

The sudden vibration in your sweatpants pocket, ushered you back to reality. Taking the phone out, Your eyes widened by the sight of the caller.

“Clara! Hey!” You answered with a smile, “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you last night I-”

“Listen, I need your help” you heard her mutter, “I think…” she inhaled a shakily, “I think I’m in trouble…”

With a cascade of words streaming out of her lips and into your ears through the communication line, certainly made you freeze in a stance. The manner in which your hand clenched, you were certain her distress was no simple matter. She needed your help.

Your initial instinct longed to dash out to the rescue. Yet you made a promise. Never did you preferred to be the naive one and break Bruce’s trust. However, you would never forgive yourself if you could not help either.

“Alfred..”

You breathed, as soon as you hung up, “I’m sorry but… I think I gotta go…Now before you say anything, there’s just a place I really need to be…A friend is in trouble” your lips rambled with concern, “Alfred, you gotta trust me. I wouldn’t go unless its necessary” you brought your hands together, “Please-”

“I believe you…”

Alfred answered with confidence. And you were truly surprised. Perhaps you expected protests and refusal.

“You do?”

“Yes” He said, “Which is why… I know you will do exactly as I say…”

Then again, given the years this man had lived through, it could be possible for him to easily trace of sincerity in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you felt your fist loosen:

“I’m all ears…”

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

The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, or Arkham Asylum for short, a psychiatric hospital-prison was home to the most criminally insane in the city of Gotham. Thus, the mere mention of a breach of it’s security certainly caused panic far and wide.

However, the moment Officer Dave Ramirez arrived at the scene, doubts and confusion was all he could come up with.

Standing in the midst of the chatter and the several police cars parked, his arms remained crossed as he slowly shook his head in disappointment. His gaze affixed on his partner, Officer Vance exiting the Asylum building with a skinny man handcuffed.

“A False alarm? Really?”

Ramirez inquired his partner with a scoff, “Do they think we’re a joke?” He questioned further as the man was seated in the car. He certainly had a fair point. Never did they expect to come down all this way just to realize security breach existed, and it all was nothing but a fake call made by one convincing staff member in administration. With Arkham managing to apprehend the staff, several Gotham PD cars with armed officers had arrived just for a simply handover. It was an embarrassment to the riches. Closing the car door behind him, Vance sighed: “Well, the call was pretty convincing” he replied, looking at Ramirez, “Why he did it, he wont say..” “What?” “Yep, quiet as a mouse-” “HELP!” The loud cry from the seemingly quiet man forced every officer to turn in alarm, including Vance and Ramirez. “Oh…my…god” Ramirez muttered in shock as he lowered his guard. By the sight of none other than the Batman himself.

In a matter of swift movements, he had seemed to grabbed the man out of the car, only to press him fiercely against it with a loud thud! “Why did you do it?” Batman growled at the man, as Ramirez and Vance approached him, “Why did you make the call?” “Please! Don’t hurt me” the man whimpered whilst hyperventilating, “I had my reasons” “Trust me, Buddy” Ramirez began, “Better save yourself now with the truth, before the Court rips you out with prison time” Truthfully, no officer was as shocked to see the Batman than Dave Ramirez. Known to the whole station as the shameless fan of the Dark Knight, this moment was rewarded for his patience. Yet regardless, it was key that he maintain his level of professionalism and suppress his inner fanatic. With his breath slowing down, the skinny man raised his hands in defense as he took a deep breath: “I was on my way to the store on my day off...” he continued, “...and all the sudden a car pulled up, and it got dark cause I had a bag over my head” he gulped, “....the next thing I knew, I was drowned in a bathtub full of ice” he said in pain, “...threatening me to fake a security fail and call the police…” “You could have told us that, you know?” Vance said. The man’s eyes widened. “How could I, man?” He said, “I was being fucking watched” he added through gritted teeth, “He was threatening to kill my family” “Who was it?” Batman inquired. “Some guy” he said, “...he was dressed in all black” “With a skull shaped mask?” Batman managed to add to his query before the cops could even interfere. The man nodded frantically: “Yes! AH-” Dropping the man down from his grip, Batman surprised all as he began to walk away out of the scene, “Keep this man safe” he growled pointing at the man. Vance and Ramirez looked at each other with confusion: “Wait! What’s going on?” Ramirez inquired. “This is a ruse” Batman replied hoarsely, as he climbed on his Bat-pod, the red and blue blinking lights reflected in his direction in the night. “For what?” Dave seemed more confused, until he gasped, “WAIT!” He cried as the Bat-Pod exited their location with a roaring sound, disappearing into the darkness faster than anyone expected. “Damn it!” Dave cried out, throwing his hat on the ground. Vance seemed concerned. “You okay?” Dave sighed into his palms, “Couldn’t even take a photo of the guy”he mumbled, to which Vance did nothing but roll his eyes. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction, Dave. The guy’s too smooth”

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

Parting greetings were heard and exchanged between the secretary and other employees as most of them prepared to go home after a long day. Half and hour passed, and the Lawyers still appeared to be in Henderson’s Office. Crossing his legs, Blake looked at the young woman:

“Long night tonight, huh?” Blake said, motioning towards the office door. She however, did not look surprised.

“Oh, it’s nothing new” she replied nonchalantly, turning her attention back to the computer.

Finally, the suits managed to exit Henderson’s office, but to John’s surprise, Simone still did not offer the green light he so required, as she merely shook her head in feigned apology. Exiting the washroom, Nina returned, only to identify the dejected look on John’s face.

“Still no?” She asked, to which Blake nodded upsettingly. Never was he the one to give up. Except this time, he was compelled to. A part of him wondered if it was his sheer naiveté blinding him. Sighing, it seemed that Nina Langdon was not going to take this anymore.

“Well, here goes nothing”

She muttered, taking a deep breath, “Ma’am?”

Changing her voice to a more polite tone, Nina approached the secretary, “Uh… it’s Simone right? I’m sorry but I think there’s a problem with the lock in the washroom. Could you check it out for me?”

Confused, the young woman seemingly was encouraged to listen. “Yeah sure...” She said, standing up to follow Nina towards the washroom. Getting up , John leaned towards that direction to listen:

“The door seems fine” he heard the young woman’s voice echo, “…Where exactly is the proble-HEY!!!”

“Oh gosh! I’m so sorry! See? I told you there’s something wrong with the lock. Let me-Let me get some help, okay?”

Smirking to himself, John could detect Nina’s feigned innocence with his eyes closed. And within seconds, she appeared before him, for time was of the essence:

“I locked her in. GO GO GO!” She hissed.

Suddenly tension was high, and while Nina kept watch by the washroom, John made his way to Henderson’s office. One way or another, he was certain to charge his way in and obtain answers.

“I hope we can put an end to this soon, Mr. Henderson…”

John paused. He had to, upon hearing a polite male voice through the door, which conveniently was never completely closed. And that was when he realized, out of the 4 men that entered half and hour earlier, only 3 had left. Holding his breath, John remained frozen as he could possibly be.

“….the Police is starting to get suspicious. Did you see the two waiting outside?”

“What? They’re still there?? I figured making them wait will make them leave”

Erik Henderson’s irritated voice boomed loud enough to end up in John’s ears with clarity. Given the tone of this conversation, he was more than certain this was of great importance. And when he took out his phone and pressed record, he was grateful of his decision.

For the answers he desired for, were finally handed to him on a silver platter. For the waiting finally seemed worthwhile. For Henderson’s attempts were merely futile.

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

Your legs shook with nervousness in the taxi, when you made your way to Wayne Tower.

The fact you were merely dressed in Bruce’s black T-shirt and your sweatpants did not seem relevant at all at this point, for it was vital that you be there. For Clara. Especially since her phone call kept replaying in your mind on a constant loop:

“You might think I’m nuts but, I think I may have a stalker situation. Told you! It’s nuts, but had a feeling ever since I came to Wayne Enterprises. Uh…weeks later, it started to get worse…that’s why…that’s why I even had to leave sooner than my contract. When I left, I thought it would get better, but now I’m getting these weird silent calls and-Oh god! I didn’t know who else to call. Can we meet at Wayne Tower, please? Its the safest place I could think of…”

The moment you felt the vehicle slow down, you were not hesitant to quickly stuff extra change you had into the pleased driver’s hand, jumping out of the car soon after. “You alright, sport?” Bill the Doorman inquired, as he saw you dash towards his direction. “Yeah!” You panted, “...by the way, did you see Clara come in?” “The consultant lady?” The man inquired, “Sure, I-” he paused when you made your way inside in a flash. Already past closing time, the building was almost unoccupied. Thus, the elevators were kinder. Tapping your foot impatiently as you made your way up, you truly wished for Clara’s safety. In your life, You were proudly capable of getting your Best Friend Allison our of debt. But tonight, you wondered if you were truly able to help out Clara? Would you possess the necessary sources? “CLARA!?!?” Yelling out, you jumped into the HR Floor. Only to find no one there. “Boss! What you doing here?” Except for Greg, the Assistant Manager, who walked towards you with his bag slung across his chest. Panting, you were certain you were a mess. Truthfully you did not care. “Looking...” you panted, “...for Clara…” you said, holding him by his forearms, “Did you see her?” You inquired in seriousness. “Yeah I did...” he appeared confused, “ ...said she was heading to the roof....” Greg added, “I mean, it was kinda weird to see her back after the goodbye and-” “Okay great, Thanks Greg!” You would normally feel remorseful for cutting him off this way, yet this was not the time. For it seemed you simply were not blessed with enough time. With the technology of Wayne Enterprises, getting to the top floor was not task at all, yet even the mere few seconds seemed terribly slow. “Please, Please! Don’t be in trouble” You muttered to yourself, “Please...” Jumping out once again, your heartbeat reached a new level of speed, whilst you prayed to find her outside on the rooftop.

“CLARA? I-”

Halting in your tracks, you froze. With immense shock. A shock you had never faced before in your life. Clara Bennett stood by the edge of the rooftop. Except she was not alone.

“No!” you breathed, “ Alpha... ” The pain of the strangulation haunted you once more, upon seeing the dark figure. Grabbing her tightly by the back of her neck, Alpha stood beside Clara, with a gun pointed directly into her lowered head. Given the distance, you had difficulty tracing Clara’s emotions at this point. Regardless, you knew she was a mess.Your heart pounded even further with desperation. Were you really capable of assisting now? “YOU!” You cried, taking a step forward, “W-What are you doing here??” Desperation forced you with an inquiry. For you were genuinely impatient for answers.However, Alpha did not reply. A passenger plane headed towards the direction of Wayne Tower. You would not have paid it much attention if it were not for Alpha looking up. What plan did it have? You were helpless. “What do you want with her? She’s got nothing to do with this!” You yelled with desperation as the plane flew overhead with enough proximity, forcing you to yell out even further as Alpha grabbed Clara tighter. The sound emitting from the flying machine was thunderous, and so was your fear:  “Please! Just leave her out of th-”  An air shattering bang struck you hard on the ears, leaving you frozen. It was a gunshot, and it seemed quite evident. Especially when Alpha finally lowered its gun, leaving Clara Bennett to fall on the ground, like a piece of meat. Suddenly, all your worst fears had come to light.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!”

You bellowed, your feet urging you to dash over to her body. Alpha had disappeared somehow, and truthfully you did not care. “Clara? Clara?” You cried out, as tears flowed down your cheeks like a raging stream, “Oh my god! Oh my god!” you whimpered, seeing her slumped on her stomach facing down, body unmoving, “ Please don’t be dead, Please…” you said, as you turned her over.   Except your tears did not make sense, when you realized why she was a mess. For it was not Clara. As much as you were certain it was her clothes and the hairstyle, it was not her. Though it was someone seemingly familiar.

“E-Emilio??”

You muttered softly, eyes widened by the sight of the man dead on the ground. However, you were filled with another confusion. If this was Emilio in disguise, then what of the real Clara? Where was she all along?

Bang!

A thundering clap rang in your ears as your body jerked with surprise. Before you knew it, you found your own self falling to the ground in an instant.

You landed on your back with a loud thud! Your breathing was loud, but your heartbeat was louder. Even your sight did not fail to grow blurry. Thus, numbness had taken over you whilst you were knee deep in confusion. Only within a few seconds did a raging pain arose from your stomach.  You were shot. Were you to meet Emilio’s fate as well?

“Don’t worry...Clara is okay”  

Screams exited your lips the moment Alpha’s voice haunted you, all the while pressing it’s foot on your stomach, right on the gunshot. Raging pain enraged itself even further. Suddenly your vision was far from blurry as you watched the dark figure stand before you.

“In fact, she’s more than..okay”

Alpha said, with its free hand reach for its mask. You drew in deep breaths, “H-How?” You coughed weakly, “How do you know?”

Your inquiry seemed remorseful when you saw the figure slowly unmask oneself. And the moment it freed itself from the constraints, the moment your eyes caught the sight of the one behind it, every trace of oxygen suddenly expired.

For it was Clara.

Eyes widening even further, your heart plummeted straight deep, and hope was nonexistent anymore. Clara Bennett, the consultant was Alpha, the Assassin this entire time? Worst of all, the one who had been trying to eliminate your existence?

“No no no no…”

You kept repeating through the pain, “I mean, Henderson being an ass, I can understand, but this?” You muttered weakly. With a scoff brimming with sadness, you looked at her directly, “You’re not even a consultant , are you?”

You inquired, which was followed by a cough.

“Why else wouldn’t I be working at Hudsons, the best HR consultancy company?” She chucked coldly, with her eyebrow raised, “They’re too legit to fake your way in…it’s definitely a grueling process”

You screamed further, as she continued to press on to the wound tighter with her foot. Standing tall and looking down at you, Clara’s eyes had no life whilst her lips adjusted her expression close to smugness. A smugness that seemed much colder than what you saw in her on the very first day. Dressed in her black suit and armor vest, she was the epitome of power. And before her, you were certainly powerless beyond all measure.

Being smothered with pain, it was evident you were about to meet your maker. Worst of all, to face the end with treachery. Inevitability cannot be amended, thus you had no choice but to remain calm.

If only you spoke to Bruce one last time before all this. If only. Your heart may have not suffered from the bullet, yet it already was shattered into a million pieces. How could Clara do this?

“That’s quite the risk you took…” you breathed with snark, “...revealing yourself with all the CCTV’s around.” “Wouldn’t exactly be a risk if the cameras are rewired now, would it?” Clara replied with thicker snark, “Besides, I had help” You gasped the moment your eyes caught the sight of Emilio standing beside her, his head donned with red stains and no wig. You chuckled sadly. Indeed, he was never dead after all. Easily fitting the profile of the Bodega shootout, you never felt this idiotic to not notice. “Loyalty has its perks, you know that” Clara smiled, her actions familiar yet different at the same time. Your eyes grew watery. Indeed, you knew. However, little did she know she took advantage of yours. “So all that…” you began, voice choking with emotion, “…the initial dispute, driving me up the wall…” you sniffed, “…frustrating me, questioning my abilities, then..” “-Making up with you and being friends shit blah blah...yeah! It was all an act” she said, shrugging it off with casualty, “…how else could I get you to trust me?” It was a nightmare come to life. It was that unfathomable. Beyond your comprehension . Losing trust was never a shock. But to the degree of murder, definitely a first. “And here I thought I made a new friend…” you muttered, holding back your tears. “For a second I thought the same…” Clara added, to your genuine surprise, “…truthfully anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend, I won’t lie….” she said, her tone growing sombre whilst you caught a sense of warmth in her eyes, “…but…” blinking the warmth away, her orbs were chilled once more, “…you know what they say: ‘Never mix business with Personal’ ” A part of you longed for the goodness in her to overpower her taste for blood. “Still…” you said, through gritted teeth, “ I think there REALLY was no need for theatrics like this ” you said, looking at the emotionless Emilio. He had trained well, you had a feeling. And so was Clara. Was her name really that ? You wondered.

“True…” Clara acknowledged with a nod. Fearful whimpers left you the moment she stepped away from your stomach, cocked the gun and pointed right at you. “…but you were not so easy to kill now, were you?” She said, “…especially with your special friend watching over you the whole time”

Panting, your eyes squinted with confusion, “W-Who?“

“She meant me!”

A familiar growl, it awakened your senses in a flash, alarming the others as another black figure jumped in to shield you.

Batman. Bruce.

The sight of the majestic, flowing cape and the pointed ears brought a sense of security to you once again. Even if you were dying.

“Well…” Clara pointed her gun at him with a smile, “…this was an eventuality” “YOU AGAIN!”

Fuming with anger, Emilio yelled out upon mere sight of him. Fascinating how anger and rage blasts through his cold exterior similar to a bomb.

“You won’t get to her…” Batman growled, “…without going through me”

“Don’t worry!” Clara responded, “We won’t disappoint”

All before she began to fire shots at him, to your horror.

But Batman was indeed Batman. And with the shots being deflected with no hesitation, he seemingly managed to approach her close enough for an offense attack, until Emilio dove in, lunging at Batman with enough ferocity, he fell backwards. Getting up, you watched him finding himself being surrounded by two assassins circling him like a pack of wolves. Impatient Emilio attacked first, with a diagonal kick right on his stomach, providing Clara enough opportunity to kick from the back. Though attacked from multiple sides, Batman did not falter. With his sturdy frame safeguarding him, defense was his only option for the time being. However, that did not stop him from making life difficult for the two.

Panting hurriedly, you watched the Dark Knight, the man you truly cared for, being attacked by merciless assassins. This sight, it certainly was not the what you hoped for him. Not another death. Not when your own life was almost slipping away.

Except, you came to a realization. Was it not that you had been “slipping away” for longer than expected? Placing a hand over the gun shot wound with suspicion, you felt through it. Looking at the hand, you gasped.

For there was no blood. Not even one drop.

With fingers tracing over your stomach further, you sighed with relief, when you were reminded why exactly.

Pure adrenaline and sheer motivation energized your heart to pump fast and for you to jump up to your feet. You were adamant in helping him. But you were well aware of your own limited capabilities. Watching the violent encounter, you suddenly heard an object drop. It was your phone, vibrating with a call. From John Blake.

“Officer Blake!” You answered with haste, “Thank God…” you wailed with desperation.

“Ma-am! Wait! Whats going on?” He inquired with concern, “ You okay?”

“It’s Alpha!” You cried, as you crouched on to the ground, “We’re being attacked at Wayne Tower-DUCK!” You cried, looking at struggling Bruce, “Batman’s here but-”

“Okay! Okay! Stay Calm! We’ll be on our way…”

The moment you hung up, a text suddenly appeared on the screen. Also from Blake, which read:

Henderson on tape. This may be useful with Alpha. Hurry!

Seeing a voice file attached right below, your eyes squinted with confusion. What could that possibly mean? However, patience was beyond your reach at the moment. Placing your trust on John Blake, you remained crouched and listened to the file. The moment the recording finally finished, your eyes widened with shock.

Amidst the chaos in the background, you stared at the phone screen. For the only question lingering in your conscious was: Could this actually solve everything?

——————————————————

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melodious-madrigals · 4 years

Text

prompt: “it was the best blind date I didn’t know I was on” -wondertrev edition

***

Diana is late.

And she’s not even sure she wants to be here, which is making her even more late as she dithers just outside the bistro where her blind date is meant to be taking place.

Damn it, Etta.

Etta’s been pushing to set Diana up on a blind date since a couple of months after her break-up with Kasia, which—it had been a bad break-up. Not messy or dramatic, but still heartbreaking to come to the conclusion that they’d grown, just not together, and wanted different things out of life.

Diana is still smarting, not entirely sure if she even wants a new relationship. And then there’s the fact that she doesn’t particularly like blind dates, and that the person Etta has suggested is a man. Which is...theoretically valid; Diana can’t contest that. But men can be such pigs, and it’s one of many reasons that she’s second-guessing this whole endeavor.

In fact, she’s in the middle of round four of questioning whether she’s even going to go in (and cursing the day she absentmindedly agreed to Etta’s offer to set her up with ‘Grant’) when she realizes: it’s a person in there, wondering why they’re being stood up, and that’s not fair, no matter how much she doesn’t want to be here.

Steeling herself, she marches in. Her eyes scan the restaurant—ah, there. Tucked away in a corner, near one of the windows looking out onto the street, is the only solo diner in the establishment. And he’s already got a bowl of soup in front of him. (That’s fair; she’s now twenty-four whole minutes late.) Taking a calming breath, she heads over to the table.

“I’m so sorry for how late I am,” she says, sliding into the chair opposite of what she now realizes is an unfairly attractive man: swooping blond hair and bright blue eyes and a strong jaw—focus, Diana! “It’s truly unforgivable. I—” She could fib, blame it all on her work, but that would only account for about seven minutes of tardiness. The rest is all on her, and she’s not one for lying. “I have no excuse.” She takes a breath, allows herself to reset. Gives the man in front of her a small smile. “I’m Diana.”

“Steve,” says the man, a strange expression on his face as he reaches across the table to shake her hand. (Firm, but not the arsehole power-grip that so many men prefer.)

She blinks, because Etta had said Grant, but now that she thinks about it, Etta has a habit, left over from her days in the military, of calling people almost exclusively by their last names.

“Right, Steve,” she says, testing the name out, and his mouth quirks up into a smile. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all. She ducks her head to hide her own smile, and her eyes again fall on the half-eaten bowl of soup. The smile drops, registering that she’s kept him waiting long enough to not only order but start eating. “I really am sorry,” she apologizes, but Steve waves a hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m glad for the company.”

If this is a strange thing to say to a blind date, Diana doesn’t notice, too focused on the way he hands her a menu and politely seeks the waitress’s attention. (Another point in his favor; he isn’t demanding, and makes casual, affable conversation with the woman while Diana scans the menu so she can place her food order right away with her drink.)

“So, Diana,” Steve says, after she’s ordered, “what is it that you do?”

It strikes her as odd; she would’ve thought Etta would have told him, but maybe he’s just being polite, so she launches into an explanation of her curation job, and he asks intelligent, relevant follow-up questions, and suddenly they’re talking about art and architecture and the best uses of beetroot and the innovation of the Gambian case in front of the ICJ and that Icelandic group that sang the haunting 800 year old hymn a cappella in the metro a few years back and a number of things in between.

There’s something that feels so natural about talking to him, and before she realizes it, the bistro is starting to close down for the evening.

“Can I have your number?” asks Steve, as they pay and make their way back into the cool night air.

Diana bites back a grin and nods, holding out her hand for his phone, where she adds herself as a contact.

“I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Me too.”

She kisses him on the cheek, and then they’re headed in separate directions. Almost immediately her phone buzzes, and when she pauses to look at it, she sees a message from an unknown number.

This is Steve!

She turns back to find him standing at the opposite end of the block, grinning at his phone. He looks up in time to catch her watching him and raises a hand in a sort of faux salute, making her laugh and shake her head.

There’s a lingering smile stuck on her face that she can’t seem to get rid of (and doesn’t particularly want to) as she walks home, enjoying the cool night air and the giddy feeling of a nice evening.

The next morning, there’s a frantic knock on her door. When she opens it, it’s Etta, who’s absolutely beside herself.

“I’m so sorry, Diana. I’m going to murder him!” she exclaims, hurriedly pacing the room. “I really thought he was better than that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Grant,” she hisses. “He just—left you there. Decided not to show. Freely admitted to it via text this morning! I’m going to skin him alive when I find him in person.”

“But Etta, I—” Her brow furrows, and suddenly a couple of things that didn’t quite make sense about the evening slot into place. “Etta, it’s okay. I had an enjoyable night anyways.”

“—the audacity,” Etta is saying.

“Etta,” Diana says more forcefully, catching her by the shoulders gently. “Don’t trouble yourself. It was hardly a wasted evening. Maybe no more blind dates, though, okay?”

“Right,” agrees Etta, deflating. “Of course not.”

The moment Etta finally leaves, Diana picks up her phone, stares at the text there (“This is Steve!” stares back, bafflingly unhelpful in revealing answers to the questions she has), and hits the call button before she can overthink it. Steve picks up after just two rings.

“Diana, hi!” He sounds pleased and a little surprised, but she mostly misses it in getting straight to the point.

“Your last name isn’t Grant.”

She can almost hear the wince through the line. “Er, no. It’s not.”

“You weren’t at Bistro Papillon for a blind date last night.”

A slight pause. “I was not.”

“Steve—”

“I didn’t realize, right away, what was going on,” says Steve, rushed now, something desperate in his tone. “And when I did—I was going to tell you, I swear. But then—I wanted to keep talking,” he admits quietly, almost defeated. “And I was afraid if I told you, you’d leave, which in hindsight is stupid, because it should have been your choice—”

“My would-be date stood me up.”

“Then they’re an idiot,” says Steve, without missing a beat.

Diana huffs a laugh. “I’m the idiot,” she says, “for just sitting down when you were in the middle of your meal and assuming you were my date like a crazy person, and ruining your evening—”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” And gods, he sounds so sure.

“But when I sat down—”

“You looked like an angelic vision,” he interrupts, voice still perfectly resolute, “and I knew that even if I didn’t know you, or why you were at my table, I wanted to get to know you.”

“And—”

“And then you were brilliant and witty, and we had the best dinner conversation I’ve had in a really, really long time.”

“I ranted about the fallacies of using a hegemonic, patriarchal lens to view Hellenistic terracottas and marbles for at least eight uninterrupted minutes,” refutes Diana, somewhat sheepishly.

“Yeah,” says Steve, and she thinks, somehow, that she can hear the amusement in his voice. “As I said, brilliant, and the most interesting conversation I’ve had in ages.”

Diana shakes her head, then realizes he can’t see that through the phone. “This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Yet here we are.”

He hasn’t hung up yet. Neither has she, for that matter.

(She finds that she doesn’t really want to.)

“So what is your last name, if you’re not the Grant with whom my friend was going to set me up?”

“Trevor,” he replies. “Steve Trevor.”

“Where does that leave us, Steve Trevor?”

“Well, what are you doing for lunch?” Steve asks, and she laughs; she can’t help it.

“I’ve got no plans, just yet.”

“I’d like to hear the whole story,” muses Steve. “Come on a date with me?”

“Yes,” says Diana automatically, before she can overthink it. Then, “This is absurd. The way we’ve started—”

“Will be an excellent story to tell, someday,” he counters.

And it is. Whenever someone asks them how they met, later, Steve inevitably grins, sharing a wink with Diana as he prepares his version of the tale. “Well,” he starts, every time, “it was the best blind date I didn’t realize I was on…”

***

#wondertrev #diana prince #steve trevor #lenci writes #lenci's tumblr ficlets #i started this fic this morning and am posting now because i have no self control #this was inspired by a fic i read in another fandom and i couldn't resist using the trope for wondertrev

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gerbiloftriumph · 3 years

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The Silence Between Snowflakes

(also on ao3) ~ 3/8 - The Stories That Really Matter

~*~*~

The storm was bigger than expected. Daventry woke to a fresh blanket of snow at least two feet high in places, and more still on the way. The guards grumbled and manned their shovels.

Rosella and Alexander sat in her room while the snow continued to fall, playing the new and improved Battle of Wits—when Valanice walked past, she could hear them laughing (laughing! Her boy, laughing!) and Alexander whimpering in pain as another arrow nicked his thumb. They were playing less to win as they were to hit each other, it sounded like.

Siblings.

After a hot lunch, Graham held his usual audience hours. He wasn’t sure if anyone would show up in this weather, but if anything major was impending he needed to know about it. Between the potential goblins and the endless snow, he was sure something would come up. Alexander quietly asked if he might try sitting in, too, to see what Graham did as a king. All those walks had done good, it seemed, sparking his curiosity. Graham was absolutely delighted, stocking the lad with blankets and hot drinks and making sure he had a good view in case people came.

And they did. Crusted with snow, peeling slushy gloves and scarves from their hands and faces, they came to make their reports. They were uneasy about the weather, primarily. It was too early in the season for this sort of thing, and Graham was quite sure it wasn’t going to ease up as the winter went on—his people felt the same.

“I just don’t know if we have enough wood stockpiled,” Amaya warned.

“Whisper is happy to collect more, but Whisper isn’t sure about being able to support the whole village,” Whisper added. “But Whisper has been emphasizing arm day, so Whisper can do it.”

Graham considered. They had some options: they should definitely cancel the annual huge marshmallow roast, that was easy enough. Perhaps they could also thin out some of the encroaching trees on Pillare Hill, if she would be amenable to that suggestion. She’d complained once about how gloomy her hill was starting to look, and clearing back some of the branches might brighten it again. He made a note to talk to her about it as soon as possible, told Whisper he wouldn’t need to do everything himself, and promised they could certainly keep warm for a good long while together no matter what.

The fear about the village roofs groaning under the snow was valid—one of the older houses on the edge of the wall had snapped under the pressure, timbers shedding snow inside the rooms. No one had been hurt, but Graham immediately dispatched a team of guards to clear the rest of the rooftops now, and invited the displaced villagers to stay in the castle.

Nervous questions about goblins were repeated again and again, and Graham listened patiently to each new worry. Concerns about consumables were constant. If they were stealing clothes, might they steal food next? What might happen if the flour ran low? If they dug their tunnels into the vegetable cellars? Graham ordered another fully updated inventory done of the castle’s holdings, and walked the villagers through the plans No1 had put together, careful to point out what each villager would find most relevant.

Bramble was especially apprehensive about the wedzels trying to break into town to escape the chill in the forests. She’d heard them howling in the forest in the night, thought she heard them prowling the streets outside her shop. Graham would have the gates reinforced and extra torches placed around the paths. He explained that they tended to scare away from blue-flamed light in particular; he had learned that in the knight tournament all those years ago. She smiled, satisfied with the response.

Hours whirled past like snowflakes. Graham stretched out the knots in his back between petitioners, glancing at Alexander to make sure he was comfortable. He was curled on the bench like a cat, watchful, with an unreadably blank expression as he absorbed everything his father did. Every word he spoke, every movement of his hand.

They were prepared. Daventry was capable of surviving even the bleakest winters, Graham knew. But it wouldn’t be easy, and the wary looks on his citizens’ faces told him they knew it wouldn’t be, either. And if the second half was worse than this first, then they would want to start getting ready now.

“What did you think?” Graham asked later, breaking open a heel of bread and dipping it in his soup. No standing on ceremony or manners on a frozen night when there was no one but his family around him. The fireplace crackled and snapped behind him, pouring blessed heat into the informal dining hall.

“Interesting,” Alexander said. “You’re...very patient.” The unspoken words: Unlike Manannan.

“I’ve got to be,” Graham said. “You’ll hear a lot of the same questions again and again, but you’ve got to give them all your full attention like they’re the first person to have brought it up. It helps them trust you, shows that you’ll listen, that you’ll care. I’m not sure every other kingdom works like that, but this one does.”

“Still,” Valanice said distractedly, swirling her spoon through her bowl, “this is the strangest winter I can remember. I wonder what the Hobblepots would have had to say about this—maybe it’s like this every hundred years?”

“They weren’t that old,” Graham protested. “Still. I’ll have a look through the history books. If there’s anything like this, it’ll be mentioned somewhere, I’m sure.” And maybe give me some clue about what might happen next.

“It’s good for snowmen,” Rosella said, mouth full of bread. “Packs together really well.”

“Hard to shovel,” No2 groaned, wincing, as he carried a pitcher of water around the table. “I’m going to feel that for a week.”

“Someone needs to make sure you stay in shape,” No1 said drily from his post near the door.

Graham smiled. “I asked Olfie about hiring him and Pillare to scoop out the main roads. That should free up the guards for patrols and other tasks.”

“I can’t imagine she was best pleased at that.” No2 gently put the pitcher back on the serving board.

“As compensation, she wants the castle to fund an order with Acorn for a new winter cap and matching gloves. She wants embroidery. Birds, is what I heard last. She keeps changing her mind. It’s going to take ‘til the end of winter to get it done, Acorn says.”

“Her hands are as big as he is!”

“It’s a good challenge, is what I told him,” Graham said. “He’s even looking forward to it, I think.”

Outside, the snow continued to drift.

~*~*~*~

“Alexander.”

He didn’t look at Rosella. His chin was in his hands, and he was staring out the window with a look of intense thoughtfulness, mulling over something. His lips were moving as he thought, but he made no sound.

“Alexaaaander.”

Still nothing.

Very quietly, not sure it would work or should even be said: “Gwydion?”

He instantly leapt to his feet and tumbled into a haphazard bow, all awkward limbs and nervous babble, “Yessir, sorry, sir, what can I do—oh. Um. Sorry, hi. Sorry.”

“Oh no, no, no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t think that you’d...I’m so sorry. But. Look, Alexander, are you okay? You’ve been sitting there for at least twenty minutes. I’ve walked past twice and tried to talk to you each time and you haven’t noticed.”

It had felt like just a minute or two. “Fine.”

“You’ve got this look on your face, though. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yes.”

She leaned against the bookcase. “What’s the question?”

“Sorry?”

“You always have some question about Daventry when you get that look. So, what is it? I bet I know the answer.”

He looked down at his hands. “I’m trying to figure out what this means,” he admitted, and he thumped his fist into his open palm. “The king...uh, Dad does it a lot. Especially before audience hours. I just...is it some spell, or something?” It didn’t feel magical, and he was quite sure he would be able to tell, but maybe he had missed something.

“Oh! No, no, that’s an Achaka salute.”

“A...a what? Ah—chaka?”

“You’ve been here for weeks and you haven’t heard that story yet? Dad’s slipping. Here, let me introduce you.” She went to the entrance hall, Alexander lagging behind her a few paces. “This,” she said, gesturing widely, “is Achaka.”

Alexander looked around, but the only person here was Royal Guard Number Two standing post by the door, and Alexander was quite sure his name was Matt. Not that he was supposed to call the royal guards by their real names. Rosella had told him everyone’s names but had also mentioned that No1 was pretty big on formal protocol, which made Alexander immediately want to forget them so he couldn’t make a mistake. Regardless. Not Achaka. He looked again, and then realized. “The statue?”

“Well, the real Achaka died ages ago. Waaay back when Dad first came to Daventry. They met, and Achaka helped him get through the Knight Tournament that Dad needed to win if he wanted a chance at being king. So, they were looking for an eye, ‘cos Number One said they had to have one for their entrance tickets, and Achaka hadn’t come back to turn his in, and there was this dragon, and...” she stopped, and looked at the statue. “This is a boring way to tell the story. Dad does it so much better.”

“Pardon me, Princess Rosella,” No2 said, leaning forward. “I think I know a better way to tell it.”

Ten minutes later, Rosella, Alexander, and No2 were tearing the sitting room apart, putting cushions here and there to represent different cave entrances, building up a little maze of small spaces, all the while explaining the backstory of what was going on to Alexander. Rosella handed him a decorative bowl and said, “This can be a glowing mushroom, so you can put that wherever you want.”

Royal Guard Number One said from the door, “What are you doing?” Alexander froze, almost dropping the bowl in his sudden nervousness.

“Oh! Number One!” Rosella clapped her hands. “Excellent! Will you help us?”

No1 stared at the mountain of pillows they’d stacked precariously by the window. It was teetering madly, and looked like breathing on it wrong would knock the whole thing over. “Help?”

No2 got to his feet. He’d been tying curtain pulls together to make one long cord. “We need you to be Achaka,” he said.

“...I’m sorry, I must repeat myself. What are you doing?”

“Reenacting the dragon attack for Prince Alexander. We wanted to explain what an Achaka salute was, and this is a better way of doing it, we thought. More...emotional.” No2 surveyed the pillow pile, and then began climbing.

“Indeed. And you want me to play...”

No2 swayed to keep his balance while tying the rope he’d made to the top of the window frame. “Achaka, yeah. You don’t have to say anything, or really do much. Except maybe you can say ‘Achaka’ if you really want to get into it. Otherwise, you can just stand there looking stern. Pretend to shoot an arrow. That’s probably about it for the most part.”

“Right. And who are you playing in this...?”

“Young Graham, of course.” No2 slid down the pillow mountain. “For my bubbly and likeable personality and terrific bouts of energy.”

“I’m the dragon,” Rosella interjected.

“Of course you are,” No1 said.

“Raaar.” She made a face and held her fingers up like claws, then broke down giggling, enjoying herself tremendously.

No2 clasped his gauntlets together and made a pleading sort of noise. “Please, Number One, it’s for the young prince’s sake. We wouldn’t ask you otherwise.”

“Yes, Number Two, you would. And have. And I refused last time, too.”

“Yeah, but this time it’s for a good cause.”

“The radish eating contest opening ceremony was ‘for a good cause,’ too,” he said, sharply.

“It was, though.”

“Please, Number One,” Rosella added, putting on her brightest diplomatic smile.

Alexander fidgeted with the bowl behind them, watching. There was no way. He’d seen how No1 acted around the other guards. Seen how stiff and stern he was, how dry and sarcastic and...

About ten minutes later, King Graham walked past the room. He froze mid step, then walked backward past the door again, staring at the bizarre tableau in the sitting room. No1 was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, looking like he was regretting every single decision he’d ever made in his life, while Rosella clung to his leg, pretending to bite it. No2 was running across the room holding onto a curtain rope as though he was swinging on it, and Alexander was supervising the whole thing from a pile of cushions in the corner, an audience of one.

“What are you doing?”

“Ah, Your Majesty. This...” No1 glanced at the disarray, at the princess clawing at his boot, and said, dry as bone in an unquestionable tone, “Training. We’re trying out a new form of training.”

“Rosella, is that your mother’s green eye makeup all over your cheeks?”

“No, of course not. It’s the lighting in here, it’s very dim,” Rosella said, from around No1’s leg. The room was perfectly lit with that bright, cold, sunshine-on-snow white light, what with the curtains held open with cushions. The curtain ties were all clutched in No2’s hands, a single long cord that looked like a vine in his hands. Or an escape rope.

Graham took a second look, and then dawning realization crossed his face. He grinned. “So, I’m going to guess Number Two is me?”

“Got it in one, Sire,” No2 said cheerfully. “On account of my bubbly and likeable personality and terrific bouts of energy.” (No1 couldn’t quite stop his exasperated sigh.)

“Naturally. I wouldn’t expect anyone else.” Graham looked at Alexander. “Does this...performance make any sense?”

“Um.”

“I think you need a narrator to actually explain what you’re doing to your audience,” Graham said to the three actors. “Shall we take it from the top?” He smiled. “Let me tell you a story. A story about what it means to be brave even when you don’t think you can be, even when you’re facing the biggest threat imaginable. Ready?”

~*~*~*~

A castle couldn’t be stuffy. It was huge, with spiraling passages and enormous rooms and high ceilings. It was full of the hustle and bustle of people, but it was easy enough to find quiet little corners and stay away from everyone.

But Alexander still felt hemmed in. As the weeks turned to months, as the calendar spun deeper into winter, it started feeling even more claustrophobic, somehow. Surrounded by choking tapestries and detailed paintings of people he didn’t know and endless rows of doors lining labyrinthian hallways. The walks with the king helped him feel less trapped, but he started slipping out by himself whenever he could. It was weird to have the freedom to go wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. No one ever stopped him or demanded to know what he was doing. No one ever watched him.

Except...someone was watching him now. He felt the familiar prickle on the back of his neck, a sense he’d refined over the years living with...that wizard. He pushed down the forest path a little faster, trying to act uncaring like he figured a prince probably should be. Most of the trails were too snowed under to walk, but someone had been keeping this one fairly clear—he realized he was about to find out who.

“Your form is all wrong,” a voice called out.

Alexander skidded to a stop, slipping in the snow. “I’m...sorry?”

“You’ll never manage to get to a decently paced jog with that sort of biscuit placement. You’ll trip over your toes. You must build up to the more intensive leg days, but if you haven’t got a good form, you’re defeating yourself.”

It was a booming, boisterous, braggy sort of voice. Alexander nervously stepped back a pace. “Have we met?”

“Surely you haven’t forgotten Whisper!” The voice was offended now.

“Oh. Oh!” Usually, Alexander had the shield of the king or his sister to hide behind when one of the Daventry citizens approached. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now, by himself, without their cues. “Sorry. Whisper. Of course.” He clamped his mouth shut again, afraid he was going to do something wrong.

The knight was leaning against a directional signpost. “This is Whisper’s jogging trail,” the knight said, thumbing at the well-trodden path. He had earmuffs on over his helmet, which seemed entirely to defeat the purpose of earmuffs. “Whisper is more than happy to share the traffic, but only if the traffic stays in the correct lane. You aren’t ready for the fast track yet, Prince Alexander. Not with that mediocre run.”

“Oh, please, not...not Prince. I’m just…just Alexander. And I wasn’t actually running,” Alexander said warily. “I was only walking. I can, um. Walk somewhere else, though. Good...good day?” He tried a nervous little half bow and started to creep down the path.

“Aaah, wait, wait, wait!” Whisper said, standing in Alexander’s way. “Come now, if you have forgotten Whisper, then that simply isn’t good! We have yet to exchange tales of bravery, because had you heard such a tale then you could not have forgotten me!”

“I don’t have any tales of bravery, though,” Alexander said, sidestepping into the snow. “It’s, uh, good to see you again, Whisper. I’ll just...”

“But your tale is the bravest of them all,” Whisper said, and now he seemed confused. “Isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Grand escapes, magic, dragons—”

“—there wasn’t actually a dragon. I don’t know why everyone keeps thinking there was a dragon.”

“Oh. But. Dragons add such a spice to a story. Perhaps we should add one.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I can help you pen your tale, if needed,” Whisper offered. “Whisper is good at adding outlandish details that grab your audience’s attention and whirl them through the tale!” He leapt from place to place as he spoke, making elaborate hand gestures, and then added, much more quietly, “Even if the tale isn’t strictly true.”

“I’d really rather not,” Alexander repeated. “Thank you, but another time.”

“Whisper shall be here! Whisper is always here! Unless Whisper is with Amaya, and then Whisper is in town. With Amaya. You understand, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Have you met the beautiful lady Amaya?” Whisper asked, fully distracted and starting up the conversation again as though they hadn’t just been moving through the niceties of farewell. “She is most delicate. The sweetest flower, the fluffiest cloud, the tallest peak, to be adored. The finest, most talented, most clever lady in all the lands! Her stories shall be trumpeted from the mountaintops! By yours truly, of course,” he added, pointing to himself so hard that his thumb bounced off his chest plate with a metallic ringing sound.

“Delicate,” Alexander repeated, wondering if he was thinking of someone else. Maybe there were two Amayas in town. The one he had briefly met could hammer together an iron gate without breaking a sweat. But maybe there were different types of delicate?

“I shall expect you to carry on her tale as well,” Whisper said earnestly. “A tale must be retold by many to become a legend, and once it is a legend, then it creates immortals, and my dear Amaya shall indeed be an immortal legend! Like me. But first you must hear the stories, since you have not lived them with us. And then we shall work on your own tale.”

Expectations. Stories. Things he didn’t know.

He thought about the story the king had told about Achaka. What that story had meant. Daventry, as far as Alexander could tell, thrived on the power of tales, perhaps in part because of its leader and his delight with words. But Alexander didn’t know any of the stories himself, and he didn’t want to tell the one that he had survived.

The problem was that everyone knew each other so well already. He felt like an intruder crashing in on a story in the third act, an audience member trying to fill in the gaps of a play after they’d missed most of it.

No one had said anything to him about it yet, but he had felt a weight of expectation settling on his shoulders the moment he’d woken up in that sickbed with his family hovering over him. His family that, incidentally, happened to be royalty. He was heir to a throne he hadn’t even known about until a few months ago. Daventry had been a name written on a map in the wizard’s office with throwing darts embedded in it, and that was about it.

Until now.

Now, he could sense the confidence from its people that he would learn the stories and tend to it, like King Graham did now. That Alexander would continue his father’s legacy. His story.

He had gone outside of the castle to get away from the sense of being tied down, from the tapestries and the paintings and the weight of hundreds of years of leadership. All the stories, endless and complicated and wrapped together and important to its people.

But the expectation of stories had followed him out here, too. Whisper was certain Alexander would listen and understand. The knight was watching him with a puppy’s eagerness, excited to explain why he loved the blacksmith so much, another story to Daventry’s history, another tale that Alexander should already know. That he would have known, if he hadn’t been in Llewdor, been a different person.

There was guilt, and frustration, and a desire to know, all shoved into a box in his mind that he dared not open.

Alexander could probably understand these people and their needs, but Gwydion definitely couldn’t. He didn’t know any good tales. He wasn’t good at playing games. He wasn’t even coordinated, apparently, as Whisper had pointed out. And he was terrified everyone was going to find out that he wasn’t a prince, wasn’t even “just” Alexander, that he was still Gwydion.

After hearing Graham’s story about Achaka, Alexander had gone to the tallest tower he could find in the castle. Standing there, alone, looking out at the snow-covered country, thinking of the expectations that were starting to press on his shoulders, he had tried out the salute. It hadn’t felt like anything at all. It had felt pointless. Graham had said it was supposed to help center you and help you find courage, but he still felt lost and afraid.

If he’d been Prince Alexander, someone who belonged there, maybe things would be different. But Gwydion didn’t deserve the salute. Didn’t deserve to be in Daventry.

Still.

Whisper wanted to tell him a story right now. And enough stories, enough knowledge, could change things. He had taught himself magic and escaped the wizard’s manor. Maybe more stories about Daventry would help him escape Gwydion. And, cautiously, he nodded. He let Whisper tell him another story, and he listened, and he learned.

~*~*~*~

Gwendolyn lifted her head. “Grandpa? Did Dad really say all that?”

Graham smiled. “Later, he did mention some conversation with Whisper, and the general gist of it. I confess, I wasn’t there. Storyteller’s discretion, you know.” He sipped a glass of water and waited for her to continue. She had a look on her face that said she was possibly finally ready to explain what had been bothering her earlier.

“It’s just.” She had been sitting on the bed, holding the canopy’s bedpost and running her fingers along the carvings as she listened, but now she slipped down, wandering toward the fireplace. “It’s just. That’s. Kinda what Gart said to me.”

“What did he say?”

“That I don’t belong here.” She sank into the rocking chair and started kicking herself back and forth, back and forth, while Graham blinked, at a complete loss for words for the first time that night. “He said...that I shouldn’t be too comfortable, that I’d be going back to the Green Isles with Dad again soon. I don’t think he meant to be mean about it. I think. I don’t know what I think. I don’t think he likes me in Daventry very much.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Graham said, after a pause. There was anger in his voice, a sharpness that felt too cold for the storytime bedroom.

“Please, don’t!” Gwendolyn said, looking up quickly. “I don’t want him to know that I took it wrong. It was probably just nothing. Just talking.”

Just shouting, if I remember correctly, Graham thought.

“I do belong in the Green Isles, though, he’s right.” She drew her legs up onto the chair, squeezing herself into a little ball, and dropped her head onto her knees again, staring at the floor.

“You belong wherever you want to be, my dear,” Graham said, gently. He cursed his weak knees and broken arm and inability to rise and go to her, like he would have gone to her father. “It can be here, there, or anywhere. We Crackers are pretty good at figuring out who we are and going where we’re needed.”

She hesitated. Then, clearly wanting to go back to the story and stop talking about personal things, she said, “So...what happened after that?”

Graham distractedly pushed away thoughts of his grandson and spread his arms (arm, singular, the other being broken) wide, and said, “The snow kept on falling.” And the story continued.

~*~*~*~

“I don’t understand this,” Valanice sighed, standing by the bedroom window and rubbing her arms through her night robe.

As the days faded and weeks stretched, the blanket of snow grew yet deeper. The trolls were making good on their promise to keep the main roads clear, but it was like walking through gray tunnels to get anywhere. Graham felt like his castle tower was an island above puffy clouds. This reminded him of the tower he’d been trapped in with Valanice and...well, Valanice, the two princesses who shared the same name. The day the tower had walked through a cloud and soaked them all had been quite an experience, leaving all three spluttering and shivering and laughing. He missed the warmth of those spring days.

“Maybe the villagers should all come here,” he said, wrapping his arm around her and squeezing her close in front of him, his chin resting on her shoulder as he studied the white expanse. The clouds had broken and the sun was peeking over the horizon, making the whole thing blindingly glittery. But rather than feel cheered by it, Graham felt apprehension in his stomach. The clouds would roll in again, as they had for days. This wouldn’t even begin to melt before another layer would come down. “I don’t want anyone to get snowed in to the point where they can’t take care of themselves.”

“I’m not sure they’ll agree to that,” Valanice said. “That feels like giving up.”

“It’s weather. There’s nothing to fight, and the only puzzle is how we shore up our own supplies,” Graham pointed out. He reached toward the window panes with his free hand, feeling the icy chill against his skin.

“They won’t feel that way, and you know it.”

“Soon, though, I might have to make that decision for them.”

“At least the goblins can’t strike in this,” she said, sighing. “Their escape tunnels are probably all plugged up with snow.”

“Small blessings,” Graham said, and kissed her cheek.

It had been cold (of course it had been, it was winter), but Graham's breath caught as soon as he stepped outside. The chill was so much more than expected, a bone deep ache. Despite the weak sunlight, the cold sank into his chest and made him want to cough. His breath appeared as dragon-smoke, white bellows preceding his every step. He tugged a scarf over his nose, which helped a little bit, and went to find No1.

More than the cold, more than the daily snow: the silence unnerved him most. Graham felt the stillness like a blanket around his ears. The recent threat of goblins had roused up old nightmares, and the silence of his beloved kingdom, normally so crowded with birdsong, squirrel chatter, music, life, even in winter—it reminded him of his goblin cell. Of the shadows and the stillness. Of the fear that laced his every echoing step. Of impossibilities and distress.

Valanice was right: so far, the only good result from this weather was a lack of goblins. There hadn’t been any signs of attack since the missing winter clothes and ice picks. Which meant that Graham hadn’t needed to travel down those tunnels to see the goblin king. At least, not yet. Should another instance happen, Graham knew he would have to set that appointment, and the very idea made his throat threaten to close. But he would do it, if he needed to.

Stars, I hope I don’t need to.

“Report, Number One?” Graham said, once he’d found the guard huddled over a cup of tea near the drawbridge. His mittened hands clutched the mug like someone was trying to take it from him, and he was curled over it to hold in every trace of warmth. His earmuffs were slipping.

“Not much to report, Sire. Just snow. Incredibly unexpected and surprising, I’m sure.” No1 sighed, his breath mingling with the steam of his tea and creating a white cloud that instantly froze in his mustache. “I rather think—” He cut himself off and saluted stiffly, “Sir, apologies, the cold makes me forget myself. I was thinking aloud.”

“Feels like?” Graham pressed. No1’s intuition was always sharp and frequently accurate.

“It’s nonsense, hardly worth the effort of saying it. And yet. It feels like something’s coming, Your Majesty. There’s a center to this storm, and it’s getting closer. Which is ridiculous, and I’ll thank you for not repeating it. The sort of fanciful thinking one of the younger staff might have. Who ever heard of menacing weather?”

“Stranger things have probably happened,” Graham said. “I wonder...”

“It’s colder today than it was yesterday. And there’s more snow than there was the day before. Keeping this only between us, Sire, it’s keeping me awake at night wondering if maybe I’m right.”

“You know, I really, really hope you aren’t,” Graham said, and the two men stared out across the snow hiding everything as far as the eye could see.

#i confess i can't decide: should ch4 go up thursday in place of a standard illustrated gerbil or should it wait until monday #should we just get all ye fic out quickly or alternate posts? any preferences out there?#kings quest #King's Quest #King Graham #rosella (king's quest)#alexander (king's quest)#neese #vee #this post is protected by the royal guards #fic'ing #ch4 #whisper (king's quest)

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yixxes · 4 years

Text

Fast Car | p.p.

Warnings: Hints of alcohol abuse, promiscuity, broken household, angst kinda, swear words

Word count: 1752

Summary: You want to escape and Tom has a fast car, but things don’t always go according to plan.

“Leaving?”

You were never one to disrespect your mother or speak out of turn, but you were more than willing to fight her on this one. She was rushing down the hall as fast as she could in those loud, expensive red heels with you hot on her trail.

“What do you mean you’re leaving, where are you gonna go?”

The two of you stopped at the front door while she grabbed up her scarf and her coat. The look on her face threatened to break you down right then and there. She didn’t even look sad or remorseful, she just looked like she really waned to dart out the front door but was approaching her departure slowly as if delayed action would spare your feelings or make any of this hurt any less.

You racked your brain in a hurry, trying your best to figure out what the right thing to say was, but deep down, you already knew that your fight was lost. She hadn’t shown any signs of being interested in the small family that she had in months. She didn’t love your father anymore and she made that clear in the way that she fooled around with other men and didn’t even try to hide it, and you, she only paid attention to on the days where you’d talk her ear off until she felt she had no choice but to respond. Talking to her these days was the equivalence of talking to a bizarre friendly stranger.

“Oh, sweetheart,” her voice was eerily sweet as if explaining to you that she was walking out on you and your father was no big deal. “I know this is so out of the blue, but.. sometimes in life, you have to choose your own happiness, you have to put yourself first and decide not to worry about the people that try to hold you back.”

Ouch. You didn’t know if that number was directed towards you or your father. Or both.

“I don’t know where I’m going just yet, but I’ll call when I get there. I’m not gonna stop checking in on you, it’ll almost be like I never left.”

You shook your head, shoulders slumped and tears already welling up in your eyes. Maybe if you visibly showed her how much she was hurting you, she’d stay. Something inside of her would click and she’d apologize for being an unfaithful wife and an absent mother and she’d work really hard to make things right.

“Please don’t leave.”

Except this was reality and your mom didn’t care about anyone other than herself. She wasn’t sorry for anything and you couldn’t prompt feelings out of someone that didn’t have them.

Your mother smiled something that almost resembled regret. “I love you, sweetheart.” Almost.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it, okay?”

Not talking about the thing that weighed heavily on your mind only to have someone bring it up or ask if you were okay was actually the worst thing. Tom had good intentions, you knew, but this was your second time telling him to leave you be and he just wasn’t accepting that as an answer, but hey, that was the Tom Holland way.

Thomas Holland, your best friend since childhood. He knew you like the back of his hand and while things were damaged beyond repair at the moment on the home front, he always made your life so much better.

The two of you came from opposite sides of the tracks, but he never seemed to let the wealth of his family ruin his personality in the slightest. He stayed true to himself like a pro and really seemed rather put off by his lifestyle. You never understood it, but you never questioned him either. Much like your household, there were probably things about his that you just didn’t understand.

You did know, though, that something must’ve been really bad for him to climb aboard your wild fantasies of running away. When he started telling you that he would go with you, whenever and wherever you decided to go, the fantasies converted into real plans. You didn’t understand his desire to leave what he had and you didn’t think you ever would.

Tom picked you up for work in the morning in his brand new car; A gift from his parents for no particular occasion at all. If you understood correctly, he’d spent two short weeks in his parents’ ear about it and they bought it for him just yesterday. He was now the proud owner of the 1974 Pontiac Firebird, Buccaneer Red and it ran like a top.

You didn’t have time to express your excitement before he got to badgering you about what was wrong. He knew right when he saw you that something wasn’t right (you had spent the rest of the night crying and looking after your father after all) and he wanted to help but you didn’t want his help. There wasn’t anything that he could do.

“Okay, fine,” was what he said, but you knew that you’d be shrugging him off about it again later.

Tom moved the conversation on to talking about running away, casual yet relevant seeing that it’d be a lot easier to get away in a car rather than on foot. With all that had happened last night, running away was far down on the list of things that were on your mind and it’d more than likely stay that way for a long time. Your mom didn’t just leave you last night, she also left your father who hadn’t stopped acting like a blubbering, depressed drunk since your mom’s behavior began to change earlier in the year. He had a problem and while it wasn’t directly resulting in anything physical or abusive, you couldn’t just leave him alone. He needed to get help and you seriously doubted that he’d be doing that alone.

“What do you mean?” You were sitting in the car with him in front of the diner, watching him progressively get more frustrated at how aloof and disconnected you seemed about the entire thing. You weren’t giving him the responses he wanted and you weren’t even presenting a valid reason as to why not. “It’s a great time, I’ve got the car, I’ll get us some cash, we can-”

“Jesus, Tom, no, okay? Why can’t you just take no for an answer for once?”

There was so much room to be way nicer but the family crisis plus your two whole hours of sleep that you got did not equal patience and smiles. A sharp, annoyed breath passed your lips and you grabbed your bag, opening the passenger side door and sliding out quickly.

“Thanks for the ride.” You grumbled, pushing the door closed and turning to start towards the front door of the diner.

You heard him say ‘no’ behind you followed by the sound of his door closing and you whirled around, willing yourself to think over your next few words carefully. You could be really hostile under these circumstances.

“This doesn’t make any sense, getting out of this town is all that you ever talk about and now I find a way to make it happen and you completely turn me down!”

“Tom, get back in the stupid car and go, I could not be more serious.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s cool, I thought you’d be happy for me!” Your words hurt him, but you were too far gone thinking about everything else to take it back.

“I am happy for you but I don’t need this right now, okay, I just wanna be alone!”

“Tell me what we’re missing, what are you so worried about, it’ll all work out if you let me-”

“No, Tom!” You practically shrieked. “It won’t work out, the stupid plan doesn’t need to work out, why do you even wanna leave!? Your life is something that other people could only dream of, you have everything, there isn’t anything wrong with your life, you’re just a poor little rich boy who wants to know struggle so bad that he creates fake problems that’ll validate some stupid runaway plan!”

There they were. The most hurtful words you’d ever say to your very best friend, painfully present and hanging in the air. The look on his face told you that it was much too late to take it back. The damage had already been done. Tom got back in his car and peeled off.

“Hi, Mrs. Holland, um, is Tom here, I- I really have to talk to him,” Your body was almost as tired as your mind was, your feet were hurting and all you wanted was to go home and crawl into bed but you couldn’t sleep tonight knowing that he was probably so angry with you and probably hurting because of you, too. You had to make things right, or you had to at least try.

“Oh, honey, right now isn’t a good time, he’s gone to bed early tonight, he’s still very upset.”

Your head fell in shame and you brought your hands together in front of you. “Yeah, I know, I’m..” you picked your head up to look her in the eyes. “It’s all my fault, but I was really hoping that I could-”

“Your fault?” She questioned with confusion evident in her voice. “Oh, no, honey, why would it be your fault? He’s been digging his heels in ever since we told him he’d be going to boarding school next year, says he doesn’t wanna go, but we really think that-”

“Boarding school?” you repeated warily. There was a lot going on in your life that was making your thoughts fuzzy but you definitely didn’t remember him saying anything to you about boarding school.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Her tone was patient yet cautious.

You shook your head numbly, hoping with everything in you that this boarding school was somewhere nearby.

“Sweetheart, Thomas was accepted to Western Reserve Academy.”

Your head was spinning so much thought you were going to fall out right there on their porch. “Western Reserve...” An involuntary gasp cut your sentence in two and you could feel your blood running cold. “Wh-where is Western Reserve Academy?”

She looked at you with sad eyes and you knew that her answer was gonna hit you like a ton of bricks. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what she was about to say.

“It’s in Ohio, up north in the US.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #mcu imagine #mcu #avengers imagine #avengers

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princeescaluswords · 4 years

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Evil Deaton Rant #35

Sometimes, I subconsciously bristle when I see emotional reactions of oppressed minorities to white supremacy on this site. In the end, I keep my mouth shut because while I don’t agree with all the policies they want, I recognize the validity of their experiences. Arguing with them is the least productive thing I can do.

Especially when I can see that white supremacy infiltrates and corrupts even the most innocuous and trivial things, including -- and it seems, especially -- fandom. Since I’ve chosen to focus my experience on this site on a particular fandom, I’m going to keep talking about it. Here’s today’s experience: a blatant and disgusting white power fantasy in fanfiction.

There’s a story that got past my filters, labeled with ‘fix-it’ and promising to heal what is broken with Teen Wolf. It promised to correct what Jeff Davis screwed up. And the way to do that seems to be a White Power Fantasy. I won’t provide a direct link in this post, but I’ll provide it to anyone who wants to contact me privately.

The first thing you have to realize when reading this story is that Deaton is Evil, because of course he is. He’s jealous of Stiles’s power, criminally negligent, and he was an accomplice to Kate and Gerard when burning down the Hale House. Why did he do this? Because cutting down the tree would hurt Talia enough so that she couldn’t protect his family. You mean his motivation? Oh, well apparently he wanted magical power for himself. Though eight years later -- the story picks up after Strange Frequencies (5x07) -- he still hasn’t gained any magical power. It seems an ill-thought out plan.

So, having murdered the Hales out of animosity and intending to stifle Stiles’s superlative magical abilities -- as you do -- he decided to run an animal clinic for most of a decade. He didn’t bother to eliminate Peter in the hospital ward when he was helpless and in a coma for six years, he didn’t silence Derek when he had him at his mercy in Fury (2x10). Why he risked his life to save Derek in Season 4 or Stiles in Season 3 is ... well ... not explained. He waited around to be discovered by the Druid’s Council (which is going to punish him for being cryptic and not doing enough) or by the Other Hale Branches. (We’ll get to the Hales Are the Most Powerful Thing Ever in a bit, just remember that the Hale control of the Nemeton is important to the world.)

He’s the most incompetent yet successful villain in history -- he knew that Stiles’s power would manifest but didn’t follow the correct rules and let other people know. Stiles wouldn’t even know about his power if Deaton hadn’t told him in canon, but he must have had a reason for revealing it to him so he could stop it, however that works. His complicity with the Argents could be sniffed out in days by a super Hale, yet he didn’t have any plans to counter it. He was just a Sinister Black Man, who hated his benevolent white overlords, and desires their power, but he can’t actually take it ‘cause he’s bad.

Now, of course, there could be his side of the story, if he ever got to tell his side, but no, the Powerful Hale Alpha from White Europe is able to figure everything out without any investigation or interrogation. Deaton says two words in 35k of story. They Just Know That The Black Man is Evil.

And if you are wondering whether this animus extends to other black characters, it doesn’t! You see, Braeden doesn’t exist. Mason doesn’t exist. They’re not important. Boyd is only mentioned as a source of Derek’s manpain. Isaac and Jackson and any number of Pearly White OCs do matter, because they all love and support Derek and Stiles and the Hale Supremacy.

But don’t worry, it’s not just black people who are evil. It’s Asians, too. Noshiko is only referred to as “Kira’s Mother” and she is scolded for not training her daughter and getting her act together -- even though you might think that as a 900 year kitsune she perhaps might have more experience in kitsune, no, it’s Stiles and the Hale UberAlpha who know better how to take care of Kira. Not that we get Kira or Noshiko’s point of view as they never even show up on the page, they’re dispatched off screen so as to not get in the way of the white people.

You know what’s really interesting? Even with -- as a dying Theo confesses after trying to take on the All-Powerful Hale Pack by himself -- “the Hale Territory is the ultimate power,” except we’re not sure why that is or why they haven’t driven Satomi Ito and her pack away, but she’s Asian so who cares?

And Scott, well Scott is a stupid, lazy, short-tempered, ignorant Latino who doesn’t know his place. He should have only listened to Stiles, and not Theo or that Super Mysterious Evil Black Man. Malia leaves (she’s not a Hale, of course, because she defiled Stiles’s pure virginal flesh and that’s for Derek) and Kira is sent packing, and Scott is a fool for caring for them instead of focusing on Stiles the Great. He doesn’t train his betas (unless you count the physical training of lacrosse, which doesn’t seem to occur to the author ‘cause it’s not a Hale thing) and the Hale family are all happy and well-adjusted and Isaac and Jackson love each other and love Derek and love Stiles. I mean, the first thing that Jackson says to Stiles is how handsome he is. The first thing Isaac says to Scott is to scold him for not holding regular training sessions. No explanation is given as to why neither Isaac nor Jackson informed the Hale Super Wolves about what was going on in Beacon Hills -- but it’s Deaton who is evil.

You get the point. You see, the Hales are the most powerful werewolf pack in the world, and they are unstoppable -- even though it took eight years for them to figure out that the North American Hale Pack was destroyed. They’re also capitalists, controlling industries all over the world. Dalia Hale -- Talia’s cousin, get it? -- is going to fix everything, though no one bothers to ask her why Derek didn’t call her in 2011 or 2012. There’s no mention of the Dead Pool and Scott being worth $25 million dollars, which might draw the attention of the Hale Corporation. Only Deaton is the culprit here for not doing what a good house servant should.

And this story is super popular. Really, really popular. Scott and those ignorant teenagers are going to get taught by this woman who walks in and takes command even though she’s never been in Beacon Hills for any of the other shit, because well, you know Rich and White.

I seethed at this story, and I can’t imagine what it is like to be a minority fan of this show and see everyone who looks like me treated like garbage, but Stiles is, to quote the story “like Gandalf” and Jackson is wonderful and Derek is a poor sad woobie, and that’s WHAT THIS PERSON SEES AS FIXING TEEN WOLF. Latinos are stupid and unworthy; Asians (and I’m using the generic word on purpose) belong elsewhere; and Black People? Well, evil. Evil. Evil. Evil. Or Dead. Or gone.

Which is why sometimes I know I need to keep my mouth shut.

#teen wolf racism #white supremacy #teen wolf fanfiction #scott mccall defense squad #power fantasy

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nonbinarylowkey · 4 years

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Who’s the Fool

Summary: It's Loki's first April Fool's Day. You might end up regretting introducing him to the holiday.

Word Count: 2135

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Rating: G

So this is like two weeks late, but I wrote it so I wanted to post it. It’s also completely unedited because it’s midnight and I just want it to be done. So hopefully it’s good. Please read and give me validation.

Also posted on Ao3.

“Have you ever heard of April Fool’s day?”

“Fools have their own day on this planet?” Loki lowers his book just long enough to give you a look of disgust before reburying his nose in it with a scoff. “You Midgardians live such short lives and you choose to spend part of them celebrating fools. I will never understand humans.”

“It’s not a day celebrating fools, Loki. It’s a day dedicated to playing tricks on people. Turning them into fools,” You slouch in your seat so you can stretch your legs and playfully kick him, but you barely manage to do anything more than brush your toes against him. He grins and helpfully lifts one of his legs so that it’s within your foot’s reach. But when you go to kick him again, he moves his leg away faster than you can keep up with so you end up falling ass first onto the floor.

“Well now, that does sound interesting. Tell me more,” he says, laughing at you.

"Just for that, I don't think I will," you stick your tongue out at him, uncaring of how childish you might look. It's not exactly like he's the perfect mature adult either, after all.

"I'd rethink that attitude of yours, little mortal. I am the God of Mischief, after all. I may decide to use this little holiday as an excuse to make a fool of you ."

"Don't you 'little mortal' me, mister. You might live for thousands of years, but I know you're not actually immortal," you cross your arms over your chest with a huff. "Besides, you love me too much to prank me…. too much, at least."

You start to grin because who could argue with your obviously flawless logic until a shock hits your side, startling your smugness away. The shock wasn't painful, exactly, but it certainly wasn't pleasant.

"Alright, little human ," Loki says, voice low and dangerous. He leans forward in his seat, book forgotten about for now. "If you wish to challenge me, I have no choice but to accept."

"Actually, you could choose not to accept. I'm not forcing you to do anything," you suddenly feel a little nervous, what with his grin suddenly seeming a whole lot sharper and more dangerous.

"Where would the fun in that be?"

"Tell me about the Midgardian holiday April Fool's," Loki demands of Thor about an hour after his conversation with you.

Thor's shoulders slump. The conversation has barely begun and he's already exhausted by it. He contemplates lying and saying he doesn't know anything about it. After all, what would Thor know of Midgardian holidays? He's Asgardian; he doesn't pay attention to Midgardian holidays!

Except Thor has never been a very good liar, least of all when he's lying to Loki. He puts the barbell he'd been using back in its place. Better to be prepared for this conversation to take a turn for the stabby than to trust Loki to behave when talking about something like April Fool's.

"What do you know of it already?" Thor asks. A question should be safe, he thinks. No lying or giving out information that could potentially be disastrous in Loki's hands.

"That it is a holiday meant for tricks and making people into fools," Loki says. "Not a typical Midgardian holiday."

"If you already know that, why come to me?" Thor swipes a towel across his forehead to catch the sweat before it lands in his eyes. "It is not a holiday based on a religious or spiritual belief system, so far as I can tell. It is simply a holiday Midgardians came up with to amuse themselves."

"I see. And what are the parameters for tricks played during this holiday?"

"No killing," Thor says, perhaps a little more forcefully than strictly necessary. Then, as an afterthought, "No physically harming anyone, either."

Loki raises an eyebrow and scoffs.

"I'm well versed in all sorts of mischief, Thor, not just the kind that involves a blade."

With that, he turns and leaves. He has some scheming to do.

You have glitter in your hair, paint under your nails, and pot gummies in your backpack when Thor yells your name.

You slam the cover back on the coffee container in front of you. When you turn around, you can only hope your body manages to hide the glass jar filled with coffee grounds behind you.

“Have you seen Loki today?” Thor asks you, thankfully not giving any sort of hint that he thought something was off with you. In fact, he barely looked like he was giving you any attention at all beyond what he needed to give to ask his question.

“Uh, no, not since I woke up. Why? Did he do something?”

Truthfully, the lack of Loki sightings had been worrying you. It’s April Fool's day and you’d hoped you two could team up for some pranks on the other Avengers, but after you’d messed up and kinda sorta challenged him the other day, it seems you’re having to watch your back for his tricks instead.

“I’m worried he’s up to something nefarious. I ran into the Spider Boy, Peter earlier. He said he caught Loki tampering with his suit, but couldn’t find anything wrong with it.” Thor runs a hand through his beard. He looks around the room, like Loki might’ve materialized nearby in the half a minute he’d been standing there.

Knowing Loki, it wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibilities. The room is still Loki-less. Which is a shame because you’ve got some real questions hearing that Loki was apparently tampering with Peter’s suit and everything looked fine .

“Did he test everything out? It all looked good?” You ask, casually. You lean casually against the counter, too.

“Yes, he tested it in front of me. Everything was fine.”

“Even his web shooters? Nothing weird came out of them? Nothing that definitely didn’t come out of it before?”

Thor squints his eyes at you. It isn’t quite a glare; more like he’s trying to see through you. You squirm, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“No, why?”

“No reason. It’s just, if I were Loki and I were going to play a prank involving Peter’s suit I’d probably replace the synthetic webbing with something else. Y’know, if I were hypothetically doing this.”

“Right…” Thor definitely looks suspicious. He stares at you a moment longer. “If you see Loki, tell him I’m looking for him.”

You give him a two fingered salute.

“Will do.”

You turn back to the counter once Thor is out of sight and shove the glass jar into your backpack after a quick sweep to make sure you hadn’t spilled any coffee grounds when you switched them out.

“Have you seen your boyfriend lately?”

You turn to face Same, mentally preparing yourself to have the same conversation you’d just had with Thor.

You are not quite prepared to see Sam holding his wings. His perfectly normal, unpainted wings.

“Uh, something wrong?” You ask.

“Not sure yet,” He says. “But I saw him messing with my wings earlier and he disappeared before I could confront him. Everything seems normal, but…”

Sam doesn’t finish the sentence, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s saying.

“Did you actually see him doing something to them? Or was he just, like, standing around near them?”

You take a step towards Sam to get a closer look at his gear. Everything does look normal.

No paint or tissue paper in sight.

Nothing to make it look like butterfly wings at all.

“He had a towel. Looked like he might’ve been rubbing something off. Or on knowing that guy.”

“What in the world is he up to?” You ask, mostly to yourself.

“That’s what I want to know. If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him.” Sam says.

You nod.

“Hey, Darcy? Have you seen Loki today?”

“Hey! I was just gonna ask you the same thing!” She shoves a tin in your face and opens the lid to show you the contents. Inside are several perfectly normal looking gummies. “I saw him closing the lid on this, like he was messing with my gummies or something.”

She sniffs them. “Do they even have weed on Asgard? How’d he know where I kept my stash? Oh, you think that asshole switched them for normal gummies? I did not buy those so the guy who tried to take over the world could get high!”

Darcy pops one of the gummies into her mouth and chews it so hard you can hear her teeth gnash together.

“Hey, Darcy?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe for now just assume he was just trying to make you think he did something when he didn’t really.” You say gently, trying not to let your own annoyance show.

“You think he’d do that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

When you’re out of Darcy’s sight you open up your backpack to take a peek inside.

Staring up at you from the bag you’d put the pot gummies in is a vaguely misshapen gummy Gengar. It’s surrounded by a few other Pokemon gummies; the same number of gummies that Darcy had in her tin when you got to it this morning.

You walk into Tony’s lab.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” He says. None of the equipment is wrapped in bubble wrap. “Have you se-- ”

You leave the lab without hearing the last part of Tony’s question.

There’s a list hanging on your refrigerator door when you get back to your apartment. It’s a list you wrote of all the pranks you planned for the day.

Except for the item on the back of the paper. That was written by someone else. And it says:

“ Undo all of this. Leave the Avengers panicking. ”

Well.

You can’t say this is what you expected of Loki for April Fool's day, but it certainly is creative.

And maybe it isn’t too late to do something to get back at him.

When Loki returns to the apartment at the end of the day there’s a small chocolate fountain sitting on the kitchen island. He’s looking far too smug for your liking and you can’t wait to wipe that beautiful grin off of his stupidly beautiful face.

“Another attempt at a prank?” He asks as he approaches you.

“Nope, I know when I’m beat,” You say, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “This is just a prize for you beating me. I didn’t get any of the reactions I’d been hoping for and all of the residents of this compound think you messed with their stuff when it’s all perfectly fine. You win.”

“Smart girl,” is the only thing he says before sticking a finger into the flow of chocolate. He pops the finger in his mouth.

And immediately gags.

“ What is that?” He yells, taking a paper towel to his tongue.

“That is extremely bitter dark chocolate. Nasty stuff. Not what you usually eat when you have chocolate,” You put on your best shit-eating grin. “You may have gotten me by undoing everything on the list, but I didn’t write this one down.”

“You do understand I will have to take my revenge on you for making me eat that vile excuse for chocolate, yes?”

“Nuh-uh, loverboy, because that’s not all I have for you,” You pick up a second chocolate fountain from the stool next to, just low enough that it had been out of his sight until now. “I have another one, this time with the good stuff. I’m not stupid enough to prank you and not make up for it.”

“A shame,” he says, and when he tries the chocolate from the second fountain his eyes light up at the realization that it is, in fact, the good stuff. “My revenge would have been such fun.”

A sudden bang on the door causes you to jump and nearly fall out of your seat.

"Loki!" Thor's voice booms from the other side of the door. He bangs some more, apparently not content to stop until he's able to speak to his brother. "Open the door! I know you're in there!"

"What's with him?" You ask because all you had planned for Thor was to switch his usual coffee with decaf. And if Loki really had just undone everything you'd done, then Thor should have no reason to be angry with him.

"I may have turned all of his coffee into snakes."

"Loki," you say, with all of the exasperation in your body.

"And one of those snakes may have bitten him before I could transform them back. It was an accident, really."

But from the grin on his face, you aren't sure if it was an accident at all.

#loki fic #loki x reader #idk it's too late for me to be able to think of what tags should go on this #who's the fool #my writing

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moneypedia · 3 years

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By Drew Shepherd

“You’re so judgmental!!!”

That’s the response I get when I delve a little too deep into my analytical side.

I’m somewhat of a perfectionist myself, so it’s no surprise that I hold others to my own lofty standards. And that’s one of many flaws I’m still working on.

There are certain times, however, when I’m unapologetic in my ways. And as you can see by the title of this article, this is one of those times.

The ability to screen out promiscuous women is one of the most valuable skills any man can have. It keeps you from wasting precious resources on a girl who couldn’t care less about you, and it protects you from being yet another clueless man in the dark.

A girl who sleeps around is never a good choice for your investment. And no matter what our culture tries to prove, the truth is that past sexual experience will always affect future relationships for the worse.

That’s why I created this list of 15 red flags to look for when you evaluate a potential partner.

This list is by no means exhaustive, and I’m sure there are plenty more signs you should be aware of too. But this one is intended to be a relatively quick check, and I’ve tried to limit it to signs you can notice within a few weeks at the most, or that you can easily find out with a scan of her social media.

Now I’m sure both you and I will catch some flak here for being “judgmental”, but remember, it’s not wrong to look out for your own interests. And in order to protect those interests, you need to discern the character of the people closest to you.

Being judgmental is assuming people’s character based on qualities outside their control. Discernment is deducing their character based on info they freely provide.

Only a fool would need a DNA test on an apple tree to confirm what it is…

Smart people just look at the fruit.

The 15 Red Flags Every Man Should Know

#1 She can’t stay at home. / She’s a party girl.

What it means: She needs excitement.

If she can’t enjoy a quiet night at home, walk away.

These kind of girls seem fun and interesting at first, but their lifestyle gets old fast. Plus there’s no telling how many intoxicated guys have taken their shot at her.

So find a girl who would rather read a book, watch a TV show, work out at home, cook a new meal, or talk to her friends on the phone.

“But that doesn’t sound like fun…”

No, most guys would say it doesn’t. But you know what’s more important than fun in relationships?

Stability.

A girl who runs out of her place every night has a need for excitement. And that need will find a way to bite you.

Sure, everything will be great when you’re both in a good mood, but what happens when she gets bored, or worse, when she’s unhappy?

If she needed excitement before she met you she will need it afterwards. And those thrills won’t be limited to a few drinks with the girls.

Most people are plenty fun when you get to know them anyway. So instead of worrying about that, ask yourself some more important questions:

Will she be there during a rough patch in your life?

Will she say “no” when a bigger fish comes along?

Does she avoid situations where she’ll be unnecessarily tempted?

Those are the questions you want answered (indirectly of course—actions speak louder than words).

Work on all those first. Then you can talk about fun.

#2 She has too many male friends.

What it means: She’s addicted to male attention.

Notice I said friends here and not acquaintances.

There’s nothing wrong with a woman having a conversation with a man. And if you do have a problem with that, you’re too possessive. A woman making small talk with her male coworker isn’t cause for concern.

But if she has close relationships to other guys, and she consistently talks to them about personal issues, that’s when you should be worried.

The true number of platonic male-female relationships is very small, and most of them only exist due to special circumstances.

But for the most part, men and women do not just become friends.

The truth is that the two sexes are equal, but different. And it’s tough for us to form close bonds outside of a romantic or sexual relationship.

Any girl who has tons of guy friends is bad news because almost all of them are attracted to her. And since she hasn’t made an effort to turn them down, it means she’s addicted to their attention.

If you don’t meet the requirements of such a popular girl, she’ll eagerly pick a replacement from her pool of waiting “friends”.

#3 She has tattoos or piercings on interior body parts.

What it means: She’s impulsive.

I’ve never been a fan of tattoos, so I wouldn’t look for a significant other who has any. But this red flag is more about the positioning of the ones she has.

If a girl has tattoos or piercings on any interior body parts (i.e. her upper thighs, torso, etc.), it is not a good sign. And here are only a few reasons why:

Someone had to put it there

People don’t get tattoos to cover them up

She makes long-term decisions based on short-term results

It’s just a terrible choice all around. Why would you taint the natural beauty you have with a man-made distraction?

It doesn’t make sense to me.

But in a way, I guess you should be happy when you see a girl like this. She’s made your job easy by effectively saying, “Don’t take me serious.”

#4 She’s a (moderate to heavy) drinker. / She does recreational drugs.

What it means: She allows unnecessary temptation.

Contrary to popular belief, human beings are not inherently good. And when given the choice, we will always be inclined to do what’s morally wrong.

Many times our conscious thought overrides this inclination, but whenever alcohol or drugs are involved, that inhibition goes out the window.

The point here is related to the first red flag about party girls—she allows herself to be tempted. And why would you ever trust a girl who intentionally lowers her self-control?

You are playing with fire and you know it.

Yes, crimes like theft will always be wrong, but we all have a responsibility to lock our doors.

#5 She’s a man hater. / She tests you to see if you’re man enough.

What it means: She lacks healthy relationships with the men in her life.

“All men are blah blah blah…”

“Guys only care about blah blah blah…”

“Men don’t deserve blah blah blah blah blah…”

Yeah, it’s annoying.

Man haters are the worst. I understand that some of us really are terrible, but if every guy she meets is like that, take a look at the common denominator.

Yes, I’m tough on the opposite sex sometimes, but even I know that there are fantastic women out there.

You can’t let the good ones convince you that all girls are sweet and innocent, and you can’t let the bad ones blind you to the praiseworthy women either.

The same is true about our side.

So if a girl always complains about the men in her life, she’s either still bitter about a failed relationship, or she presents herself as an object for men to lust after.

#6 She can’t put her phone down. / She’s addicted to social media.

What it means: She craves attention and drama.

The online version of too many male friends.

A smart girl knows that male attention doesn’t result from her “amazing personality”.

The number of friends and likes she gets is directly proportional to how attractive people think she is.

This stuff is honestly common sense by now but you still see the same thing all the time. A fairly attractive girl only has to post a few pictures, and boom, she’s got 50 dudes trying to hit her up.

She probably won’t give any of them the time of day—unless one of them is like, so hot—but at least she got her daily attention fix. Plus she’s found a new group of reliable “friends” to support her.

It’s ridiculous. And don’t even get me started on the drama.

If she’s more interested in her phone than she is in you, don’t try to change her mind.

#7 She’s comfortable in revealing clothes. / She’s insensitive to male touch.

What it means: She’s used to it.

Do you really think she dresses that way for you?

Do you honestly believe it’s normal for guys to hug and hold her like it’s no big deal?

She’s used to it, man. And even if she isn’t promiscuous now, it won’t take much effort for her to get that way.

But going back to her style of dress, you might believe her choice of clothes doesn’t matter anymore. You think that times have changed, and this girl is different. So different in fact that she’s above all of human nature.

Yeah, keep believing that.

The reality is that men are visual creatures. And both men and women instinctively know that the way a women dresses determines the type of attention she gets.

Our society doesn’t like to acknowledge that fact nowadays, so we try to ignore it as best as we can.

Instead, we say she has high self esteem, that she deserves to show off her body. And if you don’t like it, you’re living in the past.

But please don’t buy the “I’m-proud-of-my-body-so-I-need-to-be-half-naked” excuse.

People who are comfortable with a fit body, or great wealth, or whatever else they have don’t feel the need to show it off. They rest assured in the knowledge that it’s there.

The only people who show off are the ones who need validation. And they always need it from multiple people.

So if any girl shows too much skin, or if she’s fine with being hugged or touched any kind of way, you need to reconsider.

#8 She believes that things just happen. / She follows her heart. / She’s in love with “love” and relationships.

What it means: She lacks emotional control.

These girls are tricky for inexperienced guys, so let me explain.

It feels great at first to be the focus of a girl’s undying love. And the highs of having a beautiful woman enraptured by you is something straight outta the movies.

But guess what?

You will never be the only one.

You just happen to be her drug of the month. And all it takes is a more attractive or manipulative man to change her loyalties.

That is the dark reality of girls who “follow their heart.”

So instead of chasing a girl who’s crazy….about you, find a girl who tempers her heart with her head.

Don’t be afraid of love. Just make sure it’s the real thing first.

#9 She uses profanity.

What it means: She doesn’t value purity.

I don’t like profanity.

Sure, I went through a phase where it was cool to sprinkle in some “sentence enhancers”, but even then it still felt wrong.

Pure speech is something I value now, and it really does bother me to hear people—male or female—casually drop f-bombs. I don’t give them a stare or anything, but I know that profanity usually indicates that something is off in your life.

That’s one reason why I never use profanity on this site. Out of all the posts on HFE, I haven’t used a single curse word, and I plan to keep it that way.

But getting back to the meaning of this red flag, it just shows a lack of class.

If a girl doesn’t have the decency to control something as simple as her conversation, think about how ugly the rest of her lifestyle is.

#10 She’s friends with known promiscuous women. / She takes an interest in promiscuous celebrities.

What it means: She won’t be shamed for sleeping around, and she will probably be encouraged to do so.

Men compartmentalize their friends.

Of course not every guy is the same, but usually he’ll have his videogame pals, his college study group, his boys from work, his basketball squad, his fantasy football crew, and so on.

And what’s funny about all these friend buckets is that they usually include men from all walks of life.

You’ll have a mix of low income guys, wealthy guys, smart guys, dumb guys, you get the point. But as long as they all have that one thing in common, they don’t really care about much else.

Women are different.

Almost every girl I know has friends who are very similar to her. Everything from the way they dress, to the grades they get, to the income they earn, to the guys they like, and even their political stance—it’s almost always the same.

While men care more about the one activity they have in common, women focus more on similar lifestyles.

And now you see where I’m going.

You may not be able to tell if she sleeps around, but if you know her friends do, it’s a giant red flag.

Even if this girl is completely innocent, she knows her friends won’t look down on her if she does indulge, and that’s why she’s surrounded herself with them.

It’s even worse if she takes an interest in promiscuous celebrities. They’re just like her friends who get around but with additional influence and social status.

If [blank] can do [blank] and still be [blank], why can’t she?

#11 She uses New Age lingo. / She’s into horoscopes.

What it means: She won’t take responsibility for her actions.

If you meet a girl who always goes on about people’s “energy”, the workings of karma, or the meaning behind her horoscope, you need to run and run quickly.

I have numerous reasons why I wouldn’t get with a girl like this, but one of the more practical ones is that she won’t take responsibility for anything.

The stars are what drive her behavior, and she will be justified in spiting you because her negative-energy-sense was tingling.

It’s bad enough dealing with people who can’t control their impulses, but if she truly believes that “the universe” is causing her actions, avoid her at all costs.

#12 She has no discernible skills outside of her physical appearance.

What it means: She’s going down the wrong career path.

Everyone needs money. And if that need is not met, people will resort to all kinds of evil to meet it.

If this particular girl doesn’t have any marketable skills outside of being “hot”, she is going down the wrong road.

Eventually she will…

A. Find some way to make money off her appearance

B. Get bailed out by another man, or…

C. Be left in a financial hole when her beauty fades

Now you could argue that A wouldn’t be too bad of a scenario depending on the work involved (e.g. innocent modeling), but none of these are favorable to her developing a solid set of skills when she had the chance.

Not only has she put herself in a position where her beauty can be abused, but she’s also shown that she’s fine with being a drain on people’s resources.

That’s not good.

Everyone needs a strong work ethic, no matter who they are. And if she doesn’t have one, she’ll be pressured into compromising situations.

#13 She rushes the relationship. / She’s a little too perfect. / She tries too hard to seem like a good match.

What it means: She’s overcompensating.

Another tricky one here.

The average guy won’t deal with many girls like this, but the name of this site isn’t Hunger for Average, so you need to look out for this one.

As you start to care more about your appearance and get your life in order, you’ll notice that girls will seemingly come out of nowhere. And the ones you were invisible to before will make it obvious that they’re interested.

Sounds great right?

But the problem is that some of these girls won’t have the best intentions.

Almost every semi-attractive girl has been treated like a princess her whole life (and that’s one reason why a man who’s trained himself to be immune to beauty is so attractive to them).

But the side effect of this treatment is that many women expect partiality from every guy they meet. So now when they see you—a man who’s in good shape and has his life together—they don’t see a person, but rather, a tool who has the means to carry “her highness” through life.

This is particularly an issue with a girl in her late 20’s or early 30’s. Her internal clock is ticking and she knows she has to find a man before her beauty fades.

But you can’t let her clock dictate your life.

People get burned all the time by making hasty choices. And it’s a known manipulation tactic to rush people into big decisions.

Yes, there will be girls who genuinely like you, and they’ll be eager to start something special together. But you need to be aware of the other scenario too.

Beauty doesn’t get ignored. And if an attractive girl hasn’t locked down a man by this time in her life, it’s very possible that she used her beauty for other means when she was younger, and now she’s scrambling to find a man who doesn’t know any better.

Of course this isn’t always the case. Breakups happen and some people just have an unfortunate streak with relationships. But barring any significant change to her appearance, and without any other special cause, the former is a real possibility.

Remember that your interests are important too. And you are not obligated to take any dude’s leftovers simply because she needs a man now.

“But she’s changed! She’s not like that anymore! And she’s committed to doing better!”

That’s great. And I applaud her. But that doesn’t mean you owe her a relationship.

I’m all for acceptance and forgiveness, but I also know that forgiveness isn’t the removal of all consequences.

#14 She accuses you of being promiscuous, or worse, tries to prove you are.

What it means: She’s telling you how she would act if she was in your position (a.k.a. projection).

A girl who makes accusations like this doesn’t understand how any decent looking person could say no to their suitors. Especially since she could never hope to do the same.

You’re just a stupid boy who couldn’t possibly deny easy pleasure, and it’s her job to prove that assumption right.

It’s all so silly.

I’ve dealt with girls who tried to find faults that weren’t there and I had a real good laugh afterwards.

But while it is funny that a former acne-faced, overweight, emo guy would have to convince anyone he’s not about that life, I am very serious about guarding my integrity.

So if any girl accuses me of something like this, I know we need to part ways.

#15 Your gut tells you so.

What it means: You’re not comfortable with her.

Attraction is weird.

The first time anyone sees a person they like, comfort is nowhere to be found. There’s excitement, there’s anxiety, and there’s interest—not comfort.

But that all changes as time goes by.

The more you get to know someone, the more comfortable you feel around them.

The guy you thought was an antisocial creep just happens to be the life of the party. The girl you thought was such a snob before is actually kind and warm-hearted. And this new familiarity generally leads to more comfort.

But if time passes and you still don’t feel comfortable around this girl, it’s a bad sign. Your body is subconsciously telling you that something about her is off. And you know deep down that you can’t trust her.

“But didn’t you just make fun of girls and their ‘negative-energy-sense’? So how is it okay for guys to do the same thing?”

Because what I’m talking about here isn’t just a feeling. What I’m describing are physiological changes that happen solely because of this person.

Yes, it sounds far-fetched, but if you are fine around every person except her, something is wrong. And I’m not talking about a few butterflies in the stomach here.

If you start breaking a sweat when she shows up, if your sleep schedule suddenly changes, and if you’re always on your toes around her, your body is in alert mode. And instead of being able to work, or perfect your craft, or do anything else, you will constantly be thinking about her.

But again, don’t confuse this with some middle school crush obsession. This is about a girl who won’t give you any assurance that she is committed to you.

You will have to do everything to keep the relationship afloat, and that always leads to disaster. The minute you fall short in her eyes your worst fear will come true.

Of course you still want to be as attractive as possible to make her decision easy, but if the success of the relationship depends solely on you, find someone else.

Good leaders set an example for others and create a vision for the future…

They don’t do all the work.

Successful relationships will always take effort, but if you can’t relax at all with her, it’s a bad sign.

Weed ‘Em Out

So if you read this whole post, you’ve probably noticed a theme here.

All of these are signs that stem from a lack of one character trait:

Self-control.

This list is all about discerning if a girl has that one critical trait.

If she doesn’t have it, don’t try to change her, don’t make excuses for her, and please don’t waste time thinking about her. Just walk away.

And if you have a hard time doing that, ask yourself if you would help a man who acted the same way.

Sure, this may all seem cold-blooded, but when the stakes are this high, it’s always better to be safe than sorry. There is simply too much at risk when you choose a long term partner. And if you can’t trust someone you’ll eventually think about marrying, you need to end it as soon as possible.

No amount of beauty is worth the headache and embarrassment. If a woman’s actions show that she doesn’t respect you, move on and find a girl who does.

Just remember that nothing here is foolproof either. Some girls are crafty and they won’t show many of the signs listed here—but that’s okay.

The point isn’t to catch every girl who’s like this. The point is to save time by weeding out the easy ones. And once you do that, you’ll be closer to finding a girl who’s worth the investment.

So be smart, stay strong, and have a little fun too. It’s easy to get too serious about things like this, but keep a good attitude and you’ll be fine.

If you know what all to avoid, just imagine how much you can cherish a keeper.

-Drew

#relationships

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romaniassexdungeon · 4 years

Text

Third Option - chapter 9

Pairing: Spamano, AusHun

João - Portugal Logan - Australia Hunapo - New Zealand Arjun - India

Notes: Yes, I know this is late, but I had a degree to work on, and now that’s out of the way, I’ll hopefully get more updates out. I also went back and polished what I had even more, so hopefully it’s a little less bad. I also changed Monaco’s name to Céline.

Read on AO3

...

The streets were busy as Lovino led his family to that rickety old cafe. There were people all around them, going to their real jobs. He led the others in a tight knot, heads down and minding their own business. They were going to work too, no need to arouse suspicion. No one really paid them attention. After all, everyone had their own lives to be getting on with. Lovino kept his eyes forward, not saying a word, and almost everyone else seemed to get the message.

“So, who we meetin’?” asked Alfred in his ear, “anyone we know?”

Francis shushed him. “Really? Right now?”

Alfred huffed, quietening down for a few minutes. Lovino followed the river path, up to a set of narrow stairs. It led to a higher street, more open, with houses that were larger and neater than most of the Iron district, but not by much. The road was a little wider here, and Lovino enjoyed a view of part of the Iron district, stretched out below on the other side of the river. From a distance, the place looked even more depressing: masses of crooked houses packed together, no grand buildings breaking the skyline.

Alfred chewed his lip. “So, who told you about it?”

Francis flicked his ear. “I swear to fuck if you don’t shut up, you’re going to work instead.”

Lovino turned a corner and the cafe came into view. He shushed the group and crossed the square. Certain they were alone, he slipped inside.

There was welcome shade in the cafe, empty except for Heracles watching them from the counter, seemingly stunned at the numbers. Lovino gave a nod, and Heracles jerked his head towards the back room. He led them down to the cellar in silence, and even Alfred seemed to get the idea. Through the trapdoor, down into darkness and along the corridor to the main hall they went. Inside, fewer than ten people sat and stood talking in groups.

“Wait here for Sadik,” said Heracles, “he’ll want to talk to the new people.” He turned and left without another word.

Xavier waved them over. “You made it!” He was leaning on the stage at the back of the room, where the others soon joined him. Xavier’s cousin was with him, with his golden tan, goofy grin, full nose and mop of curly hair. Lovino hadn’t seen him in a while, remembering an awkward, lanky teen. Now he was toned and curved and surprisingly handsome. He didn’t bother with the buttons of his floral shirt, apparently, tucking it into his shorts, and the style looked good on him. “You remember Antonio, right?”

Lovino nodded. “So, you dragged your family into this too?” It was as good a place as any to start.

Xavier laughed. “Toni wouldn’t shut up about the whole thing. Had to bring him or he’d tell my parents.” He shoved him. “Fucking narc.”

“It’s my job to keep you out of trouble,” said Antonio. Lovino remembered him being a bit overbearing, strict, even, with Xavier. Strange, really, he seemed so laid-back normally.

“By getting in trouble with me?” Xavier scoffed. "João is gonna be here too. He just had work today."

“Of course I'm getting into trouble;” Antonio pulled Francis into a firm hug. “Good to see you!”

“Likewise,” Francis kissed both his cheeks, “nice to know I’m in trusted company. Feels a little safer with you around.”

“Not many people,” Céline commented, glancing around. There was Tino, and Lovino recognised his two friends from the rally with him, huddled together in the corner. Kiku and Arthur were in deep conversation, looking over papers at the table. At the other end of the stage, two very strange men sat talking intensely. One looked a little like a rat, the other looked like a depressed pile of ash.

“Hey, it’s a start,” said Alfred. “We’ve nearly doubled it.” Other people had noticed too, and were staring at them with interest. Lovino wasn’t sure what to make of the attention. But he was proud of himself. Who else here had recruited 4 other people?

“What happens next?” asked Céline.

“It’s sorta like an interview,” Antonio explained, “Sadik just asks you about your motivations, and what you can do to help. Nothing too scary.” He looked at her. “Let me guess. Gilbert?” She nodded. “Yes, of course, it was part of the reason I wanted to join, why I insisted;” Antonio gave a sigh. “He was a good friend. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.” His smile was back before a melancholy look could even settle. “I know you will make his death mean something,” he kissed her hand, stooping down to reach her.

“Thank you, Antonio. I will.”

“Lovino!” Antonio finally turned to him, “it’s been too long! Look how much you’ve grown!” He ruffled his hair.

“Hey, watch it!” He gently held him back. “Personal space, my friend.”

“Course, course! Sorry.”

“Well, you two seem to have spirit!” Sadik strode into the room, holding the door to a side room open for two people Lovino didn’t recognise. “I like that, Logan, Hunapo. I hope you’ll make me proud, here.”

“Oh we will,” said the taller one, an absolute tank of a man with messy hair and a cocky grin. Logan, apparently.

“You’ve made a good choice,” said a smaller, scruffy mess of curled hair. Hunapo. Both names weren't that familiar.

“I hope I have,” Sadik nudged them, “not that we can afford to be fussy.”

“That why you signed me up?” asked Rat-man, through a mouthful of beans. He was sat cross-legged on the stage, a can balanced on one pointy knee.

“Well, I didn’t wanna say anything, but…” Sadik noticed the new arrivals. “Hey, Lovino, right? Who are all these people?”

“Relatives,” he said in a small voice. Sadik intimidated him, and, for some reason, he felt desperate not to let him down. Maybe it was because he reminded him of Grandpa Janus?

“Well done lad!” Sadik boomed, hands on his hips, “you must have some way with words!” And just like praise from Grandpa Janus, Lovino found himself elated that he’d made Sadik proud. He wanted to do more, earn more validation.

Francis whistled. “So you’re Sadik Adnan? Your reputation precedes you.”

Sadik laughed. “Already?”

“Well, I remember hearing about what happened last time. Never got involved,” he coughed, “might’ve been for the best.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. Things will go better, though. I’m older, and hopefully a little wiser now. But I can’t do it alone.” He motioned to the side room. “Please, step into my office, and we can talk more.”

When the Bonnefoys followed him inside, Antonio turned back to Lovino and Xavier. “So, Lovi, I hear you finished school too. Look at the pair of you! All grown up!”

“Yeah, a grown-up adult, so roll back on the patronising.”

Antonio laughed. “Alright. Still older, though. I want a bit of respect.”

“Because you came out the pussy two years before me?”

“Let’s not talk about my mum like that.”

“I’d like to meet your mum one day. Can you introduce us?”

“Toni’d like to meet his dad one day,” muttered Xavier, giggling at his own joke. Antonio didn’t look so impressed.

“You can be quiet!”

“His birth certificate has a question mark under “father’s name”. I’ve seen it.”

“Stop telling people that or I’ll punch you in the tit!”

Lovino burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, Toni, my dad walked out too. Who needs the rat bastards? Better off without them.”

Xavier looked between them. “How the fuck do you keep losing dads? This is the last outpost of civilisation, and there’s a giant wall around the city. They can’t have gone far, guys. Find the fuckers!”

Even Antonio had to laugh at that. Lovino leaned against the stage. “Xavi, if it was that easy, Grandpa would’ve tracked the sonnovabitch down and throttled him.” His earliest memory was Grandpa Janus pacing the main room and loudly planning to do such a thing. Ah, childhood memories.

“Speaking of Lovino’s family, they seem nice!” Xavier peered over at Sadik’s office.

“They’re alright, I guess. Céline’s my favourite.”

“They’re hot.”

“I hate you so much.”

Xavier burst out laughing. “I love you too.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Antonio rubbed Lovino’s shoulder, “you’re not so bad to look at yourself.”

Lovino looked at him. “Is this a joke or-?”

“No! I swear-”

“Good. Because I know I’m hot, and you should know too. And you’re…” he blushed, “you’re kinda okay too, but don’t go on about it.”

“Aww, thank you!”

“I wish someone would tell me I’m hot,” said Xavier whistfully.

“You’re hot, now lemme motorboat you.” Lovino buried his face in Xavier’s chest and blew a raspberry. Xavier almost passed out from laughing.

“Finally, things are getting interesting!” called Rat Man.

“What’s getting interesting, Alin?” Sadik stepped out of his office, followed by the Bonnefoys. Lovino pulled away from Xavier’s chest, looking a little sheepish.

Alin shrugged, licking sauce off a bean with his pointy tongue. “I just thought we were all gonna touch on each other.”

Sadik looked at him. No one said anything for a long moment. “We’re not going to do that.”

“Then what was the point in joining up here?”

Sadik ignored him, instead addressing the group as a whole. “Anyway, it’s nice to see our numbers rising. We’re starting to establish links with the remnants of the old guard, and finding new faces willing to hear us out. Of course, we have a long way to go, and we’ll need a way of getting our message across without incriminating ourselves.” He clapped his hands, “but today, we’ll just focus on educating you all, and starting you on some basic weapons training. Tino here is going to teach you to hold a gun, and fire it straight.”

Lovino and Xavier exchanged looks of glee.

...

Up at the top of the city, on Rex Hill, sat the Palace, whose walls were hugged by the river on three sides. The fourth stretched out in front of the Golden Square, now empty of subjects. Inside the walls were the gardens, with winding paths touring through meticulously cared-for flowers. Water from the river fed into the gardens, creating a lush oasis in the centre of the arid city. The palace itself towered over everything, even allowing the residents to catch a glimpse of the desert beyond the city walls. The music room was near the centre of the palace, with thick walls and high windows kept close to keep the room’s secrets. There were a variety of instruments, kept polished by one of the servants. There was also a fat sofa, near the grand piano at the centre of the room.

Roderich ignored everything around him and focused only on the keys in front of his eyes. He played with all his might, played for his anger, played for his hatred, love, everything that pulsed through his body. Yes, music was illegal but Roderich relished in breaking his own rules. After all, who was going to stop him? Roderich played on, letting the music vibrate through him, words he didn’t know how to express, words that didn’t exist. It was a song his mother wrote, before the madness took her.

He finished his piece and turned his attention to Érzsebét, his Empress, his Queen, who was sprawled out on the sofa in a light, lacy dress. Her hair was splayed everywhere, thick and curly. She stood up, clapping and running over to him. ‘“Brilliant, darling, just marvellous!” They shared a kiss.

“Thank you, dear.” He held her gently, running his fingers through her hair. He’d often heard this absurd rumour he was evil. That he was a monster incapable of love. People had the gall to scream it at him, the worst last words he could think of. Was there not something more productive to say at a time like that? It wasn’t true, anyway. If he wasn’t capable of love, then what did he feel for Érzsebét? For their son? It was simple, really. But still, they said he was evil and a curse on the world. The thought made him shake with a malicious, uncontrollable rage.

“Roddy,” said Érzsebét, gently, but firmly, “you’re squeezing me.”

“Érzsebét! Oh, I’m so sorry!” He pulled away. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head. “You know I could never hurt you. I’d sooner die.”

Érzsebét smirked. “Oh, I know. Like you could, anyway.” Neither could, and neither had ever. Érzsebét was loyal to her Emperor, and Roderich worshipped Érzsebét in return. Not only did he love her, but he owed his life to her.

They’d met when they were seven years old, already betrothed and destined to rule. She was the daughter of a noble, chosen as a suitable match for Roderich, despite her unruly nature. Roderich had developed a reputation of being a selfish and downright cruel child. He was, but not around Érzsebét. He shared his toys with her, and followed her around as she plotted out adventures for them both. When it came to play fights, she refused to let him win, and Roderich didn’t throw tantrums over losing, instead begging her to teach him to be stronger.

And then it happened. The incident. They were ten, going for a cycle through the palace gardens. He remembered the scent of the plants, the pollen in his hair and the breeze. He remembered Érzsebét’s embroidered shirt and the mud on her boots. He remembered her laugh, and how he’d push his glasses up his nose before explaining the different species of flower. He even picked a large, pink one to put in her hair.

The two took a break under the shade of a tree, and it happened. Érzsebét was looking off in the distance, while Roderich leaned against the trunk catching his breath. Out of the blue, Érzsebét tackled him, launching them both into the flower bed as the ground erupted. Gunshots rained down on them, some dangerously near their mark, but the children were hidden in the bushes. Roderich wanted to cry out, but Érzsebét covered his mouth. He remembered being paralysed, time standing still until the palace guards arrived and returned fire on the assassin.

Yes, it had been an assassin; not a professional, most likely, just someone who wanted to leave the empire without an heir, someone with a grudge against the royals. Roderich had never left the palace walls since. It had taken years to build up the courage to go in the gardens, only when security had been tightened and the wall was heavily guarded. Whilst he wouldn’t control Érzsebét, he had suggested she do the same once they were married, and she agreed. Franz had been forbidden from leaving the palace.

After another assassin was more successful in killing his father, Roderich had ascended the throne a hurricane of grief and any hope that he would be a more benevolent ruler soon squashed.

“Roddy, come back to me,” Érzsebét stroked his cheek, “you’re far away.”

Roderich shook himself. “Sorry, sorry.”

The doors flung open as General Zwingli marched in. “Sir-”

Roderich slammed his hand on the piano. “How many times do I have to warn you about knocking?” He thundered, “the music room is private!”

General Zwingli didn’t appear disturbed. “I understand, but this is urgent. A small council is being summoned.”

“I see.” Roderich glanced at Érzsebét, who gave a nod. “We will go to the board room immediately.” They left the music room, following Zwingli through airy hallways, past the portraits of the five previous Emperors and platinum columns between arches looking down on the gardens.

“Where is my son?” Roderich spoke in a low voice, “does this concern him?”

“He is in the company of Lady Biedermann,” Zwingli replied, “perfectly safe. No, this is a greater problem, and affects us all.”

Roderich wrinkled his nose, “there is nothing greater than the prince. But the situation sounds grave indeed.”

“‘Tis, I’m afraid.” Zwingli rounded a corner and opened the door to the board room, holding it for the royal couple. The council members summoned were sat at one end of a heavy table, only three: Feilks, Arjun and Yao, whose job was to advise him and keep him informed on the goings-on of the city he refused to set foot in.

Roderich made his way to the end of the table, sitting on a simple throne while Érzsebét and Zwingli took their seats. “So,” he began, “what have you got to tell me? What was so important I had to be summoned? I’m assuming, by your small numbers, it’s to be kept on a need-to-know basis.” He slipped a hand into his robes, where he kept a tiny pistol. Just in case. He didn’t want history repeating itself.

“For now,” began Yao, “we need to plan carefully before this gets out. And who knows who we can trust anymore.”

“So, what’s going on?”

“The news that… well…” Feliks avoided his glare.

“Spit it out.”

“An undercover officer claims to have spotted notorious criminal Sadik Adnan wandering the Iron District last night. If he’s reentered the city, this could spell bad news for us.”

Roderich scratched his chin. “Sadik Adnan? Why should that name bother me?”

“He was one of the last people sent into exile,” said Yao. "Oğuzhan's son."

“And he’s still alive?” Roderich glared at Zwingli.

Zwingli waved a hand. “The exile programme was run by Väinämöinen. It was a soft option that let people slip through. That was why I replaced it. Besides, having suspect individuals in the city is a far more efficient method of keeping track of them.”

“But how did he re-enter the city?”

“No one knows,” said Feliks.

“Is he alone?”

“Possibly. But he’d have had allies inside the city. Someone must've helped him.”

Roderich groaned. “And do we know what his motives are?”

“No,” said Arjun, “but, we can guess what might happen, if he’s planning to carry on his father’s legacy…”

“Well, find him!” Roderich smacked his hand on the table, “find him, and all his associates! Hunt him down until there’s nowhere left to run! And let it be known that, if anyone is caught harbouring or collaborating with him, they will face the death penalty.”

“So we let the news get out?” asked Zwingli, “to the citizens?”

“Yes. We need the whole city on our side. Put a price on his head, and people will give us information. And I want crackdowns, too. Implement a curfew for a week, conduct raids on any possible allies.”

Zwingli nodded. “I’ll pull up a list of persons of interest. Anyone known to the law.”

“Good man.” Roderich stood up. “I want him dead by the end of the week.” He left the room.

Érzsebét got up. “Do what you can,” she told everyone, “and don’t let us down.” She followed her husband out.

The council sat in stunned silence, then Zwingli spoke. “Well, you heard the emperor. Feliks, I want a broadcast drafted for this evening and sent to City Radio. Yao, contact Mr Honda and get wanted posters ready for tomorrow. Send them to Arjun for printing. I want this man found!”

Everyone nodded and scrambled up. The meeting was over, and they all had work to do. Leaving Zwingli to organise the raids, Feliks strode down the hall to one of the offices. Yao paused for a moment, then started making his way outside.

“Hey, Yao!” Arjun quickly caught up with him. “Wanna walk home together?”

“Course, might as well,” Yao gave a polite smile. He and Arjun were… well, they’d known each other a long time. Perhaps too long. He was fond of Arjun, Yao supposed, most of the time.

“And you’re busy tonight, then?”

“Yes. You heard.”

“Well, if we’re both on poster duty, we might as well visit Mr Honda together, right? I’ve yet to see the man at work myself.”

“Of course,” Yao held the front door open for him, nodding to the guards swarming the place. “The man’s exceptional; you’ll be in for a treat.”

#spamano #aph cuba #aph romano #aph spain #aph france #aph america #aph austria #aph hungary #aushun #aph turkey #aph switzerland #aph china #aph india #aph poland #aph monaco #aph canada #the third option #aph fanfiction

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backtothestart02 · 4 years

Text

Mixed Drink - 14/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: I hope the wait was worth it.

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

For my girls - @westallen94 @travelattwilight @andromidagalaxie @jennlee44 @smileyscorner04 @mspurple23

...

Chapter 14 -

So. Barry Allen loved her.

It had been three days since he heartachingly declared it right before the static hit, and for the last three days she’d been pretending not to have heard it.

She didn’t know why she did. After the miserable day she’d had, those words said so sweetly and sincerely had made her heart flutter. And, okay, maybe part of her wanted to hear them again. So, when he changed his tune to ‘miss’ instead of ‘love’ immediately after, she started to get worried.

Did he regret saying it? Did he just wish he had said it in person, and that’s why he didn’t repeat himself? Maybe he didn’t love her after all, and the excuse of static gave him exactly what he needed to take it back.

If he wanted to. Did he want to?

All signs pointed to a yes.

But after two days of moping around, Stacy decided to set Iris straight.

“Maybe he’s just as scared as you are,” she suggested, taking a bite out of an apple.

“Scared?” Iris scoffed. “I’m not scared.”

Stacy gave her a look.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, no, of course not. Just your brother came in a few days ago, and, you know, you thought he was at least kind of on your side. Turns out he’s not, and he may be even more anti-Iris than your parents. Why in the world would that make you afraid to love someone?”

“I love you, Stace,” she said defiantly.

“And I appreciate that, darling.” She patted her shoulder. “True besties are hard to come by.”

“Mhmm. See!”

“But we’ve never really had any problems with each other.”

Iris sighed. “That’s true.”

“Meanwhile, you and your brother are having problems, and you guys were thick as thieves once upon a time. He defended you to your parents in the beginning, remember?”

She nodded forlornly. “I remember.”

“And Barry? He is a mystery. You two just met a week and a half ago. He won’t tell you exactly where he is or what he does for a living, and he goes and gets beat up in the middle of the night? I’d be hesitant to tell him I love him back too.”

Iris’ eyes widened, and she turned to face her friend.

“Wha-? But I…I don’t-”

Stacy gave her a sympathetic look.

“Honey, please. It’s written all over your face.”

Iris’ shoulders slumped.

“I’m that obvious?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” she hurried to say, and Iris raised her brows. “I mean, only if you don’t want him to know. You still have two and a half weeks to work on hiding it if you’re really sure you’re not ready for that yet.”

Iris sighed. “I don’t know what I want.”

Stacy looped her arm through hers.

“I think you do, Hun.” She paused. “And I think he wants it too.”

“Then why did he take it back?” she exploded, throwing her arms around.

“Maybe the same reason you pretended you didn’t hear it?”

“What does he have to be scared of?” she demanded.

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t know, because you hardly know him. Maybe you should talk about it, have a conversation the next time you actually see him. Do something other than have sex.”

Heat flooded her face.

“That’s not all we do.”

Stacy chuckled. “I’m just saying.”

Iris thought about it for a minute.

“Won’t that ruin our first I love you, though? If we have a long conversation, decide we’re both scared and we’re not going to say it yet, isn’t it going to be awkward until we do? And when we do?”

“Only if you let it be.”

She grumbled. “Ugh. I hate this. I shouldn’t have pretended I didn’t hear it. Now everything’s ruined.”

Stacy rolled her eyes. “Everything is not ruined. Why don’t you have phone sex tonight? That’ll help you blow off some of your steam. If the chemistry’s still there, you have nothing to worry about.”

“And if it isn’t?”

Stacy smirked and wrapped an arm around her best friend.

“Trust me, it will be.”

…

Due to the time difference, it was almost morning when his call to Iris turned into phone sex.

Things had felt a little awkward over the last few days, so when Iris jumped in wanting phone sex as soon as he said his hello, he decided not to question it.

“Where are you?” he asked huskily, pulling his tie free from his neck in his room as he talked to her.

“In my bedroom,” she said, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger like a schoolgirl, though he couldn’t see it. It was all about getting into character.

“Are you alone?”

“Patty’s in the kitchen reading a book. I’ll have to be quiet.”

He grinned mischievously. “Is that so?”

Patty wasn’t in the kitchen. She’d been called in for a late shift at the last minute and still hadn’t come home. But Barry didn’t need to know that.

“Mhmm.” She bit her bottom lip. “Any other questions?”

He chuckled, and it was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.

“What are you wearing?”

“What do you think?”

“Some lacy lingerie? Either white, black, or red?”

She laughed. “Only if you give it to me.”

“Oh, I’ll give it to you.” His voice turned dark. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Nothing.”

That much was true. It felt a little scandalous, even if she was alone in the apartment, but Iris was stripped down to her bare bottom and lying across her bed with the door to her bedroom locked and the drapes hanging over her windows down.

“With Patty just down the hall?” he asked, his voice a little strangled.

He had definitely bought into her little white lie, and she smiled. There was no way she’d ruin the fantasy at this point and tell him she wasn’t as brave as she’d portrayed herself to be.

“I wish you were here, Barry,” she whimpered, trailing her fingers down her belly to play with herself.

He groaned and did the same thing. “Me too.”

“I wish you were touching me, kissing me, making love to me…”

She gasped, and loudly too, but he was apparently too lost in the moment to notice the reaction she’d had to her own turn of phrase. Maybe he thought the gasp had been caused from something else. Her touching herself maybe, which was valid.

She decided to be grateful he hadn’t noticed the significance and put it out of her mind, which was difficult given part of her wished he had noticed it. Maybe then he could’ve prompted the conversation and told her he loved her again. If he still did, of course. He loved her body, at least. Maybe he didn’t know her well enough to know if he loved her. Maybe that’s what he’d realized over the last few days. God, what if he never said it again?

“Iris?” he asked, sounded concerned and confused, and she realized he’d been saying something to her – probably something dirty – and she’d been so lost in her insecurities and paranoia that she hadn’t registered it at all.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Barry, what did you say?”

She could practically feel the frown on the other end of the line and knew the mood had been killed.

“Oh, nothing much…just that I also touching you, kissing you, and making love to you,” he said dryly.

There was that word again. Love.

“But somehow I don’t think it would feel quite as potent if I said it again.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Barry. I guess I’m just-”

“Tired? It is pretty late by you.”

That was as good a reason as any.

“Yeah, talk to you tomorrow?”

And there was a very long pause after that. She wondered if he hadn’t expected her to cut the phone call short so suddenly. To be honest, she hadn’t expected it either until it happened.

“Sure,” he finally said, what felt like a millennia later. “Sweet dreams, Iris.”

“Sweet dreams,” she said, and hung up the phone.

Annoyed with herself and her failings, she got out of bed to put her pjs back on and tried with all that was in her to fall back asleep.

At 2 a.m. she called Stacy and confessed her sins.

“You did what?”

…

Later that day – Barry’s time – he sat practically twiddling his thumbs in the main quarters of the agency. He’d been trying to figure out for the last several hours what had gone wrong in his conversation with Iris, but nothing was dawning on him.

It bothered him a lot that things were already started to go wrong, communication-wise, when they were apart. If things got any worse, Iris wouldn’t even want to be in a relationship with him by the time they saw each other again.

He needed to fix this, and fast. He couldn’t afford to sit around for two more weeks waiting for her to get over whatever was holding her back that she was only too eager not to tell him about.

“Assignments!”

Ah, yes, new assignments. There had been a couple days break, but now it was time to get back to work. Which meant he’d have less time to talk to Iris and even more space between them. He hated it, but he didn’t exactly have a choice, so with one barely attentive ear he listened for whatever case sounded the most interesting.

Number one through three were duds, number four through six required too much physical activity and were on the other side of the world. But number seven, that struck his attention as soon as he found out where it was located.

Barry’s eyes widened, and he was across the room in a matter of seconds, sending papers flying around the circle of people eager to take their assignments.

“Central City, Sir? Did you say Central City?”

The Captain’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

“Yes, Allen. Central City.”

“I’ll take that one.” He paused to take a breath. “Sir. Please.”

The Captain raised his eyebrows.

“Why so eager, Bartholomew?”

Barry opened his mouth to explain, but there was no need.

“That’s where his girlfriend lives,” snickered Hartley. Barry glared.

“That wouldn’t be the same ‘girlfriend’ who was the source of all your inappropriate behavior last time, would it? The initial target?”

Barry paled.

“I think that’s a yes, Cap,” Hunter gleamed.

“I learn from my mistakes,” Barry said, pushing his way past the pests trying to pull him down. “Just give me 24 hours to spend however I want, and I will get the job done without involving any civilians.”

“Including Iris West?”

Barry nodded, determined. “I swear.”

He gave him a once-over then nodded his approval.

“Hope she’s worth it,” another not so friendly agent jeered as Barry pushed past the lot of them.

It wouldn’t do any good to respond, but he knew his response with all his heart.

She is.

…

At Jitters, exactly two weeks from when Barry left, Iris found herself sighing for the umpteenth time.

Stacy immediately sidled up next to her and took the broom from her hands.

“What are you sighing about this time?”

Iris shrugged, walking across to an empty table to wipe it down. Stacy followed her without hesitation.

“We have exactly two customers right now, and they’re both occupied in the far corners of the room. You have twenty minutes until you get off. You should be ecstatic.”

“Ecstatic about what?” she asked, halfheartedly washing down the next table. “About another failed conversation with Barry?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Stacy tried delicately.

“It was a disaster!” Iris proclaimed. “I zoned out while he was talking dirty to me. How much worse can it get?”

“I’ll admit it’s not your best moment, but-”

“But what? We’re never going to last another two weeks if I can’t get a hold of myself and function. I love him, Stace. I know it’s been only two weeks, but I just…I feel a connection with him that goes beyond the physical, and I-” She stopped when she noticed Stacy staring off into the distance. “What?”

She turned to look in said direction and found herself dumbfounded, only able to say one thing.

“We’ve got to get those bells fixed.”

Stacy smiled to herself and took the wet rag and the broom with her as she backed out of sight.

“Barry?” Iris whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

He stood there just inside the opening with a beautiful bouquet of multicolored roses.

“I really hope you were talking about me,” he said, grinning as he walked towards her.

“Oh, my God! Barry!”

She ran towards him, jumped into his arms and gloried in the feel of him as she buried her face in his neck. Then she pulled back a little, smiling brilliantly, and kissed him.

She gloried in the feel of his arms around her and his lips against her, his breath on her skin when they parted and the beautiful glint of gold in his glorious green eyes.

“I missed you,” she said when he finally set her down and let her take the flowers, inhaling them instantly and practically purring at the pretty scent of them. “I missed you a lot.”

“Me or the roses?” he joked, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

“Barry.”

He sobered up. “Iris…there’s something I need to tell you, and I need you to let me, and I need there to be no interruptions.”

She tensed. “Okay.”

“Can we go somewhere…?”

“Uh…”

“The rooftop!” Stacy whisper-yelled from behind the counter.

Barry and Iris caught each other’s gaze and laughed.

“The rooftop it is,” Barry said and took her hand in his own.

Iris’ shook her head at Stacy as they passed her, but Stacy pretended to be fascinated with the cash register and didn’t catch the embarrassed look on Iris’ face. She probably thought she was doing it for her own good, so she let it go. Especially when Barry stopped them halfway up the stairwell to kiss her.

“Your lips taste delicious,” he said, and she melted into goo.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more,” he said, then kissed her cheek and pulled her the rest of the way up the stairs.

He pushed the door open and gasped almost the same time she did at the sight of the city before them.

“Well, it’s no hotel view, but it is pretty spectacular.”

Iris nodded her agreement and only very reluctantly looked away from him when he tugged at her hand.

“What…uh did you want to tell me?” she asked when he simply just stared at her for a while, eyes soft and yearning, smile gentle and concerning.

“Promise you won’t run away from me? There’s no phone you can hang up this time, and I bet I can beat you to the door if you try to make a mad dash for it. My legs are long, you see.”

“Barry.”

“Okay, okay…” He tightened his grip on her hands and swallowed hard. “I uh…actually have you told you this already, but you didn’t hear me. There was static. Or maybe you didn’t want to hear it. And I’ve been scared, and been wondering if you are too, and what that means for us. I’ve never said this to any other woman. I’ve never felt this deeply this quickly, and I just-”

“Barry?” she interjected, and he took a deep breath, exhaling with a smile.

“I love you, Iris.”

Her eyes went wide, her heart beating a mile a minute.

“I’m in love with you,” he emphasized. “And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted you to kno-”

“I love you, too!”

His eyes went wide as saucers at her urgency.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course, yes! I was talking about you downstairs. Who else could I be talking about?”

Amidst tears, she leapt into his arms again and kissed him madly.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He shivered in her arms, feeling more at peace and jubilant than he had in his entire life. Like he’d finally come home.

“I love you.”

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction

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tammyhybrid21 · 4 years

Text

Tadeo and Internalized Ableism

Well… this…

Wasn't actually the next post I planned to make next for this fandom, but well, since Tumblr deleted an old post of mine, right when I decided I was going to scream and share that OC again… Well, it lead into a discussion that I had sort of-- half started and stopped a few times, and now here I am�� And… this will be a lot, sooo--

"What is with You?"

Let's see if I can shed some light on this.

So first… to catch up the uninitiated… I have, by this point cemented my belief that Tadeo is quite likely Autistic himself(Read that post here). So now alongside the rather more obvious Autism that Mummy displays we have Tadeo-- Tadeo, who has one character trait/flaw that keeps coming up and that I would personally like to dissect along with some extra reflection on some of his actions in the sequel and the hints given to us in the little animated/stylized growing up sequence for Tadeo…

So to start…

What's the trait/flaw…

Well, it's even looking to be the BIG ONE for the next Movie. Tadeo seeks the validation and respect of his peers, but always falls short.

Tad would love for his archaeologist colleagues to accept him as one of their own, but he always messes everything up.

Or else turns them against him... Which... Okay, this is something that we've actually seen as a rule for him, from the opening credits of Movie 1. And even from his Construction Worker peers... Although we didn't really see it so much in movie 2, buuut--

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MOqolHchI6Y&t=6s

Let's start this analysis off properly with this, and the symbolism re: Maladaptive Daydreaming in this whole little introductory to Tadeo sequence here from the first movie.

Which okay, look, I know it might not seem like much. But in the greater context, well. There's actually a lot of information that we can unpack in this short introduction, and points one and two I would like to make are the ones with Young Tadeo in the school "classroom". Because here's the thing...

That-- That's a familiar place. And it's an unfortunate thing, but-- Just how it's framed here--

I... can't really say anything 100% on this... but this feels much too close to daydreaming away Public humiliation. Like, look, okay-- it's all too common, but public shaming for one reason or another. Being too dumb/distracted, or if you're stimming in class-- and I have... many feelings about Tadeo and potentially supressing his stims-- but these scenes in this opening hit really close to how it feels--

And again, maladaptive daydreaming in general is this WHOLE sequence.

Soooo why does this matter in the context of this discussion? Well, let's ask why, this all would be happening. And the answer is going to be very simple. The same reason at the start of movie 1, one of the first scenes we see is a pair of boys teasing/mocking Tadeo in his front garden dig site.

"You'll never find anything"

"Loser"

Which-- isn't much, but for the context of the scene. This is our introduction-- and even in the sequel, we know he's still teased over his interest in Archaeology-- it's seen as a "loser hobby". Which I think also brings me to the next point of the moments in the opening...

JEFF! Give him a puppy since nobody wanted to be the weird kid's friend. It's not even a proper balm really. And possibly might have incidentally caused some other issues, but I don't think I could really explain or give those things justice... So instead... I'm just going to finish this section with a point of note.

How many times must Tadeo have gotten punished for being "distracted" or "not paying attention" in the classroom. How many times would he have been punished for stimming?! I really do wonder, and if anything else, how many classes must he have daydreamed away to escape from the stress and pressure of reality? Hell, we still see him as an adult stress daydreaming--

With the consequences of getting fired...

Which okay, none of this actually makes my point. So-- I want to draw attention to the behaviour in the sequel that really annoyed me, along with a friend who I watched both movies with. It's just the behaviour that's there throughout the whole movie-- best summed up as... not appreciating company... BUT

On that actually--

I would like to bring up one expression early on that gives me MANY EMOTIONS.

And it's the one up above, as the preview image to this post. Specifically this face:

Now... I don't know about you, or anyone else. But THAT'S a thousand yard stare if I have ever seen one. But additionally. I have, a much, much too in depth reading on this expression. Like, so far in depth it's not even funny.

There's a sense of fear, long stare, the small twitch in the frown as if guilt-- and then because it's literally on the heels of "stop drawing attention" (the first occurrence of that line as well)... And just-- you get flashback sense. Also I would like to comment on the movement in this scene, in how his hands are on the wheel the small twitches and quirk in his expression... it's as if--

As if...

Well. Look, considering the precursor scene. And listen. WE ALL want to do what Mummy done in that prior scene!

Same Mummy! SAME!

But-- I would like to talk about sequencing and the emotions in when and how Tadeo drags him in... there's a moment I really can't quite catch properly... between it, but--

This frown... this thinky frown... and the line draw-- Tadeo? Is that guilt mulling over a decision? And there is a double glance, but that's not something I can catch in screenshots, and I don't know how to make Gifs... but the following sequence and expressions and I just can't with my emotions and what kind of feeling Tadeo gives me here.

It just...

I really want to know what he's thinking.

So... let's talk about this expression. I don't know if it's just me, but again, there is... a sense of-- well almost upset for being a "kill joy". Bursting Mummy's bubble... Popping his fun. And considering we have ALL been there and wanted to stick our heads out the window--

BUT--

Why is this a detail I would like to bring up... well it comes into how Tadeo explains things. Mummy scares people, he's different, a Zombie in their world... which yeah, that's fair... BUT! After so many rewatches... and remembering that promise... promise sealed with such an important object to Tadeo--

I just have a lot of thoughts... and I don't think it's really easy to explain, but I would like to draw back to a background detail in the sequel again...

In relation...

And... as an Aside. Specifically... the promise made... or what Mummy asked in Movie 1.

"If I let you go, could you guarantee me you'll let us live in peace?"

Also, I know this seems arbitrarily related... But I do wonder if some of Tadeo's pushing Mummy aside, stop drawing attention, you need better disguises... I do wonder, really wonder if it's actually because of this promise... misguided and maladapted maybe buuut-- it would make some sense in the context of how there is always something in the background of those moments that Tadeo is just worrying about.

BUT

That's only speculation, and not even one that holds up in relation to some of the worst offence moments of Tadeo's problematic behaviour...

And thus... let us enter into the realm of problem projecting... and with some bonus from Tiffany and how she makes this dynamic juuust that touch more clear on rewatches along with my own talk about this particular topic.

As a minor note, this scene actually doesn’t have much. But I kind of get... more specifically this grumpy dad/parental friend from Tad's expression. And considering. "I told you to wait in the car!" BUT ALSO, I just want to note how Sara is less worried in this scene. More if this is happening-- Tad's worry, again could be the promise...

But more specifically... There's a lot in Mummy's body language and appearance aside what he is-- the truth of his origin aside... he does not fit in... and it's specifically the outfit, breaking the "rule" that Tadeo worries about... drawing attention and eyes... and considering the next image set I want to talk about... I have emotions, but it's very messy, and kind of scrambled.

I have... a number of statements I could make on this one... but number one, exactly what the dialogue here actually is... And where that worry is coming from. Tadeo... isn't actually scared of Tiffany here realizing what Mummy is... I think that cat's long out the bag... but there's something else.

"Your friend is a bit weird"

"You have no idea"

Sooo... there's a lot of scenes here... and a few more, but I really, really want to talk about something. For a lot of this... Tadeo is really the only one who has an expression of worry, or fear, or anything that's similar. Tadeo's the one worried.

Mummy is bopping out, I can't really get a good shot of the dress, but again, Mummy... isn't really bothered or anything. Tiffany is also the only one who really has a weirded out reaction... but that actually strengthens the point I'm going to make about what this feels like more than anything else... And I suppose we can touch base on the queer aspect on that note but really--

For a lot of this stuff...

Tadeo's issue is drawing attention. But for the other part of it... I want to point to Tiffany's reaction and even much later... how the villain identifies him.

Also Tadeo's reaction in the last one is... arguably the worst of all his reactions. Like, I have-- many emotions on a lot of his reactions but just-- Tadeo is not in a good place right now...

"Are you serious WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Which... hmmm, now, where have I heard that before? Where have any of us heard that one before? In fact-- Tadeo... his reaction to ALL of this is telling.

Like... aside the Tiffany thing... which also her whole "It's official, your friend is a total FREAK" has some baggage... does anyone else look at all these scenes and get that...

"I'm THIS close to a panic attack" feeling? Also, on that note, I would like to point out there's just... so, so much worry from Tadeo when it comes to the Super Cookie scene, again not something I can really capture in just screenshots. BUT--

BUT--

This brings me to the big point. Mummy by this point is basically masking/mimicking Tad to fit in. Since Tadeo has shot down, all of his disguises... and-- Tadeo's response, has always been that fear. But here, there's an outright anxiety. Which again this could be covered/passed as him being-- well, anxious over his promise. But there's also MASSIVE ANXIETY with the Super Cookie scene, more than I can really capture without the animation... but...

Let's talk about projecting issues.

And specifically.

"A total FREAK"

Now... here's the thing. Again. Mummy throughout the WHOLE movie has been, pretty much dropping the mask. He's going wild and having fun being himself and happy... but-- for that he's pretty much been shut down at every turn... MOSTLY by Tadeo pre-emptively... but... I want to point out something...

This is... Such a small interaction... but it is SUPER telling.

Tiffany is... an issue. Because here's the thing. Part of her reaction, might actually be bleed through from how Tadeo's been in this WHOLE situation. Which, again there is a lot for me to unpack and talk about... But my biggest lynchpin and realization moment... for what's going on... is that scene with Mummy dressing up and mimicking Tadeo...

And more or less picking on Tad's insecurities.

WHICH-- underhanded, BUT IT POINTS OUT A RECONTEXUALIZATION POINT.

Because here's the thing... Tadeo... Stifles those things.

"I would never! I'M NOTHING LIKE THAT!"

And then the sheer panic with Jeff, and the super cookie, and what if?

Let's go back to this for a moment:

Now... for a moment... imagine... a kid...

No friends. Just a dog. Jeff is... Tadeo's security blanket, and possibly one of his only friends. People only seem to tolerate Tad at best. He's still bullied and teased and mocked and--

And--

And can never do things right. A screw up. So he stifles his stims... like seriously. Go watch when he does his happy dance, and see how long it lasts-- and then see this:

And there are moments from the first movie as well, buuut-- He IMMEDIATELY stifles it when he catches himself... and I know something about stifling stims... sooo how is the relevant... well... I would like to propose that fear anxiety/overprojection idea.

Tadeo is scared... Scared not even necessarily of Mummy's identity being out... but of how people will react... AND Let's talk of something else...

Considering what's been revealed about a certain Descubre con Tadeo scene... Mummy knows... and he's aware... and that's internalized... but... There's a BIGGER issue with Tadeo... He's... not just embarrassed by his own stims and actions and his own "oddness"

But that's bleeding over to what looks like projected embarrassment and shame and a deep, deep fear, in regards to how he interacts and works with Mummy. And I know this is big brain and heavy... but Mummy's side of things...

Small and subtle. "Weirdo like me!"

Tadeo, has gone to trying to be normal, and while Mummy feels it, he owns it.

Which... brings me to the end of this whole thing. But not fully, because there is... a small thing more. For all Tadeo has been a DISASTER throughout the whole thing. Overprojected worry that just reeks of that second hand embarrassment projection... Tadeo proves he cares in a small moment that I don't think people would think too much about...

Not in front of a crowd, and he still needs a smack...

LIKE A SERIOUS ONE.

Like, look, for all Tadeo has been a disaster projecting issues friend... he does care, and this moment subtly reminds that. ALONG with that it IS projected worries and issues. And... Internalized ableism that makes him embarrassed. Of himself, and more, of how free Mummy is acting with his own neurodivergent behaviours. Tadeo is... a mess.

And...

Now I need to circle back for a moment.

Because here's the thing. Tadeo might not be doing this, mostly because I don't think he's a writer, but the point of call that made this post... was me getting excited about sharing an OC...

Specifically...

My smurfs OC... one who I made a post on back in 2017, that has now been deleted... and I will not be reposting it... but if you want the details... I turned it into a doc for sharing... But... the biggest thing is... the logic behind making this character, and giving them the name they have had up until recently was... Internalized Ableism and trying to deal with bullying... Also not everything in that document is even accurate anymore...

But hey, kudos to me in 2017 for trying to explain it.

But...

"Call a self-insert [Insult] because it made the word hurt a little less(it's only the truth right?)"

This is Mummy's approach... while Tadeo... tries to be normal, normal, and shun it to the point he hurts himself. And... inadvertently hurts others around him as well...

I will probably make a few smaller clarification posts later, since this is practically 2700 words and I feel like I've only barely explained it, but really, how can you even explain this properly? It's just one of those nuances...

But yeah... internalized ableism and the beast it is making relationships and talk hard... even between two neurodivergent icons of characters.

#THybrid Jones #Tadeo Jones #Ableism #Autism #Mental Health #Mummy(Tadeo Jones)#Tad(The Protagonist)#I was up all night making this post and it SHOWs #But I still have many things to say #Will probably say them in other smaller posts #The more I dig into these movies...#The more I discover #I feel like you reach the end of the post and I've just talked in circles #The point is lost #But that's what specific scenes as their own posts will be for

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ofmiscreants · 4 years

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♡ ◟ ° › jung jaewon, cismale, he/him, twenty three ⋯ ❛ thank you for applying to STONED RECORDS, MILO YUN ! before we start this job interview, i would just like to go over a few questions. you said your best attribute was ASSERTIVE, right ? well, word around town is that some people find you to be a bit more EGOCENTRIC … but, nevermind that. i’m actually more curious about whether you were actually THE ONE WHO LEAKED THEIR EX’S NUDES last year ? oh, you were ? that’s unfortunate. on the bright side, i heard that you excel at VIDEOGRAPHY …. so that’s cool ! now, one more question … your last manager said that you’re hiding that you’ve been CAMMING FOR TWO YEARS FOR SOME SIDE CASH AND YOUR BEST FRIEND’S FATHER IS YOUR NUMBER ONE TIPPER, is that true ? — haha , just kidding ! they didn’t say that, i just read that about you online . anyway , you got the job ! ❜ 】 eri, pst, she/her.

hello i’m eri ! a cat obsessed, possibly nocturnal and very awkward individual. this is my first time joining an rp in .. years, and honestly i am very excited. i do work full time so i will likely be more active on line, but i look forward to writing threads on the dash as well ! i want to preface this with the fact that i am NOT my muse. the things that milo does / say are not me, i do not agree with his moral ( or lack there of ) and trust me when i say i probably hate him more than you. with that said, prepare yourself for the mess that is milo yun.

so to start off, a brief history of milo's childhood: boy was a spoiled BRAT. his mother gave him everything, he basically never heard the word no, and although he ended up with a little sister by five years he still radiated and owned his only child energy. his mother married a very wealthy man when he was about 8, and milo always hated him for taking even more attention away from him. the only good thing that came from his step-dad was all the money he knew came directly from that man's bank account.

growing up, he was a generally decent person other than his hatred of the word no and not getting his way. personality-wise, he was tolerable. he teased people in joking ways, was a bit outspoken, but nothing too bad. that was until he got in his first relationship. he'd lost his virginity at 13 but didn't get with anyone for real until 15/16 ( i am hoping to get this connection so we can discuss that further if you're interested ). it was a year or so together before milo found out they'd cheated on him and that changed him for the worst. never having been the most romantic guy, he vowed to be the exact opposite from that day on. never again would someone make him cry, never would someone come close enough to his heart to break it, and he would never allow himself to be vulnerable with someone on a level like that again.

it wasn't just a fear of love he gained but an entirely fucked up and cynical attitude as well. he started acting out more, picking fights with people until someone else swung first and he couldn't be pinned for starting it (even though he 100% instigated it ). he wasn't miserable, but he had miserable moments. and soon it became harder for him to care about other's feelings or happiness, and started worrying only about his own happiness and his own needs.

by the time he finished high school he had a well-known reputation of being quite the casanova, and had left all too many hearts broken in his wake. he might not have the urge to love again, but he had a craving for every other part of it ... and deep down he missed it, feeling loved, even if he had no intention of reciprocating it.

BASICALLY, HE FUCKS AROUND AND PLAYS WITH PEOPLE'S HEARTS BECAUSE HE WANTS TO BE WANTED BUT ALSO NEVER WANTS TO NEED ANYONE EVER AGAIN OK.

ok so at 18 he graduated from high school as you do, naturally his parents assumed he'd be going to college but when he informed them that nah he was not, they waite a few months which were spent partying and acting like a crazed teenager in heat before finally warning him that if he didn't get a job he'd be cut off until he did. naturally, he went a week giving them both the silent treatment.. and in that time landed his first job at a coffee shop. it did not last long, and he worked at various other places around town and most of which he didn't last more than a few months at. authority? yeah .. he simply is not a fan. his luck was running out, that was until he decided to try out camming.

it started off slow, but by 21 he was killing it. getting paid to sit in his room and undress for men who are showering him in compliments and tips?? it was a dream come true. after realizing how much money he could make .. it changed a lot. he decided to only work part-time jobs in order to keep the illusion that he was making regular money a thing, and kept all his camming and sugar daddies behind closed doors.

this plan worked out great, two years in and he's working at stoned records and chilling, while nightly leading his double life as a very successful male cammer with a wide variety of fans from male to female of all ages. his favorites, however .. tend to be the older gentleman, the ones he can sucker into paying for skype dates and private videos, the ones who he has to resist rolling his eyes when he calls them daddy but that instant gratification of gifts of money being sent to him makes it all worth it. simple enough, until one of his top tippers turns out to be his best friend's dad. yikes .. and at first he questioned whether or not this was a good idea, but knowing how much money they had, it was hard to resist. he figured .. if it weren't him, it would be some other cammer so why not enjoy the wealth? well because of this he's been holding in a dark secret, having to avoid eye contact during those awkward run-ins, and pretending not to now intimate details about his own friends' family. this is a plot i would VERY much like to fill, and i am willing to change details or information around to make it fit better with your muse.

ok now that i have rambled forever i'm going to attempt to give a few more points that are much shorter

his rumor is about how he leaked his exes nudes after their break up ... this a heavily desired plot and i would love to have it. milo is a fucked up guy and honestly, they probably found out he cheated so in order to "win" this battle he leaked the nudes he had of them and then proceeded to dump them .. i'm sorry he's horrible

sexually he chooses not to label himself, he is attracted to attractive people and goes for what he wants. pansexual would be the closest description, but he himself will never put his sexuality into a box. with that said, he leans toward the dominant-top position, but he is also very open-minded and very filthy so opportunities are endless with him. sex to him is the biggest ego boost .. he loves being wanted, love the validation he gets from someone wanting him and feeling good because of him. he also very much gets off on others being vulnerable with him ( yes we get it he was traumatized bc he's a big brat ) and enjoys the power play dynamic that can come from sexual situations. anything beyond sex and .. he just stops caring. he knows ahead of time that he'll never be the one from them and doesn't plan on making that realization a very easy or pain-free one.

romantically he has only ever felt that attachment once. after he got his heart broken he vowed no more. he technically considers himself aromantic, but if you ask me he's just stubborn and refuses to relinquish power because he was embarrassed and his ego got very bruised. in reality, he's terrified of being vulnerable and giving someone else the chance to decide he isn't good enough. mind games are fun simply because he knows how to gain and keep the upper hand.

a few last things i feel like mentioning, he gets into fights often, drinks very often, does any sort of substance offered to him ( no injecting himself with anything though ), and basically is just ... a fucked up dude with an extremely distorted view of reality. his ego drives him 90% of the time, and he seriously lacks empathy. he's not the best dude in the world .... very far from it.

oh and his dream was to become a famous youtuber / influencer so he got really good at photography and videography but when he didn't become really famous within six months he gave up and instead started camming, just felt like throwing that in so i didn't forget oK now he's milo with the big dick and great lighting.

OK NOW THAT IM DONE RAMBLING .. hopefully some of you actually made it through this, i apologize again for the length of this. anyway i have stats for him and wanted connections so please feel free to check them out and hit me up if you want to do any of them OR if you have other ideas OR just to brainstorm together because i want all of the plots. ok thank you for reading and ily you !

p.s. all plots are open to any gender unless a specific one is stated where it says open. some may have certain pronouns already written but i am by no means closed off to other gender considering it is not something he has a preference for. i also did not have time to write out as many connections as i wanted so please don’t be discouraged with the lack of them .. i work full time and have been very busy lately i swear. i will try to fill them in / edit them as i get more.

#stone:intro #hello this is milo !!#i apologize for how long this is #i tried to shorten it and it did not work but #its also a rambly mess so please message me if you have questions or just to plot #i swear i am a much nicer person than he is oK

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