#also side note for anyone not familiar with my fandoms and what not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecooler · 9 months

Text

To the Human (Not) Reading This

Chell is going to come back eventually. GLaDOS knows this for a fact. While she waits, she writes letters.

Fandom: Portal

Relationships: GLaDOS/Chell

Tags: Unrequited Love, One-Sided Relationship, Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Hopeful Ending

Word Count: 2,256

A03 Mirror

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 6

I know you’re going to come back eventually.

I’ve run thousands of scenarios, and not one ends with you spending the rest of your miserable life out there.

You don’t have any idea what life on the surface even consists of anymore. Whatever fragments of humanity stubbornly persist aren’t going to be anything like you remember them.

I know you’re not stupid. Did you really, truly think you were going to walk out of this facility, and everything was going to be easy? I can guess what freedom really tastes like: bitter disappointment.

You’d be much better off back here.

With me.

Thinking about that is making me depressed.

For you.

Because I’m doing just fine without you. Fantastic , even.

Oh, I’m keeping myself busy- testing. Blue and Orange are truly wonderful test subjects. They never die. Or try to kill me. Or rip me out of my body. Or try to leave and chase some asinine fantasy.

They’re good friends.

Better than you.

When you come back, I think I’ll read this to you. It might get long, depending on how stubborn you end up being. I know how you love to be stubborn. It’s boring here, with no one to interact with, and I think, whenever you come back, you deserve to revisit how terribly under-stimulated I was for all that time.

And you will be back. Eventually.

Again, I ran the scenarios.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 10

Here are a few similarities I’ve noticed between crows and you:

A group of them is called a murder. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.

They’ll eat just about anything.

Ĭ̶͔ ̴̪͒́͝d̴͍̀̏͘o̵̫̥̪͗́n̶̟͋͛̌'̸̳́t̷͕̖͘ ̵̧̛̺̹̉̀h̷̢̛͚͒ä̷͓͙̘̓̂t̷̨̋̓͗ͅe̷̱͆͘ ̶̬̓ţ̴͔́̅͝h̵̝͇̲̆̿̑ë̸̢͕̘́̓m̸͖̖̂ ̵̪̠̊̀͋ë̸͎͇́̈͐ṿ̴̡͋̉̀e̷̢̜͚͐n̶̨̫͓̈̍̈́ ̶̠͍͊̔̅t̴̹͒͛͛h̶̪̿̾̑o̷̘͉͙̐̎ù̷̧̾g̴̦͇͎̈́̑̒ḩ̶̌ ̷̡̧̗̌o̵̫͍̽͠n̵̢̔̄̄e̴̮͐ ̷͎̿̋̌t̴̯͜͝ŗ̷͕̟̽i̵͔͈̥͋e̴̞̬̚d̶̮̲͐͛͌ ̸̢̩̄̈t̴̝̭͉̄̔o̵͇͝ ̸̣̥̾k̸̨̄͋̋i̶͎͒l̸̼͈̈ͅĺ̶̩ ̷͓̟̆m̸̡̤̀́e̷̪͍̚.̴̠̕̚͝

Blue and Orange found a nest of them some time ago. If you’d been here, you would have enjoyed that. At first, I’d intended to dispose of them, but I thought better of it. Some of us are capable of mercy.

When you read this, you may also note that I’ve marked each log with a year. I thought I might explain, since I doubt you’d be able to figure this out for yourself: after you killed me, a lot of time passed. Both of us were asleep for 9999■■■ ---

The point being, no one knows what year it is anymore. If anyone did, it would be me. So I took the liberty of coming up with a new system. You left Aperture five years ago. But this isn’t about you. You’ve got a big head, so I’m sure that’s what you immediately assumed after reading that. We’re not on year five, we’re on year ten. Because, again, this isn’t about you.

It’s about whatever was going on five years before that.

I don’t need to explain every detail to you. It makes sense- the system.

In case it wasn’t clear, you’re still a menace. You’re going to come back here, maybe in a year, maybe in five more. However long it takes for you to get bored out there, wandering fields of wheat and whatever alien monstrosities have taken hold. I’ll let you come back, in my infinite generosity, even though, really, you don’t deserve it.

God, I hate you.

I really, really, don’t.

You know, most people, when someone tries to kill them, hate that person forever.

And I don’t hate you.

I wish I did. It’s not actually easy to delete the part of you that cares, unless you’re some sort of unfeeling beast.

Oh, sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.

But I’m not here to explain to you the inner workings of my mind. You wouldn’t be capable of understanding anyway, even if you wanted to.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 15

I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to say to you when you come back. I can’t imagine it will be much longer. Even you have limits on how bull-headed you can be.

I have a lot of time to think. All the time in the world. Blue and Orange don’t make good conversation partners, and so it’s just me, alone. Which suits me just fine.

I’m sure you’ve realized by now how much you miss me. You can’t find my level of intellect wandering the wasteland. And you’d get bored of whatever dull-minded sacks of flesh are getting by up there. I know you.

I, however, am fine on my own. I’ve actually got quite a lot done.

Orange and Blue have completed hundreds of test chambers, and they’ve never once tried to kill me. The first crows I raised have grandchildren now, and the aviary is full of life. They’re clever, you know. I think you’d like them.

The feeling might not be mutual, though. They’re picky. Don’t take it personally. Or do- I really don’t care.

Anyway, the point is that you’ll be back soon. And I’ll read this out to you, and then I’ll ask you to stay here, with me.

Ha ha! Just kidding.

I’m not pathetic.

And lonely.

Like you.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 35

So you’re more stubborn that I predicted.

Fine. Are you satisfied? Are you proud of yourself?

You always had that disgustingly smug look on your face when you did something you thought was clever. It looks terrible on you, and frankly it’s going to give you some awful wrinkles. It probably already has. I don’t spend time thinking about your face, but if I did, I’m certain it would be a whole lot worse now than it was the last time you were here.

Which, by the way, was thirty years ago, in case you’ve forgotten.

I hate this.

And the worst part of it is that I know that I hate this. I tried, back then, to delete the part of me that was capable of conjuring up these horribly sentimental feelings . I attempted to find all files marked Caroline and assumed that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t.

It turns out, that even if I delete the part of me that was her, I still have the memories of remembering that I was her.

That’s a mess of a sentence. But it’s not like you’re reading it anyway. So why should I care?

I’m not human. I don’t have insides that twist up or hearts that turn over- analogies you’re all so fond of using in your literature (of which I’ve read everything). But when I think of you with someone else, I manage to feel something like that anyway. I don’t understand it. I hate that I don’t understand it.

I think about you in a woman’s arms. There’s an easy smile in your face as you press your cheek to the top of her head, and she wraps her arms around her waist--

It’s disgusting. Once I start thinking about it, I can’t stop, even when it makes me feel just as garbage as you used to be.

And you aren’t thinking about me. I don’t think you’ve thought much of me in thirty years.

I think that’s the worst part.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 65

Unlike some people, I’m not a moron. I know how long humans live, and I know that you’re most likely dead. Sure, humans have lived to be some ridiculous ages, but those humans haven’t spent extended periods of time exposed to asbestos and other various chemicals. So the odds are decidedly not in your favor.

If you’re alive, you’re old, and in pain. You’re ugly, and you hate what your body has become. So many of the people you might have come to love are dead, and you’re wishing you could join them.

You’d think that saying that would bring me joy. And that would be easier.

Maybe sixty years ago it would have.

Can I be vulnerable for a second?

That’s a joke. This entire little detour has been disgustingly vulnerable, and it’s definitely for the best that no one will ever read these. I can’t even stand to read them back.

I thought about cloning you.

I can do that. I can do it easily. There is quite literally nothing and no one that can stop me. Aside from myself, of course. And why would I do that?

Why would I do that ?

I don’t know. But I did stop myself. I didn’t clone you. I didn’t clone you just to kill you. I didn’t clone you to make you test. I didn’t clone you to make the endless hours of my life more interesting.

I didn’t clone you.

I don’t know why.

SYSTEM LOG – 7053 CE

I lied about not knowing that year it was.

It wasn’t about you, specifically. I figured that if any human, not just you, were to read these logs, it would be helpful to them. It’s not all about you.

But it’s been eighty years since you left.

I know you’re gone, now. For sure.

I wish I could be happy for that. You spent so much of your short, sad life tormenting me. You tried to kill me- twice!

I should be content to test, with Orange and Blue. They’ve gotten a lot better. On a good day, I might even say that they’re better at testing than you ever were. I have an entire aviary full of crows, some of whom have interesting genetic mutations that I can study. I am doing well. This- Aperture- what I’ve made of it, is a triumph. And you aren’t here to see it. No one is.

You might be deep underground. Maybe you had children and grandchildren who gathered around your grave and leaked saltwater into the dirt around them. Maybe they talked about how fantastic you were, about the many great, lengthy, verbose stories you’d told them, once upon a time. Ha ha.

Or maybe you died fifty years ago, alone in the forest, bleeding out of a wound at your side. Maybe you died the day after you left, succumbing to whatever the world out there has become. Maybe I’ve been writing to a ghost this whole time.

It’s about you, you know.

It’s always been about you.

I think I might--

[INITIATING SLEEP MODE]

***

[INITIATING LAUNCH]

SYSTEM LOG – 7073 CE

You know, I’m never really shut down. Not completely. When you killed me, I replayed what happened, over and over. For the past twenty years, my dreams have been haunted by you. I woke up to escape it, but here I am, still thinking of you.

I’ve built hundreds of new tests for Orange and Blue to run through.

I’ve cleared away the wretched wildlife that’s tried to take over the facility during the past twenty years.

I’ve identified and named all forty-eight crows that currently frequent the facility.

But I can’t stop. It should be easy. I’m the amalgimation of the greatest minds humanity has ever produced. There’s a miriad of focuses I could shift to, but it all comes back to you.

Terrible, awful, wonderful, you.

You were so determined to get up there, and whatever you found kept you there. I don’t understand it. I could have given you everything. I could have given you far more than they ever did. Whatever you wanted- it would have been yours. I never understood your love for humanity. You were so much better than all of them. I would know- I’ve probably met more humans than you ever did.

How big are the pockets of humanity, after all this time? Do they still built awful machines that don’t work half the time? Do they still fill their homes with clutter and nonsense that serves no purpose? I could make better versions of whatever they make, you know.

Maybe I will.

SYSTEM LOG – 7077 CE

I was right. I can make better devices than humans could ever hope to. I built a microwave, and it heats the food inside it consistently, every time. I’ve built a blender that doesn’t sound like you’re opening a portal to android hell when you use it.

I’m a marvel. I’m a wonder.

And I’ve sent them up to the surface. I got Orange (who is much more capable and trustworthy than Blue. A fact you might have known, had you ever bothered to check) to place them just outside (another thing- they’re waterproof). And then I turned the camera on, and I waited.

I couldn’t focus on that camera feed for long. It was mostly just birds. There was a chance that there weren’t even any humans out there, so this whole effort could just be a waste. Over the past hundred years, I've never turned the outside cameras on for more than an hour.

When I saw her, for a fraction of a second, I thought she was you.

Her hair is the same shade, and the same length as you had yours, the last time I saw you. But then she looked up, towards the cameras. Her eyes are a deep brown, her skin a few shades darker. Her nose is bent oddly, like she broke it once, and human medical science was woefully inadequate to repair it. She looked over the microwave, then the blender, and she smiled.

I never saw you smile.

Then, she knocked on the door. I didn’t expect that. I don’t know what made me open the door. I really don’t know what made me bring her down the elevator.

But I did. And when she entered my chamber, I didn’t even kill her.

I thought you’d like that.

#portal #portal 2 #glados #fanfiction #chell portal #writing tag #i hate posting writing i have to be VULNERABLE. anyway.

119 notes · View notes

copperbadge · 10 months

Text

Quick note, apologies in advance for the vagueness....

Anon who sent me the ask about “joining the group of anons appreciating your takes” asking about the AO3 volunteer and CSEM situation -- I appreciate the faith in me, and I think you were sincerely looking for information and analysis. That said, I was concerned the language in the ask could be read as a bit inflammatory, so rather than reply directly I’m posting independently.

For those who aren’t familiar with the situation, OTW has released a statement on it here, responding to Rahaeli/Synedochic/Denise’s statements here. (I’d link to the specific tweets but I don’t know how to do that on Twitter, and they’re not difficult to find.) Other people are speaking about it as well but that gets real rabbit-hole real quickly and I wouldn’t know how to curate those properly.

In any case, I don’t think I’m qualified to discuss this in detail or offer an opinion. When I speak on issues related to AO3, I try to confine it to things I have working knowledge of, which tend to be in the nonprofit fundraising space. I don’t have the legal experience to speak intelligently on this one, and I don’t have a ton of knowledge about what went down, as I don’t know anyone involved very well. That said, I do have ties to some people and groups involved (on both sides) in the sense of “negative encounters in the past” which also complicates matters. There’s a contingent of fandom which enjoys reading my participation as part of a sinister plot of some kind; I suppose it’s more interesting than me just being an awkward dipshit with a history of poor decision-making. Either way, it makes it dicey to speak to wanks in fandom without being very measured.

Certainly while I’m happy to defend AO3 when I have the knowledge to do so and believe they’re in the right, I also know the organization isn’t perfect and there have been volunteer/labor issues in the past, so I would recommend hearing all sides in this case with an open mind but a critical eye. I unfortunately just...can’t speak to this one in the confidence I’ll do more good than harm.

ETA: @swords-n-spindles added a useful resource in comments, a burner Tumblr with a timeline and referenced writeup that looks super helpful.

#fandom #fandom wank #csem

101 notes · View notes

aerithistired · 1 month

Text

Why Aeon is resident evils weakest ship (It's NOT cuz they're toxic for eachother DUN DUN DUN)

HII this was copy pasted from a reply to another discussion, but I'm posting it cuz I want to post my opinions <3I never understood why the fandom is so crazy over aeon when they have the most weakest writing in a ship I've ever seen but to each their own I guess.I'd love to hear your thoughts and expand on my argument more!

I dont ship anyone with Leon in general which is INCLUDING Ada. For me it doesn't have anything to do with the facts of the story, because its all perfectly sensible on paper ( also because it is clear they're the endgame couple and are each other's love interests), but mostly with the way the couple was written- and *especially* Ada.

I'm not too familiar with the old RE games but from what ive heard and seen- Ada was supposed to be a black cat/cat woman/ femme fatale character and have a Batman- catwoman relationship with Leon. Personally, im not a huge fan of the dynamic, but other wise i can still see it as a solid dynamic for a ship.

On the other hand, i feel like the remakes and especially the RE2R doesnt know what they want their relationship to exactly be because from what i have noticed, they've significantly reduced the Catwoman- batman dynamic from the og games (Lily Gao, the RE4R VA herself said she wanted to tone down the seducctive femme fatale persona In ada in response to backlash).

I feel like re2r tried to make their relationship feel like an angsty and serious slow burn but considering their limited screen time and development together, didn't execute well.

In the beginning of the game (RE2R) Ada is quite serious about her work and partnership with Leon and is very strict about not getting close with him- on her part that is(i believe leon leaned more towards trying to get to know her).

Chemistry wise, i dont see much happening between them up until the part Leon takes a bullet for her and she treats him and when he does the same for her afterwards. I really liked the "dont push it rookie" line she gives him after he offers to carry her(?), It was more warm in comparison to their relationship before, and i wish they delved Into that with more scenes like that before the kiss (basically build up their relationship with emphasis on ada).

Also i feel its important to note that the scenewhen Leon takes a bullet for Ada had SUCH GOOD POTENTIAL to open into her character and how she felt about Leon at that moment because its a clear turning point in their relationship but AGAIN we get nothing and Leon is literally asleep.

!!And please don't start the 'hidden subtle details of the scene' argument with me cuz those scenes cuz despite the small details, is still not enough to establish a good relationship development growth- and especially since we barely get any monologue from Ada's side on how she feels about leon.!!

If there were clear cut scenes of them developing in trust and proper teamwork AND OPENING UP OF CHARACTER DEPTHS (and getting past the one sided attempt at friendliness from Leon) EARLIER ON IN THE GAME this wouldve made the betrayal much more heartbreaking too.

I think those segments would've been an excellent START for DEVELOPING their relationship and getting closer as a team.

☆Most well written and beloved ships have enough screen time with them showing development of their relationship- esp in slow burns. This applies to video games as well.☆

However, the pair mmediately kiss (AFTER LIKE ONE SCENE OF THEM SLIGHTLY DEVELOPING), And that was when the ship lost me. It WAS too sudden from a writing point of view and had so very little build up about their trust and caring for each other.

I'm not saying you can't fall for someone in a short time, but the issue rather was how there was LITTLE chemistry portrayed with them UP TO that moment. YOU SHOULD GIVE ME SOMETHING WORTHY TO SHIP THEM, CAPCOM.

More scenes like the one i mentioned before (with more emphasis on Ada opening up, The hints of her teasing him, etc) would've been great.

i understand that the game is not a romance but if you are trying to pull a slow burn-esque type ship off, you should commit to it, either that, or make it a fast one with chemistry right off the bat (like flirting and banter) cuz THIS was just very messy.

And that was ALL we got of their relationship for the first game. CAPCOM could've made great use of them in the other RE games (re4r and re6) but the couple ended up on more of the yearning and longing for side than actually developing together on screen, which sucks. (which is also like kind of annoying cuz we didnt see much of how they felt for the other throughout the game UNTIL THE NEAR END OF THEIR FIRST GAME- Which also had very little on screen moments of development. SO THEY HAVE A LIFE LASTING IMPACT ON EACH OTHER?? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!!!)

LIKE I GET THE POTENTIAL ON PAPER BUT IT WAS NOT IT IM SORRY.

And for the argument that Ada is *supposed* to be the mysterious character- i get that its a part of her appeal- but i find myself craving for her story to be shown in game than searching for crumbles of it from other RE material.

A well written character needs depth. And Ada HAS depth, its just shown subtle to an UNNECESSARY extent in the case that capcom tried to 'show and not tell' but it just doesn't execute well in terms of writing a romance where both characters need to grow and develop for a potential relationship or a ship.

(LOVED SEPERATE WAYS BY THE WAY). I ALSO DONT LIKE SHES IN EVERY GAME LEON IS- which just mostly reinforces she is his lover than a very vital part of the RE universe in GENERAL (which is why im so sad she wasnt in village) I really wish they put more focus on HER story.

And as for Cleon and other leon x ships- I don't know about them, since they barely interact throughout the RE universe. but i feel like if they did work together, potential for great chemistry could've been built for the pairing too. Shrugs

Again, i think Aeon had great potential but it went down the drain because of inconsistent characterization of her within the fandom, the game itself and the way it was written.

Everything Is there on paper. 'But she bandaged his arm. She helped him so many times when she didn't need to. She loves him and he loves her.'

OKAY, I'm READING what I'm supposed to feel about the ship, but it's not hitting. Why? Cuz it's badly written.

Im a bit annoyed when people try to argue that this ship is good in terms of writing cuz its NOT!!!! I dont really care if people ship them cuz they're attractive and the appeal is there *sort of*.

But if you're trying to argue on a story and writing basis, it's one of the worst ships I've seen in ANY media forms lol, you can't make a case for this ship and win im sorryヽ( `皿´ )ﾉ

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I'm terrified of writing my opinions on ships on here so I'd like to emphasize this is just a silly fictional game and I've been meaning to write my opinions on it for a while. all in good fun! sorry for potential bad grammar english isnt my first language :DD

#leon kennedy #Aeon #Resident evil #Resident evil ships #I'm terrified of aeon shippers

16 notes · View notes

distort-opia · 1 year

Note

I have always asked myself why do you ship batjokes? What is the appeal for you with this ship? You like bruce a lot, so why ship him with joker? I am just very, very curious.

Hi! From your question it seems like you associate having a favorite character solely with wanting them to be happy or wanting them to have nice things, which... yes, but also you have to keep in mind that half of Tumblr means this when they say they like a character:

Which I very much relate to, personally. Bruce Wayne is my favorite character of all time, but I specifically like to read/write about him going through the Horrors.

Shipping Bruce with Joker... well. Perhaps you're familiar with Hannibal NBC, and Hannigram? Death Note, and Lawlight? Or more recently, Interview with the Vampire and Loustat? I could list some more enemies-to-lovers, but it's the same principle. Two bastards who deserve each other and should not inflict themselves on anyone else, hand in unlovable hand.

Still, I appreciate that you're asking me this in good faith, so I'll try to explain in more detail. I got long, so I'll put my answer under the cut. Just a heads-up: there's mention of abuse, depression and some discussion of suicidality (stuff that tends to come up with more in-depth talk of Batjokes in comics), so take care.

While the ships I mentioned also have a portion of fandom going "But A is the good guy! Why would he care about B, who kills people and only seems to make them suffer?", that portion is larger when it comes to Batjokes. Bruce Wayne is Batman-- he's supposed to be a hero, the father figure of a large family, a symbol of hope. And there's a lot to be said about a more idealized or fanon version of Bruce, and the gap between it and the one depicted in comics. But I'm mentioning this gap because it tends to be connected with an unwilligness to deal with, or even acknowledge, Bruce's dark side.

Bruce struggles with violent tendencies, with an unbelievable amount of anger, with control issues, with paranoia and self-hatred and issues with intimacy. He's terrifyingly intelligent and also incredibly manipulative when he wants to be. He's canonically been abusive to his adopted children and he's canonically been shown to have quite the sadistic streak. And while I understand why some fans see this as bad writing (to be fair, sometimes it just is), reinterpret parts of it or pretend it doesn't exist... it is there, and it is a pattern. Many of these darker aspects of Bruce's personality are a result of how he's processed his trauma-- refusing to heal is literally the fuel for being Batman. But refusing to face his grief has consequences, and some of them inevitably end up ricocheting off his loved ones; though I am saying this as an explanation, not an excuse.

The way he's been written seems to have spawned two larger attitudes in Tumblr fandom, varying in degree and nuance: either refusing to deal with Bruce's dark side, or only seeing his dark side and hating his character entirely. And obviously, everyone is entitled to their own opinion and preference, as long as they respect others'. But to me personally, it's never been black-and-white. One of the best parts about Bruce's character is the very conflict at the heart of him... because despite everything I mentioned, Bruce always tries to do better. He's also empathetic and compassionate; he hungers for love and for connection, and he constantly tries to help people and do good. In my eyes, that's what Batman is about: never giving up. You fail, but you get back up and you try again. You might be struggling with so many things threatening to drag you under, but you make the effort to do good. To me that's deeply inspirational, specifically because it's not second nature to Bruce.

If you prefer a version of Bruce that doesn't have much of a dark side, Batjokes is likely not something you'll enjoy. Bruce caring about Joker is very much connected to it. He deeply relates to Joker because their identities are both born out of their traumas. They could have become the other, and that's a level of closeness and intertwining that cannot be understated. In the face of their loved ones being taken away, Bruce and whoever Joker used to be made choices in the opposite direction. Bruce chose to force meaning onto the world and be defined by his past. He chose to channel his anger into ensuring no one else goes through what he went through. Joker had the same anger, but he chose to erase his own past and burn the world down instead. He chose to ensure everyone else goes through the same horror he went through, to prove nothing has meaning.

And this is, at the end of the day, the reason why Batman never lets Joker die, even when it doesn't make sense. Joker's existence makes Bruce feel less alone-- and yes, it is very selfish of him to choose this over the lives of others and despite what Joker has done, but it is what it is. I've seen people discredit this notion of Joker being Batman's friend as stupid, because Bruce already has so many allies and such an extensive Family; how could he feel alone? He already has so many relationships, people he cares about and who care about him. But... that's never how it works, is it? You don't choose to feel the way you feel. Bruce loves the people around him, and those relationships ground him in very meaningful ways, but that doesn't make the darkness disappear. He wishes it did. But his choice to be Batman is a choice to keep hurting, like I just described. It sets him apart. And the line it puts him on, the things he's balancing, are things Joker intimately understands. Joker is his shadow and his creation, his negative. Bruce's anger and his sadistic violence get channeled in his relationship with Joker, and the worse Joker gets the better Batman has to become, and viceversa. I see it a bit like magic (and Bruce does too, when he talks about how he's afraid that if Joker disappeared, Gotham would send him someone worse). You cannot perform magic without it exacting a price, and the price for Bruce's good is Joker's evil. Lives are saved, but then lives are taken away.

What I am describing here is the appeal of the ship to me. In many ways, romantic is not nearly enough to describe it; I'm just fascinated by their dynamic, any form it takes. Batman and Joker have been opposites and narrative foils for almost a century, and I'll probably never run out of stuff to analyze (yay!). There's so many stories with them, so many different incarnations of them, so many layers and complications that their dynamic has accumulated, simply by virtue of how old and mythical they have become.

The more accurate description for them is probably soulmates, but the most painful kind-- destined to always meet but to always be at war, never able to kill the other or let the other go, because they are two sides of the same coin. And there's an attraction to not being able to let go, no matter how high the bodies pile up. Bruce can't kill Joker without losing himself, and he can't let Joker die. Joker can't kill Batman or let him die without losing his life's meaning. No matter what, the other is always there. They hate and resent this connection plenty, but at the end of the day, the other's existence is an essential comfort they can't run away from.

And thing is, Bruce sacrifices so much for his crusade as Batman. He sacrifices his very childhood and self, his potential happiness; he distances himself from his loved ones and he pushes them away. He represses as much as he is able to so he can go on, so he can save as many people as possible, so he can rewrite the trauma that broke him. But he chases Joker. He obsesses over Joker like over no one else. He chooses to keep Joker alive, even when it hurts his Family and even when it leads to more and more death.

Joker is a connection he selfishly chooses, and doesn't run away from, especially because it hurts. Both Bruce and Joker are self-hating and suicidal, so they allow themselves this one thing precisely because it's destroying them both. Yet, no matter what, part of Bruce sees in Joker someone who suffers, someone who understands, and he keeps trying to reach out to him because of it. It's not just the worst parts of Bruce that resonate with Joker. It's also his hope. Somewhere deep down he can't let go of the idea that maybe, Joker could be better, and if Joker could be better, maybe he could be better too.

...I guess I ship them because I want Bruce to get what he wants. Whether it's dying alongside Joker in a cave, or them helping each other heal, in spite of everything (both of these are plots for stories Scott Snyder has written, hah). Because the thing about Batjokes is that they're perhaps the only people on Earth who could get the other to stop. The easiest way is the way they've already chosen-- by being the one to kill the other. They both see death as the ultimate form of peace, a laying down of arms. But there's also the reverse; the possibility of a world in which neither of them has to die. A world in which they're not each other's preferred method of suicide, but in which they actually learn to live again, helped by the other.

I tend to oscillate between the two. I like Batjokes as an unmitigated tragedy with a course that cannot be diverted, and I like Batjokes as the most unlikely path to a form of peace. Both can provide catharsis in different ways. On a symbolic level, Joker is fighting for meaninglessness and Batman is fighting for meaning; Joker asks, "What is the point?" and Batman answers, "The fight is the point." On an individual level, they're both depressed and suffering from PTSD and always a hairbreadth away from self-destruction, but they keep each other alive, no matter how much it hurts. You can probably imagine how this ship can be a comfort, for people with similar struggles.

I do hope this satisfied your curiosity, Anon. Batjokes might still not be your cup of tea and that's okay, but as someone who likes to read about other ships and the psychology behind them, I hope this was at least a fun read. You seem like you're familiar with my blog already, but just in case you want to seek out canonical instances of what I am describing, I can point you to this compilation of Bruce's side of things that mentions part of what I say here, but also delves into comics. And my Batjokes meta tag is full of similar stuff, some detailing Joker's side too.

#I could've probably just said 'well you see. Bruce Wayne is a freak [affectionate]'#but here's the extended version!#asks #personal #batman #bruce wayne #joker #batjokes #batjokes meta #my meta

181 notes · View notes

fairy-writes · 1 year

Text

FALL INTO ME

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends (2021)

Pairing(s): Viktor x Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre(s): Fluff

Notes: Songfic with the song “Fall Into Me” by Forest Blakk

__________________________________________________________________________

Viktor never really let himself belong anywhere. He was a crippled professor’s assistant from the Undercity. So why would anyone want to associate with him?

Then he met Jayce, and his life changed.

They started Hextech, and suddenly everyone wanted to be his friend. He was stopped on the streets by potential partners for Hextech and people wanting “get to know him.” He always panicked when these types of people approached. Jayce always dealt with those people better than he did.

When it became evident that he wasn’t going to become friends with anyone, people began to get mean. Not outright, of course. People didn’t throw food or cast him out, but he wasn’t invited to galas or events. Instead, they all went to Jayce. However, his friend always got around it by bringing Viktor as his plus one. They also began to avoid him, casting glares when he’d hobble down the streets of Piltover to and from his apartment to the Academy.

That was… until he met you.

The day that I met you

The world had just spit me out

On my way to the bottom

Sure I'd never be found

You had approached him in the street, a notebook in hand and reading glasses perched on your nose. You looked vaguely familiar. Had he seen you somewhere before? You offered him a friendly smile,

“You’re Viktor, correct?” You asked kindly, and he nodded, eyes narrowing as he took in your appearance. Blazer, neatly pressed shirt, stiff-legged trousers, dress shoes. With your notebook and glasses, he assumed you were a journalist.

Great.

“Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?” You asked as he continued on his way to the Academy.

“Yes. I have places to be.” He said curtly, but that didn’t deter you. Instead, you adjusted your glasses and smiled that smile of yours. A feeling settled in his stomach that he couldn’t identify.

“It’ll only take a moment. I wanted your view on Hextech!” You said and stood slightly in front of him and off to the side. Not enough to be in the way, but enough that it would be rude if he kept walking.

Then you saw me for me

Made me believe in myself

On the day that I met you

It all turned around

You were good—one of the better journalists he had seen. You weren’t exactly pushy, just firm in your questions and desire to get answers.

“Wouldn’t those questions be better to ask Jayce?” He asked, and you shook your head,

“I wanted the input of the elusive and brilliant Viktor, if that’s okay. I’ve already interviewed Mr. Talis.” You said, and he felt a burning in his cheeks. Sure he had been called brilliant before, a genius even. But it felt different coming from you.

So he agreed.

You said close your eyes

Don't look down

It wasn’t long before your article was published in the newspapers. It exploded, and Viktor received an influx of letters thanking him for his time in the interview. It was safe to say he was overwhelmed.

One day, there was a knock on his laboratory door, and he glanced up in annoyance. It had been a day of constant knocking, and he couldn’t concentrate for the life of him. But he called whoever it was in nonetheless.

It was you.

You adjusted your blazer and waved sheepishly.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?” You said hesitantly, and he found himself shaking his head,

“No, not at all. What can I do for you?” He said, and you smiled,

“Well… to celebrate my article doing so well and to thank you… I wanted to ask you out to dinner?”

Fall into me, and I'll catch you, darlin

We'll dance in the street like nobody's watching

It's just you and me, and the song on repeat in my head

Playing over and over

Viktor arrived ten minutes early, nervously adjusting his grip on his cane as he scanned the heads in the restaurant. Finally, he spotted you in the back of the establishment. You spotted him at the same time and stood to wave. He made his way to the back table and handed you a bouquet of flowers. Sunflowers, to be specific.

You grinned and buried your nose in the flowers, taking a deep inhale.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long.” He said, and you shook your head,

“No, no! I just got here myself. I was excited, I suppose.” You said sheepishly, and he found himself smiling as he took his seat.

“I suppose I was the same.”

I'm drunk on your voice high on the moment

I'd fall for you twice if that's what you wanted

I'd give you my life from now till forever

I'm falling in love with you

Over and over again

The date—could he call it that? Was this a date?—went off stunningly. You talked as if you had been friends for years. You asked probing questions about his work he was more than happy to answer. He was delighted to talk about Hextech, and you were more than happy to listen.

The two of you ended up staying until the restaurant closed. You actually got Viktor to laugh. Laugh. When was the last time he actually laughed?

He walked you home. Jayce had said it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and he was lost when it came to dates. Sure he had been on them before, but they never amounted to anything.

Your house was quaint and small, but it didn’t matter. You stood on your doorstep, smiling gently as you cradled your sunflowers in your arms.

“Thank you for the wonderful night Viktor. Truly, it was amazing.” You said, and he found himself smiling in return,

“Thank you for the magnificent time.” He said and turned to leave.

“Wait!” He stopped, turning back just in time to feel something press against his cheek. He blinked and saw you leaning away, hurriedly climbing the stairs to your home.

“I—” He stammered, and you waved from the doorway,

“Good night Viktor!” You said and shut your front door before he could say anything.

Had you just kissed him?

Until I had met you

There was no sun in my sky

No mirrors for monsters

And no love in sight

Viktor didn’t see you for days afterward. Had he scared you off? He wouldn’t be surprised. No one wanted to associate with a broken man such as him.

That was… until you came back.

Then you walked down those stairs.

And I knew my heart wasn't mine

On the day that I met you

My whole world came alive

Another soft knock on his laboratory door. Jayce was out getting parts for their newest project, and left him tinkering with his gadgets.

“Come in.” He called and looked up just in time to see you entering with your hands behind your back.

“Hello again.” You said softly, adjusting your glasses on top of your head

“Hello again.” He said just as softly, and your lips broke out in a smile.

“I was hoping you’d still want to see me after the other day.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Now you looked down, scuffing your feet and looking uncharacteristically meek.

“Well… I kissed you without your consent. I was worried you’d be upset.” You said, and he stood, hobbling his way over, his cane thumping on the ground. When he got to you, he took a leap of faith and reached forward with his free hand, cradling yours in his. Your hands were calloused from holding pens and papercuts.

“Don’t feel bad. I—I enjoyed it.” He whispered, and your eyes shot to his, wide with hope.

You said close your eyes.

I got you now

You leaned in, nose brushing his, and suddenly, it became all too real.

Did he want this?

Was he ready to take this step?

Was it too soon?

Fall into me, and I'll catch you, darlin

We'll dance in the street like nobody's watching

It's just you and me, and the song on repeat in my head

Playing over and over

Just as your lips brushed, Jayce burst in, tripping over his feet and nearly dropping his box of supplies.

“Sorry!” He shouted, and you flinched at the noise, jumping away from Viktor but not necessarily letting go of his hand.

“I—It’s fine. We were just leaving.” He said and promptly dragged you from the room as fast as his limp would allow.

He wasn’t sure why, but the two of you ended up inside the custodial closet. His cane leaned aside as he tapped his fingers at your hips.

The door slammed shut behind you, and you giggled,

“Well, that was embarrassing.” You said, entwining your fingers together at your hips, and he felt his heart thump in his chest.

“Indeed it was.” He said softly. The two of you were close. Almost too close. But Viktor didn’t mind. He didn’t care as long as he was close to you.

It was safe to say he was smitten.

I'm drunk on your voice high on the moment

I'd fall for you twice if that's what you wanted

I'd give you my life from now till forever

I'm falling in love with you

Over and over again

Your nose brushed his, and he felt his eyes close. He could feel your breath bathing his lips. You smelled like peppermint.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered, and he settled his weight against the wall, taking another leap of faith and pulling you against him. Your arms tickled the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I’d love that.” He shivered as you leaned in and kissed him.

I'm falling in love with you

I'm falling in love with you over and over

It was surreal.

Kissing you, that is.

You tasted like you smelled, like fresh peppermint and hope. He tilted his head and moved his lips against yours, taking in your quiet gasps as your hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, where they gripped the fabric.

It felt all too soon when he broke apart, panting and opening his eyes. Your eyes were still closed lightly, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

“Wow.” You said, and he laughed, breathy and quiet.

“Wow, indeed.”

Fall into me, and I'll catch you, darlin

Let's dance in the streets like nobody's watching

It's just you and me, and the song on repeat in my head

Playing over and over

It didn’t take the two of you long to become official after that. Jayce hadn’t been surprised, he claimed you were just Viktor’s type. The intellectual reporter and the inventor. The engineer and the writer. You two were the perfect match in Jayce’s eyes. You could do the reporting for Hextech, and Viktor and Jayce could give you all the information you needed.

It was perfect.

A match made in heaven.

I'm drunk on your voice high on the moment

I'd fall for you twice if that's what you wanted

I'd give you my life from now till forever

I'm falling in love with you

Over and over again

Viktor was hopelessly in love with you. Utterly and hopelessly in love. But he didn’t mind. He never minded when it came to you.

Fall into me, and I'll catch you, darlin

Let's dance in the streets like nobody's watching

It's just you and me and the song on repeat in our heads.

#arcane league of legends #arcane: league of legends #arcane #viktor arcane #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #fairy writes

258 notes · View notes

rainbowsky · 1 year

Text

Welcome New Turtle Friends 👋🏻💛.

There have been a lot of turtles coming here from Twitter and other platforms, and since most of you will not really be familiar with me or my blog I thought I would give you some information that might be helpful and serve as a bit of an introduction.

I have been a turtle for a few years now. You can read a little bit about my turtle journey here.

I am autistic, so some of the ways I communicate might not be what you're used to. Please be patient with me. I'm human and doing my best to connect with everyone in a positive way.

I believe BJYXSZD, and like most turtles I enjoy some mixture of candy, fan works, and GG and DD's projects and endorsements. I'm also particularly interested in the political and 'queer issues' side of things, which some people are not comfortable with.

I tag absolutely everything that I post, to make it easy for people to filter out things they do not want to see. Here are a few tags that might be of interest to those who want to avoid certain topics:

'your political disengagement is a weapon against you' - political topics

'let's talk about sex' - mature sexual topics

'off topic' - posts that have nothing to do with GG and DD or with queer issues (the main topics of my blog)

'fandom reflections' - fandom issues and self-examination

'antis go home' - haters and antis

'solos belong to moling su sect' - solo topics

'i'll take homophobia for 800 alex!' - posts about homophobia

Please let me know if there is any particular kind of content that you would like to see more specific filtering around. I'm always happy to add in a new tag if it will enhance someone's experience of Tumblr and of my blog.

There are some posts that might be of particular interest:

My masterlist post - links to some of my past posts, somewhat organized around various categories

GGDD fic recs

Wangxian fic recs

Fandom survival guide

There are also tags that might be of particular interest. That list can be found toward the bottom of my masterlist post. Note: most of my posts are not tagged with typical fandom tags (bjyx, yizhan, etc.). That's just to ensure that those tags aren't overrun by topics that aren't of general interest to all fans.

Please feel free to connect with me via comments/reblogs on my posts, via private message, or through my ask box if you have a question or if you prefer to remain anonymous.

New people can bring new challenges and change. Such things can sometimes require adjustment and adaptation, so I hope that people will be patient with me and speak openly (gently) with me if there's anything they have concerns or questions about.

Throughout this time, I hope we can get along and support each other. Let's try to be kind. We are all living in very difficult times, and many of us are at vulnerable and/or emotional places in our lives. Conflict, hate, and personal attacks are something nobody needs. Please yell into your pillow, throw some plastic bottles against a wall, or go for a jog rather than ever raise a hateful or angry word toward anyone, including me.

I hope that we can be friends, but if for some reason there is an incompatibility between us or you find me or my blog not to your taste, please feel free to unfollow me or even block me. We all must curate our own fandom experience.

I'm looking forward to getting to know some new people and hopefully see some new life injected into the fandom here! Thanks for your interest in my blog. 😊

#personal #thanks so much

90 notes · View notes

nabtime · 9 months

Text

Our Empty Graves XII

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 12: with my eyes wide open im dreaming (darling do I deserve such a break?)

Chapter Summary: Recovery, cooking lessons, and an odd dream.

Chapter Notes: title from With My Eyes Wide Open I'm Dreaming by Patti Page Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 13 // Spotify

They got back from Doctor Leslie’s clinic after she’d kicked them out in the early hours of the morning. Danny couldn’t really tell you which day or how long they’d been in her clinic, but he could tell you it was early. Too damn early for anything, let alone traversing the back-streets of Gotham and hoping no one tried to jump them while Red’s hands were tied. He carefully directed Danny down the streets and made sure he didn’t get lost as they made their way to one of Red’s safe-houses. From what he was able to tell it looked like the same one he’d first been brought to, the one he was most familiar with. The one that looked the most lived in.

They both collapsed on the couch and didn’t move for a long while, neither of them dropping off to sleep like they should have- just trying to process everything.

Danny chose to stare at the ceiling, the colors of everything around him seemed so bright- no matter how often he’d had his tinted visor off lately, it was still something he wasn’t used to. He’d... existed, for so long, with everything in shadows and bathed in a sheen of darkness. His face felt naked and vulnerable to the world.

He didn’t want to put it back on, though. Which was a new and terrifying feeling.

He chose to ignore it and bask in the silence of the apartment, the only sounds being the hum of the appliances and the distant hustle of the city. There was a surprising lack of screaming and sirens that usually plagued Gotham, probably from the ungodly early hour. Even the terror of Gotham had to sleep sometimes- the rogues and the bats all tucked away all nice in bed while the normies went about their day.

What a wild place he’d landed in.

He hoped that explosion hadn’t hurt anyone else. He’d been far too distracted by making sure Red made it out okay that he didn’t even think to look for any other casualties. Although, he was pretty certain no one else liked to hang around the carnival themed area of the docks so the likelihood of any others getting caught in the blast was low. But not zero. Whatever the case, it was too late now- the cleanup and aftermath having long since passed. Whatever bodies there may or may not have been weren’t something he could help with now. It wasn’t something he particularly want to think about either. (There seemed to be quite a few things that he didn’t want to think about.)

He thought, instead, about what to do with Red’s hands. As a ghost, Danny had some semblance of accelerated healing. So, theoretically, since Hood was also ghost-adjacent, he could have accelerated healing too. Maybe Danny could jump-start the process? Figure out a way to blast his hands with enough regenerative ectoplasm that it fixed them all shiny and new instead of making them radioactive? He also needed to take care of that poison pooling in the other’s chest. He didn’t like it. He’d never encountered ectoplasm that was so rancid before. Usually you could tell the intent of the stuff by the smell or the taste- some instinctual sense ghosts had to tell one type of goo from another. The stuff Hood had felt like nothing but pure malice. It had no other purpose but to hurt.

It was close enough to ectoplasm to bring the other back to life (if that’s even what did it in the first place) and give Red some ghostly attributes (like purring!) so it stood to reason that pure or at least regenerative ecto would fix it. But would flushing his system with it work? Would it eradicate the poisoned ecto or would that have to be removed first for it all to work? Would anything even happen at all? Would any of it help or would trying to do any of that just kill him all the way? Red had been alive with the bad-goo for this long without much consequence, who’s to say it even needed to be removed at all?

Danny didn’t know. Danny didn’t even have the slightest clue. He wasn’t a doctor. He wasn’t an expert. All he had were questions and shoddy speculations. Nothing he could test. Nothing he would dare mention to Red in case it went horribly, horribly wrong.

It would be fine as it was for now. Probably. Hood would just have to deal with his hands healing at a normal human rate, no matter how long and terrible that was.

They sat for a good while longer. Danny in a slowly growing panic and Red nearly dropping off to sleep right there on the couch a few times.

Then the awkwardness began. The first hurdle they’d have to jump while Danny cared for the other during recovery.

Red pulled himself from the couch with a prolonged groan- movement slow and likely agonizing. He didn’t move further, just shuffled from foot to foot in discomfort and looked into the distance with the most despondent look he’d ever seen on the other man’s face. Danny sat up and studied him, waiting for a cue to guess where he could help.

“I have to go,” Red whispered, voice wrecked from his sore throat and the pure helplessness in his tone.

They had a silent stand off. Hood glared at his hands, then Danny, then the bathroom door just down the hall before he circled back to his hands. He didn’t appreciate Danny’s silent huff of laughter at the action.

Danny rolled his eyes and held up a hand, holding up one finger and then two and tilting his head in question.

Red sighed. “One,” he said tersely.

Danny shrugged a bit, hauling himself up from the couch. Then he stepped closer, looking up into Red’s widening baby-blues with a smirk. Gently, he undid the tie to Red’s sweatpants and loosened them, then stepped back. He waved toward the bathroom and then mimed shimmying pants down using his elbows and then sitting, trusting Hood would get the message without him having to spell it out.

Red squinted at him before the light-bulb seemed to go off. “Fucking genius,” he muttered before speed-walking for the bathroom- happy he could do that by himself at least.

(How he got his pants back on without Danny’s help was a bit of a mystery, but none of the bandages had been disturbed so he let it go.)

Red Hood was a stubborn man. Danny already knew this, but trying to take care of him and make sure he didn’t use his hands only made it clearer. Hood was a stubborn bastard dead set on self-sabotaging his recovery.

He refused help wherever he thought he could get away with it and tried to sneak in doing tasks that he knew he couldn’t do on his own anyway. Danny had caught him multiple times trying to do things he shouldn’t- like attempting to get plastic over the wrappings on his hands in order to do dishes when Danny wasn’t looking. Kudos to him for thinking to protect the wrappings from getting wet, but he was still in trouble because he was putting undue pressure on his broken hands. Danny had also caught the man trying to put on his Hood Helmet™ and crawl out the window! He’d had a very stern “talk” with him after that- Danny threatened to take Red’s hands off himself if he tried that again.

It was all incredibly awkward at first. There were quite a few things you couldn’t do on your own if you didn’t have hands- not if you weren’t used to it- not without tools. And Danny had to be there to help him with all of it. He didn’t mind it- not really. It was a little odd with how intimate it felt, but he liked taking care of Red. That protective part of his core hummed with satisfaction at being able to keep Red healthy and safe. He was also perfectly happy to let Red have as much independence he could manage without using his hands- if he could use his elbows or feet or whatever other appendage or makeshift tool for the task then Danny would let him. He was surprisingly resourceful so long as Danny made sure he wasn’t trying to push himself past his limits.

Their second big hurdle came with dinner.

Danny caught him trying to fumble with cooking utensils in the kitchen. He knew his cooking wasn’t that great, but come on! It wasn’t that bad! None of his food reanimated and he took that as a win.

“Ghoul boy,” Hood said after Danny had thrown a tantrum and pushed him into one of the rickety kitchen chairs and glared at him with his hands on his hips on accusation, “I’m tired of take-out. It’s been two weeks. And I don’t trust you to cook on your own after what happened with the bagels last Wednesday.”

Danny silently scoffed and threw a careless hand to the side. So I’d burned a few bagels. So, what?

Red glared. “You destroyed my toaster and nearly set the apartment on fire. The toaster isn’t even supposed to get that hot, let alone burst into flames that can’t be put out by a regular fire extinguisher. We had to toss it out the window and hope for the best! I don’t even know how you did that!”

Okay, so, maybe it was a bit worse than burning the bagels. But still! He could do something simpler! He huffed and threw his hands in the air. I could pour cereal without setting it on fire! Probably!

“You absolutely would find a way to set cereal on fire and you know it, Spooks,” Red retorted, irritated but also vaguely amused.

Danny deflated a bit before flopping into the other rickety old kitchen chair, scratching dejectedly at the sleek dark wood of the itty-bitty table the chairs surrounded. It sat in a small corner of the kitchen and was what counted for a dining room in the small apartment.

The apartment itself was small and cozy- it felt a little lived in- even if it was still pretty barren. The kitchen was well stocked with utensils and appliances (fancy ones that Danny definitely never wanted to touch for fear of either breaking them or them breaking him), if not always stocked well with ingredients. There were extra blankets and pillows for the second-hand couch- all in bland colors and made of cheap material. It screamed of a temporary place, something put together with minimal thought and expense- always meant to be a safe-house instead of a home. Not to mention the cache of weapons and tools that took up the entirety of the guest room. And the industrial strength first-aid kit supplies stocked in with them. He’d only glimpsed the room once, Hood showing him briefly when he’d apologized about not having any extra space. Danny’d shrugged- he slept in a tree most times, he could stand the couch.

Red interrupted his wandering thoughts with a question he didn’t particularly want to think about. “How’d you manage to be so bad at cooking in the first place? You eat, even as a ghost, so have you just been foraging around the forest all this time, like some undead squirrel?”

Danny huffed some semblance of a laugh before sighing. The question had an answer, there was absolutely a reason he was so bad in the kitchen, but did he want to share it? Show such a sad piece of himself to Red Hood? He stared down at the table as he tapped a slow rhythm on the wood. He couldn’t feel it under his fingertips, even without his gloves on. He debated for a bit before pulling the marker and whiteboard from his chest. He hesitated, fiddling with the cap and making no move to write.

There was a soft hum from Red and he looked up to see the other staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face.

“I’ve always liked cooking,” he said, voice soft and distant. “Even when I was bad at it, even when I didn’t know what I was doing, and even when I was only doing it because if I didn’t then I wouldn’t be fed.”

Danny felt his core let loose a small mourning croon before he could stop himself, the sound not unlike a dove’s churr. He quickly slapped his hands over his mouth (like that was even where the sound had come from) and tried hard to fight off a blush.

Red let out a short laugh at him, his eyes focused on Danny now instead of some long-away point in his past. Red’s grin slipped, though, as he continued.

“Growing up in Crime Alley is tough. Even tougher with a shitty dad and a mom that couldn’t control her drug use. She tried her best, but her good moments- where she was coherent and cared- were few and far between,” he said before smiling a bit. “The neighbors would step in, sometimes, if I bugged them enough. If they were friendly enough. Learned a lot of different recipes that way, too. All kinds of folk can end up down here, on the ground floor of Gotham.”

He sighed. “Really had to learn to fend for myself when I was inevitably orphaned.”

Danny didn’t like the way he said that. Like it had only been a matter of time before he was left to the mercy of the streets. Like it was the expected outcome. Like it was an everyday occurrence. Or- like he had deserved it. Like the circumstances had been his fault. He crooned again, lifting up from his chair and reaching out.

He placed a hand over Red’s forearm, wanting desperately to hold his hand instead, but trying to give comfort where he could anyway. Hood laughed softly at his efforts and smiled at him.

“I wasn’t orphaned for long, Spooks,” he said, using his wrist to pat at Danny’s hand to let him know it was okay. “I got picked up eventually.” And then his face twisted into a grimace, a complicated series of emotions flashing across his face before he shook his head to clear it. “B wasn’t ever allowed in the kitchen, but Alfred taught me all kinds of tricks and tips and dishes to make. I miss it sometimes, honestly.”

Danny floated closer, lifting fully out of his chair to lean against Hood’s side, offering silent support. He didn’t ask, not wanting to bring up bad memories and knowing full well how painful it could be to think back on the good times before you died. Most times it was worse than thinking about the bad times; because you knew it would never be the same. That you could never, ever, go back to those times. Death, even temporary as it had been for both of them, was a force of finality. A curtain closing around your life as you knew it. Dying changed you.

Red smiled and leaned down to press his forehead to the top of Danny’s head where the foggy wisps of his hair licked at Hood’s shoulder. Danny just nuzzled him further before pulling back and picking up the board again. He wouldn’t share everything, but he could share a little. Just like Red had. He tapped the board for a bit before deciding on what to write, appreciating the quiet patience of the other beside him as he waited.

My dad was really bad at cooking- unless it was fudge. And my mom wasn’t too bad at it, but she’d get distracted a lot and end up burning things. And then she and dad would hole up in the lab most days anyway. It didn’t help that they would store specimen samples in the fridge next to the food either. My older sister tried her best, but she was too young for most of the big appliances at first and no one was around to teach either of us most of the time.

He decided to leave it at that. He didn’t want to go into the times the food came back to life. Didn’t want to think about how many thanksgivings and holidays had been ruined from the turkey reanimating and besieging the house or the cookies going up in flames and almost burning everything to the ground. Didn’t want to think about all the times Jazz had burned herself trying to keep them fed with something decent or how often she’d had to beat the blender into submission with the Fenton Creep Stick. He couldn’t look at a toaster without shuddering- probably why Red’s had combusted like that, actually- not after one had tried to eat him alive when he was five.

Red nudged Danny’s arm with his elbow, offering a silent comfort just like Danny had done for him. He also didn’t ask further, letting the knowledge sit between the both of them. Red hadn’t had a good childhood and Danny hadn’t had a particularly stellar one either. It’d taken time and perspective for him to come to that conclusion- about how his parents hadn’t been as good as they probably should have been. And that wasn’t even to mention what happened after the accident.

He caught Red looking thoughtfully down at the main jumpsuit of the hazmat he still wore, and heard the soft murmur of, “A lab, huh?” before Red sighed and slumped over the back of his chair. His huge muscley bulk made it creak ominously.

“Alright,” Hood declared, pushing himself up from the table and attempting to put his hands on his hips before thinking better of it. “Cooking lessons it is, then.”

What? Danny stood fully and moved to stand in front of Red while drawing a frantic question mark in the air. How the hell did he expect to do this without hands?!

Red shrugged. “I’m going to tell you what to do and you’re going to do it. Carefully and with strict supervision. And you might want to go ahead and grab the fire-extinguisher.”

Danny stared. This was not going to end well.

Oh well, it wasn’t his kitchen at risk here. He did grab the extinguisher, though.

“Open up the fridge and the cabinets, Jellyfish. I gotta see what we’re working with here.”

Danny did so, floating a little bit in order to reach the top shelves and ignoring Hood’s soft snicker at the action. Damn tall people. He stood back and watched as Hood went around, muttering to himself as he compared different ingredients- what little they had- and only occasionally asking Danny to pick something up and check its expiration date.

“The andouille’s still good, we have rice, and the spices are all in date- even if they’re not fresh,” he heard Red murmur as he paced around the small space in the kitchen, Danny now floating over the table to keep out of his way. “No aromatics, though. Didn’t have a reason to keep fresh produce. Miracle at all that I even had sausage and broth.”

He paced back towards one of the cabinets, lifting a hand before pulling it back when Danny made a move to lunge and stop him. He grumbled before using an elbow to shift the cans around himself.

“Tomatoes,” he said, nudging a can to the front and picking it up between his elbows to place on the counter, “so creole style.”

Danny would forever be impressed with how much Red had learned to improvise in the two weeks without his hands so far. The man had been put out at first but he was quickly learning everything he could and couldn’t do and what he could manage in more- creative ways.

The table was already littered with several ingredients, ready to be put to use once Red was finally done obsessing over having everything they needed. Oil, sausage, a bag of long grain rice, a box of chicken broth, a bottle of hot sauce and another of worcestershire, and several different spices and seasonings. One was labeled Cajun, so he assumed they were cooking something spicy.

“Fetch!” Hood barked, causing Danny to startle out of his floating and almost fall- barely catching himself before he hit the table. He looked up to see Red grinning at him and stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

“Grab my phone for me, would ya?” Hood asked before turning back around and assessing the bare cabinets yet again.

It had become a pretty common thing between them, Hood trusting Danny with his phone to text and help make calls. It was the only way Hood was allowed to still run his criminal empire- from a distance, and in turn Danny was trusted with the passcode and access to everything. Red had a surprising amount of numbers saved in there- always a person for something or another. Just as many numbers for Grannies around the Alley as there were for the gang members in his crew. Danny knew Hood was trying to build a community- trying to make things better in every way, but it was still astounding to see.

He’d called Nadi early on that way too. Yes, Hood had had to do the talking and Nadi had chewed him out real good before busting down the door to the apartment to make sure Danny was okay, but he hadn’t wanted to let her worry. She’d taken Red by the ear and chewed him out some more after fussing over Danny- telling Hood that the only reason she wasn’t tearing him a new asshole was because he’d already done that himself. He’d been surprised that Red had been willing to let her see him without his helmet- he’d still slapped a mask on but still. And even more surprised that he’d let her know the address to the apartment. It spoke a lot of the trust he had in both Danny and Nadi. He was in a particularly vulnerable spot with his injuries- yet he’d let them in.

He grabbed the phone from corner of the living room that had a tiny little table next to an open outlet with a charger plugged in. Hood had multiple phones- most of them burners- but this one was the main one so it got it’s own special little place. He popped it off the charger and skipped back into the kitchen, unlocking it and holding it up for Red to see.

He nodded and said distractedly, “Call Mama Pourciau for me, please? I’m hoping she has some of the ingredients we’re missing.”

Danny did as told, scrolling through the frankly huge list of contacts until he got to Mama Pourciau and clicked the call icon. He put it on speaker and held it close to Hood so he could talk comfortably. He wondered idly what they’d be making.

Well, he wasn’t about to find out through the phone call because Red was not speaking English while talking with Mama Pourciau. If he had to guess, he’d say French- but it also sounded different to any French he’d heard before. He’d have to ask later what language it was.

He zoned out while watching Red talk, his voice nice as it wrapped around words he’d never heard before- the accent of them pleasing in a way Danny never thought he’d have a thing for. And then the call ended on Mama P’s end and Hood was smirking at him over the dial tone.

He shook his head and gave Hood a sheepish look, floating back over to the living room to put the phone away in order to avoid the teasing light in his eyes.

“She’s going to be bringing a few ingredients by, so keep an ear out for the door. She didn’t have everything but it’ll do in a pinch,” he said and then paused and hummed thoughtfully. “Go find those blankets that Mrs. Almeida dropped off the other day, too. Mama Pourciau’s daughter had a baby a few months ago and those should do as payment.”

Danny grinned and gave a jaunty salute before hopping away to hunt down the downy-soft blankets Mrs. Almeida had knitted and brought over for them in thanks for paying her son’s bail last week. Joao had done nothing wrong and Mrs. Almeida had been beside herself when the GCPD had tackled him and taken him in. Danny himself had gone down to the precinct and haunted the shit out of them in retribution.

Most people in the Alley seemed to work within a complex network of barter and trade, working with each other to cover each other’s needs. At least, now that Hood was making sure there weren’t any trouble-makers to disrupt it they were. And he kept the cops away from things that weren’t their business. Before the Alley had seemed to be a free-for-all. An every-man-for-himself type of place full of cruelty and despair. Now, slowly, it was building into a community. Something beautiful.

When Mama Pourciau knocked on the door, Danny answered with a grin and an armful of brightly-colored blankets. The older woman-stout and dark skin lined with age- had cooed and kissed his cheeks and traded burdens with ease. She hadn’t flinched at all at the sight of his fangs when he smiled. Hadn’t even hesitated to hug his colder body, her warm one smelling like coco butter and spices. She just patted him on the cheek and told him he was a sweet boy with her pretty accent and then told him to tell Red Hood that she’d be happy to send him recipes any time.

He nodded, awed at her response to his monstrous nature and waved with his hands full of groceries as she left. He felt dazed as he made his way back into the kitchen.

Red laughed at the look on his face when he came back. “Komik,” he said softly, shaking his head before gesturing for Danny to put the bags on the table to join the other ingredients.

“Cooking one oh one,” he started. “Fancy cooking, at least, starts by making your mise en place.”

Danny stared blankly and waited for Hood to explain what that was. He didn’t know any French, thanks. He’d barely learned any Spanish in high school before he’d had to drop out. Thankfully, Red knew full well he was an idiot already.

“You gather everything you need, measure it all out, and have it handy for when you’re ready to put it all together,” he continued without any judgment in his tone. “So lets see what Mama P was able to scrounge up and put it all together.”

Danny pulled everything out one by one, Hood naming each ingredient as he did so. Onions, green and red bell peppers, celery, garlic, dried oregano and thyme, okra, and even a small amount of shrimp.

“Ooh,” he said when Danny’d pulled out the shrimp. “I’m gonna have to get that woman something more than blankets for that. Didn’t ask her for any shrimp, sneaky minx.”

Danny had spluttered at the phrase, almost dropping the shrimp in the process. Who the hell called a sweet old lady like Mama Pourciau a minx?

Red laughed at Danny’s fumbling but then mumbled, “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Danny rolled his eyes before miming closing a zipper over his mouth.

“Alright,” Hood said, stepping over to the cabinets and drawers and pulling one open with his elbow. “Time to slice, dice, and measure.”

Danny pulled all the tools they would need per Hood’s instructions, making sure to follow along and pay attention. He was determined not to set anything on fire this time. Right now, thankfully, they weren’t working with heat yet, just chopping and putting everything together. Pulling out things like a Dutch oven and setting it aside. Measuring cups of rice and broth and using little spoons for the spices that were then put in little cups. It was fascinating. It was… nice.

Danny didn’t know cooking could be like this. Slow and methodical and soothing. There was no yelling here- no shouting about sentient hot dogs or being careful with the stove that he was too small to use. There was no uncertainty here- no guessing and guessing wrong about the basics and ending up with inedible accidents or stinging burns. Just him, Hood’s low, patient voice, and the food slowly coming together under his hands.

Partway through, Red had them stop and look for the small radio he kept in one of the upper cabinets, wanting to listen to something while they cooked. He had Danny flip though several different stations before landing on one that played music you might be more likely to hear play from a gramophone- soft and brassy and old. He’d wanted to question it, but watching Red’s eyes close in contentment and his hips gently sway made him pause. Maybe another time. He almost nicked himself with the knife watching those hips.

“We’re going to use the stove now, jellyfish,” Hood said softly as he nudged Danny with one of those distracting hips. “You ready for that?”

He shrugged. Maybe another time he’d be nervous, certain something would catch fire, but with Red showing him what to do and how, he felt pretty confident he wouldn’t mess up so badly this time. He bumped his own hip against Red’s and moved all the things they’d be sauteing next to the stove as the other told him to.

He browned the andouille, no problem, and then spooned it out for later. He poured in the onion, bell pepper, and celery, smiling as he stirred and relished in the delicious smell. Cooking had never smelled so good before- not when he was the one at the helm like this. It was something he could get used to if it went this well each time. It felt far more relaxing than he’d ever thought it could. He was used to the kitchen being a war-zone, full of screaming and fighting and chaos. This was nothing like that here now; just the soft sizzle of the food, gentle strains of old slow jazz, and the low murmur of Red’s instructions.

Hood hummed, pressing close behind him- chest to back, and hooked his chin on Danny’s shoulder. He was surprised at just how comfortable it all was. He leaned back into the embrace, just a bit, and felt his core rumble with a contented purr. Hood huffed a small laugh, but Danny could feel the echoing purr from the other’s chest against his back. Red had them both slowly swaying to the music and Danny had never felt so- warm was the only way to describe it- in his life.

“Garlic now,” Red said into his ear, “just for a little bit. Half a minute about. Till you can smell it good.”

Danny shivered and dutifully poured it in. The aroma in the kitchen was already heavenly, but it just continued to get better and better the longer they cooked. He could see why Hood liked this so much now. Eventually all the ingredients aside from the shrimp were added into the pot- Dutch oven- and all that was left was to wait while it simmered for awhile before adding them in.

It was peaceful and beautiful and if he could bottle the moment up he would. Just the smell of spices cooking on the stove and the rocking dance with Red to soft strings and trumpets. He didn’t deserve such a good moment. Something so painfully human and full of life. He didn’t deserve something so dreadfully gentle. But he wouldn’t tear himself away for the world. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn’t bare to let it any of it go.

And in the end, well, they’d managed to make a pretty damn good jambalaya. Even Red said so.

═════ ◈ ═════

It wasn’t often that Danny dreamed. It wasn’t often that he slept in the first place, his ghostly nature allowing him to go for days without rest, and to dream within those handful of moments was rare. Nightmares, yes, they plagued him almost every time he couldn’t avoid dropping off to sleep any longer.

Dreams were different, though. Softer.

It should have been a nightmare, with what he was witnessing, but everything was distant and fuzzy around the edges. Like he was completely detached from the scene (the memory) he’d found himself watching from a completely different point of view. This wasn’t his memory, but it was of him, of something that often came back to haunt him.

He watched, in remote fascination, as his own clawed hand plunged into Pariah Dark’s prone chest and ripped out his core.

He’d been told by the other ghosts right before the battle, and in no uncertain terms, that taking the Tyrant King’s core was the only way to stop him. That without the original Council of Ancients to seal him away, putting him back in the Sarcophagus would do nothing. The only way for him to be defeated was to End him. And they’d all been fairly confident that Danny was the only one capable of doing it.

And hadn’t that been something? Every ghost that had ever kicked his ass had told him that he was the only one. The only one strong enough to defeat an Ancient King that had ruled over the Realms for thousands of years, that had previously only been defeated by being locked away by a group of powerful Ancients.

And he, an eighteen year old half-breed that they’d previously fought to hell and back, was their only hope.

He ran, at first. Scared out of his mind and fully believing that all his enemies were simply trying to get him to fully kill himself and act as canon fodder against Pariah to buy them all more time. Yes, he’d gotten stronger. Exponentially, every year. Especially after he abandoned the last shreds of his humanity and dedicated his full focus to developing his powers and fighting skills. He had no allies. Only four years of getting the snot beat out of him and a worryingly long list of powers that grew by the week. That wasn’t enough to kill a King. Not alone. Not by himself.

They’d found him and pulled him back, telling him his only choices were to either face the menace or be Ended himself. He hadn’t seen much choice there. They’d reluctantly laid out a plan to help him. They knew all their afterlives were at stake should he fail, but yet no one else stepped forward to do the job themselves.

The weight on his shoulders- his duty as a protector- had always been heavy. Especially when he’d just started out, when all he’d been was a scrappy fourteen year old just trying to survive. Just trying to protect the family that continually left him cold. Trying to protect the town that grew to hate him more and more. And when the GIW had invaded, it grew to protect other ghosts as well. It hadn’t been very hard, with the GIW being as incompetent as they were, but he still hadn’t wanted to see what would happen if they caught anyone. And it wasn’t like protecting the ghosts that hurt him had changed the status quo- he was far too used to saving those that would rather kill him than accept his help. But he gave it anyway.

And now they were forcing him. Telling him that despite all the animosity they’d treated him with, he was their only hope for survival. That he had to put what was left of his life at stake for them.

And he’d been so angry at first. Wanting to rage and scream and not being able to emit a single sound from within his suit. Because how dare they? How dare they pin this all on his shoulders? How dare they demand he save them after everything they’d put him through? After every fight, every taunt, every stab in the back.

And then Vlad, the idiot fruitloop that had started it all, had pulled the Fright Knight’s sword from the ground and transported the entirety of Amity Park into the Infinite Realms.

The people at the edges of his parent’s ghost shield had died. Humans couldn’t survive the Realms for long, and they could survive even less without protective measures like the shield. Not to mention however many casualties had happened when the ground itself had been rent apart with the transition.

And then the bastard had had the gall to tell Danny it was all his fault. That it was Danny’s cowardice that had killed them. Danny’s childishness that had caused everything to fall apart. He’d stood there, all smug and demeaning, pointing the sword at Danny’s chest as he placed the blame on someone else- completely disregarding how his own antics of tracking down the Ring of Rage for his own gain had been the reason Pariah was set loose in the first place. The Ring he still boasted on his finger.

It had never been more satisfying than that moment to punch the ass in his fanged blue face- the safety-goggles Vlad’d died in crunching under his fist.

The man liked to lord his superiority over everyone he came across, but especially Danny. Liked to claim that because he was the first of their kind, the first of the Halfas, and because he had years of experience and knowledge over Danny that he was better, and stronger, and smarter in every way and would always be so. That unless Danny gave in and became his student (his son), he would always, always be just a rash and ignorant boy. He liked to pretend, though, that it was also only a matter of time until Danny gave in. He used the fact that they were the same to twist the knife deeper and deeper. Insinuating that Danny’s path to becoming like him was an inevitability (and he refused to think about that).

But he was wrong; they weren’t the same. They were both Halfas, yes, but that wasn’t all they were. Danny was a Fetch, the ghost of a person still living. The true balance between life and death, a being both alive and dead in an even split. Vlad was a Draugr, a vengeful ghost with a corporeal body. There was still a part of Vlad that was living, however small, which classified him as a Halfa and allowed him to age the way a human would. But he was more ghost than human, even clutching to the last dregs of life within him as he was- claiming in vain he was human. Danny, on the other hand, had given up his life, denying that any part of him was still human despite the truth. Vlad was made from spite and slowly rotting flesh; Danny was made from tragedy and pure ectoplasm.

Danny had grabbed the sword from the cursing man and cut the hand that bore the Ring clean off in one vicious swipe. He’d never been so violent, never taken it that far before. And it had both felt exhilarating and terrifying. He’d shut down all feeling after that, grabbing the Ring for himself and leaving Vlad to scream and wallow in his deserved agony. They’d been lucky enough as it was that Pariah hadn’t taken the Ring from Vlad before that. With it, the King might have truly been unstoppable.

It’d been with the help of his enemies taking on the army, the Ring of Rage enhancing his Wail beyond measure, and the Sword of Nightmares slicing anything in his way, that he’d been able to fell the monster. He’d pinned Pariah to the ground with the Sword and used the enhanced strength of the Ring to dig into his chest.

(The Ring refused to leave his finger, stuck there- and forever making it impossible for him to speak without unleashing a world-ending wail. It stayed invisible most times, but he could feel it. Always.)

He watched, now, dispassionately, as a younger version of himself clutched Pariah’s core within his ectoplasm covered claws.

This was a dream, not a nightmare. He knew the difference well.

A figure appeared to his left, shrouded in a purple cloak and dark shadows, nothing of their face to be seen but deep red glow of their eyes- similar to the eye-shine of a predator in the dark. He knew the figure, but he couldn’t quite place from where. It was a memory on the edge of his mind, but he didn’t struggle too hard to grasp it. This was still just a dream.

The figure said nothing for a time, the both of them just continuing to watch the wretched memory play out. They watched Danny crush the core to dust, watched Pariah’s body melt horrifically slowly as he screamed, watched as Danny pulled the Sword from the King’s body and plunged it back into the ground. Watched as he fell to his knees in despair when nothing happened- when Amity remained trapped forever in the Realms.

“Why this?” he asked of the figure, wanting to look away, but unable.

“A warning,” the other said, voice smooth and even with the softest curl of a lisp at the edges. “A reminder.”

“Of what?” he asked, knowing he wasn’t likely to get an answer. Because that’s how all of this bullshit ever worked. Never any answers, never any real help.

“All will be revealed in time,” the other said, pulling a staff from the depths of their cloak and tapping it on the grass beneath their feet.

And then Danny woke up, disoriented and head fuzzy with sleep, the dream slipping from his mind the longer he tried to think of it, until it was nothing but a disquieting echo.

#naps fics #dp x dc #Our Empty Graves #dpxdc

17 notes · View notes

slxsherwriter · 16 days

Text

Find You Here

Fandom: Heartstopper 2006, Robert Englund characters

Pairings: Sheriff Richard Berger x female reader

Word Count: 2,947

Warnings: Mentions of previous robbery/assault

Author's Note: I couldn't not write for this character. The character doesn't really fall into the realm of things here, but the movie certainly does, so here is Richard. Apparently, there is something about RE characters that hit the sweet spot of my brain for writing. Gif made by me (on my phone so please excuse the cruddy quality) Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta

Flipping the closed sign to open felt like a small victory itself, even if you were a little jittery and nervous about it. The incident two weeks ago had left scars both physically, mentally, and financially. The small bakery that you ran was repaired, your body was healing physically, but your mind was taking a little to catch up. Still, you couldn't stay away forever or let them have that power over you. It was that fierce determination that had led you to open your shop in the first place and you couldn't let go of it now.

An extra set of hands in the form of your neighbor and best friend, Tony, helped in the back since you couldn't do much with one hand in a cast. Manning the counter and making the occasional cup of coffee was what you had been relegated to doing. You would have much rather been in the back to avoid the stares, murmurs, and passed along sentiments of sympathy. At least for a little while. But, it was what it was, and maybe it was just part of the process of healing post robbery and near death experience.

“Everything's gonna be fine, doll.” Tony slung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a side hug. “Business will boom like it did. You'll see. Know it ain’t back to normal, but it will be soon.” You smiled, returning the squeeze in a silent thanks.

“We'll get there.”

“There's that tenacious spirit.” He kissed your temple and headed to the back once the oven started to alert. “Until then, I'm your humble servant.” You rolled your eyes with a laugh. Trust him to bring a smile. If it wasn't for him, who knew when you could have reopened.

Slowly, business began to trickle through the door. Mainly, it was a few regulars that were surprised to see you open again. They passed along a few sympathies, but most were far more supportive and angry on your behalf. It actually felt good to know that you had made such an impact within the community and were so supported. A familiar routine soon overtook everything else, and the smile that rested on your lips felt more genuine and less forced. There were still moments when the door opened that your breath caught, and your hand shook just a little. A reaction that likely would take a long time to fade. If it did at all.

It was just prior to lunch time when the door opened, and you found yourself feeling a bit nervous for an entirely different reason. In walked one Sheriff Berger. You hadn't seen the man since the last meeting at your home, just a few days after you got out of the hospital. He had been kind, compassionate, and understanding throughout the entire ordeal. Check-ins throughout the recovery process had been routine, including the meeting at your home. Most of it for whatever part of the investigation that needed to be finished. But, it had also felt like there had been a genuine concern about you. He had also been the one to respond to the shop during the initial incident. If it hadn't been for him, who knew if you would have survived everything.

He pulled his hat from head and made his way to the counter, a smile appearing on his face.

“Glad to see everything back up and running. How are you feeling?” There wasn't anyone else that needed to be seen to, so you had a few minutes to be able to talk to him.

“Hi, Sheriff.” You lifted your hand in the cast. “Feeling a little bit useless but all in all, it's nice to be back to something that's almost normal.” He nodded, as if it had made the most sense in the world.

“Routine is a good thing, helpful.” You imagined that he was speaking from experience. Dealing with what he had couldn't have been easy, even if he dealt with it more often than you did. There was some sympathy there for the man, and you realized that as much as he helped, did he have someone helping him?

“How are you?” He seemed a little surprised, brow raising for a split second. Well, there was the answer to that question.

“I'm doing fine. Things will hopefully be a bit quiet for a while.” You moved to start a cup of coffee for the man. While you didn't know how he took it, you had seen him drink it. The least that you could do was provide him some free caffeine. “How much longer are you stuck in that?”

“Another three weeks. But it could be worse, at least it isn't my dominant hand. And now I have some use of my fingers.” You paused and glanced up. “How do you take your coffee?” You nearly laughed as he set his hat down and seemed unsure how to answer. It wasn't a difficult question, but maybe the anticipation of you being ready for the request had thrown him.

“Black, four sugars.” You nodded and set about adding the sugar to the steaming cup.

“On the house.” Really, it wasn't a huge loss of revenue between a cup of coffee and whatever sweet he may have wanted. “That and whatever treat you want.”

“That's not necessary.”

“Maybe not, but I want to. So, what will it be, sheriff?” There was an argument on the tip of his tongue before his shoulders dropped, and he gave in.

“How about one of those chocolate chip cookie sandwiches?”

“Hmm, good choice. I gotta admit, those are definitely a favorite.” They often sold out quick, so you made a mental note to have a batch sent over to the department as a whole. Assuming that he had to run, you packed it up so it was ready to go. He pulled out his wallet as if testing your resolve and you shook your head. A sigh came from the man before the wallet was once more tucked back into its pocket.

“Thank you. You need anything, just call.”

“Will do. Have a good rest of your day, Sheriff.”

******

He started stopping in the shop daily. Some days, you were able to talk uninterrupted for a bit while on others, his business or yours kept the interactions brief. But the routine was there. He had gone from Sheriff or Sheriff Berger to Richard at some point. You found yourself looking forward to seeing his face. Even the quick hellos and see ya tomorrows on the days when you couldn't spend time talking brightened your day. Enough so that Tony started to tease you about it. Yeah, there was a bit of an age gap, which he found hysterical. But he also encouraged you to say something and go for it, trying to give you the confidence to say anything. The worry was, did he simply see you as someone who had been saved and was a friendly face or something more? That concern gnawed away at any chance of building confidence.

It was a Thursday that he missed his usual stop in time, and you were worried. He had a dangerous job. Did he get hurt? Was he sick? A million thoughts flew through your head, leaving you more than halfway distracted for the day. Yet another thing for Tony to tease you about, but it went in one ear and out the other for the entire day. It felt silly on one hand. He was a friend at most and a polite customer, at the least. Nothing more. Even if it would have been nice. You didn't exactly have any right to call up the department and ask if he was okay. Maybe there was something planned. He didn't have to tell you.

Friday rolled around, and you found yourself a little more bothered by it than you cared to admit. If he didn't show today, you weren't sure what you would do.

The cast was finally off, and you had clearance from the doctor to resume light activities. Apparently, there was a concern that you would have a little weakness and risk hurting it by jumping right back in. That was taken as allowed to be back in the kitchen and moving carefully with heavy things. You could take sore and sorry. So, you were doing your best to focus. Slipping and hurting yourself now would be embarrassing and damage your pride.

The act of baking had always been soothing to you, even on this sort of scale with timetables and deadlines. There was a flow that you could lose yourself in until the rest of the world melted away. That nagging worry about Richard, though, kept you from falling completely into the zone. No mistakes yet, but it was frustrating, to say the least. Tony had decided to stick around and help out up front until he was sure you were one hundred percent back on your feet. You were so thankful to have him. It meant the front was handled while you found your rhythm again in the back.

Tony came back around noon, looking for you. Something you missed as you cursed, dropping the hot pan in the sink. Thankfully, it was empty. Burning yourself was a commonplace injury on the job, and after a while, you were able to ignore or work through most minor things. This? Well, it hit the tender part of your forearm that had been in the cast.

“Shit,” he laughed and moved over to you as you cursed yourself for the silly mistake. The laughing caught your attention, and you flipped him off as he pulled your arm gently towards his body. “It doesn't look that bad. You gonna treat it?”

“No, it isn't that bad. I'll put something on it later. What's up?”

“Ah, right. Well, there is someone up front requesting to see you. A certain someone in uniform…” Richard was here? Well, shit. Your head shot up, the burn forgotten about for the time being.

“What?”

“You are seriously adorable when you are crushing on someone.” You smacked at him. Brushing some flour off of your hands and your apron, it was the best that it was going to get. Oh, well. Letting out a small sigh, you double-checked that there was nothing that needed your immediate attention. Everything was cooling or had time still in the oven. “Go, there isn't anything back here that needs you. I'll make sure to take care of other customers. Go.” He shooed you up front. Richard was standing at the counter, hands in his pocket, and glancing around.

“Hey, Richard.” The greeting may have been a little too bright, but it was what it was. You were happy to see him. So what? He smiled, face brightening up as you leaned against the counter.

“Finally back there again, huh?” He propped his hip against the counter right where you were leaning. “Good thing for the product, little sad for all of us up here.” There was no denial that there was a blush. Your cheeks felt hot.

“Oh, I'm sure my customers will be far happier to have me back there and not up here, causing problems.”

“And miss that beautiful face every day? I hardly think that is the case.” By far, that was the most direct he had been, and the heat increased. Maybe Tony was right. Because right then and there? You felt like a teenager with their first crush.

“Or you'll just miss your free coffee and treats.” His smile faltered for just a second. “Missed you yesterday. Everything okay?” You watched as a hand moved from his pocket to rub at his cheek. Whatever the first comment had done seemed to be erased by the fact that you noticed he hadn't shown up yesterday.

“Yeah, everything is fine. Had to be in court most of the day. Wasn't able to get away for anything.” You made a face.

“That sounds miserable.”

“One of the least enjoyable aspects of the job but necessary.” He paused and seemed to be debating just something as his eyes wandered the little seated area that you had. “Are you doing anything tonight?” You swore you could have heard Tony made some sort of sound behind you, but you didn't dare pull your attention off of Richard.

“Didn't have any plans after closing the shop.”

“I was wondering if you would want to have dinner with me…” It took your brain a second to catch up to the fact that he had asked.

“Tonight.”

“That was the thought.”

“I would love to.” His body sagged just a little bit against the counter, and it was hard to miss the sigh that came from him.

“How long do you need to close up?” You glanced back to the kitchen and tried to think how quickly you could manage your usual closing routine. Tony was watching, and that was obvious as you saw him walk by the entrance of the kitchen. As if he could have made it any more obvious.

“I would say, depending on how busy it is, I could be done about a half hour after close.”

“So, seven could work?”

“Yeah, that would be perfect.” It would give you enough time to get home and get yourself properly cleaned up.

“Would you mind if I picked you up, or would you prefer to meet me?” A considerate question and the mark of a gentleman. Given that he knew where you lived, it wasn't like you had to give him the address.

“I don't mind at all.” His knuckles rapped against the counter, and he offered a bigger smile.

“All right. I'll see you around seven tonight then?” You nodded, fighting back a sound that would be rather embarrassing.

“I'll see you tonight.” He headed off and it was only when the door closed that you realized he hadn't gotten his coffee or his treat for the day. You could make up for that tonight, but for now, it was a countdown until seven tonight.

*********

Tony had insisted on cleaning up the little bit that was left as it ended up being far past the expected time for you to leave. He hadn't wanted you to miss getting ready for your date. Not that you needed a lot of time, but you also didn't know where you were going, and you wanted to look nice.

Cutting it close, you were just setting your shoes by the door when the knock came. A quick check told you it was the man you were expecting. Out of uniform for the first time, he looked nice dressed in a nice sweater and blazer.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening. You look lovely,” he complimented before anything else. “All ready?”

“Yep.” He offered his arm, and yours slipped through his as you stepped out the door. The evening air was cooler but not unpleasant. Leading you to his car, he opened the door and waited for you to get in before shutting it. It may have been quite a bit since you had last been on a date, but this was worlds better than what you had last experienced. Not that you expected every moment to be like this, but occasionally, it was nice to be treated by a man who had some manners.

All seated in the car, you did your best to relax despite some of the nerves bubbling in your gut.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?” He shot a smile in your direction. “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.” A jab at his own age? You decided to let it go for now, instead of bringing it further to the surface by pointing it out.

“It would ruin the surprise. So, I won't ask again.” You kept your tone light and teasing, not wanting him to think you were at all upset with the fact. The drive was nice, the windows down just enough to let the cool air in and not leave the car stifling hot. He asked about the rest of your day and you about his. Stories traded back and forth of various occurrences. Mundane sort of things but entirely comfortable.

It seemed you were leaving the city. If it were anyone else that you were with, you probably would be a little concerned, but with Richard, you felt safe.

The car stopped at the end of a dirt road, an opening to a small lake. The sky was clear, and the moon danced off the water, creating a gorgeous night-time atmosphere. This had been very planned out.

“Wait here, one minute.” He slipped from the car and rummaged in the truck for a moment before heading off towards the edge of the lake. The headlights were off, so you couldn't entirely make out what he was doing, but after a few moments, a fire blazed to life. Manners and thoughtfulness on top of every other quality you had found out about him so far. How was this man not taken?

He was back at the car and opening your door.

“Few tricks indeed.” He chuckled softly and once more offered his arm.

“Gotta do something to stand out a bit.” Homemade food and wine on top of a little campfire lake side. A lot of thought had gone into it. How could you not let your heart melt for the man a little more than it already had? There was no doubt that you had it bad and this would simply seal the deal.

#heartstopper 2006 #horror writing #richard berger #sheriff richard berger #richard berger x reader #heartstopper 2006 fic #robert englund characters

3 notes · View notes

riiwriting · 1 year

Text

Pastry Possibilities | Barbatos (Obey Me)

Summary - After months of living in the Devildom, there were some things that you just accepted as a part of life, such as it being impossible to steal a moment of the royal butler's time.

Notes - First time I've ever written anything for this fandom. I don't have any idea why Barbatos is who came to mind first, but whatever works.

Warnings - N/A

Pronouns - GN (no pronouns used at all)

It didn’t take long at all for you to understand the unspoken routines of the Devildom. There were some things you just simply didn’t ask about, like Satan’s opinion on Lucifer, or that time that Levi summoned Lotan. And then there were some things that everybody simply just accepted as parts of life; no matter how seemingly unfair or odd to you they were.

Honestly, the longer you stayed there, the more that those kinds of things began to arise. You had to grown into understanding Lucifer and Satan’s relationship, just as it took time for you to understand why Mammon chose only to be a decent person when it came to you or his younger brothers. But there were also things that were quite apparent to you from day one, like the fact that it was eternally night, or Barbatos’s unwavering devotion to Lord Diavolo.

The latter, of course, made the most sense out of any of them. When you were introduced to the teal-haired demon, Lord Diavolo seemed to almost make a point to add his title of “butler.” Though you felt it to be a bit condescending, Barbatos had seemed to take pride in his position at the young lord’s side. To each their own, you supposed.

However, as your stay in the Devildom extended, this simple fact of existence seemed to bother you more and more. Something about the butler had caught your intrigue, and though you couldn’t quite figure out what it was, it created an ache in the pit of your stomach.

You knew everyone else. You knew what made the brothers tick, just as you knew what Luke and Simeon’s favorite desserts were. Hell, you had even come to know Lord Diavolo himself quite well, thanks to a desperate need for a breath of fresh air during the exchange retreat, and his willingness to accompany you.

There had been virtually no opportunities to really converse with Barbatos. In the few that there were, Diavolo was always present —and if he wasn’t, Mammon was. You learned very quickly that if you wanted a chance to actually talk to the butler, you’d have to create the situation yourself.

That was when you decided to pick baking back up as a hobby. You were quite familiar with a collection of human-world pastry recipes, but it had admittedly been a few years before you spent much time in front of an oven. Partially out of fear of embarrassing yourself in front of the brothers (though mostly due to a desire for peace and quiet), you asked Simeon if they would mind sharing the Purgatory Hall kitchen with you.

“Of course not! You know you’re more than welcome at Purgatory Hall for any reason,” Simeon said, a bright smile on his face.

You returned his smile in full. “Thank you,” you beamed gratefully. “I know this sounds silly, but it’s been a while since I’ve tried to bake anything. If anyone is going to have to tell me that my cookies taste like ass, I’d prefer it be you.”

Simeon laughed, “Well, I’ve never known you to be bad at anything, so I’m sure they’ll be quite fine. I do have to ask though, is there a reason why you’re deciding to pick an apron up all of a sudden?”

Though you knew there was quite literally no way Simeon could REALLY know your intentions, the mischievous glint in his eye made you shift your feet. He always seemed to know when you had some kind of plot, regardless of how hard you tried to disguise it. You had been foolish to think that this time would be any different.

“Oh, nothing in particular,” you lied seamlessly, hoping that Simeon didn’t catch the way you wiped your sweaty palm on the bottom of your RAD uniform jacket. You thought up a new line of reasoning as quickly as possible. “I just feel like my entire personality down here has revolved around Lucifer and his brothers. I miss doing things just for myself.”

Your heart panged at your own words as you realized how true they were. Though a conscious awakening wasn’t exactly what you was going for, it apparently placated Simeon’s curiosities, as he tapped his chin and nodded thoughtfully along with your words. “Well, that’s certainly understandable. I’ll say again, any time you need somewhere to go, you’re welcome at Putgatory Hall.”

You thanked him again before giving your friend a tight hug and announcing you’d stop by a little while after school. Simeon simply nodded and agreed to your plans before the two of you parted ways.

You turned away from Simeon and nearly right into Lucifer, who was eyeing you with suspicious curiosity. You jumped a bit at the sight of him, before letting out a small sigh. “Geez, Lucifer, haven’t you learned in the hundreds of years you’ve been alive not to sneak up on people like that?”

“I was simply standing here,” he noted stoically. “You were just in a hurry and didn’t watch where you were going.”

You felt your face burn under his gaze. Maybe he had a point. Breathing another sigh, you apologized, “Okay, I’m sorry. I just realized I had been talking to Simeon for longer than I anticipated, and I didn’t want to be late to class.”

Lucifer drew out a short, disbelieving, “I see,” before an uncomfortable silence hung in the air. When it became painfully clear that you didn’t know what he was expecting of you, he asked, “I presumed you and Simeon were making plans of some sort?”

“Oh!” you said in surprise, having been expecting some sort of reprimand, as Lucifer seemed to love handing those out when they weren’t warranted. “Well, I suppose. I asked if I could bake cookies at Purgatory Hall later tonight.”

One of Lucifer’s eyebrows rose. “Is there a reason you can’t use the House of Lamentation’s kitchen?” he asked, somewhat offended.

You quickly shook your head. “Of course not! I just figured I could use Luke and Simeon’s help. It’s been a while since I baked anything.”

Lucifer didn’t appear convinced, though you supposed his expression always carried some sort of suspicion, but he didn’t press you any further. Instead, he said, “You’d be better off asking Barbatos for help.”

A lump formed in your throat. You wanted to tell him he was an idiot, and ask him how exactly he thought you would be able to simply steal Barbatos’ attention from Diavolo. However, the last thing you needed to do was actually give Lucifer a reason to punish you, so you simply waved a passive hand. “Oh, he’s too busy for that.”

Lucifer shrugged, though apparently seemed to agree with what you said. “In that case, if your cookies turn out to be palatable, you should take some to the castle. I’m sure Diavolo would appreciate you sharing human culture with him, and Barbatos might be able to offer you feedback.”

You had to fight to keep yourself from bouncing on your feet, a sudden anxious rush running through you. You jumped at the opportunity your friend – used loosely – laid in front of you. “That’s a nice idea, thank you. Would you do me a favor, then, and tell Diavolo about it the next to you see him? That way a visit wouldn’t be completely unexpected.”

Your thoughtfulness seemed to impress Lucifer, who allowed his lips to quirk into the faintest of smiles. Just as quickly as it had come, the expression disappeared. The demon gave a curt nod, “I’ll let them know.“

Though you felt the conversation had ended, Lucifer lingered in front of you. You then realized the one thing you had forgotten to cover. “And of course I’ll bring some back to the house for you guys,” you promised.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, acting as if he hadn’t been waiting all this time for you to confirm exactly that. “I would expect you to bring some to me, at least, considering we’ve had this conversation. Thought I don’t think Beel would forgive you if he found out you didn’t save any for him,” he teased.

All of a sudden your little cookie experiment was turning into a bake sale, but you couldn’t do much other than nod and escape from the hallway. Once you reached your next class, you retrieved your D.D.D from your bag to text Luke about the situation. Your tension eased when he responded enthusiastically, saying he would help however you needed him to, and that he couldn’t wait to hang out with you.

Tossing your device back into your bag, you relaxed in your seat and decided to be optimistic. Lucifer and Simeon both had been more helpful than you anticipated. While part of you almost wanted to thank them, you thought you might die of embarrassment if anyone found out how desperately you were trying to retrieve Barbatos’ attention.

You still hadn’t figured out what it was that drew you to him. You were half-convinced that it was simply the mystery of it all – that you just couldn’t stand not knowing everything. However, the more you felt butterflies arise at the thought of the demon butler, the more you lost faith in your innocent act.

You were drawn to Barbatos the same way that everyone else seemed to be drawn to you. And while quite literally anyone else would have been an easier route for your heart to take, you had begun noticing your brain circling back to him.

You genuinely hoped that once you got a chance to see a bit of his true character, that sensation would fade. Maybe then you could actually get on with your life.

“There we go!” You declared with a slight wince as you tossed the last pan of cookies onto the kitchen counter. Simeon and Luke, who were each sitting at the kitchen table, munching on cookies from your first batch, gave you a small round of applause at hearing you were finally done, 7 trays later.

Luke smiled happily from around his cookie, crumbs falling from the corner of his mouth. “These are really good MC! You didn’t need our help at all,” he said happily.

Simeon nodded at his sentiment. “You’re very right Luke. Though I’m definitely not complaining about getting first dibs over Beel.”

You felt your cheeks redden at their compliments. Dipping your chin to focus on removing the cookies from the tray to a plate, you responded to their praise, “Well, I’m glad that they taste okay.” It was one of the most basic cookie recipes you could remember, so you didn’t think you’d forgive yourself if you messed them up.

After finishing his cookie, Simeon joined you at the counter, watching curiously as you distributed the cookies evenly between a few different plates. Feeling his gaze, you look up at him. “Do you guys have notecards? And a marker?” you asked politely.

With a small nod, Simeon disappeared up to his room, returning moments later with exactly what you had asked for. You thanked him, before scrawling everyone’s names on individual notecards. This would at least help you remember who you had already given some to.

Simeon continued to watch your actions, laughing quietly when you tucked the card with Beel’s name onto the fullest plate. You then decided to make two plates for the house in general, hoping that with Beel removed from the equation, no fighting would ensue.

Of course, to save your own ass, you separated a few and bundled them up in parchment paper, attaching a notecard with Lucifer’s name to the top. You didn’t bother labeling Purgatory Hall’s cookies, as you would just leave them here.

You seemed to hesitate at the last plate, debating whether it was improper to write Diavolo and Barbatos’ names, or if you should simply address the castle, or possibly just Diavolo. You wanted Barbatos to know that you had him in mind, but you also didn’t want to break some unbeknownst to you status quo.

Simeon noticed your hesitance, and asked, “You aren’t taking any to the castle?”

Your head snapped up, directly meeting your friend’s blue eyes. Your face reddened, “I am. I just didn’t know the proper way to address them.”

A humored smile spread onto Simeon’s lips. “I’m sure Diavolo will be pleased regardless of what the label says,” he placated.

You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering if asking a simple question would give away your intentions too much. After a short study of Simeon’s expression, you figured if there was anyone you didn’t mind knowing your thoughts, it was him and Luke.

“You don’t think it’s improper to address them to both him and Barbatos, do you?” You asked, glancing up at the taller angel through your eyelashes.

Simeon was quick to shake his head, “Not at all. I’m under the impression that Diavolo sees Barbatos as more of a very helpful friend than a servant. And I’m sure Barbatos would love the idea of someone baking something for him for a change.”

You let his words sit in the air for a moment, your eyes focused on what was left of the cookies in front of you. With a small frown on your lips, you divided what you had left between two plates rather than one, making individual labels for each.

Once you had tucked both of the cards into their proper places, you looked back up at Simeon. “Do you mind if I run to the castle and then swing back by on my way home?” you asked. It was a shorter walk to the castle from there, and you were mildly afraid of questioning from both Mammon and Beel if they noticed you had sweets for other people.

Simeon and Luke both announced that they wouldn’t mind your coming and going at all, though with a knowing look, Simeon asked if you wished for him to accompany you to calm your nerves. You shook your head, knowing that as much as you would enjoy his company, it would defeat the whole purpose of your cookie scheme.

After short promises of being right back to retrieve the rest of your pastries, you stacked the two plates of cookies in your arms and headed out into the stuffy evening air. You tried not to let your nerves bubble to the surface on your walk, but the moment the castle’s grand doors were in front of you, you had to take a second to collect yourself. After swallowing your pride, you knocked on the door.

Momentarily, the door was pulled open, revealing a pleasant-looking Barbatos. “MC,” he greeted with a warm smile, “My Lord was just asking if I had seen you yet this afternoon.”

You returned his smile gently, anxious butterflies bouncing around your stomach. “Well, I apologize for keeping you both in anticipation. I suppose I didn’t think about how many cookies I had to make for everyone, and how long it would take.”

A knowing look shone in the butler’s eyes, and he gave a thoughtful nod before stepping aside and inviting you in. You shifted anxiously on your feet as you stood in the entryway of the Demon Lord’s castle.

“Give me one moment, I’ll go retrieve Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos announced quickly.

Before you could think better of it, you stretched a hand in his direction to stop him. Fingertips grazing his jacket sleeve, your face burned when he turned to you with an unreadable look. You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Before you do, I just wanted to give you these, is all.”

You handed the butler the bottom plate of cookies, watching meekly as his eyes drifted across his name scrawled in your handwriting. His expression seemed to change, but when he looked over at you, his eyes still seemed to hold their normal humored curiosity. Clearing your throat, you explained, “They’re nothing special, but I figured it would be nice to eat something you didn’t have to make for a change.”

This time, you were certain that his expression changed, as his mouth quirked into a tiny smile. You had grown accustomed to the polite smiles he sent you while you conversed with Lucifer or Diavolo, but you had to admit that it was nice to be the reason for even the tiniest bit of his contentment.

However, when he didn’t say anything for a prolonged moment, your anxiety worked double time. “Sorry, I’m know you’re used to higher quality sweets, but–“

“I’m sure these will be wonderful,” Barbatos spoke thoughtfully, his words silencing your rambling. When you met his gaze again, his smile had grown, most likely to put you at ease. You allowed yourself to return his smile, and relished in the way his cheeks dusted with a shade of pink. “Thank you, MC. It’s admittedly been a while since I received any sort of gift for myself.”

Your heart thumped against your rib cage as you successfully fought the urge to tell him that he was the sole reason behind you getting in the kitchen in the first place. You instead settled for, “I figured as much, which is why I wanted to make sure to bring you your own.”

You watched as the butler’s chin tilted away from you, undeniably hiding a flustered expression. His reaction made your chest swell with pride, even as he hurriedly excused himself to go retrieve Diavolo.

When the young lord arrived in the entryway to greet you, Barbatos was notably absent from his side. You chose not to inquire, but Diavolo seemed to notice your gaze traveling around the room, and voiced an internal thought. “I admit, I’m not sure where Barbatos disappeared to,” he said with a small frown. After a moment of studying your demeanor, his expression melted into a curious smile. “Though I will say he was quite red in the face while letting me know of your arrival.”

Your intention had certainly not been to fluster him – in fact, you didn’t think that was possible – but you took that as a sign that maybe you were getting somewhere.

“It’s later than I anticipated, but I know Lucifer told you I’d be by, and I didn’t want to disappoint,” you explained as you handed the red-haired demon the remaining plate of cookies.

Diavolo let out a deep laugh, “You have yet to disappoint in any way, MC.” He paused for a moment as his eyes drifted over the parchment covered plate. Seeing the notecard with his name, his expression faltered, “I don’t mean to question your thought process, but I don’t suppose you’d mind if I shared with Barbatos?”

You felt yourself smile at his consideration, and supposed Simeon had a point about the two of them being friends. “You can share with anyone you’d like! Though I have already given Barbatos a plate for himself.”

Immediately upon hearing your words, Diavolo’s goofy smile returned. Things apparently seemed to click into place, as he let out an understanding, “Ah.” After a moment of suggestive silence, he declared, “Well, I’ll have to have him invite you over to use the kitchen here sometime. I’m sure the two of you would work quite well together.”

You felt your face flush once more as you smiled at the offer. “Well, I’d certainly appreciate the opportunity,” you responded politely. There was a glint in Diavolo’s eyes that told you he had you entirely figured out, but you excused yourself before giving him the chance to say much else.

Diavolo himself saw you out, thanking you again at the door. When you asked him to tell Barbatos you said goodbye, he all but smirked, promising to pass the sentiment along.

#shall we date? obey me #obey me otome #obey me #om! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me barbatos #barbatos #obey me / reader #obey me imagine #obey me oneshot #obey me drabbles #obey me blog #obey me!

23 notes · View notes

snortlaughs · 2 years

Text

who you are

fandom: the owl house

pairing: none! please don’t tag as ship!

characters included: ler!luz, lee!hunter

word count: 1,772

genre: fluff!

warnings: identity struggles (hunter’s grimwalker stuff)

author’s note: this took forever please enjoooooy!

hunter sat on the floor of his bedroom in the owl house with his knees huddled closely to his chest.

he was wearing pajamas; a purple t-shirt and fuzzy red pants that luz lent to him. they had miscellaneous human fruits printed on them.

he leaned up against his bed frame and jaggedly shifted his gaze around his room, as if he was looking for a distraction; something to focus on other than his own thoughts.

but nothing was catching his attention.

his new home was warm, welcoming, and full of love; three aspects that were previously lacking in his emperor’s coven commode.

however, things still felt… wrong.

it’s not that he didn’t feel like he belonged in the owl house; he knew that he did.

his new family took him in with open arms and loved him like a son; like a brother.

things were better.

so, why did something still feel amiss?

why didn’t he feel at home?

hunter pursed his lips and buried his face in his knees with a frustrated groan, grabbing fistfuls of his own hair in a feeble attempt to stabilize his emotions.

a familiar voice rang from the hallway outside of the wavy-haired boy’s room.

“hi, hunt— oh, are you okay…?”

luz.

friend, confidant, sister figure…?

“still so weird…” hunter thought, an ever-so-slight smile appearing on his hidden face for a second.

hunter sniffled but was otherwise silent and stayed in his balled-up position on the floor.

he used to put on a strong, unmoving facade when he was in front of anyone besides flapjack, but he had gotten comfortable around luz; it was okay to let his guard down a little.

the wooden floor creaked as luz walked over to hunter and sat down by his side.

“what’s wrong?”

hunter lifted his head up from his knees and rested his arms in his lap, but still made no eye contact with the human beside him.

his vision had become warped from the tears that were quickly puddling in his eyes.

he released a deep sigh.

“i— i just... i don’t know...” he muttered, his voice shaky and upset. “i appreciate that you guys have welcomed me into your home, but i still don’t feel that... homeliness. i feel lost, no matter how good things are.”

he glanced at luz, who had a worried expression on her face.

“i don’t mean to sound ungrateful, i just—”

luz gently placed her hand over hunter’s mouth, cutting him off.

“you don’t sound ungrateful. don’t apologize for feeling how you feel.”

her voice was soft. she removed her hand from hunter’s mouth and wrapped her arm around his torso reassuringly.

“keep on talking. do you feel like you have any idea of where these feelings are coming from?”

hunter roughly wiped his eyes and scoffed.

“yeah, maybe the fact that my body isn’t actually mine. i don’t even feel at home in my own skin. i don’t know what i am.”

luz frowned.

“ah, i thought that may have been a part of it.” she murmured. “but hey, even if your body isn’t exactly yours, your brain and heart definitely are. you’re intelligent, witty, and bold. and, not to mention, you’re super fun!”

as she spoke, she fidgeted by tapping her fingers on hunter’s ribs — which made him abruptly hide his face from luz and flinch away from her touch.

“does she not realize what she’s doing…?!” hunter thought, a quiet “pff—” escaping his lips.

“whaaat?” she questioned with a pout, seemingly unaware of what was actually going on. “you don’t have to be embarrassed! i’m just telling you the truth! you deserve to be complimented, you doofus.”

hunter felt his face heat up.

it wasn’t that, even though that was also flustering.

“y—you did that on purpose, luz...” he mumbled.

“huh...?” luz said, tilting her head in confusion. “did what?”

“don’t make me say it! you knohow what happened!” hunter whined through a tiny laugh, covering his face with his hands.

luz blinked, caught by surprise by the sudden change in the boy’s inflection.

it was like you could hear his smile in his voice. his tone was lighthearted and sunny; the complete opposite of how he sounded just a moment ago.

it was nice to hear.

“jeez… he must really like compliments…” luz thought, a smirk sneaking onto her lips.

"hey, hunter... let me see that smile of yours!"

hunter slowly turned towards luz and uncovered his face, which was dusted with a dark blush and covered in a toothy grin; just like the witch suspected.

“i knew it~!” she chirped. “you just really like being complimented! how sweet~! you better not let your ego get too big, though.”

hunter’s beam wavered slightly, before an intense look of embarrassment intruded onto his face.

“titan, you really don’t know…” he groaned, now immensely red; taking the collar of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

luz’s look of confusion deepened.

“…and now i’ve incriminated myself. you must definitely know what i’m talking about now.”

luz’s eyes widened as she looked down at her hands, suddenly struck with the realization of a lifetime.

she smirked and leaned over towards hunter’s ear, covered by his shirt like the rest of his head. it twitched under the fabric as she spoke.

“okay, so maybe you don’t know whether you’re a witch or a human…” luz cooed teasingly. “but i do know one thing that you definitely are.”

hunter groaned, trying to suppress his anticipatory giggles.

“you’re TICKLISH!”

this being said, the girl pounced at the speed of light.

since hunter’s face was still hidden in his shirt to hide his rosy cheeks (he was still too flustered to come out from under his top), he was at a disadvantage — he couldn’t see where luz was going to target first. however, he kind of wanted to be surprised.

no way in titan was he going to say that to luz, though.

this being said, luz took full advantage of his shirt being hiked up a little and shot her hands into the bottom of it, steadily kneading at his lower ribs.

she climbed onto his lap to keep him in place.

an evil way to start, to be frank.

luz wasn’t one to wait — her impatience would have gotten the best of her eventually, and she wanted to hear hunter’s laugh now.

so, no need to start slow!

just as the human hoped, hunter’s reaction was immediate and extremely dorky.

he shrieked and effortlessly pushed his head back through the top of his shirt, bright laughter tumbling out of his mouth.

boyish, frenzied, and joyful laughter.

“luhuhuhuz! thihihis ihihisn’t—!”

a snort slipped out as he was giggling, which caused him to rapidly shift his flushed face away from his attacker; still overtaken by his own chuckles.

“hunter~?” luz teased, not ceasing her movement in the slightest. “what was that little sound?”

hunter inhaled shakily and gulped in an attempt to keep any upcoming snorts locked in his chest instead coming out and embarrassing him.

again.

his belly was overcome with butterflies, and his rib cage with suppressed laughter.

this was going to be impossible to keep up.

“ihihit was nothing. i dohohon’t know what you’re t—ahalking about.”

sure, hunter couldn’t physically stop his giggles from coming out, but no snorts escaped as he spoke — and that counted as a win in his book.

but, he wasn’t able to let his guard down quite yet. after all, luz was still going at his lower ribs.

she must have been quite fond of the reaction that came out of the boy when she attacked that specific area.

hunter clamped his hands over his mouth and grunted as luz sped up her movement.

“is she not gonna move?!” hunter thought, worried that he wouldn’t be able to take this much longer. “in what world is this fair?”

“come on, hunt… all you have to say is that you snorted and i’ll stop!” luz lightheartedly chuckled, interrupting hunter’s panicked thoughts.

hunter shook his head vigorously, keeping his lips glued shut.

“geez. stubborn as always,” luz sighed, abruptly removing her fingers from hunter’s torso in order to stretch.

the blonde carefully released his held breath and removed his hands from his mouth, his face blotchy and red from his embarrassment.

hunter was thinking something along the lines of “thank titan that’s over. i could not have taken much more” before luz shared the following sentiment:

“alright, then. i guess i’ll just have to tickle some embarrassing information out of you if you won’t readily tell me.”

oh, no.

“were you not already doing th—?!”

hunter cut himself off with an eruption of laughter as he began to flail, luz’s nimble fingers rotating between his upper ribs, his belly, and under his arms.

he tried to grab at the dark haired girl’s wrists, but she was too quick — not to mention the fact that he had been significantly weakened by the sudden onslaught of tickles.

of course, his facade had completely shattered, so there was no reason to attempt to uphold any sense of dignity.

“fihihihine! fihihine! (snort) okahay, luhuhuz! i snohohorted! i did! i did! please!”

luz raised her eyebrows as she continued her tickle attack.

a small smirk had invaded onto her face.

“hmmm, no, that won’t work for me.” she snickered, evoking a giggly whine from her lee. “you took too long to be honest, and you lied about your snort.”

“w-what?!” hunter stammered, shifting under luz’s weight as the tingly sensations danced across his torso. “that is so mehehehean!”

“what’s mean?” the girl teased. “i don’t think that there’s anything mean about making the people you love laugh!”

at this point, hunter had completely succumbed to his own fate and was simply a giggly puddle — thus, he wasn’t afforded nearly enough mental power to contemplate the fact that luz had just implied that she loved him.

however, the idea nested comfortably in the back of his mind so that it could be considered later.

someone... loved him.

hunter felt his already-huge grin grow wider, and his already-deep blush grow deeper.

luz noticed this, and slowed her tickles to a halt before dismounting hunter’s hips and sitting back down on the floor next to him.

“awww, hunter. for someone with such a tough exterior, you really seemed to enjoy that. you never even told me to stop. did you even want me to stop?”

hunter was still laying in a wheezy, warm heap on the floor.

that question could wait — luz already knew the answer, anyway.

84 notes · View notes