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plant-flwrs · 3 years

Note

hi love, it's me again! i just can't get enough of your writing... i'm sorry to be asking for another fic, i guess i just can't help myself. lately i've been obsessed with the fake dating thing, so i was wondering if you could write a fred x reader (basically same reader as my last request, gryffindor, same year as ron) with that? like, maybe george knows they fancy each other and makes a bet with him so they start fake datig but realise they're in love with each other? aaa thank you so much, ly

bets off // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: i used the same pronouns from the last request, hope you don’t mind!! i apreciate u sm ur always so active w my fics ily <3333 this is the first thing i’ve written in a while that i’m actually proud of so i hope u guys like it :D

summary: Fred makes a bet with George that entails fake dating you for at least a month. He never expected to fall in love with you.

(5k)

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Competition was healthy. At least, that’s what Fred told himself as he looked at George’s outstretched hand, a cocky smile etching the boy’s lips.

“Two weeks?” Fred asked, looking suspiciously at George.

“Two. Weeks.” George answered definitively, smirking at his brother.

Fred considered this in his head. Two weeks to get you, someone who had never previously shown any romantic interest in him, to date him for at least a month. He doubted it would be hard, for he had never had any trouble getting girls to swoon for him in the past. A few winks and charming sentiments and you would be putty in his hand. With this air of confidence, he shook George’s hand.

“You idiot!” Lee, who had previously been silently watching the exchange, called from across the table, a baffled smile on his face.

George laughed, leaning back in his chair and looking at Fred like he agreed with Lee.

“What?” Fred asked, the overly confident look still littering his features.

“You can’t win with this one,” Lee explained, shaking his head, “you either piss off Ron when this goes right, you piss of Ron when this goes wrong, you come out the git for breaking a girls heart, or you come out the embarrassed git who was rejected by your kid brother’s best friend.”

“Hey,” Fred said, faking offence, “I never agreed to ask out Harry.”

George and Lee rolled their eyes, hiding smiles as they continued their homework.

Fred was not deterred by Lee’s warnings, for he had a plan to avoid all of that. He was simply going to tell you the truth.

He found you on your way to the green house, pulling you away from a Slytherin girl you were walking with.

“He just stared at her? Like he didn’t eve-” you felt an unexpected tugging, “Ah!”

You squealed, feeling your feet stumble under you for a moment as you gathered your wits again. You looked down at the hand pulling you, following it up to the face. It was Fred, which was odd, because you two were not known for pulling at each other in hallways.

“You’re going to miss Herbology!” your friend called out to you, a worried expression on her face.

“I’ll meet you there, save me a seat!” you called back to her, turning away and following Fred as he still dragged you.

“Fred? What are you doing?” you asked him, making no effort to move from his strong grip.

“Got to talk to you,” he said airily, barely looking back at you as he pulled you down an empty corridor.

He let go of your arm, smiling down at you as you waited for him to speak. He didn’t take the hint, just looking at you.

“What did you want?” you glanced at your watch, seeing you only had a few minutes before Professor Sprout would start class.

“I have a proposition for you,” Fred drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as per usual, “what do ya say?”

You squinted your eyes at him, frowning, “I have to hear the proposition first.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, thats how propositions work.”

“I hadn’t realized,” he replied sarcastically, dropping his cool demeanor and letting some desperation seep into his voice.

“What do you want?” you repeated, slightly more annoyed.

“I may have made a bet that heavily relies on your willingness to do me a huge favor,” he said, a hopeful smile coming to his face.

“Oh god, Fred, what did you do?”

“George may have implied that I was in a dry spell when it came to girls,” he said, smirking, “and obviously that’s just not true. So, he suggested a bet to see if I still had my skills-”

“Your skills?”

“-yes my skills, would you listen?”

Fred leaned closer to you, his eyebrows raising as you rolled your eyes.

“Back to what I was saying,” he drew in a breath, dragging out this entire conversation, “George suggested a bet to see if I could still charm the ladies,” he wiggled his eyebrows and you quirked one of yours.

“Long story short-”

You interrupted again, “That was the short version of that story? Fred can’t we do this later, I’ve got class in,” you glanced at your watch. “two minutes.”

“No! Give me a second,” he ran a hand through his hair, putting his strong hands on your shoulders to keep you in place, “I made a bet with George that I could get you to fall in love with me in two weeks and date you for a month!”

You looked up at the boy, thinking he had gone off the end. He had to, either that or he was messing with you. Or maybe he had been slipped a potion of some sort.

“Fred,” you started, your kind tone giving Fred the impression you would agree to the plan, “you just waisted the very limited break I have between classes, successfully pulling me away from a very entertaining story about Snape, and probably making me late for Herbology.”

Fred groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance.

“I’m serious!”

You pulled against Fred’s grip, but he kept you in place. His face lit up, obviously coming up with what he thought would be a great plan. He released you briefly, digging his hands in his bag and moving crumpled papers around. He pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper, brandishing it like it was a diamond.

“This, my love, is going to get you out of Herbology this class period,” he said, unfolding the paper.

He revealed a blank piece of paper with tiny sparkles floating on the page. As he held it for a second longer, words began to form on the paper, writing something.

‘Professor Sprout,

Please excuse Y/n from Herbology this period, she came to me with a pain in her stomach and I gave her a potion to fix it. She stayed in the infirmary during the period.

-Poppy’

You had heard about these before, enchanted notes that were written in authentic handwriting and enchanted the reader to believe it, no matter what they said. Perfect for forging notes from teachers.

You stared at the paper in awe, grabbing it from Fred’s loose grasp.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. That’s the last one I have,” he said, feeling a bit remorseful having to give it up. He had been planning to use it to get out of Ancient Runes tomorrow.

You folded the paper again, putting it neatly in your bag and looking back at Fred.

“Alright, let’s go,” you sighed, allowing him to lead you to the great hall, through the courtyard, and out to the Quidditch Pitch where no teachers would be.

You sat in the stands, overlooking the empty and wet field,

“You want me to date you for two weeks?” you asked, sounding reluctant.

“No,” Fred said, sounding annoyed, “I want to fake date you for a month, but we won’t start until two weeks from now.”

You squinted, looking out at the stands on the other side of the field. You were thinking about this, finding the cons to outweigh the pros.

“What’s in it for me?” you paused, hearing Fred’s groan from beside you, “I mean, this could ruin my friendship with Ron, I get the embarrassing reputation when you fake dump me in a month, I don’t see how this is benefiting me.”

“Ron won’t care, I promise you,” Fred said acting as if this was obvious, “he lets Harry ogle Ginny all the time. And as for our fake dumping, that can be totally on your terms. I just need to win the bet with George.”

“What do you get if you win?”

Fred had hoped you weren’t going to ask that, but he was realizing you were smarter than he thought.

“Three Galleons,” he lied, looking at your skeptical face in the corner of his eye, “fine, six Galleons.”

You looked expectantly at him, waiting for his offer.

“I’ll split it with you,” he finally gave in.

He was a little upset at having to share his future winnings, but once you agreed to the bet and squealed excitedly at the possibility of some Galleons, a smile spread on his face.

Fred began laying the groundwork the next day. He made sure to send you flirtatious smiles when George was looking, waving to you in the halls, and talking to you in the common room.

You, Hermione, and Ron sat at a table in the corner, the three of you poured over a chess match. Ron was successfully beating Hermione, watching her as she tried to remember the rules he had taught her over and over.

“You can’t do that,” he said impatiently as Hermione tried to move a pawn backwards. His hand reached out and returned the piece back to where it was, and Hermione groaned.

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes and turning your head up towards the ceiling.

“Hello,” Fred purred from above you, looking down at you.

You snapped your eyes open, not entirely used to Fred’s flirting yet. It took you by surprise most days, and he always managed to get you when you weren’t expecting it. You looked to Ron, gauging his reaction. His eyes stayed locked on Hermione’s frustrated face, arms crossed as he waited for her move.

“Hello,” you replied, turning your head to face Fred as he move to your side.

He leaned against your chair, his hand supporting his weight as he wrapped it around the back of your chair. The top of his hip bumped into your shoulder, and you resisted the urge to lean away from him. It’s not that Fred Weasley was disgusting or anything, he certainly wasn’t, but he had a reputation. Fred wasn’t known to be faithful or respectful of the usual rules regarding relationships. He wasn’t tied down, and half the student body has seen him naked (or wanted to). You had gone through your phase of liking Fred, and that phase lasted longer than you’d like to admit. You refused to boost his ego, though, and felt determined to not let this fake dating get to your head.

Ron was still busy with his chess match, now watching Hermione’s focused gaze turn into a nervous one as she became aware of Ron’s eyes on her. She bit her lip, tapping her fingers on the table.

Fred glanced down at you, quirking an eyebrow and nodding his head towards Ron. He was showing you that Ron wouldn’t care if you two dated, testing Ron’s limits.

Fred’s hand moved slowly from the back of your chair to your shoulder. His slender fingers pressed gently on your clothed arm, moving to brush a piece of hair from your neck. He twirled a piece of your hair in his fingers, raising an amused eyebrow at Ron’s lack of reaction.

“Merlin, Hermione! I’ve taught you 100 times!”

Hermione scoffed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“Ron!” she exclaimed back, offended.

“Look,” he moved his hand to one of her pieces. He whisked it across the board, then one of his pieces, and then one of Hermione’s, and then one of his own, “Check.”

“Maybe if you had patience and didn’t stare me down every time it was my turn-” Hermione started, glancing to you for support.

Her eyes widened when she saw the somewhat intimate position you were in with Fred, her sentence dropping.

“If you didn’t take so long, I wouldn’t stare you down!” Ron huffed and pushed his chair back, standing suddenly.

He hadn’t even glanced at you and Fred, missing Hermione’s shocked expression.

“What are you doing?” she questioned Fred, sounding even more offended than when Ron was yelling at her a moment ago.

“What?” Fred replied nonchalantly, pushing his body away from yours and taking Ron’s seat.

He moved the chair closer to the table, purposefully brushing his knee against yours. You knew he was watching your face, so you kept a neutral expression.

“He was all over you,” Hermione whispered to you, as if Fred wasn’t right in front of her,

“So?” you asked, acting as if it wasn’t abnormal for Fred to ‘be all over you’.

You were internally cringing at the whole thing, at Fred’s forwardness, lying to Hermione, the whole situation.

“Something must be in the air today,” Hermione said to no one in particular as she stood from the table, “everyone’s lost their minds.”

She left you and Fred, leaving him with a smirk on his face.

“I think that went well,” Fred said, moving the pieces on the chess board around swiftly as he set it up for a new game.

You moved to Hermione’s seat so you were across from him, rolling your eyes.

“This is ridiculous, Fred,” you said, and at the sound of your genuine annoyance his eyes were on your face.

The board in front of you was set anew, white closest to you. You let yourself sit in your frustration for a moment, looking down at the board and moving a pawn. Fred made no move to his own pieces, just staring at you from his side of the table.

“What d’you mean?” he said, watching your hand retreat from the board.

“These public displays of affection- isn’t it a little ridiculous?” you said, locking your eyes on the game in front of you.

A look of hurt flashed across Fred’s face, not that you would have seen it, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. His hand lazily moved one of his pawns.

“I don’t think so, no,” he said, leaning back in his chair and still studying your face, “I think they’re quite effective.”

“They’re only effective because I’m playing along,” you moved another pawn, hoping Fred would take the bait so you could steal his pawn.

“Which I appreciate fully,” he said, leaning forward and moving his pawn exactly where you wanted him to.

You stole his piece, advancing on the board. He hadn’t even registered the game, frankly, only looking at you.

“I feel like-” you didn’t know what you felt. You hadn’t put it into words, but you knew you didn’t like it.

Fred, and older, charming, handsome boy, was showing you a new amount of attention. Fred, a boy you had a crush on almost the entire time you’ve known him, was sending you flirtatious winks in the hallways and being very affectionate. Fred, your best friend’s older brother, was trying to date you to win a bet.

“-nevermind,” you finished, realizing you could not say any of this aloud.

Fred had a quizzical look on his face, watching you as you silently sat across from him. You met his eyes for the first time since he sat down, swallowing hard. You stared at each other for at least a minute, neither of you moving or breaking the contact. His eyes had an intensity in them that you had never seen before, but they were also gentle and kind. He looked soft, his face illuminated by the faint candle light and fireplace, casting a yellow hue over his skin. His hair was grown out and pushed off his forehead, falling easily on the sides of his face. He had taken his tie off, though still in his school uniform, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mouth, usually in a resting smirk, was thin and straight, making him look rarely serious.

You felt like it took ages, but you finally broke his stare and cast your eyes downward at the board. You looked back up at him, seeing his eyes unmoving from your face.

“Your move,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Fred’s eyes shot to the board, and he moved the first piece he saw. His mind was racing as he tried to collect his thoughts, all of which were about you.

He had no idea what happened, but his heart was beating incredibly fast and his hands were sweating. Fred, a man who had never once done anything serious, was feeling very serious. He didn’t know what was going on inside his head, but all he knew was that he thought you were remarkably beautiful. You were perfect, really, and he could not wait for this game of chess to end so he could get the hell away from you.

Fred had never been in any sort of serious relationship. He had never dated a girl for longer than a few weeks, usually doing something that offended them (that was often mentioning how hot another girl was, or, in the worst case, snogging said other girl). He didn’t care for anything long-term, anything serious, because he couldn’t be bothered to find anyone that interesting. You, however, made his hands sweat. No one had ever made Fred’s hands sweat. No one had ever made Fred’s mind run blank.

He blinked at the board, realizing it was his turn again, and felt like giggling like a school girl. He shot his head up, looking around the common room and pretending to be in a hurry.

“Have you got the time?” he asked, watching as you looked down at your wrist- eyes flickering to your hand, which he realized he wanted nothing more than to hold in that moment- checking the time on your watch and telling him. He sprang from his chair, “I told George I’d meet him in a few, can we continue this later?”

He hadn’t even waited for an answer before he was running through the portrait hole, nearly knocking a few first years off their feet when he bumped into them.

Fred disappeared from the common room, leaving you with the chess board.

For the next few days, Fred’s flirting was non-existent. He wasn’t ignoring you, but the entire dynamic between you had shifted; something changed. He wasn’t painfully arrogant, seeming to take more effort in the way he treated you. There was no inappropriate flirting, no lustful winks. You wondered if the bet was still on.

You found out soon that it was.

You and Hermione left the library fairly late into the afternoon, but neither of you minded the time that got away from you. You spent the day doing very little actual studying, talking and laughing instead. There was a very few amount of people who could tear Hermione away from her studies, and she didn’t often like to admit that you were one of them.

“Are you going to tell me why Fred was so-” she broke off, shuddering in some sort of disgusted way that made you laugh “-touchy with you the other day?”

Hermione had been pressing a little bit every time she saw you about Fred, and you had been avoiding it every time.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. That was just Fred being Fred,” you insisted, rolling your eyes playfully.

The guilt of lying to your friends left you a few days ago, instead you only felt overwhelming uneasiness as your schoolgirl crush for Fred resurfaced. You couldn’t help it; the hot older boy you had liked since your first year was suddenly putting himself in compromising situations with you. So, you couldn’t tell Hermione about Fred’ bet, because then you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself telling her about your genuine crush.

“Really?” Hermione teased, bumping her shoulder into yours.

“Yes, really,” you insisted, turning the corner to the main staircase that was crowded with students wandering the castle on the weekend afternoon, “ I don’t get why your fixating on this, ‘Mione.”

Your words, however, fell on deaf ears. Her gaze was locked on something on the stairs beneath you both. You followed it, seeing the heavy stream of students starting to part. From your position, you couldn’t see much through the crowd, but soon the crowd thinned around you and you got closer.

Fred stood on the landing, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hands. You bit your lip, trying to hide the laugh bubbling in your chest. Such a grand gesture for a fake one-month relationship, this boy was determined to beat George and win those three Galleons. You felt Hermione clutching loosely to your arm, a dazed sort of look overcoming her features. You couldn’t help but laugh at this, prying yourself free from her grip and walking down the stairs to meet Fred.

He also looked sort of dazed, and with a quizzical expression you felt your face heat up under the stares of everyone in the stairwell. You came to the landing, looking up at Fred. His hand shook a little as he held the flowers, and he bit his lip harshly.

“Want to go out with me?” he asked, a surprisingly earnest voice replacing his usual smug one.

You glanced at your watch, moving to stand on your toes to reach him. You moved your mouth to his ear, speaking so only he could hear you, “You’re about a week early with this gesture, Freddie.”

He chuckled, and from being so close to him his chest bumped yours slightly. You fell to stand flat on your feet, still close to him. He looked down at you, holding the flowers between your chests.

“I don’t like following schedules,” he said, grinning down at you.

You resisted the urge to wrap your arms around his shoulders and never let go, settling instead on a bashful smile. He handed you the flowers, the brown paper they were wrapped in feeling a little damp from how profusely his hands were nervously sweating.

When he made this bet with George, he had just planned on kissing you in some busy hallway to announce the start of your relationship, as he did with most of his relationships. Somehow, though, you felt more special. His stomach sank every time he thought about the limited and fake month he’d have to with you, but he forced his way through it.

So he went to the field by Hagrid’s hut and picked the best flowers he could find, wrapping them in a brown paper and organizing them so they were perfect, because you were perfect.

He looked down at you, watching you as you held the flowers up to your face and smelled them. Your eyes were light and filled with innocent excitement, giving him an enchanting smile that showed all your teeth; you looked incredibly and undeniably happy, and that made Fred happy.

You had both nearly forgotten about the entire student body surrounding you both, watching the exchange. Fred, feeling unnerved by the vulnerability he had exhibited in such a large crowd, looked up and smiled smugly, wiggling his eyebrows. The entire staircase erupted in a somewhat jumbled mix of cheers and laughter, sending a deep red blush to your cheeks. Fred looked down at you, and in a moment of unfiltered happiness, brought his hands to your cheeks. He lifted your head from where you had ducked it to hide the blush, forcing you to look up at him with the embarrassed grin on your lips. Before he could think about what he was doing, his face was leaning closer to yours and his hands on your cheeks were pulling you closer to him. You barely had the time to register what was happening, only hearing the laughter and cheers around you get louder as Fred’s face was pressed against yours.

He was fast at first, passionate and quick as if he thought he only had a second before you pulled away. You couldn’t though, even though every bone in your body was telling you to. Your lasting feelings for Fred were telling you that this kiss was okay, that your friendship with Ron would take the backseat for a while as you let Fred press himself against you. Your thoughts were fading, being replaced with the hyper awareness of everywhere Fred was touching you. His lips slowed and his breathing became slower too. He let out a sigh through his nose, the air hitting your face and sending a brand new flush to your cheeks. His hands on your cheeks stopped pulling you towards him, now being a gentle and soft presence on your skin. His left hand was grazing your jaw, his calloused fingertips tickling the skin lightly. His right hand cupped your cheek firmly still, but his thumb rubbed against your cheekbone. You held the flowers in one hand, and it wasn’t until a few seconds into the kiss that you had even remembered you had hands. You rested your hand holding the flowers against his chest, tilting the bouquet so it didn’t hit Fred in the face. Your other hand snaked up his arm, clutching loosely at his strong forearm as it hung between your bodies.

You were both at each other’s wills, you would do anything Fred and Fred vowed to himself that he would follow you to the ends of the Earth, if you asked him to.

The spark moving through Fred’s body was nothing he had ever felt before. He didn’t feel it when he kissed Angelina Johnson, his first kiss, after winning a Quidditch match. He didn’t feel it when he drunkenly kissed Alicia Spinnet at a party. He didn’t feel anything close to this when he kissed Katie Bell in a game of truth or dare last year. You were completely new to Fred, and part of him already knew he wanted to spend every second with you from then on out.

You pulled away first, entirely and completely breathless. You looked up at Fred, mouth opening and closing like an out of water fish as you tried to find words to say in this moment. Fred just chuckled, bringing his hand on your cheek to graze his knuckles against your swollen lips. You closed your mouth, feeling okay with having nothing to say, and figuring it was better to not say anything anyways.

The crowd registered in your brain, making you feel extremely embarrassed again. You shoved your face into Fred’s chest, hiding the flush all over your face.

“Alright! Shows over, you perverts,” Fred called out, smiling widely at the group.

You heard the shuffling of feet begin around you, the traffic beginning once again. A few wolf whistles reached your ears, and you didn’t remove yourself from Fred’s chest until you were sure everyone had moved on.

Fred’s large hand rested on the back of your head, soothing down your hair. You found it oddly intimate, and you knew letting all of this happen was only setting yourself up for hurt when this bet was inevitably over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Pulling away finally, your flowers clutched at your side, you took a deep breath. You were bringing your gaze to look up at Fred, but a group of redheads standing behind him caught your eyes and made them widen.

“I am so telling mum you have a girlfriend!” Ginny squealed, her voice easily heard in the now empty stairwell.

Fred turned to face his family, seeing Ginny, Ron, George, Hermione, and Harry looking at him as if he’s sprouted five new limbs.

Ron elbowed Ginny, sending her a wide-eyed look, “my bestfriend is not his girlfriend!” Ron said confidently, then turning to Fred with a threatening look, “My bestfriend is not your girlfriend.”

Fred smiled nervously, “I’m not dating Harry, Ron,” he attempted to joke, only earning a laugh from George and an embarrassed look from Harry.

You peaked from behind Fred, meeting the group. You smiled at them sheepishly, meeting Hermione’s baffled eyes.

“I knew it!” she called, causing the entire group to turn their heads to look at her, “I knew you fancied her.”

Hermione looked quite proud of herself, but Ron looked fuming. Harry had sort of a ‘I-saw-this-coming’ look on his face.

“Guys,” you said, stepping towards them, “Ron.”

You gave Ron a pleading look, prepared to embarrass yourself and set the whole thing straight, even prepared to lose 3 Galleons. Suddenly, Hermione stepped between you and Ron.

“Ronald,” she said sternly, snapping Ron out from his angry mood briefly, “I hope you are not about to prevent a lovely relationship just because you have no emotional intelligence or maturity regarding these subjects.”

Your eyes widened from behind Hermione, casting a shocked glance to Fred. George and Ginny stifled their laughter, saving an embarrassed Ron some of his pride after being scolded by Hermione.

“But he’s my brother!” he whined, his anger leaving him and instead being replaced by some sort of tame disgust.

You couldn’t take it, every part of you wanted to tell them it was a bet, the galleons be damned. You looked to Fred with a warning look, only to see him digging in his pockets.

“George,” he called out, removing his hand from his pocket and clutching something, “catch.”

Fred tossed six coins at George, and George caught them with surprise.

“Bets off,” Fred said, looking painfully serious.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, an immense feeling of guilt wash over you. You had cost Fred six galleons, even after the work he had put in. He had kissed you for the sake of it, and you couldn’t go one month.

“Fred,” you stuttered, looking at him with guilt

His mouth broke into a grin, however, and he took a few steps towards you. George watched Fred’s movements, and began pulling away the group. Ron, still standing there with a confused look on his face, was tugged away by the back of his collar.

“I don’t want to fake date you,” he whispered to you once he was close enough, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Well, that seems like a lot of work for nothing, then-” you started, only for his lips to fall onto yours and silence you.

You couldn’t help it, again, as you let yourself melt into him. He pulled away all too soon however, resting his forehead on yours as he looked into your eyes.

“I want to date you for real,” he said, biting his lip nervously, “not as a bet.”

Your eyes widened, and once again you could not think of anything to say. You opened and closed your mouth, searching for the words, but gave up. You gave a relieved sigh, hearing the words you had dreamed of hearing since you were 12, and kissed Fred Weasley.

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jae-daddy · 3 years

Text

Duff (4)

jaebum au series

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! i guess too now plot: you are the duff, and guys use you to get close to your bestfriend, turns out jaebum was no exception. but as time goes on the tension between you and your bestfriend’s unoffical boyfriend grows a/n: it so late, I'm literally seeing double rn... hope y’all like it! <3 not edited.

Life is brimming with lessons that teach you how to live without being naive and a fool.

You were already taught a few lessons by life, as it made you jump through endless hoops burning with malicious flames waiting to scorch your skin at slightest touch.

So you found it fair to hold yourself as intelligent and mature.

Therefore, you trusted your conclusion to ignore whatever happened in the elevator with Im Jaebum.

What was said, what was done; none of it mattered.

An important lesson you’ve learnt is people say and do crazy things when they are riding high a shot of adrenaline.

Jaebum’s near-death experience led him to say things that he would not on a normal day. It was only because he was scared that he did. And everyone wants to die an honest man. You were certain if it were Paul in the elevator instead of you, Jaebum might have confessed something outrageous to him too.

So that was not the reason why you were staring at the two males in front of you as they spoke absolute nonsense to you. You already knew not to take what happened in that tiny metal box seriously. Instead, it was another life lesson you knew that made you stare at them as if they had grown two heads: everything has a price.

“Not everyone gets an opportunity like this, y/n,” Paul spoke, a second away from begging on his knees.

You shook your head in distaste, this was not part of the plan. Actually, there was no plan, but if you had one, this would definitely not be it. This was not how you imagined your lottery internship to turn out.

“Paul, I am flattered the company believes me to be capable of such an important role,” you breathed, trying to keep a polite smile as your eyes bounced between the bald man and the smirking jerk. “However, I do not think I would be suitable for this role. I made it clear in my internship contract that I will not have my studies affected by this opportunity. Unfortunately, being the secretary of the -”

“I’m sorry to stop you, y/n,” Paul cut you off, not apologetic at all. You bit your cheeks to hold back a sneer. “We have thought about this through, and believe it to be the best plan of action to take right now. Mr Im is new to this company and is temporary, and while we have made a public announcement, he is still on trial.

“We could get someone in a fixed-term confidential contract, but that’s too complicated.”

Your brows furrowed as you disagreed with that, but you didn't say anything.

“The remaining time left in your contract and Mr Im’s trial period match up perfectly. You already have secretarially role in the company, so you already know the ups and downs, the tricks and tips, so we really believe this is the best way. And about your studies, the summer break began last week. However, if you believe this to be in violation of your contract, we will compensate.”

“Compensate?” You rose an eyebrow, payment would be better than slaving away for free.

“Pay you, just like any other employee,” Paul smiled happily. Finally seeing some indication of interest from your side. He added, proudly, “with all employee benefits.”

You bit your lip in deep thought.

You mentally weighed the pros and cons.

There were pros, so many pros; a better resume, money, free coffee and healthcare, etc. But the con, the big con stared at you in bold, italics, highlighted in large red fonts: you’d be working for Im Jaebum.

If this was someone else you would have said yes the moment they offered it, even without the benefits. But with Im Jaebum, things got complicated.

You weren’t sure if he could maintain the professional relationship between the two of you. And if you were being completely honest, you didn’t know if you could maintain it too.

Even now, with Paul standing at one end of the table, and Jaebum settled on the long side. Your mind couldn’t help thinking about how short your skirt was, and how easy it would be for Jaebum to bend you over the wooden table, and make you a moaning mess.

It would be quite difficult to maintain professionalism when you’d be spending time alone with him. Or maybe, he would use his position to make you suffer. He might end up not coming to work at all, have you do all his work, and just show up to sign and show his face.

So much could go wrong with working for Im Jaebum.

And you also had to consider the fact that you hadn’t talked to him since the elevator incident.

You haven’t been to Heather’s place, too busy with the piled up assignments all due within the last two weeks. The twenty hours of weekly internship didn’t give you any freed up time either. You didn’t get an opportunity to see Heather, or her boyfriend, Im Jaebum, to have a talk.

“Oh come on, y/n,” Jaebum smiled at you, making your blood boil instantly. This was the first thing he said to you in the past two weeks and somehow managed to be an arrogant shit-eater when he did. Your glare didn’t make his smile falter as he sang, “It’ll be fun.”

No way. You thought. There is no way you would be able to work for that self-centred, cocky, incredibly hot jerk.

“We’ll cover your fees.” Paul stopped you before the no on the tip of your tongue tumbled out. You stared at him in shock, as he looked at you expectedly.

“My university fees?” You asked, shocked.

“Yes, all of it.” He nodded.

That’s a lot.

Your eyes fell on Jaebum who smirked at you as if he had the whole entire world at his feet's disposal, and maybe he truly did. He had something similar to that power if the company was willing to go to such extents to make him stay.

The pros were really starting to outweigh the annoying, irritating con.

“Fine,” you licked your lips, with a sigh. “I’m in.”

Paul almost jumped in his place with excitement, “Thank you, y/n! Thank you so much!”

Paul walked out swiftly muttering something about going to the HR and having a contract formed immediately. Your eyes followed him as he left, remaining on the doors that closed behind him.

You could feel his gaze burning the side of your face, and it truly felt as if you were about to combust.

“What?” You snarked, turning towards him annoyed.

Jaebum just snickered as he swirled side to side, carefree, on his chair, “Why are you always so mad, love?”

You rolled your eyes getting up, “I guess this meeting is over.”

“I didn’t dismiss you, y/n,” Jaebum said, stopping his playful actions.

“You’re not my boss until I sign that piece of paper, so,” you gave him a middle finger with a tight smile before walking out the office.

You could hear his light laughter follow you, but you ignored it.

You stopped in your tracks as you remembered something and entered the room once again. Jaebum looked up at you, surprised, before smiling brightly, “Welcome back.”

You cursed yourself for returning after such an amazing exit, but there were more pressing matters than your pride.

“Have you told Heather about what happened?” You closed the door behind you, making sure no one could hear you.

Jaebum’s eyes danced with amusement, as he shrugged, drawling, “What happened?”

“In the elevator, Jaebum,” you gritted through your teeth as you stepped closer towards him.

Jaebum’s smiled only grew as he frowned with feigned innocence, “I can’t seem to remember, maybe if you could help me remember.”

His lazy gaze fell to your lips before meeting your eyes again. A spark ignited deep inside you, and you told yourself it was anger; it was an annoyance.

You clicked your jaw as you smacked your hands onto the desk, leaning over it. Jaebum watched you, carefully, not intimidated a bit, only amused.

Your eyes narrowed at him, before you smiled sweetly, “You were holding my hand and crying like a child.”

Jaebum hissed, unaffected, as he tsked, “I can’t seem to remember that.”

“Did you tell her or not?” You groaned, your annoyance at peak.

What you would do to this man if you got a chance. He wouldn’t be smiling like that, he’d be begging you for forgiveness, for release.

Jaebum smirked as if he could read your mind, “No, I didn't.”

“Good,” you nodded, gulping as his eyes watched you with unsettling darkness. “Don’t.”

He rose his eyebrow, before nodding, “As you wish, y/n.”

You turned and felt his gaze watch you as you walked out. You felt it lower, watching your hips as it swayed side to side. Your hand gripped the cool handle as your shoulders sagged slightly.

You let out a low sigh, “Thanks.”

You disappeared behind the door before Jaebum could reply.

“Babe!” Heather sang as her long limbs fell over you loosely. You laughed, as you helped her sit straight. She leaned against you again, snuggling her face into your neck as she hugged you, “I love the way you smell, baby!”

You chuckled as you patted her red matted hair soiled with glitter and sweat at the back of the Uber, “Thanks Heather, I like how you smell too.”

“Don’t lie,” you could hear her pout, and it only made you smile. “You always make fun of my feet.”

“But that’s only after the gym or a hike, Heather,” you told her, as you brushed the hair off her face.

Heather was completely wasted tonight.

She was already drunk by the time you walked into the club. Jaebum wasn’t anywhere to be found, and you found her with a group of her “friends” that you didn’t like.

They would always make her drink too much, give her a little white sugar, and let her waste her platinum card on those low lives.

You didn’t like the way the guys would touch her as she slumped back onto the couch unable to see straight. You didn’t like the way the girls sitting around would not help her, instead, encourage her to be worse.

You were mad when you were pulling her away from the crowd and towards the bathroom when you had found Jaebum. He had just got to the club himself but was ready to leave as soon as he saw the state Heather was in.

He sat on the other side of Heather, holding her purse, as Heather held you from the middle seat.

Heather mumbled something in return and you couldn’t understand it.

“By that red letterbox is fine,” you told the Uber driver as he slowed down.

Jaebum got out first, and you helped Heather onto his back before getting out. You turned to the driver, giving him a small smile, “Thank you.”

“No problem, have a good night,” he said, already accepting a new ride.

“You too,” you said, as you closed the door. You turned to Jaebum, with Heather hanging her head over his shoulder. Her long ember curls falling down his chest as he grunted and halted her up.

“Woah, stop,” Heather moaned, heaving.

Jaebum looked at you with terror in his eyes, and you laughed at him, “Come on, let’s get this party animal into bed.”

“Is this where you live?” Jaebum asked as you led him up the small walk to the door.

You snorted and shook your head, “No, this is Heather’s home.”

Jaebum rose his eyebrows, and you continued, as you unlocked the doors,

“Her parents don’t live in this house anymore, so Heather skips between here and the apartment.”

You turned the lights on and took in the home that greeted you.

“They love sure love red, huh?” Jaebum commented, taking in the red couch, red feature wall, and red details spread over the living room and kitchen.

You laughed at that, agreeing with him. The Blacks sure did take pride in their red-haired heritage, and didn’t hide the fact that it was family’s favourite colour, “Mrs Black was going through an interior design phase.”

“Thank god it was just a phase,” Jaebum snickered, making you turn to him with a pointed look as you tried to hide the smile.

“She wasn’t too bad,” you replied and began walking towards Heather’s room.

Jaebum followed behind you, grunting as he adjusted Heather on his back, “No, she was just too red.”

You rolled your eyes as you opened her bedroom door and walked towards the bed. You pulled down the covers and Jaebum gently set her down. You took off her shoes, and earrings carefully.

Jaebum didn’t say anything and just watched you as you walked around the room getting out her nightshirt, and face-cleansing products.

“Why are you looking at me, Jaebum?” You asked, not looking at him. Instead, you pumped out the cleanser on a pad and gently took off the makeup from her face.

“Is there a problem?” Jaebum asked back, making you snort.

You gently turned her face and began the other side, “Yes, it’s making me nervous. I can feel you judging me.”

He was probably thinking what everyone else seemed to think when they saw you and Heather. They never saw the whole you both had for each other, how you would do anything for one another. All they saw was Heather in all her brilliance, beauty and wealth, and you, as her second, her side-kick.

“I’m not judging you,” he replied instantly.

Something about the way he said it made you believe him. You bit your lip, as folded the dirty make-up pads and put them on the side table.

“Then what are you doing?” You took a wet towel, wiping her face. You patted it dry and misted some toner and moisturiser. You turned back and met Jaebum’s eyes that remained on you, “Why are you looking at me?”

“There’s nothing else to look at,” he simply shrugged.

You rolled your eyes and pointed to the wall covered with photos of Heather through the years. Most of them had you in them, celebrating every holiday, and some photos from random days when the sun was shining brightly.

Jaebum stared at the wall as if noticing it for the first time. He got up and slowly walked up towards it. He took in the photos for a while, a small chuckle leaving him sometimes, “How did you two become friends?”

You smiled at the memory, “She saved me.”

You stared at your gorgeous friend, as she got up slightly. She searched around, her eyes disappearing as she smiled spotting you, “Oh, you’re here, y/n. I was going to the store on Wednesday.”

She trailed off, falling back into her pillow dozing off again.

“Her hangover is going to kill her tomorrow,” you turned to Jaebum with a tight smile, as you held up the nightshirt, “I’m going to change her.”

Jaebum instantly turned on his heels and walked out, closing the doors behind him.

You walked out to the smell of coffee and Jaebum sitting at the kitchen counter with two mugs in front of him. You furrowed your eyebrows as you settled on the chair in front of him, “Is this poisoned?”

Jaebum snorted rolling his eyes.

You blew the coffee before sipping it. It was still searing hot, so you placed it down on the counter, and turned towards Jaebum.

You took in his midnight hair pushed back, revealing his forehead. You didn’t know you could find someone’s forehead so sexy, but after seeing his hair down while he was at work, you had to admit it was hot. His piercings that were normally missing during office hours had returned too, a few missing.

You frowned your eyes focusing on his nose and eyebrows, “Why aren’t you wearing all your piercings?”

“It’s a nuisance putting it on and off,” Jaebum shrugged, before pointing to his lips, his tongue coming out to flick the sliver hoop, “Just wore my favourite.”

You held your breath, as the image of the cool metal against your lips, flicked by your tongue, gently tugged by your teeth invaded your mind. Your cheeks heated but you continued like nothing was happening to your body.

“Do you have piercings anywhere else?”

Jaebum smirked, “If you’re into pierced nipples, I can get them done for you.”

You groaned, a ridiculous smile on your face as you shook your head, “Can you ever have a conversation without being a prick?”

“A prick?” he gasped, “that’s a bit harsh. I would say I’m more of a flirt.”

“Oh, so you know? This is a conscious decision. You wake up every day and decide to be the bane of my existence.”

“I do wake up every morning and think of you,” Jaebum smiled at you. He chuckled, seeing you roll your eyes at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you snorted. Jaebum simply shrugged, smiling.

Something beeped from the kitchen and Jaebum got up. You watched him walk over to the stove and turn it off. He reached for a mug before looking through the drawers for something.

You narrowed your eyes watching him, “What are you looking for?”

“Uh... a strainer?” He turned back to you, scratching the back his head. “I don’t know what it’s called.”

Your heart melted at how adorable he looked standing there, confused and unsure. The smile on his lips was so beautiful as he watched you, waiting for you.

“The second drawer over there,” you pointed, not looking at him as your cheeks tinted rosy again.

Jaebum murmured thanks, before using it to drain the liquid from the pot and into the cup, “It’s a hangover tea. My mum makes it for me every time I get too drunk.”

“You live with your mum?” You asked. Jaebum peered back at you a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah, but I rarely ever get to see her.”

“Why’s that?” You frowned. The way Jaebum talked about her, the lightness in his voice and the softness of his smile, told you how much he adored his mother.

Jaebum shrugged before giving you a cheeky smile, “My house is too big.”

You laughed at that. You were not expecting that at all. You heard Jaebum’s low chuckle as you sobered up.

“What about you?” He asked as placed the cup onto a tray with a glass of water and two tablets he found next to the refrigerator. “Do you live alone?”

“Yup,” you nodded, before frowning, “Not even a pet.”

“No pets?” He asked, sympathetic.

You nodded, “I’m scared of animals. It doesn’t matter what size, or how well-trained, or what the animal is. I am terrified of them all the same.”

Jaebum gasped as if you had confessed to a murder, “What is wrong with you?”

“Wow, I thought this was a safe place,” you mumbled before taking a sip from your coffee that had cooled down. You hummed at the taste, he made good coffee.

“What about your parents?” Jaebum asked, making you stiffen. “Where do they live?”

You remained quiet.

You opened your mouth to tell him what you always told anyone who asks. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed or thought it was something to hide. You didn’t want people in your business and telling them to mind their business when they asked only piked up their interest more.

So you opened your mouth to tell him what you’ve been telling everyone for the past five years, “I don’t live with them.”

Normally you would follow up with something about living here was better for your education or future jobs. You would say something, an excuse, that was reason enough for many young people to move out of their parents home. But what you said surprised you, “I don’t talk to them anymore.”

“Oh,” was all Jaebum said. “That’s cool too.”

You peered up at him with a frown. You took in his relaxed gaze, the smile on his face just like it there was a minute ago. There was no sympathy, no pity. There was no spike in interest or anything.

He really didn’t want to pry. He didn't want to know why unless you told him. He only took as much as you could allow him.

Suddenly there was an iridescent pond shimmering in your chest. It swirled, making your whole body feel alive as you took in Im Jaebum. It felt as if your entire body was one cell, one tiny speck of dust caught in the breeze of Im Jaebum, and it didn’t mind.

You gulped, your body and mind acting quicker than you could control, “They couldn’t stand the sight of at me after they found out I was still doing something I promised I wouldn’t do anymore.”

The faces of your parents appeared in front of your eyes. The shock, anger, the disappointment on their face as they found you lying in a pool of your urine and vomit. The horror in their eyes, their desperateness as they shook your body, pleading for you to reply.

“They didn't kick me out. I left,” you ran a hand through your hair, as you let out a heavy sigh. You thought of the letter you wrote them, the way they had cried when they came to the hospital to meet you during those months, “I couldn’t hurt them anymore.”

“Do you think you would ever go meet them again?” You looked up to Jaebum watching you. You were thankful for the lack of pity in his eyes as he kept his gaze on you.

You sighed again, and it came out as a little laugh, “One day I will.”

You nodded, as you met his eyes. He smiled at you softly, and you smiled back as you scrunched your nose to stop the tears from threatening you, “When I am good enough, I will.”

“I hope that day comes soon.”

You didn’t realise Jaebum had come this close to you as you were talking. He leaned against the counter between you, his eyes intently taking you in. He folded his hands on the dark marble, his face leaning half-way over the counter.

You watched him back.

He was so beautiful.

You huffed out a smile as you shook your head at him. Jaebum instantly changed, leaning back, the playfulness in his eyes glinting once again as he rose an eyebrow in question.

“You’re not too bad, you know?” You smiled at him, before adding, “When you’re acting like a normal human being at least.”

Jaebum laughed at that before giving you a mocking smirk, “You’re not too bad yourself, y/n.”

You grinned about to say thank you, when he added, “When you’re not acting like a stick is stuck up your ass at least.”

“What an asshole,” you shook your head, laughing at him.

Jaebum beamed back, his eyes shining, “What a bitch.”

You took in the dark flecks in his eyes. You noticed their velvety blackness absorbing all light around it, but something else existed in those captivating eyes of his eyes. They didn’t get dragged away into the twilight of his gaze.

Instead, it shone brightly. It glistened, it was golden, white and sparkled like a starry night. It dragged you in, it made you want to lean close to him.

It made you want to place your lips on his and see how that shimmering halo swirled as he pulled you in closer. It made you want to reach for him, to place your hand on his soft cheeks. It made you want to walk around the counter and hug him in the middle of the kitchen littered with red embellishments.

Jaebum’s smile curled into an easy smirk as he winked at you before turning around. He picked up the tray with a cup of tea, a glass of water and Panadol, as walked towards the door the red-haired beauty was sleeping in.

Everything had a price.

Somewhere deep within your heart was a corner buried so deeply in the darkness you had forgotten it existed. The room was cold, dark, and there was nothing. Nothing except for a lone candle standing in the middle of the emptiness.

There had been nothing there for an eternity, and it was almost like magic. It almost felt like a trick of the eye, but then it happened again.

A flame, a spark, flickering at the tip of the candle; it sparked again.

This time it caught on. It burned, slowly getting brighter and livelier.

You watched Jaebum disappear behind the door of Heather’s room.

A sharp ache twisted your heart as you saw his broad back enter the dark room she was sleeping in.

The flame spreading over the wick twisted in shades of ember, their shadows dancing over the room.

You saw a word, you saw a face.

You knew the price for this feeling tugging, craving to grow bigger in your heart. You walked into the room, hidden in a deep corner of your heart. The ivory trail of your dress dragged on the dusty floor, turning brown with every step.

You didn’t look at the walls, you didn’t take in the shapes of the flames.

You took sharp, clear steps. You reached the candle, the flame reflecting softly against you. You closed your eyes, took in a deep breath and exhaled, blowing out the candle.

The flame was gone.

The candle extinguished, the room engulfed in darkness, once again.

You looked to the wall, the photo was no longer there but the image there was burnt into your mind.

The price of this feeling was too expensive.

It was too precious, and you couldn’t afford it.

224 notes · View notes

floating-in-the-blue · 3 years

Text

So about the whole Anti-Willie thing ...

This is going to be long but it’s been stewing in me and wants out...

Okay, not gonna lie, the very idea of Willie-antis gets me enraged. I came across this post in the willex tag and because I didn’t want to hijack it or object OP to potentially negative reactions, I decided to make my own post but quote the anon message they responded to:

The JATP fandom is so toxic only because you guys support a toxic relationship and hate on everyone who points out the falls of the relationship it’s not racist to say that Willie takes advantage of Alex’s anxiety

And the longer I look at this anon’s message ... I’m not only completely baffled at how they could arrive at this reading but also seriously concerned?

Because, let’s assume for a minute here that they aren’t being racist and truly, completely believe that this relationship is toxic ... then what does that mean?

It means purity culture has turned this person’s head so much that they see a caring relationship between two people and label it toxic because one of them made a mistake. It means that they are so far into the rabbit hole that a real relationship will never be achievable because how do you hold up this ideal of never making mistakes, of staying “pure” without crashing and burning?

I may no longer be in academia and it’s been a while but during my time there, I did engage with reader response theories and fandom theories and Death of the Author and textual analysis and deconstructive readings etc. and basically have been very interested in how people read texts and derive meaning from them.

So I’m really curious how people like this anon arrive at a notion of a toxic relationship and one where “Willie takes advantage of Alex’s anxiety” when they watch the show.

And I’m trying, really trying to understand it and so I’m trying to play devil’s advocate for a minute. So let’s look at the scenes they have and see the pro and con Willie arguments that could be made out of them (though I admit, I really have to stretch my imagination with some of those cons!).

This is gonna be long so (also I’m making it up as I go so ...) stuffing this under a cut.

But also, let me preface this with: Willex is my main ship but I do not hate Lalex! I like them in the past, I like them as exes (it’s not my reading of canon, but whatever, ship what you like) and don’t think liking them and shipping them automatically means you’re racist or a bad person or anything like that. Maybe you just like best friends to lovers as a trope more. Or are really into Luke. Maybe that accidental hand-holding scene sparked something. Or whatever. So, me doing this analysis is not because I want to shame you for shipping Lalex. I’m trying to have an open conversation because anon is right in saying that the Willie defense squad is quick to hate on anyone not of their opinion and we’re not getting anywhere if both sides just keep yelling at each other.

Anyway, on we go.

First meeting - Sunset Boulevard

pro: Alex tells Willie about his “minor afterlife crisis” and tags on a joke; Willie makes a joke in return. Reverts back to the topic of the “minor afterlife crisis”, getting serious again when he picks up on Alex’s unease = quickly tuned in to Alex’s emotional needs

con: he skates off, counting on Alex to follow him because he has more questions to ask = establishing a hierarchy based on knowledge and possibly his own attractiveness

After First Meeting

pro: Alex looks happy when he returns to the boys and tells them about Willie, being all excited; Willie has answered a ton of questions (so more than we see, because we never get to see the “woke” thing being taught either = Willie makes time for Alex)

con: - (it could be construed that Alex is more excited about his questions having been answered than Willie himself but that’s a big stretch)

Second Meeting - Museum

pro: initiating physical contact (e.g. hand-holding) that Alex clearly responds to in an amazed but positive way (no signs of discomfort at being touched);

finds out about Alex having trouble with moving things and immediately offers to help him (sucessfully), teaching him ‘how to ghost by showing him how to ghost’;

finds out about Alex’s anxiety and shares his own way of de-stressing with him. Skating probably helps Willie, too, but screaming is something Alex can share and try as well

con: spends half their date (?) “showing off” on his skateboard; drags Alex out of his comfort zone by “breaking into” the museum (however, Alex does go with him willingly)

After Second Meeting

pro: Alex can show off his new-learned ghost skills and sounds happy about the time they shared

con: -

Third Meeting - Park/Promenade (?)

pro: Willie is happy to meet Alex’s friends; looks proud and fond when Alex explains “lifers” to the others, validating his “ghost progress”; immediately ready to help them; offers to introduce them to someone more powerful than him to help them when he sees how disappointed they are when Willie can’t help them

con: offers to introduce them to Caleb while knowing that the whole stamp thing exists (as evidenced later, “you know what that will do to them”)

This is, I guess, where the two readings of Willie’s character and complicitness diverge. I would argue that, had he wanted to get the boys to the club, he would have told Alex about it earlier, would have asked him to meet his friends (though he might have wanted to establish his relationship to Alex first, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on that) but most importantly he would have immediately brought up Caleb and the HGC when they asked for help since it is the perfect opportunity.

Instead, he just brings it up when they’re all clearly disappointed. It would make sense in a different context, with different people to hold that back a little, if he were conning them. But you can’t tell me Alex, Luke, and Reggie wouldn’t have immediately jumped on the HGC if he’d told them about it ealier. He could have mentioned it when he first meets Alex and the boys would have come running. Instead he seems to have wanted to keep Alex to himself for as long as he could.

Fourth Meeting - HGC

pro: he is clearly startled by the interest Caleb shows in the boys with the “special table” reserved for them; excited to share the club with the boys and all the cool things about it; makes sure to ease Alex’s nerves by looks and touch and checking in with him;

he is upset and confused when Caleb orders him away at the dancing; he “confronts” Caleb after the stamp incident even though he is clearly wary of him at this point and Caleb has a certain power over him (though it’s not completely clear what that is);

the moment of “there’s a lot to, uhm, like here” shows Willie abandoning his flirty act and instead being serious and then immediately running off instead of trying to coerce Alex to stay

con: he brings them to the club although he knows the stamps are a thing that Caleb does; doesn’t ignore Caleb’s order to disappear during the dance; doesn’t stop Caleb from using his stamps

This is where it gets interesting. Clearly, Willie knows about the stamps. Clearly, he has a certain awe of Caleb and respect for him so he knows he’s not all good. And clearly, he obeyed him rather than intervening.

I would argue that it’s been made clear that he did not anticipate the outcome and as such cannot be intentionally complicit in what happened. His relationship to Caleb is shown as ambivalent. He’s clearly impressed by him (”the guy’s got skills”) and clearly intimidated by him (shown when he checks in with him if it’s still cool he brought the guys). And until he’s shood off the dance-floor, I think his admiration for Caleb outweighs the misgivings he might have (consciously or unconsciously). He’s introduced as someone who doesn’t worry too much; he’s not worried about his unfinished business. He likes to have fun and be free. He does not overthink things (like Alex, for example), so while he may have felt some unease and hesitation at introducing the guys to Caleb (hence why he hasn’t mentioned him sooner), he shrugged it off because Caleb was the only one able to help the guys.

Plus, he’s not exactly introduced as being super smart. He may be more experienced as a ghost but someone truly smart would not think selling his soul is not a big deal. So when Caleb waves him off during the dance, he might be just confused about what is going on. Uneasy and confused but not immediately clued in that the boys are in serious danger.

And when the stamps happen: we don’t know how far away he was. The stamping went really quickly, so there probably wasn’t much chance, if any, to intervene. Willie is still trying to comprehend what just happened when he confronts Caleb about it, shocked when he realises that Caleb did it very intentionally and clearly upset at realising that he brought the guys to Caleb.

Fifth “Meeting” - Coffee shop and Alley

pro: Willie wants to check on the boys even though he clearly isn’t supposed to and he now knows what Caleb is capable off

con: he hasn’t told them yet what’s going on, leaving them in the dark and he doesn’t confront Caleb again when he runs into him but plays it off like he was doing Caleb a favour by checking on the boys

Now, should Willie have acted sooner? Possibly. But from what we’ve seen, his entire world just rearranged itself. He underestimated Caleb, he’s clearly afraid of him now (trying to appease him, the strained smile) because he now realises not only the position the boys are in but also his own precarious position and he needs some time to process all of this and come to terms with everything. Which is a human response! He is a human teenager, after all, albeit a dead one. Just like Alex, he doesn’t handle change well. That may be a personality flaw but it’s a realistic one.

Sixth Meeting - Garage

pro: Willie still checks on the boys even after his run in with Caleb; is still clearly upset (a mixture of guilt and concern, probably) and wishes he’d rather not have met Alex than bring him (and his friends) into this situation, apologises

con: still doesn’t tell them and wants to avoid the confrontation; runs off even though it’s clearly upsetting Alex

So he still hasn’t found the courage to tell the boys about the stamps, which is bad. It could be due to fear about having to own up to his own mistake or because of his fear of Caleb or because he has no idea how to remedy the situation and hasn’t thought of a way out yet so doesn’t see the point.

But it’s clearly weighing on him and he’s even more upset than we’ve seen him previously so this is taking its toll on him. Plus he’s obviously very close to tearing up when he runs off. Being overwhelmed and unable to handle a situation like this is lamentable but very understandable.

Seventh Meeting - Sunset Boulevard

pro: he finally tells the boys though even talking to them puts himself in danger; he apologises and tells Alex that he cares about him; he offers a solution and possible way out even though it’s grasping at straws

con: he makes excuses for how he acted by alluding to Caleb owning his soul (which is a valid reason, though)

I would argue that Willie not urging them to just accept Caleb’s offer speaks volumes here. Now he knows what Caleb is really like, he’d rather the boys be free and move on to a hopefully better place than be tied to him like he is. He’d rather lose Alex (whom he cares about) than see him in Caleb’s clutches. It’s the total reverse of the hope he expressed in the HGC with “there’s a lot to like here”. If he were selfish, he’d nudge the guys to accept so he can spend eternity with Alex in the club. But he doesn’t even mention it. Doesn’t suggest it.

It takes a while for him to owning up to his mistake and the fucked up situation the guys are now in but he does own up to it and apologises for it.

Eight Meeting - Orpheum

pro: still feels guilty about everything; still checks in with Alex even though it puts himself in danger

con: -

I think the way his demenour changes and how he hesitates to touch Alex when he’s previously initiated physical contact all the time, says how guilty he feels. Like he has no right to comfort Alex when he hurts because he’s the one responsible for him hurting. It clearly upsets him though and he has a hard time accepting Alex’s forgiveness.

Ninth Meeting- Sunset Boulevard

pro: has taken a great personal risk in carnapping the Downslide tour bus (being absent from the HGC for a long time); would do anything for Alex; clearly values the hug

con: appears to be fine with saying goodbye

Luke being the one to “arm-bump” (??) Willie is very important, I think. Not only has Alex forgiven Willie (who is in love with him and so more likely to forgive him) but so have Luke and Reggie; showing no animosity and giving Alex and him some space to say goodbye.

The Hug! It clearly means so much to both of them and the way Willie sinks into it, caught off guard says this is nothing casual for him.

Yes, he jokes and seems unruffled at the actual goodbye but I would argue that it’s a front he puts on for Alex’s sake, to show that he will be fine and that Alex shouldn’t worry about him. It’s a far cry from the vulnerable and emotional expression we see during the hug.

So where does this leave us? In my opinion, with a character that cares deeply about Alex and tries his best to make him feel safe and relaxed (1st meeting, museum, first half HGC), who ultimately puts his own life on the line when it comes to saving Alex and the boys, who apologises for his mistakes and feels guilty about them.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t flawed, maybe a bit of a coward, not the brightest candle on the cake, and not as quick to adapt to a new, threatening situation as might be desirable. Someone who needs comfort himself but apparently rarely gets it (see his sudden change to comfortable jumpers in the emotional scenes as opposed to his more “open” clothes beforehand).

I do not see someone who “takes advantage of Alex’s anxiety“ in any way but mostly tries his best to help him with it. Luke and Reggie clearly don’t see him that way.

Willie is flawed but ultimately human.

A “toxic relationship“ boils down to selfishness because it means one partner puts their own needs and wants above the other, even though they’re detrimental to that other partner (whether this happens consciously or unconsciously - because a relationship can be toxic without malicious intent).

In all of his scenes Willie only starts to act “selfishly“ when his own life is at stake. And that only means a certain amount of hesitation before he acts, because ultimately, he does risk his own life!

So, for the life of me, I cannot see the toxicity in Willie and Alex’s relationship unless you come at it with the premise that everyone who makes a mistake is a bad person and toxic, which brings me back to purity culture and “your fave is problematic.”

The whole topic honestly drives me up the wall with how mad it makes me but in the end, I mostly feel really sorry for and worry about those entrenched in this cultish way of thinking. How stressful must it be when mistakes cannot be forgiven. When there’s no compassion and no understanding but only vitriolic hate and crusades. How terrifying must it be to live a life like that! The pressure of perfection intensified by a million because now it’s a moral obligation.

I do feel sorry for you if that is the life you live out of fear of retribution. But let me tell you: nobody is without fault. Nobody is perfect. Everybody makes mistakes, hesitates, doubts. And is still worthy of love.

So: it’s okay to prefer the Lalex ship. Whatever floats your boat. But there is no obligation to make a moral argument out of it where the canon love interest has to be torn down first.

If you want to discuss this with me further: I’m here and you can message me on anon or off and we can have an open conversation

#I really hope we get over this one day #willex #willie jatp #lalex #(I know not everyone shipping lalex is a willie-anti but still)#cw: anti-willie #jatp #purity culture #cancel culture #please cancel cancel culture #phantomfloat #yeo has a lot of thoughts #will anybody even read all of this? who knows #I /meant/ to be spending my evening writing ... just didn't think it would be this essay eating up my evening ...ah well #long post #seriously very long post

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ltenvs3000w22 · 2 years

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Controversy of Veganism

This week I had a hard time figuring out what to write about. This week my sister decided to go vegan and did a lot of research on why veganism is the way to go. This made me question what some of the cons to this diet can result in. We all know how many advantages there are but I thought it would be interesting to research the negative effects on the environment!

Does veganism contribute to environmental conservation? Eating a vegan diet has been said to be the most effective way to reduce your environmental impact on earth. Although this may be true, vegan diets and the reduction of meat consumption while gaining grain products harms animals and degrades the environment.

A professor at the university of south Wales, Mike Archer, explained how vegans can do more harm to animals by illuminating the one thing they rely on; plants.

The production of wheat and other grains in Australia result in 25 times more animals being killed per kg of usable protein, animal cruelty, and more environmental damage than farming red meat. In order to produce these grains, agriculture kills thousands of animals and plants by clear cutting native vegetation.

Not only does veganism affect animals and the environment, but it also heavily impacts the human species who partake in that lifestyle. According to WebMD, veganism may result in risks including brain health, hair loss, strokes and depression. The lack of protein, iron, vitamin B, and zinc can cause detrimental health problems.

Although consuming meat creates a lot of greenhouse gas emissions, I do not believe it makes up for the fact that the vegan lifestyle wastes land that could be consumed by people. The protein from livestock costs a lot less lives per kilogram. I believe it is a more humane, environmentally friendly and ethical dietary option.

I do not necessarily believe that veganism is bad, but I do think that there are many other ways to conserve the planet and help save plants and animals where people can make an actual change. Donations to animal-oriented organizations and the reduction of waste can have a much more healthier impact than a vegan diet.

Before reading a paper on this topic, I did not have much of an opinion about vegan diets. I still believe that going vegan is a good choice and I support anyone who lives that way. All I know is that there are many pros and cons to the lifestyle. This includes:

Pros: Prevention of overfishing, Overpopulation of cows for food cause pollution, preventing livestock emissions

Cons: Extinction of almond trees - because of high demand, Highly processed foods (tofu) can be bad for environment (Made in factories)

What are your thoughts on veganism? How do you think being a vegan affects environmental conservation? Do you think the pros outweigh the cons?

Reference:

https://dailytitan.com/opinion/benefits-of-a-vegan-diet-dont-outweigh-its-environmental-impact/article_10079b1c-a13e-11eb-aefd-9363be1e574e.html#:~:text=Vegan%20diets%20don't%20resort,degrade%20the%20environment%20as%20well.

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jaywrites101 · 3 years

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Five-Star Reviews Suck (And they blame you for doing reviews wrong.)

Tonight on Thoughts that Keep Me Awake in Existential Horror, Amazon and Google's rating systems are killing your puppies.

As someone whose job is to review various creative projects and work with creators to improve them, I can say with absolute certainty that no one should ever review things unless it is their job. Now, I could very easily write an entire essay twice the size of this one to back that claim up, but tonight I have an even bigger fish to fry. So if you take affront to that claim, stick around; I'll get to it eventually.

No, tonight I'm breaking down the Five-Star Review. What it is, what it means, why EVERYONE is using it wrong, and how the companies who implement these rating systems blame you for its failings.

Let's start with what the Five-Star review is. And the most important fact to know going in is that Five-Star Restaurants are a globally recognized symbol of excellence, and the companies asking you to leave Five-Star Reviews deliberately want you to mix these two up. They want you, the reader/consumer to think:

Five Stars = Unrivaled excellence.

But that's not what the Five-Star Review is. At its most basic, the Five-Star Review is one of those questions you see all the time in surveys where you pick one of five:

[Strongly Disagree] [Disagree] [Neutral] [Agree] [Strongly Agree]

They do this for two reasons. 1) This system is simple and anyone can understand it. 2) If you take the average of 100 reviews, you get a number that feels predictive. More on that later.

This system is not a review. It is a rating. And it is also officially called a review. But, and I cannot stress this enough, it is not a review!

A Review is a system in which one person breaks down the product or service they have used and provides targeted feedback to the creator or fellow users about the pros and cons of this product or service.

Literal Definition according to Google:

a formal assessment or examination of something with the possibility or intention of instituting change if necessary. a critical appraisal of a book, play, movie, exhibition, etc., published in a newspaper or magazine

A Rating is a generalized statement about a product or service to determine if said product or service is adequate for its promotion.

Literal Definition according to Google:

a classification or ranking of someone or something based on a comparative assessment of their quality, standard, or performance. the value of a property or condition that is claimed to be standard, optimal, or limiting for a substance, material, or item of equipment.

One of these things is to provide a flexible analysis, the other is to determine the value of a thing.

Companies want YOU to treat the Five-Star Review as a review. But internally they treat the Five-Star Review as a rating.

So why does this matter? So the two biggest companies on Earth got the definitions of Review and Rating mixed up, big deal, right? There's certainly no possible way this affects your life. Right??? Keep reading, they didn't get these definitions mixed up. They mixed it up deliberately. And they do this as a measure to screw every body out of every thing.

Once again, this comes back to you, the consumer. You see a Five-Star Review and it leaves you with opinions. Even though the "Review" is not actually telling you anything of value. Experts comment on this all the time. Five categories are just too narrow of a field to get an accurate assessment out of anything. That's why most legitimate review sites leave a rating out of 10, or even 100. Five... five just oversimplifies everything. And the problem with oversimplification is that it sweeps a lot of sins under a big 'ol rug.

People fall through the cracks in a Five-Star system. Lots of people are miscategorized, undervalued, and barred from receiving the benefits they deserve.

Remember when I said that the Five-Star Review feels like it gives a number that's predictive? Turns out, that's not how numbers work. In most things when you average together massive amounts of numbers, you end up with numbers that support the trend. (I'm not a math guy, so these are my generalizations.) But with the Five-Star Review the more numbers you get, the closer to 3 it becomes. To break it down into even less math: if enough people say "Thing Good," the reviews show the thing is indeed good. But with the Five-Star Review, the more people who rate and leave ratings; the more average your product appears.

This is because the companies are selling the Five-Star Review as a review but treating it as a rating.

Now let's talk about you, the consumer who leaves reviews and the consumer who reads the ratings.

Picture this, you bought something on Amazon, and now you're leaving a review of the product. You give it four stars because it was pretty good, but not flawless-

Already you are being too critical.

If you give a product three stars out of five; that means it was an average product. This statement would prolly surprise many of you. Because we've been conditioned to think of the Five-Star Review as a review whose stars are awarded depending on excellence, no review is supposed to be a sign of an average product. So how do you tell people the product is bad? You leave a critical comment telling people the product was bad.

Anyone who's ever sold a book online will tell you otherwise. Comments, no matter how bad, are considered positive by the algorithm. The Five-Star Review system favors large numbers over nothing. One hundred One-Star Reviews will far outweigh any product that has twenty Five-Stars Reviews. Even though anyone who looks at these statistics should clearly see that they are equal.

And when you look at a product that has an average review of fewer than four ratings, you dismiss it out of hand.

But the more ratings a product has, the closer to three its ratings will become.

Don't get me wrong, plenty of bad sellers has used this to their advantage. Some writers who were just terrible make use of this system to look average. It favors them.

But if you're just starting out, you are already going to get crushed by the algorithm. And then, when people don't leave reviews because your product was averagely good; you suffer. And then, after struggling to get reviews, people leave reviews that are less than five stars; you suffer. And the more rating you get; the more you suffer.

This, despite what it may seem, is the system working perfectly. Because it's tricking you into believing that it's an effective system for weeding out low-quality products while stifling anyone trying to use it.

Anyway, this has been my rant. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. Like and Reblog and all that. 'Night.

#I stayed up way too late for this #reviews #book review #amazon #google #five stars #rant over #rant #education #algorithmes #algorithmsucks #puppies

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carelessadventurer · 3 years

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Tight Space | Ghost | Heights ( for Xanthe~ )

Ghosts: Has your muse ever seen something they couldn’t explain?

“I met a nothic once and it showed me a memory of when I was an infant in my mother’s arms. She didn’t seem happy. I really don’t know how to explain it. Because apparently it is something I remembered or was deep in my subconscious. Nothic’s are weird creatures. I invited it to try again just cause I wanted to see whatever else it could like pull out of my mind but it didn’t really get anymore deep set memories. I guess back then I just really wanted to know about my mother... but it doesn’t really matter to me anymore.

I also almost sold my soul to a dark power for the chance to see into the past. However, the deal fell through when I realized that it was just going to give me the ability to scry things in the present. If I needed something like that I could just get a scrying crystal orb.”

Heights: Is your muse a risk-taker?

A calculated risk... maybe? But not really Xanthe puts a lot of thought into what she does. She’ll only do things if she thinks that there will be some benefit to it. She might take a risk if she thinks the benefits will outweigh the cons. She’s not dumb. Though she is still young. So she might make a mistake in her own calculations.

Tight Space: Does your muse ever feel that they’re not living up to their own potential?

Potential... Potential is an odd thing with Xanthe. There are two ways at which she views it. Her own potential as a thief and what the gods see in her. In terms of the gods, she believes that they view her as a failure. Since she was supposed to atone for the sins of her mother and she has not done so. As a thief Xanthe finds herself living up to her potential. Though she is also still growing and learning things that will only improve her skill in the long run.

#Sorry this is late I just realized it was still in my drafts #Xanthe | Intel

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makeste · 4 years

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BnHA Chapter 258: Have You Thanked Your Twice Today

Previously on BnHA: All Might gave Deku a book with all of the previous OFA successors’ names, quirks, and career stats. Kacchan barely glanced at the book and was all “nah, boring” and JUST LIKE THAT he decided we’re not gonna get any new info, which I don’t think is very fair or considerate Kacchan but whatever!! Anyway though, All Might did reveal that Nana could fly and so Deku is going to learn to fly, so that’s fucking awesome, and then Kacchan and Deku had a moment of being bratty siblings together which I framed and put on my wall, so that was also very enjoyable. Back at the 1-A dorms we learned that Todoroki can’t cook, and the kids had a New Year’s party and talked about how they’re gonna be second years soon and how everything is just SO GREAT AND GOOD AND LIFE IS GOOD, and elsewhere All Might sat outside the teacher’s dorms and had a gorgeous fucking conversation with Aizawa that gave me all the feels. The chapter then ended with a THREE MONTH TIMESKIP to late March when apparently everything is about to go to shit. So yeah. Quite a lot to process there.

Today on BnHA: Hawks spends basically the entire chapter very slowly explaining to us that he became best friends with Twice, and it paid off dividends on account of Twice deciding that Hawks is definitely trustworthy and he should definitely tell him exactly where Tomura is off hiding in the mountains of Kyoto, because that’s the kind of extremely sensitive strategic intel that real best friends don’t keep from one another! Can you guys believe Hawks spent all that time trying to cozy up to fucking Dabi of all people when this whole time Twice was right fucking there. I bet you Twice would never have asked him to kill Best Jeanist and tote around his remains in a knapsack. Anyway so the chapter ends with the heroes launching what I assume is a surprise attack in where I assume is Kyoto, which probably explains that whole “on that day the heroes vanished” bit from the previous chapter. So let’s all wish them good luck, especially because THEY BROUGHT THE FUCKING KIDS WITH THEM GODDAMMIT. Oh my babies. Please be safe.

so I think I’m gonna go back to the Friday schedule since it just works better for me. just gotta remember to take the translations with a grain of salt, but all in all the quality last week wasn’t too bad, and overall the pros outweigh the cons

(ETA: the quality actually went down a lot this time honestly, but Friday still > Sunday in terms of me having the time to read this, so it is what it is.)

well this is interesting!

“in the absence of Endeavor” ? ??? the what now??? “oh yeah did we forget to mention, he’s gone now. we did some focus groups and made a few tweaks based on what the fans said they wanted.” well shit. let this be a warning to you all. it can happen JUST LIKE THAT

um. but I mean, that’s all well and good but uhhhh. [nervous glance toward Ujiko, Tomura, the 100k army, and the 11 noumus] ...

but maybe he’s just absent for the cover though. (ETA: yeah this makes a lot more sense after reading the last page of this chapter lol.) anyway so here we have everyone flying, as all good heroes do, including Deku who doesn’t really need that floating quirk after all I suppose, since he can jump real good. BUT IT’S STILL NICE FOR HIM TO HAVE IT SO SHHH

also the flower!Kacchan eyes are becoming more and more frequent lately. Horikoshi is really having a lot of fun with that

and now we’re going back roughly two months ago! which is still the future as far as I’m concerned! so this is really weird to have a “flashback” that basically still takes place after where we last left off. but whatever

“a week after the ‘hospital’ tip” well thank you, that certainly does help. so Twice is jogging in and beckoning to his best bud Hawks so Hawks is like “?” and walking over

(ETA: this has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but I just wanted to say that it’s very possible this flashback is actually taking place on Shouto’s birthday -- January 11th -- given the timing, so happy birthday Shouto! you are getting so big!)

lol see this is one of those times where the whole ‘translation of a translation’ thing doesn’t really work sob. even with context I’m not quite sure wtf Twice is actually asking, but at any rate this at least does give us an idea of how the rest of the League is spending their time now that they’ve completed their whole villain corporate merger

so Spinner and Compress, who actually have a few brain cells to rub together between the two of them, are already deeply involved in running things, and meanwhile Giran, Dabi, and Toga don’t really give a shit and so are content to sit back and wait until their services are actually needed. incidentally I like to think Giran spends a good chunk of his free time just tormenting ReDestro in a bunch of really small and petty ways. like making him get his coffee, and having him call and cancel his cable subscription and stuff. it’s just nice

guys I have no idea wtf is going on in these four panels honestly

well you heard him. that’s the situation. nobody trusts Twice (or was he talking about Hawks?), and meanwhile he has to go poo. not exactly where I thought this chapter would be picking up after that fun little cliffhanger last week, but just goes to show this series truly is a magical Kinder Egg and you never know what you’re gonna get!

so Hawks is explaining for my benefit that Twice was apparently doing an impression of some guy named “Sanctum” who is the oldest member of the MLA

holy shit it took Hawks a whole month to figure out all of the Pliff members? I’m just gonna pass then. thankfully I’m not a spy and I don’t have the fate of the free world depending on me memorizing the organizational chart of a bunch of really boring people whom I really do not give the slightest fuck about. anyway godspeed Hawks

oh no

son of a bitch. we’re in for another long fucking arc aren’t we lmao. well all right then let’s go ahead and do the rundown

Black 1: Fuhrer King Bradley

Black 2: Flying Ace

Black 3: Mother Ginger

Violet 1: Super Mario and Just A Bald Man

Violet 2: Predator and Best Sweaterist

Violet 3: Vizard and Gang Badger

in conclusion, Horikoshi will never stop making Alien/Predator references, and I’m also seeing some strong FMA and Bleach influence here as well. hell, the Mario guy even reminds me of some of the fishman characters from One Piece. so basically we’re all over the place here

other observations: “the new world movement”, huh? are they moving on from PLF at long last? I’ll take Newm over Pliff any day tbh

and so they have a tactical force and a raid force. now that’s interesting as fuck, because who exactly are they planning to raid? now that’s a nice disturbing question to ponder

lastly, the black and violet color schemes are very interesting and I wonder if there’s any significance there that’s going over my head lol. for now I just think it sounds cool regardless

-- MOTHERFUCKER THERE’S A WHOLE NOTHER PAGE OF THIS SHIT FUCK ME I FUCKING QUIT

goddammit. fine

Carmine 1: Lefty Hair and Gerudo Princess

Carmine 2: Slidin’ Go Away and R2-D2

and I can’t see Carmine 3, oh well. meanwhile on the other side we’ve got:

Cleveland 1: Praying Mantis and Righty Hair

Cleveland 2: Jawa and Just Happy To Be Here

and last but not least, Cleveland 3: Badger’s Revenge

what I have learned from this is that I don’t really know what a badger looks like and so any remotely rodent-looking animal person with stripes on their face is going to be slapped with that label because I don’t have time to research what would be a more appropriate animal nickname unless we want to be here until next week. anyway

haha Hawks what the fuck

well that sure is encouraging. so how exactly are the heroes supposed to get the drop on them then? basically we’re fucked, is what you’re saying. well we all been knew so whatever

so Hawks is monologuing to himself about how he was able to nice his way into learning all of the army’s members without getting caught, and in the process he observed how all of the members are all “FUCK THE SYSTEM”, which they definitely have a point about but are also definitely going about the wrong way holy shit

so now he’s feeding some good rabble-rousing lines to Twice who is eating them up

yeah, because Twice famously loves ReDestro lol, oh wait

so Twice is all “I don’t wanna say something that’s not from the heart” because he is PURE and not a Sneaky Sam like SOME PEOPLE! but he understands Hawks’s point that he basically just has to butter them up and tell them what they want to hear, and now he’s running off with a hearty thanks

fffffson of a --

like, you all can see the breakdown in logic that occurred here, right? “some heroes are corrupt” -- absolutely! “kill all heroes” -- wait, what

like obviously there are some real world parallels here. but I very much get the feeling that the PLF/NWM’s movement is fueled less by sentiments of “our law enforcement system is trigger-happy, racist, void of empathy, and think they’re above the law” and more by the notion of “our self-proclaimed superiority gives us the right to do whatever we want and trumps other people’s right to be safe and free, particularly if those people are unfortunate enough to not have quirks.” like, there are a lot of other nuances we could get into here, but that’s basically the gist of it, so yeah. these guys are not to be sympathized with here

and now there’s a big double page spread basically confirming that what these guys really want is blood and anarchy

and the really interesting thing here to me is that we can see Tomura standing at the front of the pack in that bottom right panel. but on the very next panel, with the close-up of Hawks looking as serious as we’ve ever seen him, he basically says that the endgame of all this, the ultimate outcome that this is all meant to bring into place, is one thing and one thing only

yep. well fuck

anyway I have no idea why he’s thanking Twice, but I’m gonna go ahead and guess he unknowingly did something which might give the heroes the potential glimmer of hope which they desperately need. so I will go ahead and thank you too, Twice. you’re a good guy buddy

oh wow there’s a whole page of more meta about Twice! -- and OH SHITTTTTTT

LKDsjflkjsdlfklskgjlskjlfkjsdlfk oh my fkfdjflk how did this never occur to me, just. FSDKLFLSIFKjk

hahaha. :’) holy fucking shit. they have to take him out. they can’t win otherwise. the heroes are already screwed enough as it is with just one Tomura and eleven high ends to contend with; if Twice is able to use his quirk to multiply that exponentially, we can basically kiss the world goodbye. fuck

but Hawks came to realize that Twice is actually a good guy though as echoed above! which, yeah, and can you imagine if he wasn’t, though? shiiit

oh my god they are so cute

listen, I won’t lie, I’m reading this for my 1-A children first and foremost, so there’s a part of me that’s like “HOW MANY MORE PAGES ARE WE GOING TO GET OF THIS JESUS CHRIST.” but there’s no denying that Jin is a good turnip and his unexpected friendship with Hawks -- which I am happy to report is now confirmed to be genuine! because Hawks really does like him! -- is a delight to witness

OH MY GOD TWICE LMAO

“HERE, LET ME JUST DRAW YOU A MAP! (⌒∇⌒。)ANYTHING FOR YOU, BEST FRIEND”

holy fucking shit Twice. did you just save all our asses you beautiful bastard

so between this, and the “hospital” clue, that could be enough to track him down, couldn’t it? no wonder Hawks was so pumped after getting that call. what are the odds this chapter ends with the start of a hero-led raid on a hospital in Kyoto. oh shit oh shit oh shit

lolol oh fuck me

I swear to god Horikoshi if you end this bromance by having Hawks kill Twice for the sake of the greater good, I’ll. ... well I sure as hell won’t like that. please do not

AND JUST LIKE THAT WE’RE BACK TO SPRINGTIME OH MY GOD

what a time to enter the first fucking grade Dai-kun. godspeed little man. I love the little detail that he’s holding an Endeavor plush while looking at the All Might statue. drawing strength from both heroes. aww

and then of course we have this fucking march of heroes which I can only hope is them heading to that hospital! no wonder they all vanished. they all ran off to Kyoto to try and put a stop to the villains’ plans before it’s too late

but I don’t see any of the kiddos there, though? don’t tell me the villains are gonna try something while the adults are away and leave the kids to deal with it all on their own

oh shit no!!! hold up!!

DON’T TELL ME THEY REALLY DID BRING THE KIDS WITH THEM ON THE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS “TIME TO GET OUR ASSES HANDED TO US BY NOUMURAKI TOMURA” MISSION NOOO MY BABIESSS

oh thank god

at least they don’t have the child soldiers on the front fucking lines, fucking christ

AHHHHHHHHH

SAY A PRAYER FOR KATSUKI’S WINTER COSTUME, EVERYONE. BE AT PEACE, SLEEVES OF GONDOR. FAREWELL BEST JEANIST TRIBUTE COLLAR

is this T chest thing on Shouto’s costume new? I can’t imagine that serves any sort of practical function whatsoever; he was probably just tired of looking boring

BUT!!!! those gloves, though!!?! now those are definitely new and I fucking love them. again I can’t really see them having much of a practical application given his quirk, but there is nothing wrong with upgrading oneself just to look sharp! boy wanted a facelift so he went out and got one

that’s some nice Anime Protagonist Wind they’ve got going on there in the mountains of Kyoto. real epic shit

1-B is there too!! and also Hadou, I think, unless that’s Pony? so that’s fucking awesome. we will certainly need all hands on deck

so that’s it for the chapter! not much happened, but we got a lot of Twice appreciation and learned that the heroes still have a few tricks up their sleeves! can’t wait to see how this will all go disastrously wrong. if you ask me, it’s probably when they decided that the best way to launch a surprise attack was to have fifty Endeavor-led guys gather all together and march up Main Street. but far be it from me to tell the heroes how to do their job I guess. best of luck not dying everyone

#bnha 258 #hawks #twice (bnha)#league of villains #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #twice gave them more intel in two sentences than hawks managed to gather in months lmao #clearly did not learn a single goshdurn thing from the whole overhaul incident #but who can fault him though #he's just too pure #oh twice #I just want you to be happy #please don't die #and please don't be sad when you find out that your friend is a double agent #:(

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blahblahwritings · 4 years

Text

Contracts and Captains - II.

A/N: Its been a little while since the first chapter and although no one really seemed to read it, it is an almost dead fandom but I like writing it so heres a second chapter. Still not sure if this is a Flint or Billy fic but I’m leaning towards Billy because its more convenient. Flint already has Miranda and Thomas which is difficult to work with.

Words: 1067.

Warnings: Nothing really.

The captain had pulled you out of the dirt and, after reaching your room at the tavern, bid you goodnight. He had asked why the crewmen were after you, despite already knowing it probably had something to do with your talk with Eleanor Guthrie and against your better judgement, you told him. Mostly. You had gotten into a rather sore disagreement with their leader and some of their fellow crewmates which led to their untimely deaths and/or severe concussions. You’d heard him chuckle faintly, knowing that wasn’t the full story but rather than inquire further, he remained silent as you both walked.

You’d gone to bed that night a little grimy and bloody but slept soundly.

In the morning you washed briefly, removing the worst from your skin using a floral soap. You braided your hair and tied it back to keep it from your face and dressed in your usual blouse, dark pants and boots. With your sleeves rolled up, you set out in search of some work. You’d do most things, steal, gather information or plant falsehoods, you would even kill if the pay was good and the person dirty enough. It was what you were good at and as long as there was a demand, you would supply.

Usually, you would overhear a conversation or a drunk would open up to you about something that needed done and you’d coax them into paying you for the pleasure of removing their problem. Not far off from the workers in the brothel. Just ended in a different sort of outcome. It was rare that someone would approach you in regards to a contract. In your line of work you had to be stealthy and inconspicuous enough that you could go unrecognised in an everyday setting. Today, however, was apparently one of the rarer days.

You were perched on a stool in a busy bar, grazing on a bowl of oats as you listened to the conversations around you. Nothing of value yet but you’d only been out for the better part of an hour. Sometimes you’d go a few days without work but luckily you had a modest stash of money to keep you going between jobs. The barman made occasional small talk with you as he served other patrons, offering you more water or something stronger but you politely declined, handing over what you owed for your breakfast.

There was an older man, about 50, drunk on rum and stumbling by the doorway. He was muttering angrily to himself but you hadn’t managed to catch anything specific. That was until another man, younger this time, entered through the same door.

“Jesus Froom, have you been here all night?” He questioned, brows furrowed as he took another couple of steps forward. There was a grunt but not much else in the way of an answer. “I know you’re pissed about losing that trunk but if you’re not sober by this afternoon you’ll have a lot worse to worry about.” The older man just turned away, a scowl on his face. The second man shook his head and walked off, revealing a window of opportunity.

You slid off your stool, ready to persuade the man into payment for possibly retrieving his lost trunk when someone caught your arm. Your eyes flickered to the hand then up to it’s owner who you didn’t recognise.

“Can I help you, sir?” You questioned, squinting and furrowing your brows. He was only an inch or two taller than yourself, bald with a beard lining his jaw and upper lip but leaving his chin bare. The stranger wore a long tan jacket, a blue shirt underneath and a disarming smile with kind eyes to match. His grip fell from your arm as he took a seat at the bar, ordering two ales as you stood still skeptical of his intrusion. You glanced toward the door where the drunk, Froom, was last seen crawling and found him passed out, his friend hoisting him over his shoulder with ease. Your lips pressed into a disappointed thin line as you huffed out a sigh. Turning back, you took a seat and a swig of your ale. “Whatever it is you need, it better be worth it, you just cost me a job.” You added, staring dead ahead at the wooden wall.

“If you were going to go after Froom’s chest, it would be a useless venture. He lost it fair and square in a drunken bet with another crew. He’s only after his gun back anyway not the chest, something sentimental about it. The money he could spare wouldn’t even be worth the trouble anyway.” He explained matter-of-factly, his throaty voice coming from your left. Blinking and tilting your head as you looked at him, you were about to speak when he continued. “You weren’t obvious but I’ve been watching you for a little while to make sure you’re the one I’m supposed to talk to.” He drank some of his ale, body now facing yours on the rickety wooden stool. “We have a mutual friend now, a captain, who believes you might be able to find us a few leads that we can hunt on the sea.”

Captain Flint. He’s the only captain you had been recently acquainted with which meant that this was his quartermaster or at least someone trusted in his crew. Swirling your drink around the cup, you thought it over. Leads for money or part of the prize. It could benefit you greatly and leave you in good standing with one of if not, the, most feared captains on the island. The pros definitely outweighed the cons. “IF I can find your captain some leads, I will give one for free as repayment for helping me out of a situation last night. After that, I will be expecting payment or part of the prizes you haul. Sound fair?” You offered, taking another mouthful of the bitter alcohol. He stuck out his hand which you took with a grin. “I am officially in your service, Mr-”

“Gates, quartermaster of The Walrus. Should you find anything of value, you can find me or the captain there if not on the island.” With that he downed the last of his drink and stood, nodding his goodbye. “Miss Devereux.” Then he was off, through the same door Froom and his friend had left.

#Black Sails #Captain Flint #captain flint x reader #billy bones x reader #billy bones #multi chapter

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eeveevie · 4 years

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Salvation is a Last Minute Business (4/18)

Chapter 4: Bad Luck Can Be a Big Break

Madelyn and Deacon run their first Railroad operation together and find that they get along better than expected. Nick makes similar observations when finally introduced to the enigmatic man whose been following his partner for weeks. Overwhelmed by sudden feelings of guilt, Madelyn decides it’s as good as time as any to activate her last Christmas gift from Nate—a Mister Handy robot named Codsworth.

“Bad luck either makes a man or destroys him. Are you gonna let it destroy you? Depending how you take it, bad luck can be a big break.” - Police Inspector Nakajima as played by Gen Shimizu (Stray Dog, 1949)

x - x

[read on Ao3] ~ [chapter masterpost]

Madelyn devoted the following days to keeping herself from a full-fledged nervous breakdown. That late Friday evening spent in North End bled into early Saturday morning, and it was nearly sunrise by the time she made it back to the safety of her Cambridge apartment. Robby had escorted her back—or should she call him Drummer Boy? She wasn’t sure she’d adjust to codenames or subterfuge, despite the confidence the organization seemed to have in her capabilities. She was a lawyer, who just so happened to be partnered with a talented detective with a penchant for trouble. Maybe the Railroad needed to extend their invitation to Nick instead. And so she spent that Saturday anxiously pacing her tiny living room, Dogmeat at her heels with a worrying whine.

She had scribbled out all her woes on a notepad—listing out the pros and cons of sticking with the mysterious group. For starters, she considered Desdemona a useful ally, even if her tactics were questionable. In the brief meeting underneath the Old North Church, it was clear that the Railroad leader was efficient and would stop at nothing to get the answers she wanted. Madelyn had also met Glory—a tall, silver-haired woman who worked as an intern at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology by day and ran operations for the Railroad by night. She was considered their heavy, taking on the riskier jobs like transporting the ‘disappeared’ where they wanted to go. Well, at least until their base of operations was forced underground. For that, Madelyn etched her name under pros. After careful consideration on having one of their agents as a neighbor, she realized it likely couldn’t hurt to have somebody nearby—and so Drummer Boy was added too.

When Madelyn focused on the cons, her apprehension spiked. All the secrecy and deception was not how she typically operated, even with the Valentine Detective Agency. Nick knew full well she liked to play things clean and by the book as much as possible, seeing as she had the law to uphold. While she enjoyed the thrill of investigating leads and chasing down bad guys, she wasn’t keen on full blown espionage. That being said, she wasn’t blind to the fact that her time with the agency had turned dangerous—Earl Sterling’s case a glowing example. The hunt to corner Eddie Winter would only exacerbate matters. While she carried a pistol in her purse for protection ever since the night Nate died, she prayed she never had to use it. More disadvantages to joining the Railroad: Desdemona had mentioned they were attacked—the deaths swept under the rug by some kind of media conspiracy. So a threat to her life was certainly a possibility. Premature death—con.

Her mind drifted and she thought about their top agent—as Desdemona put it—Deacon. The man who had followed her, tracked her down and ensured she made her way to the Railroad in the first place. Desdemona was now entrusting him to teach Madelyn the ropes, pairing the two as partners, their task to collect more intel on the Railroad’s would-be enemies. When she thought about if this belonged in the pro or con column, she was frustratingly undecided, falling asleep in the corner of her wrap-around couch.

On Sunday, she awoke startled and confused, sure that the last forty-eight hours had all been a dream. The first thing Madelyn did was call Nick, who was on his way out the agency doors to track her down, worried when he hadn’t heard from her after her evening out. Ellie and Jenny had both talked him down from thinking anything horrible had happened to her, and he had stewed behind his desk all, chain-smoking up a storm without getting a moment of work done in the Eddie Winter case—or any other case, for that matter. Nick was relieved to hear she hadn’t been snatched up, but as she expected, had a plethora of questions the moment she mentioned her encounter with the Railroad. Surprisingly, however, the detective was in favor of her newfound alliance, believing the benefits far outweighed the risks. Even if she was reluctant, Madelyn agreed that she would stick to the planned Monday morning meeting with Deacon—whatever that entailed—then rendezvous with Nick to share all the details of her ordeal.

He wished her good luck. Little did she know how much she needed her friend’s good fortune.

January 20th, 1958

Drummer Boy delivered the instructions for the meeting just after sunrise on Monday—a faded parchment not unlike the one she received on New Year’s Eve—neatly typed lettering directing her to Lexington, specifically on a street corner near the Corvega assembly plant. The industrial complex was a short cab ride from her apartment, and despite the cold-front that had swept in overnight, she elected to wait on the sidewalk, bundled up in her thick, dark blue coat and matching gloves. It didn’t take Madelyn very long to start shivering in place as she waited in the designated spot by the fire hydrant along Massachusetts Ave, wishing she had worn thicker stockings. After five minutes, she glanced down at her watch, irritation rising. At ten-past eight, she dug through her purse and pulled free her compact, compelled for some unbeknownst reason to assess her reflection.

“Didn’t have to get all dolled up just for me, Charmer.”

Madelyn snapped the mirror shut at the sound of Deacon’s voice, turning around to face where he had snuck up on her as if he had materialized straight up from the snow-covered sidewalk like some eldritch being. Or at least, she thought it was Deacon—he looked very different from the last time she saw him. He was dressed much more plainly and comfortably for the weather with a long scarf and gloves. There was something off about his hair, but she couldn’t tell—not with the trilby hat in the way. She wouldn’t have recognized him if it weren’t for the reflective shades.

She was about to respond when she remembered Drummer Boy’s directions. As foolish as she felt, she repeated the memorized phrase. “Do you have a Geiger counter?”

Deacon smiled, impressed. “Mine is in the shop,” he replied. “Catching on quick, I see.”

Instead of offering a proper response, she motioned to his glasses. “Do you ever take those off?”

Deacon deflected, as to be expected. “My face?”

Madelyn sighed—she didn’t want to appear impatient, but she had been kept waiting and was on the verge of freezing on what was supposed to be Boston’s coldest day of the month. Realizing, Deacon gestured for the two to walk up the incline towards the assembly plant.

“I would’ve worn different shoes if I knew we were going to be heading into Corvega,” she mused, breath frosting in the air before her face.

“We aren’t going inside the plant,” he started with a shake of his head, diverting them behind a small retainer wall. He tapped his shoe down against a metal surface, bending down to sweep the build-up of snow away to reveal a hidden maintenance door. “We’re going through here.”

He pointed to her blue suede heels. “Hope those aren’t designer.”

“You underestimate the mess Nick has dragged me through,” she countered, watching as he lifted the heavy metal plate to reveal a small shaft and a ladder that led down into what she could only assume was a sewer tunnel system. “Can’t say it’s ever been literal shit, though.”

Deacon let out a loud, belly-aching laugh as he sat on the ground, allowing his legs to dangle over the ledge. “Ladies first, unless you’d rather give me the chance at an up-skirt looky-loo.”

Despite the lewdness, Madelyn found herself amused and struggled to hide her smile—there were still some questions she wanted answered before she crawled her way down a mysterious hole in the ground. The letter he sent that morning wasn’t exactly clear, not that she expected it to be. “Where exactly are we going? What are we doing here?”

“Our old HQ, before we were gassed out was built to be strong, defensible. We thought it was secure. This escape tunnel leads to the base,” he pointed over his shoulder to the Slocum’s Joe in the plaza a few hundred yards away. “Like Dez said, the survivors didn’t have time to grab anything. So we’re getting whatever intel was left behind in the rush.”

Madelyn was held up on secret underground headquarters. “The Railroad had a base under a donut shop?”

“Not every Slocum’s Joe has a massive tunnel complex underneath it,” he grinned, relishing in the fact that he was cluing her in on the big secret. “Used to be a Defense Intelligence Agency research lab during the war—until V-Day, and then some of those spies turned Railroad agents and the rest is history. We called it The Switchboard. Did us good, until more than half of us were snuffed out.”

She frowned, finding the loss of life distressing, compounded by the fact no one outside the organization except their killers and conspirators knew the truth. “What do we hope to find?”

“Something that shows who the sons-of-bitches that did this in the first place,” Deacon responded before flashing a small, grim smile. “I think I left behind some clean underwear, now that you mention it.”

Satisfied on the mission parameters, Madelyn stepped towards the maintenance entrance and began her descent, tightly gripping the metal bars so that she wouldn’t slip. Above her, Deacon watched for a few moments before following, shutting the metal latch closed behind them. Below her there was only a small light to lead her way, and as expected, a large puddle of water that was unavoidable as she approached the bottom. As she stepped through the murky water she groaned, knowing her shoes were now completely ruined—another pair for the damaged by field work box.

“Wet socks, my favorite,” Deacon announced sarcastically as he stepped down next to her, digging through his coat pockets until he produced a small, silver flashlight. He flicked it on, shining it under his chin for dramatic effect before angling it ahead through the tunnel. “Shall we?”

As they crept along the watery path in silence, Madelyn found herself glancing over at her newfound partner, unable to stop her mind from making comparisons to Nick. It wasn’t fair, considering she had known one man for years, and the other for a handful of hours spread across a few days. Deacon was—well he was an enigma, and she was determined to crack the code.

“Desdemona called you her top agent. How does your position differ from Glory’s?” she asked, catching his attention as they walked.

“My job’s mainly intel. So the more places I go, the better I’m doing it,” he turned his head in her direction. “Might have noticed me hanging around if you weren’t so wrapped up in your detective work. What can I say? You’re just one big beautiful distraction,” he beamed. “Plenty of opportunities to learn secrets following you around.”

Madelyn let his overzealous complement slide, focused instead on what he had mentioned. “You weren’t just at the New Year’s gala?”

“Nope.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

Figured. She had deduced by that point he was at the Memory Den not only to follow her, but because the Railroad had to have an inside agent there too, and that person could only be Irma, given her position and knowledge of Deacon in the first place. She’d keep that nugget of information to herself for now. Madelyn leaned a little closer—a test, to see if invading his personal space would discomfort him. Of course, he wasn’t bothered in the slightest, as she should’ve known, based on their very first encounter.

“Have you had partners before me, Deacon?” she questioned next, resisting the urge to smile. Now she was just being nosy, even if it was a valid question that had run through her mind. “And why use the codename Deacon anyways? Have a fascination with religious symbolism, or something?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” he joked, feigning annoyance. “I feel like I’m being interrogated!”

Madelyn softly snickered at that. “I could cuff you and take you back to the agency, give you the real experience.”

His eyebrows shot up, lips twisted in amusement. “Kinky.”

Halfway through the maintenance tunnel they came upon a locked gate. Again, Deacon patted at his pockets before reaching directly towards her temple. Understandably, she flinched away, blinking at him in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Have a bobby pin I can borrow?” he explained, gloved fingers still reaching for her hairline and up-do. Madelyn dodged his invasive approach, pressing her body closer to the iron bars. Maybe she deserved that for testing his personal bubble.

“Good lord,” she sighed, exasperated, pulling free a small iron pin from her golden curls herself. “I can pick a lock too, if you’d only ask.”

Deacon was visibly pleased by her declaration, shining the light on the lock so that she might see her work. “And where might a lovely lawyer such as yourself have learned such a reprehensible skill?”

“My um—” she faltered, deciding now was not the time to tell Deacon about her deceased husband, or the little things he had taught her in their life together. She wondered if there ever would be a time—or if he already knew, and she even needed to broach the subject. The pin snagged and she steadied her hand. “Nick taught me.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her as if he could tell she was being dishonest. She knew if she was going to continue working with him, she would need to get better at the art of lying. She didn’t go to law school for years upon years without developing a silver-tongue—now it was time to put it to good use. Deacon drummed his fingers along the torch.

“I’m used to running Railroad ops solo. But being partnered up with you?” Madelyn glanced out of the corner of her eye to catch a glimpse of his smirk—apparently it was the only expression he knew. “Isn’t too bad. Now that we’re a team, we should have a code name. Like Double Indemnity, or White Heat…the Big Sleep?”

She paused to remove her gloves, stuffing them in her coat pocket. Fingers bare, she had an easier time with the metal pin, even with Deacon’s rambling. “I’m partial to Bogart and Bacall—though I wonder if that movie was only half as good because of their off-screen romance.”

“If this plays out anything like a cliché noir film,” Deacon mused. “I can’t promise you won’t fall devastatingly head-over-heels in love with me by the end.”

Madelyn smiled, but she immediately dismissed the words as harmless banter. So he was a flirt—she could manage that. “I can’t guarantee you won’t be the one doing the falling, Mr. Deacon.”

“Oh, Charmer.”

With a resounding snap, the lock broke free and Madelyn pushed the gate open for the two to advance. These tunnels had more lighting, and beyond another unlocked security door was a small maintenance room, filled with tools, supplies, and boxes. Deacon lingered near the bookshelves, scanning for anything he could salvage. Meanwhile, she peered out through the broken windowpanes and into the large room ahead, overwhelmed by what she saw. A long time ago now, Nate had explained that during his time in the military he had seen intelligence bases that looked straight out of a Hollywood spy thriller, but she always thought he was having her for a laugh—until now.

Even abandoned, the area was spacious, rows of desks set up and prepared for spies—rather, Railroad agents—to research intel on whatever information they saw fit. In an overhead, second-story room sat a large, data computer, powered down and out of commission. She was so caught up in taking in the sight of the so-called Switchboard that she hardly realized Deacon had snuck beside her. She figured he would shed more wisdom on the Railroad’s former base of operations, but instead his next words sent her reeling.

“So you’re married.”

Madelyn nearly choked. “What?”

He tilted his chin down at her left hand and reflexively, she covered the ring with her right, twisting it nervously between her fingers. His expression was too hard to read when he wasn’t grinning at her, eyes always covered up with those ridiculous darkened sunglasses. “That shiny rock you’ve got has implications.”

“Then you should already know the answer,” she said in return, unable to hold back her discomfort. “Right?”

Deacon shrugged. “Maybe not. Maybe I wanted to hear it from you instead of reading it in a file. You know what they say about assuming.”

She hesitated several times, opening and closing her mouth when the words wouldn’t come out. This was an emotional wall so few had breached, and she wasn’t sure if Deacon was one that could be added to the list—not yet anyways. Still, she felt as though she owed him some semblance of the truth, a sign of good faith, if their partnership were to continue.

“I—I’m widowed,” she spoke softly, avoiding looking at his face. “That’s all I’m willing to say, right now.”

“Fair enough,” he replied with a nod. She hoped that was the end for his line of questioning, but then he tapped his finger along his chin. “You’re a woman of faith, right? Have you ever been to the church in Quincy?”

“Now I feel like I’m being interrogated,” she muttered, flicking her gaze to him, hoping he caught her sarcasm. “Are you going to pull handcuffs out of your pockets?”

Deacon’s lips twisted into a sideways grin. “No, but I can talk dirty if you’d like. Veux-tu voir mon pantalon?”

Madelyn couldn’t help but laugh—the warmth in her chest a bizarre and foreign feeling—but her amusement was real. Delighted by her reaction, Deacon silently beckoned for her to follow through the double doors into the Switchboard proper. “Come on, Bacall, let’s find some intel.”

She wanted to tease him, say something clever about how she saw Nick Valentine as more of the Humphrey Bogart type instead, but the moment they crossed the threshold, the air was sucked out from her lungs. The attack on the former headquarters had occurred months ago and yet the underground building still reeked of gas and death. Madelyn felt the corners of her eyes prickle—the air quality wasn’t enough to harm her, but it was caustic enough to be unpleasant. She grabbed one glove from her pocket and held it over her nose and mouth. When she glanced over to Deacon, he was doing the same with the edge of his scarf. She followed him through the rows of abandoned desks and toppled over chairs, scanning the wooden surfaces for files or anything that looked important. Then again, she wasn’t entirely sure what would be important. Deacon passed through the area dismissively, brushing aside forgotten paperwork with the sole of his shoe.

“Where are you going?” she asked, coughing a little at the bitter taste in the air.

He silently gestured upstairs and continued on his path. In the console room that overlooked the main floor, the air was clearer, allowing her to inspect the surroundings a little more carefully. On the nearby table was a forgotten notepad, the handwriting barely legible.

“What exactly is a MILA, and what does it have to do with…MIT terraforming the Commonwealth?” she asked, hesitantly. As she flipped through the notes, she was sure she had stumbled upon the rantings of a madman.

Deacon let out a boisterous chuckle. “Bring those with you. Tinker Tom will be forever in your debt.”

“Tinker…” she shook her head, deciding not to ask for clarification. She tucked away the small notepad into her purse. “Another one of your operatives?”

“He’s not a field agent anymore,” he explained as they moved through the back-office corridors, Deacon leading them left towards a few scientific research labs. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, considering he used to work there. “Tom is—how do I put it—our engineer. He invents things, usually things that are incredibly illegal and likely to get us all blown up and killed, but thirty percent of the time, his inventions are helpful.”

“He’s intelligent but has fallen so far off his rocker it’s hard to tell sometimes,” he described further, in a somber tone. “If you were under all that stress from watching your friends die, it’d be hard not to succumb to madness.”

Madelyn didn’t say anything, her mind switching focus to the pros and cons list she had drawn up over the weekend. With each new grain of information, the negatives were starting to outweigh the positives. Deacon—she was still undecided. For a moment there, she could’ve sworn she had seen a hidden depth of emotion, but it had faded away just as fast as it appeared. He glanced over his shoulder to look at her, as if he had heard her thinking about him, or rather, felt her staring at the back of his head.

“Our good Doctor Carrington kept a vault up ahead. I can guarantee there’s something we need locked away in there,” he explained. Now there were two names—two Railroad agents in which she needed a face to a name. The back-corner room looked more like a medical lab, albeit with a large, metal door that was better suited for a bank than a doctor’s office. “What’s your lucky number?”

It was a rhetorical question at best, Deacon approaching the safe mechanism eagerly as he removed his gloves. Even though he appeared to know the combination, he made a show of it, leaning in to listen to the gradual ticks of the cogs as they clicked into place. Not a moment later, the lock was open, and he was flashing a self-satisfied grin. “Open says me.”

A gush of air filled the room as the vault door creaked open. Inside, an emergency light flickered eerily, forming elusive shadows out of the metal storage shelves that lined the large safe. Whatever Madelyn expected to find she was astounded by medical and technical gadgets, all abandoned from when the Railroad was forced to evacuate. She was half tempted to pick up a metal contraption of sorts when she was reminded of the possible contamination and focused her attention elsewhere.

“Here we are,” Deacon announced, pulling a large, dusty folder from the shelf. He inspected the contents, allowing Madelyn to gander a peek from over his arm. She was surprised to find many, if not all the pages written in code. “Hadn’t gotten around to deciphering this batch yet.”

“How do you know it’s important then?”

“Because ten people died ensuring it didn’t land in the wrong hands, that’s why.”

Madelyn cocked her head aside, seeing the mission for what it was. “This was the target all along, wasn’t it?” When he nodded, she nearly lost her patience. “You could’ve told me instead of stringing me along for kicks. I went through all of that, and I don’t know why.”

Deacon frowned, realizing he had miscalculated her reaction. “Would you believe me if I said that I don’t know either?”

“No.”

“That’s fair,” he nodded with a small pout. He shut the folder and tucked it into his coat for safe keeping. “Dez approved the op. For all I know, these are instructions on how to brew the perfect cup of coffee.”

She had to take his word for it, hoping everything they had just done was worth the effort. Deacon led the pair towards another maintenance shaft and up a metal catwalk that led to a service elevator. After he pressed the button, she peered at him curiously. “Aren’t we going back the way we came?”

“Speaking of. How do you take your coffee?” he avoided the question, motioning for her to enter the small elevator before him as the doors chimed open.

Madelyn sighed, wondering if it wasn’t too late to ask Desdemona to be paired up with someone else. Still, she humored him. “Two sugars and a little bit of cream.”

Even as they crept through the tunnels, she had doubted that the old Railroad Headquarters was beneath the Slocum’s Joe, but as they exited the elevator into a basement storage room, she was faced with boxes of the coffee shop’s paraphernalia, including a very brightly colored donut costume that was folded over the staircase banister.

“Tinker Tom used to wear that on the street corner while on lookout,” Deacon explained, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking. She followed him up the stairs, but instead of a door there was a false panel of thick wood that took some effort to push open. He stuck his head through the small gap, checking the perimeter. “After you. Cars’ out front if you’d like an escort back to your neck of the woods.”

Madelyn flashed him an indignant stare. She gestured to her ruined shoes. “Two entrances and we had to take the long way around?”

“You’ve shown me you can dance,” he answered. ��I wanted to know that you could sneak around too.”

She walked ahead of him through the false bookshelf with half-of-mind to hail a cab as soon as she was outside when his hand hooked into her elbow and yanked her back and into the closest booth. She was about to protest when his eyebrows raised high above his shades. “Act natural.”

She flicked her eyes down to where his hand was covering her own across the table. It wasn’t as an alarming of a shock like the one she felt at the Memory Den, but still, her skin tingled at the unfamiliar contact. Given the circumstances, she didn’t pull away and she squashed the thought that wondered if she would’ve done so otherwise. But if he wanted a ruse, they would need to blend in. She took a moment to shrug off her coat, folding the garment into the space beside her before grabbing the menu tucked behind the napkin dispenser.

Deacon caught on, discarding his own coat and scarf to his right. His left hand breached across the linoleum surface, fingers curling around her right hand again. She wasn’t surprised this was the act he wanted to put on. “Do you see the man at the counter?”

Madelyn barely flicked her gaze up and over his shoulder, grinning like he had told her a joke instead. “The man in black? Yes. He’s wearing sunglasses,” she paused to twist a golden curl around her finger with her free hand—she might have been over doing it. “One of yours?”

“Definitely not,” he responded, disguising his vitriol behind a soft laugh. “But he is here for us.”

She took a glance at the man at the main counter again as discreetly as she could, made easier when a passing waitress collected their coffee orders from Deacon who was all too happy to show off how he had remembered hers. At first glance, the dark-skinned man didn’t look threatening—appeared to be just another businessman on a coffee break—but the way he was scanning the diner with purpose sent a chill down her spine. A hunch told her he wasn’t one of Winter’s men—but then who did he work for?

“Who else knew about us coming here today?” Madelyn asked, not meaning to sound so serious. If this man in black was after the forgotten intel that Railroad agents had died to protect, then he had to belong to the same organization that killed them in the first place. Remembering the facade, she smiled.

He squeezed her hand, either in realization or as part of their charade. “Are you implying we have a mole?”

“Mole, rat,” she shrugged, as if he was talking about something else. The waitress returned with their orders and he stared into his coffee for a long moment before taking a sip. “Afraid it’s been poisoned?”

He chuckled, genuinely this time. “Remember, you can’t trust everyone.”

“Even you?”

Deacon’s fingers flexed against hers again and he flashed a smirk behind the rim of his cup. “Especially me.”

Madelyn didn’t have very long to think about if he was bluffing when she realized the well-dressed man was now advancing towards them. The way Deacon’s foot shifted against her heel told her he also knew they were about to be cornered. She started to run through a myriad of scenarios—one of which included throwing hot coffee—but she wondered if there was something a little more dignified she could do.

Her Railroad partner looked to her, eyebrow arched with a devious expression. “Want to lean over the table and—”

“No—”

“Mads?”

It happened simultaneously, the familiar voice echoing out across the diner—their saving grace—but also Madelyn’s absolute horror. Jennifer Lands came striding over, green heels loud against the tile and matching skirt a flutter as she ducked around the booths to stand right next to their table, circumventing the stranger not a moment too soon. For a moment, Madelyn thought he was going to interrupt but he moved on, flashing one last lingering glance over his shoulder at the booth before moving towards the exit. Only then did Madelyn switch her attention to her friend, who appeared overjoyed, grinning like she had won the lottery. Her hands were clasped under her chin as her eyes shifted between the two.

Oh. Oh no.

Madelyn instinctually pulled her hand away, tucking both beneath the table where she nervously fidgeted with her wedding ring. Deacon straightened his posture, looking too self-satisfied with the change in situation.

“Don’t get shy on account of me,” she beamed, winking at Madelyn. “Won’t you introduce me to your…”

Madelyn was going to regret this. She nodded, gesturing to Deacon. “This is—”

“Humphrey Bogart,” he interrupted, extending his arm.

Jenny giggled, indulging him as she grasped his hand in a polite shake. “It’s not every day you meet a dead celebrity.”

“A friend?” Deacon asked. He used his free hand to point up at Jenny. “I like her.”

Madelyn resisted the urge to groan—to slump into the vinyl diner seat until she could slither underneath the table and out the door not unlike a snake. Or maybe, if she closed her eyes hard enough, she’d spontaneously combust, or she’d wake up and this would have all been a fever dream. Was it possible that she’d inhaled some of the trace amounts of gas while traversing the underground tunnels and was now hallucinating?

“I’m her—”

She snapped herself back to reality before he could say anything—be it the truth or some fantastical lie.

“Jenny, this is Deacon,” she paused, crafting a plausible story in her mind. “He’s an informant for the agency.”

It was obvious Jenny didn’t believe her, still looking at the two expectantly. “You aren’t…on a—”

“No!” Madelyn wouldn’t even let the word come from her friend’s mouth. Deacon smiled, his non-offense to her harsh reaction forcing Jenny to second-guess her observations. The red-head looked ready to question them further when another familiar face appeared from someplace in the diner.

“Jenny isn’t bothering you on the job, now is she?” Nick Valentine—intuition as sharp as ever—gave Madelyn a quick nod. She wasn’t wholly decided on if his presence would make things better or worse. His fiancé seemed to be mulling the information in her mind, still unsure.

Madelyn flashed a toothy smile, gesturing across the table. Her patience was wearing thing. “Nick, you remember our informant from the Memory Den, Deacon.”

Deacon offered a wave. “Nick, you old dog. Good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Nick nodded, playing along.

He glanced to Madelyn, and she was surprised to find him neither suspicious nor annoyed but amused. A small smirk was pulling at his lips and she had to wonder if he had witnessed their donut-shop antics too. At least the detective knew why she was in Lexington that day and had the sense to put two and two together, unlike his lady love. Jenny wasn’t privy to the finer details of their work—better to leave her in the dark, for her own safety—even if it led to awkward situations such as this.

“We were just going over that information we discussed,” Madelyn said, discreetly.

On cue, Deacon lifted the thick file of paperwork they had just smuggled out from the Switchboard. “What Charmer said.”

Nick’s eyes lit up, intrigued. “Is that so?” he rested his hand on Jenny’s back, smiling to his beloved. “Sweetheart, do you mind if I have a private, work-related chat with Madelyn? Shouldn’t take but five minutes.”

“Sure,” the red-head replied, her grin a little too devious as she waved Madelyn out of the diner booth. “I’ll keep Bogie here company.”

At Nick’s confusion, Madelyn shook her head, pulling on her coat as the two moved outside. She gave one last fleeting glance to Deacon, who only grinned. Leaving him alone with Jenny was about as bad as the two of them getting caught by the strange man—she only prayed nothing nefarious came of their conversation. In front of the Slocum’s Joe, she busied herself with pulling her gloves back on while Nick watched.

“So that’s Deacon,” he said—a statement, rather than a question. His eyebrows were raised, expression one of mild disbelief. “Not what I expected.”

“Kind of hard to describe a walking question mark, Nick,” Madelyn replied with a low laugh. “He could also qualify as an asterisk. Maybe one of those squiggly accent lines.”

Nick smiled, the mirth in his expression worrying her a little. “I take it the job went well?”

Madelyn hesitated, wondering how much he had seen inside the donut shop. “Very.”

“Suppose there’s competition for being your partner then,” he responded in a playful tone.

“Hardly,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “I work for the agency. The Railroad isn’t paying me. Unless you count vague lessons on the importance of trust and intuition as currency.” She patted Nick on the shoulder and flashed an over-zealous smile. “Deacon has got nothin’ compared to you.”

The detective laughed, shaking his head. “So that’s why he calls you Charmer.”

Madelyn balked at what Nick was insinuating. “It’s a codename. Mysterious, don’t you think?”

“Fitting,” he countered, looking like she had told him some hilarious joke. “The two of you are getting along then?”

She realized that perhaps Nick had brought her outside for ulterior motives. Shouldn’t they be discussing what her and Deacon found rather than their rapport? She sighed, deflecting with a shrug. “I can get along with anybody. He’s tolerable, I suppose. He’s incredibly strange, and talks in riddles, and I really need to explain that he doesn’t have to try so hard to get me to laugh—”

Why’d she say that last part for? She broke off, feeling unnerved by the way Nick was looking at her, expression soft with a knowing smile. Madelyn felt her face grow hot despite the chill of the Boston winter air. She avoided his eyes, glancing towards the glass windowpane of the diner where she could just make out Deacon and Jenny sitting, laughing over something. Her thoughts betrayed her—but he’s pretty good at making me laugh, and he isn’t that bad to look at—she shook her head sharply, chasing the idea away.

“If I could make an observation,” Nick started, hesitantly. His hand rested on her shoulder, catching her attention. “I haven’t seen you so chatty and bright in a long time. Not since—”

Madelyn’s mood shifted dramatically, and she frowned up at her friend. “Since what, Nick?”

He winced, knowing he misspoke. In true Valentine fashion, he rebounded as well as he could. “It’s a good look, Madelyn.”

This is why she didn’t get close to new people—it only caused a myriad of confusing emotions. In spite of the turbulence she felt, deep down she knew Nick had a point. One she didn’t feel like admitting to yet, but a point, nonetheless. Her newfound partnership with Deacon—one she had resisted at first—had been surprisingly natural. Too natural, apparently. Now, she felt even more conflicted, and the guilt she’d been carrying around for more than a year threatened to flood her senses.

She put on a brave face, like she always did. “Thank you.”

Nick grimaced, breathing out in defeat. She knew he meant well, but the timing still wasn’t right for her. Her happiness was important, yes, but so was the job. They had bigger proverbial fish to fry. Just when she thought to speak on what they’d found beneath the Slocum’s Joe, Jenny’s jovial laugher echoed out into the Boston streets. Deacon followed behind her, boisterous as he retold some wild tale about spying for the agency in Scollay Square. They approached, unaware of the lingering tension in the air.

“I like him,” Jenny mused, nuzzling herself up to Nick’s side as she grasped his hand.

Madelyn found Deacon beside her, but showed some restraint and did not reach out to touch her in any way. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it—pushing the fleeting thoughts away as he flashed her a smirk. “Everybody likes me. Isn’t that right, Charmer?”

“Careful,” she chided in a playful tone, if only to keep the atmosphere light. “You’ll start to sound like a jelly-filled donut.”

The group laughed, and with a quick glance to the detective, he took the cue from Madelyn. “Are you heading home? I can drive you there on the way to Jenny’s hospital shift.”

If she had to guess, if only for a moment, Deacon looked disappointed as he dug for his own keys from the never-ending void that was his coat pockets. No doubt he knew where she lived, but a little voice in her head was telling her that it was time to depart for today and regroup later. Much later—after she’d had some time to think and recharge—and go over that hastily scribbled list of pros and cons again.

“Yes, thank you,” she agreed, turning to face her Railroad companion as Nick escorted Jenny to his parked Cadillac nearby. Madelyn hoped to end their interaction on a positive note. “Would you call today successful?”

Deacon smiled as he nodded, patting his coat where he had tucked the documents away. “We got what we came for. Its best we split up and meet back at the church.”

She silently agreed but didn’t move right away to catch up with the others. Even though she had just mentally reprimanded herself, she couldn’t let herself walk away without speaking the truth. “We make a good team.”

“The best,” he replied, delighted by her comment. He nodded, tipping his hat slightly. “See you soon, Charmer.”

Back in the comfort of her apartment, Madelyn spent most of the evening the same way she had spent the weekend—pacing in a nervous line from her kitchen to her couch, from her couch to the hallway and everywhere in between. She had added more notes, scribbled thoughts and emotions to her Railroad List, reading them over and over as she poured generously from her whiskey bottle with each refill. Even with all the new additions after her escapade at the Switchboard, there was one glaring omission.

Deacon.

Just thinking of the man made her feel uneasy, and not for the paranoid reasons she once held. No, that would be far easier. Instead, she was frustrated by how easily he had gotten past her defenses, knocking down the perfectly built walls she had put up around her heart and mind ever since Christmas 1956. She was capable of being a bubbly, charming person—but it wasn’t supposed to happen so quickly, especially with a practical stranger. Especially with somebody she wasn’t sure she could trust. Wasn’t that what he had been trying to teach her in the first place?

Nick and Jenny’s observations only made matters worse. In the end, Madelyn only felt conflicted and a compounding amount of guilt—like she had somehow betrayed Nate by letting somebody, anybody get under her skin. Regardless of what Nick, or any of her friends said, she was sure that she didn’t deserve that kind of happiness—not when her late husband’s murderer was still free.

Dogmeat whined, intuitive to her emotions, and she sought comfort in petting the dog, beckoning him to follow her down the hallway so they could get some sleep after a long day. As she passed through the hall, she double backed to the open storage closet, peering inside, just as she had done on Christmas day. Instead of continuing on however, a strange compulsion to inspect the large, dusty box in the corner came over her. The last present she’d ever received from Nate, left unwrapped and hidden for her discover in the garage of the home they once shared. A General Atomics logo was plastered atop the box and below it in white cursive letters read, Mister Handy. Dogmeat shuffled between her legs to get a better look.

“What do you think, boy?” she asked. “Should we open the box?”

He barked, signifying his approval. After the weekend she’d had, perhaps it was time to activate the robot. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a Mister Handy around to help, as her husband had intended. If anything, the extra company—even one built on artificial intelligence—would do her some good. Still, the action would prove to be a large step in the so-called grieving process. Dogmeat barked again, and she focused, steadying herself as she began lifting the flaps.

Curiously, the manufacturers seal had already been broken. As soon as the box was opened, Madelyn knew why—atop the shiny surface of the robot was an envelope. In Nate’s distantly familiar handwriting were two words: Hi Honey! Her entire body seized up as she let out a quiet sob, suddenly overwhelmed. Through clouded eyes, she pulled the box out of the closet and into the hallway, carefully tipping it over so she could extract the heavy metal frame of the deactivated Mister Handy unit. She sat on the carpet next to the robot, Dogmeat sniffing at the metallic surface as she carefully opened the letter from Nate.

Maddie,

I’ve been thinking a lot about our future, thinking about the possibility of welcoming a child into our lives. Lord knows I’ve been having fun trying for one—practice makes perfect, right? I’ve also been thinking about all the preparations we’ve made for building our family: the crib, the tiny clothes, even joking about potential names. It sounds foolish but even one child, one little life created with you would be enough, no matter how long it takes.

I know you’re a fiercely independent and modern woman who likes to take care of herself, but with our plans to grow our family, I was thinking we could use an extra hand. Or three. Regardless of ol’ Codsworth here, I know you will be an amazing mother.

I love you so much. You are my best friend and my saving grace. The first and last thing I think about in the morning and at night. You have made me so incredibly happy. If I should die tomorrow, I’d die a happy man.

-Nate

PS: Did you know twins run in my family?

Reading his words left a new kind of pain in her heart, a fresh reminder of the plans they had before his life had been cut short. How prophetic of him, to leave such a statement about his assumed death. Madelyn wasn’t sure when the note was written, but it had to have been shortly before that fateful night in Boston Common. With his letter were the General Atomic factory instructions, along with more of Nate’s handwritten scribbles indicating which steps she could skip and simple hacks—a cheat sheet from beyond the pale.

After twisting the upper chassis, she found and pressed the activation button until the robot whirled back to life with a series of beeps and garbled words. Almost immediately it was floating midair, eye-sensors adjusting to its environment. Madelyn stood to be as level as she could with the unit, the way it hovered allowed the machinery to tower over her. Her reflection was distorted in the shiny surface of the Mister Handy as she stared at it, suddenly wondering if this had been a good idea after all.

“You must be Mrs. James,” the robot declared joyously, his three metal arms spinning as if to express that delight, barely missing her body. “I am Codsworth. Your new butler. Oh, how wonderful it is to finally meet you. Sir has spoken so much—”

She couldn’t help the strangled gasp of a cry that escaped her, snapping a hand over her mouth to prevent further disruptions. Hearing this robot—Codsworth—speak so casually as if nothing was amiss made reality come crashing down around her all over again. He floated a little closer.

“Have I upset you, mum?” Codsworth asked in a sullen tone.

Madelyn shook her head in earnest, wiping away her tears on the sleeve of her dress. “No, of course not. Codsworth honey,” she sniffled, baffled by her own term of endearment for the Mister Handy unit. Perhaps the overly posh British accent had gotten to her. But now came the awkward explanation of telling a robot that his master was long dead. “It isn’t you. You should know that…Mr. James is no longer with us.”

“Oh, where has he gone off to?”

She closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t have to be so blunt. “He’s dead, Codsworth. Died before he could gift you to me.”

Expressionless, mechanical eyes ‘blinked’ back at her, processing what she had just said. “Well, I’m here now, mum,” he spoke. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Sir was so kind when activating me and said so many lovely things about you,” his tone shifted to one of determination. “I look forward to fulfilling the duties I was meant to, if you’ll allow.”

As silly as Madelyn felt to be comforted by a floating Mister Handy unit, she couldn’t help but smile at his words. In a gesture of kindness, she placed her hand against his metal frame, wondering if he—or the wires in his mainframe that made up his personality—understood. It would take some adjustment, but she could get used to having a disembodied voice in her home—the thought made her smile even more.

“Of course, Codsworth,” she agreed. Madelyn released a breath and felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. This had been a long time coming. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you too.”

#fallout 4 #fallout au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #deacon #nick valentine #jennifer lands #and an undercover appearance by X688?#dogmeat #also cosdworth is here now!#this chapter is filled with glorious banter #and the start of the SLOW BURN #I almost didn't post this today but here I am

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adhd-asd · 4 years

Note

i think i may have adhd but neither of my parents believe me. my mum said that i don’t have it and i asked her how she knew. i’d never been tested as a child but i’ve always had all the ‘common’ symptoms except one which is that it may come with other learning disabilities. i’m only 14 so i can’t take myself to get tested but i wanted to know if i should when i’m an adult? sorry if it’s hard to understand what i wrote i’m bad at explaining things 😅

Whether or not you pursue an evaluation is ultimately up to you. If you think doing so would be beneficial to you then I absolutely encourage it, especially if you’re hoping medication might be able to help with some of the symptoms, but it’s also not a requirement to undergo a formal evaluation if the circumstances don’t allow for it or if the cons outweigh the benefits. If you’re content to cope on your own instead, that’s also a valid option. It ultimately comes down to your needs and what’s best for you.

I’d be curious to know the reason your mum provided when you asked her how she knew and whether or not it holds up under scrutiny or indicates an understanding of ADHD on her part (unless not having a learning disability is her reason, in which case I have a post addressing ADHD and academic performance here). If you haven’t already, it may be worth sharing an ADHD symptom list with your parents in case they aren’t familiar with what constitutes signs of ADHD and are missing your symptoms as a result.

Either way, I wish you luck managing in the meantime and I hope that, if a formal diagnosis is something you want to pursue, the opportunity arises sooner rather than later. Take care!

#Brady Answers #adhd #actually adhd #tips #resources

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roominthecastle · 5 years

Note

Why do you think red is not telling katarina about the townsend directive? Because he doesn’t know? And in ep 3 he blackmailed the guy for info—do you think bc he doesn’t want katarina to get killed?

I’m still not sure what’s going on btw those two, anon, but Red knows something that Katarina believes can get the TD off her back (“I have to give them what they want. Tell me how.”).

Now, Red is not willing to divulge this particular information (which suggests that in his mind the benefit of saving her life doesn’t outweigh the cost of directly exposing whatever secrets he keeps), but I believe he genuinely does not want her to be killed, either, so a logical solution to keeping his secrets and Katarina alive is to thwart the TD, which is why he inserts himself into their operations via the blackmail we see in 703 (he’s done a v similar maneuver w/ the Cabal).

Since he has to blackmail his way into this manhunt, he likely wasn’t involved w/ them in the first place, so there isn’t much he could have told Katarina about this, i.e. he told the truth when he said he never betrayed her. But the information that Katarina believes can save her life isn’t about the Directive itself but about something the Directive wants, something I suppose the Directive mistakenly believes she has and thus hunts her for (just like the Cabal believed Red had the Fulcrum when he did not).

So the con and subsequent torture she subjected Red to had a dual purpose:

she thought Red was working w/ the Directive and she was trying to assess the threat this posed

she also wanted to extract information from Red (and then Dom and now apparently Liz?) which she hopes to trade and get off the Directive’s kill list

Red is now keyed into the Directive and is keeping his secrets, once again attempting the impossible task of keeping those he cares about safe without having to confess why he does the things he does.

#anonymous #the blacklist #tbl spec

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anubislover · 5 years

Text

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 2: Check-Up

“I never agreed to this,” Nami insisted, hands on her hips as she stood her ground.

“You agreed the moment you signed onto my crew.”

“I agreed to work with you, not take off my clothes so you could ogle me like a pervert!”

It hadn’t even been a day, and the fiery thief was already regretting her decision. After finalizing plans with Haredas, ensuring the old man knew where and when to retrieve her in a year, Law briefly showed her around the Polar Tang before ushering her into the infirmary. It was nothing like Chopper’s sickbay; steel, sterile equipment gleamed ominously under the bright lights. The aroma of antiseptic and other cleaning materials hung heavily in the air, stinging her nose. Nothing looked warm or comfortable or pleasant, and she suddenly missed her reindeer friend. It was hard to feel nervous when a cute little guy like him was your doctor.

Unfortunately, instead of sweet, caring Chopper, she was under the penetrating scrutiny of the Surgeon of Death.

Slipping on a crisp, white lab coat and placing his hat on the counter, Law looked unimpressed at her defiance. “I’m both your doctor and captain now, Nami-ya; I have to ensure my newest subordinate is healthy, especially since we spend so much time underwater. For that, I need to give you a full examination, and for that, I need you to strip.”

Nami sniffed in disdain, then wrinkled her nose at the overpowering scent of latex and chemicals. Briefly, she wondered if Luffy had been just as disgusted by the smell. “A likely excuse. You just want to see me naked!”

Annoyance crept into his voice at the accusation. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping things professional. Surely this wasn’t a problem with your old doctor?”

“My old doctor was a talking reindeer!”

“…Maybe I should give you a psychological examination instead.”

Pink dusted her cheeks at his comment. It had been a long time since she’d considered just how unusual her crewmates were, but Law’s tone certainly made her feel like an idiot. “Oh, shut up. I’m still not stripping; you can easily check me over fully-dressed.”

Blue, latex surgical gloves encased his tattooed hands with a resounding snap. “I can also easily use my powers to remove your clothes without your consent.”

She blanched at the threat. Maybe he was bluffing, but she didn’t trust Law enough to believe he couldn’t and wouldn’t do it. Most of what she knew about him was through rumors and news articles, and none of them painted a pretty picture. Pirates—with the notable exception of her crew—were unscrupulous bastards, and the ones with Devil Fruits especially so. Besides that, men always seemed to find a way to use those weird powers for perverted purposes, so with how little she knew of Law’s particular abilities, it was better to err on the side of caution.

Teeth sinking into her lip, she hesitantly peeled off her shorts and top before kicking off her sandals, leaving her in nothing but her lacy white bra and panties. The infirmary’s cold air made goosebumps raise across her exposed flesh, or maybe it was the way the Dark Doctor studied her. It was at least comforting that his expression was serious and clinical; had there been even a hint of lust in his gold eyes, she would have slapped him, Supernova or not. “Try to cop a feel and I’ll not only bash your head in, but charge you 1 million belli,” she warned.

“Violent tendencies and delusions. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake recruiting you,” he said blandly, picking up a clipboard and beginning to fill in a chart.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she replied, “Then how about we consider the debt squared and you let me go?”

Lips curling upwards, he stalked forward, long legs invading her personal space in only a few strides. Brown eyes widening, Nami instinctively backed away, but soon found herself trapped against the wall with no choice but to look up at the imposing man before her. This close, there was no escaping his scrutiny, and she held her breath, waiting for him to attack.

“Unlucky for you, your pros far outweigh your cons. Now stand up straight; I’m trying to check your height.”

She blinked, then glanced to her left to find she was indeed next to a height chart. “Oh.”

With an amused chuckle, he backed off, jotting her measurements in his notebook. “You have nothing to fear in my infirmary, Nami-ya; in here, you’re my patient first and foremost. The Pirate Empress herself could be standing naked in front of me and I’d see her as nothing more than a body to examine.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she challenged, even as she released the air from her strained lungs.

Bruskly and efficiently, the tattooed doctor proceeded to check her vitals, peering into her ears and mouth, observing the dilation of her eyes, and pressing along her throat in search of any irregularities or swelling. Though she tensed every time his hands touched her, they never lingered or strayed anywhere they shouldn’t. It helped that, while she could feel body heat through the material, the latex gloves provided a thin barrier between his fingers and her skin, making everything more impersonal. His expression, too, never changed, remaining stoic and professional. There was no evidence of his hungry stare from earlier, and though trust was still a long way off, Nami slowly started to give him the benefit of the doubt. That didn’t mean she wasn’t on her guard, though; the first inappropriate touch or innuendo, and she’d teach the man why even the Straw Hats’ Monster Trio feared her.

Wrapping the strap of a blood pressure gauge around her bicep, Law asked, “What’s your blood type?”

“X.”

“Good. Mugiwara-ya and Jinbei used up most of my type-F reserves, so if you got injured and needed a transfusion, you’d be shit out of luck until I can restock. Type-X is far more common, but I’ll still ask you to donate a pint of blood as a precaution.”

Orange eyebrows furrowed suspiciously. “You’re not going to do anything weird with it, right?”

“Damn, you’ve caught on to my plan to use your blood to ritualistically summon a hell-beast to help me take over the Grand Line,” he replied sarcastically, not looking up from the little pressure gauge as he steadily pumped.

Her cheeks puffed in indignation. “Hey, I travel with a talking skeleton, room with a woman who can sprout body parts anywhere, and regularly watch my captain’s body defy the laws of physics thanks to Devil Fruit. I may not believe in any of that superstitious crap, but that doesn’t mean your abilities couldn’t somehow use my blood against me.”

Removing the gauge and writing on her chart, he snorted. “I assure you, the Ope-Ope Fruit can’t use your blood like that. At least, not in any way I’ve tried, and I’ve experimented extensively.” Taking out a thermometer, he motioned for her to open her mouth. “Its powers revolve around space manipulation. Once I activate my Room, everything inside it is in my control. For example, say you were pointing a gun at me; I could switch the gun with whatever I had in my hand and shoot you instead. That’s not really my style, though; so anti-climactic. I’d rather remove your organs and replace them with bombs. Or perhaps rearrange your limbs so your legs are on your shoulders and your arms backwards on your hips. And of course, there’s always the old standby; ripping out your still-beating heart.”

She let out a squeak of fear around the thermometer, which coaxed a chuckle from the doctor. A glint of his old sadism had returned to his eyes, though it quickly vanished as he resumed his work. “Lucky for you, I save such things for my enemies, not my crew or patients.” His brow furrowed as her studied her temperature. “You run a little hot, Nami-ya, but you don’t seem to have a fever, so I’ll assume this is your norm.”

Jerking her head back, she mumbled, “You do that.”

Moving the stethoscope to her chest, he sighed. “Your heart’s pounding. I’d hoped you would have calmed down by this point so I could check it properly.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have told me about all the horrible ways you could kill me with your powers!” she snapped. She was seriously second-guessing the doctor’s sanity; of course her heart was racing like a cornered rabbit’s, especially considering she now had terrifying confirmation that those horror stories about gruesome deaths weren’t just hearsay. The images he’d conjured sent a shiver down her spine. She’d always rivaled Usopp in terms of coming up with horrible scenarios, but Law’s sick creativity put even her worst nightmares to shame. She really hoped he was serious about not seeing her as an enemy.

“Please, that’s not even the worst of what I can do. But I suppose you have a point; I’ll endeavor to avoid such topics next time I give you a check-up.” Backing off a few paces, he made another note on his chart. “And now for the personal questions; any hereditary diseases or illness-related deaths in your family history?”

Nami grimaced, rubbing her arms. She really didn’t want to discuss her past with the likes of Trafalgar Law, but she understood the necessity of the question. “I wouldn’t know; I was found as a baby by a Marine in a ruined village. I have no clue who my birth parents are, and I’ve never really cared to find out. My adopted mother and sister were enough.”

That seemed to catch his interest, as amber eyes studied her closely. “Do you at least know what island you were found on?” When she shook her head, he made another note. “I’ll have to take a blood sample to run some tests on, then. It’s possible everyone was wiped out in a war or some natural disaster, I’ve also known of a city or two that the World Government that razed to the ground under the claim that the people carried infectious diseases,” he said, surprising her with the bitterness in his voice.

“You think I might be carrying something?”

“No, I’m just curious if you’re from one of them. If your village had succumbed to plague, I doubt any Marine would have risked relocating you and spreading it, baby or not.”

The scratch of his pen was the only sound between them for a few moments, the air tense—Nami could tell she’d stumbled onto a sensitive topic, and though she was curious, she knew better than to pry. Finally, the deep furrow on his brow smoothed out, professionalism resuming. “Your weather attacks—are those the result of eating a Devil Fruit?”

“No, I’m a normal human. If you don’t believe me, I’m happy to swim a few laps outside.”

“That won’t be necessary. Any notable past illnesses?”

“Nearly died from a Kestia bite.”

He actually paused, looking up from his clipboard. “Those went extinct over a hundred years ago.”

“Not on Little Garden they didn’t. Luckily Dr. Kureha still had some antibiotics for it.”

“Dr. Kureha? From Drum Island?” He sounded genuinely impressed, and Nami had to chuckle at how pleased Chopper would be to know that even the Surgeon of Death admired his old mentor.

“Yeah, she treated me and was the one who trained our ship’s doctor.”

“Well, you’re just getting more intriguing by the minute, Nami-ya,” he said with a small, sly grin, posture relaxing as he crossed his long legs. “A mysterious past, the ability to manipulate the weather in battle without a Devil Fruit, surviving prehistoric diseases, treatment from one of the most acclaimed and infamous doctors on the Grand Line—you’re definitely more than a pretty face.”

Unbidden, a proud smirk lifted the corner of her pink lips. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” The amusement on his face vanished as he looked at the next page of his chart, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “In the interest of you not slapping me, you should know I’m about to ask some rather…delicate questions.”

“Taking the warnings of asking a lady’s weight seriously?” she joked weakly, rubbing her arms. For the most part, she’d gotten used to the infirmary’s chill, but Law’s gaze somehow continued to raise goosebumps along her arms.

“More like a rundown of your sexual history.” At her aghast expression, he held up his hands placatingly. “I need to know if I should check you for sexually transmitted diseases and what kind of birth control you take. Believe me, I’ve had to have this conversation with everyone on my crew, male and female. Now—and I’m going to need you to be honest—how sexually active are you?”

“I’m not.”

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at that, making her blush. “I know I flirt and tease, but I’ve never let a guy get past third base!” Somehow, she found herself embarrassed and feeling defensive; there was nothing wrong with being a virgin, and she had plenty of reasons for it, and what right did Law have to judge her? Before she could stop herself, nerves took over, and she continued, “When you’re as good as I am, you don’t need to do more than bat your eyelashes to con a guy, so sex has never been necessary. It’s not exactly easy to have a relationship while travelling the Grand Line, either, and I’m not the kind of girl who likes one-night stands. Most of the guys that come onto me are gross, anyway. You ever have a creep with a lion’s muzzle sewed on his face try to force you to marry him? Stuff like that makes abstinence real appealing.”

“I’m not judging, Nami-ya; just surprised,” he said, interrupting her tirade. A severe frown darkened his face. “Though I now have to ask—”

Her fury cooled at his implication. “Sanji-kun saved me before anything could happen. I even had Chopper do an examination to make sure I wasn’t assaulted while unconscious.” She shuddered at the memory. Absalom might have been soundly trounced by the amorous cook, but that near-miss had been a stark reminder of how dangerous it was being a beautiful woman on the high seas. Not all her admirers were going to be good-natured, relatively harmless perverts like Sanji and Brook. Nor would she always find herself at the mercy of creatures who would never be physically attracted to her, like the Fishman Pirates.

So as proud as she was of her body, and as much as she loved using her looks to her advantage, the danger of attracting the wrong kind of attention was never far from her mind.

Nodding in confirmation, Law scribbled another note on her chart. “Are you on any form of birth control?”

“Chopper always made me some, but I couldn’t tell you exactly what he gave me. I haven’t been able to take it since Sabaody, anyway.”

“I’ve got a few options we can work with but notify me if you find yourself having any side effects or unusual symptoms. Once we know exactly what your body can handle, I can give you an injection that’ll last you at least a year; that way, you won’t have to worry about taking a pill every day or missing doses. You might not be sexually active, but a woman can never be too careful.”

Pleasantly surprised at how professional and forward-thinking he was being, Nami allowed herself to relax just the slightest bit. With his thinly veiled request for sexual favors up on the deck, she’d written him off as another creep, but maybe he’d just been testing her resolve? The Law she was dealing with now was far less intimidating, and while he was certainly cold and sarcastic, if he kept treating her like this, perhaps working for him for the next year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The Surgeon of Death was dangerous, not just because of his abilities and status as a Supernova, but because he was, in his own way, quite attractive. Questionable fashion choices aside, he was the epitome of tall, dark, and sexy. His irises glittered like treasure, his voice was smooth and deep, and his perfectly groomed sideburns and goatee showed he took pride in his appearance. He was long and lean and walked with a sure, predatory grace. It was his confidence that pulled her in like a magnet, though; it was quiet assurance of his own ability, that easy smirk proclaiming he knew he was far above everyone else’s level as loudly as Luffy would scream about becoming the Pirate King.

Despite his appeal, Nami refused to let herself give in to physical desire. For her, rule number one was not to mix business with pleasure. Thus, she hoped his earlier flirting had just been a test, because spending a year under his command could end up being a test to her iron-clad control. If he managed to get under her skin, earn even a fraction of her trust, it would be so much harder to resist.

Another note was made on her chart before Law ushered her towards the center of the room. “Now that we’ve got that unpleasantness out of the way, turn around and touch your toes; I want to check your back for scoliosis and spinal irregularities.”

Instinct told her he just wanted to check out her ass, but she found it was easier for her rational mind to calm her nerves. Not that she wasn’t immediately put on edge when she felt his gloved fingers run down her spine, though it felt different from her usual fight-or-flight reaction. The shiver that rocked through her she desperately wanted to say was due to the cold, but the heat that lingered on her skin said otherwise.

“Spine looks good, Nami-ya, and I’m impressed at how flexible you are. I’m sure it’s advantageous in a fight or sneaking around.” The muscles of her back jumped as the icy head of the stethoscope pressed against them. “Take a deep breath.”

She did so, forcing her heart to remain steady. If she panicked again they’d be at this all day, and even if she no longer believed Law was looking to jump her the second she gave him an opening, she still had better things to do than stand around in her underwear.

“Glad to hear your heart isn’t about to beat out of your chest anymore. Good lung capacity, too.” Coaxing her to straighten up, she could feel his calculating gaze on her arm. “Who did your tattoo?”

“Dr. Nako of Cocoyashi Village, about a year ago.”

“Was he also the one who sewed up these cuts?” he asked, thumb trailing over one of the pale scars on her shoulder. The heat of his touch was instantly snuffed out as his fingers inadvertently traced the invisible pattern of Arlong’s Jolly Roger, and the Fishman’s cruel laugh echoed in her mind.

Flinching away, Nami grabbed her arm instinctively. “H-he did.”

Sensing they were straying from the comfortable bubble they’d built, Law simply nodded, again going back to his chart. She suspected he wanted to ask how she got such an injury; any decent doctor could tell it was self-inflicted just from the angle, but instead he stated, “I’ll assume the tattoo was done with sterile equipment, then, and I won’t have to check you for tetanus and the like. I’ve seen more than a few back-alley tattoos turn septic. I commend his work; very neat, and you could almost miss the scars if you’re not looking for them.”

“Who does yours?” she asked, eager to change the subject. Thoughts of her past were floating far too close to the surface for her taste. Hoping to banish her former captain’s ghost, cocoa eyes focused on Law’s fingers, easily imagining the bold, black letters beneath the blue latex. “Considering how a surgeon’s hands are his most valuable tool, I’m surprised you even took the risk. Was looking edgy really worth it?”

Leading her over to the table, he helped her hop up, smirking at the verbal jab. “Oh, it was absolutely worth it; the look on people’s faces when they see a doctor with DEATH on his hands is priceless. Ikkaku does all my tattoos. You’ll meet her soon; she’ll be your roommate during your stay. I think she’ll be happy to have another woman aboard.”

Nami sighed in relief. She hadn’t sailed with an all-male crew since entering the Grand Line, and she hadn’t been really looking forward to doing it again. Perhaps this Ikkaku woman would make her miss Robin a little less. “I certainly will be.”

“And here I assumed you’d want a ship full of men you could easily manipulate,” he said, grin widening.

Winking, she replied, “Oh, I do, but that gets boring after a while. I need someone who can talk to me without staring at my breasts.”

“What makes you think she won’t?”

That actually coaxed a small laugh out of her. “Then at least it’s someone I can hopefully borrow clothes from. I’m not looking forward to wearing the same outfit every day, and before you say it—no, I’m not wearing your crew’s uniform. They’re not cute, and bulky jumpsuits like that are terrible for sneaking around.” Secretly, it wasn’t even the ugliness of the suits that repelled her—it was the Heart Pirate’s Jolly Roger she’d seen emblazoned across the front and back. She may have agreed to a partnership, but she refused to wear another crew’s insignia. It made her think too much of Arlong, and how he’d forced her to walk around with that horrible tattoo. He might as well have branded her like cattle, showing how little he thought of humans.

It was one of the reasons she respected Luffy as her captain—he’d never even considered placing such a mark of ownership on his crew.

Nami had expected a fight, but the doctor merely thought it over before nodding. “I suppose I can give you that freedom; with your high internal body temp, I’d be concerned about you overheating. The sub gets pretty hot when we’ve been underwater too long, and Bepo certainly suffers for it. I’ll supply you a uniform for when we’re on islands with colder climates, but otherwise, I won’t hold you to the normal dress code.”

Pleasantly surprised at his leniency, she allowed him to gently push her back so she lay on the table, arms positioned above her head. Again, she blanched at how provocative the position was, but Law completely ignored the way her chest was thrust out, his hands instead poking and prodding at her stomach, carefully checking for any unusual lumps or organ placement. The muscles twitched slightly at his ministrations, and Law gave her a considering look. “Sensitive, Nami-ya?”

“Maybe a little ticklish,” she said, eyebrow raised, daring him to make an off-color comment.

A non-committal hum was her only response. Part of the fiery cartographer wanted to be insulted at how unaffected he seemed to be at having a beautiful woman like herself sprawled out before him clad only in her underwear. He hadn’t even given her a breast exam! She swiftly shoved that feeling down, though. How irrational could she get? Just ten minutes ago she saw him as a threat, and now she actually wanted him to lust after her? Clearly, the stress of the day was getting to her.

Upon finishing his inspection, Law held out a hand, helping her off the table. “Seems I can give you a clean bill of health,” he said, scratching a few more notes on her chart before handing over her clothes.

As she quickly dressed, the Supernova busied himself with filing her information away, giving her a small semblance of privacy.

“Just so you know, the majority of the crew knows basic first aid, but I’ll still expect you to report any injuries or illness to me. We’re in close quarters and sickness spreads quickly, so if you get so much as a cold, you’re quarantined until I give the all-clear. I take my crew’s well-being very seriously, so this is non-negotiable. In fact, most of my rules are. Uniform aside, I’m not in the habit of giving out special privileges without good reason. I want you to be aware that I won’t tolerate reckless defiance or ignoring my orders. As your doctor and captain, it’s in your best interest to do as I say without question. Do you understand?” he asked, turning to frown at her sternly.

“Absolutely,” she agreed, holding up her hands in surrender. She couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t argue if she found a rule stupid, or try to get around them, but she understood there were limits, and it was best to pick her battles. Once she had a better understanding of the captain and crew, she’d have more wiggle-room and loopholes to work with.

She was momentarily distracted by the sight of the Dark Doctor’s white teeth gripping the edge of one of his surgical gloves, carefully pulling the tight latex off his hand. It was surprisingly arousing, seeing the tattooed, olive skin slowly emerge back into the light, his lips lightly brushing the newly-exposed flesh.

An image of him taking her clothes off like that popped into her mind, and she nearly slapped herself. Keep it together, girl! Nami scolded herself. Remember rule number one!

Not noticing her staring, or possibly just ignoring it, he tossed the gloves into the trash. “Good. I watched Mugiwara-ya nearly undo all my hard work, running around like a madman after I’d spent hours saving his life. I’d like to think you’re a bit more sensible.”

“A rock is more sensible than Luffy,” she said dryly, which earned her a slight smirk. Shrugging off his lab coat, he led her out of the infirmary, chuckling when she took a deep breath of the antiseptic-free air in the hallway.

A large, warm hand rested on the small of her back, and Nami jumped at the contact, turning to look up at the Heart Captain. His grin was lazy but confident, gold eyes once more regarding her with interest. No longer contained by the latex gloves, the heat of his palm radiated through the thin cotton of her shirt, seeping into her flesh.

“Shall I introduce you to the rest of the crew, Nami-ya?” he asked, long fingers curling around her waist when she instinctively attempted to step away. As if she were no more than a misbehaving kitten, he pulled her close, leaving little more than an inch of space between them. “They’d be heartbroken if they thought I was keeping you all to myself.”

Nami swallowed, pulse quickening as she realized something; Law had promised she had nothing to fear while in his infirmary.

He’d never said anything about outside it.

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