#ignoring the fact they have been violent this whole time yeah? they literally try to RUN OVER PROTESTERS

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 1

So figured I could show what else I am working on aside from Salt in the Bones with @clockwayswrites. I still blame Clock for this though, they are way too fun to brainstorm with, and I have too many WIPs already. Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

Danny was sick and tired of this city, this entire dimension in fact. And this vigilante family, or whatever they were, were more dogged in their pursuit of him than the GIW or his parents had ever been - all this for a few gizmos.

Danny rolled his eyes and ducked a kick from the most violent midget since Youngblood.

Seriously he was just trying to build a portal home, and it wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. He’d mostly stolen from villains anyway! And Wayne industries was like a multibillion dollar company, they shouldn’t miss a few scraps or prototypes. It would hardly put a dent in their budget.

Midget was back on his feet and had now drawn a freaking sword. Yeah, this was it, Danny needed to leave before bigger and battier arrived. He faked left but then spun right around the probably actual literal kid with the real sword, jumped to the railing and kicked off towards the next rooftop. Ignoring gravity’s pull for a just a couple of seconds was the only reason he landed safely on the other roof.

He felt a moment of worry that the kid would try following him and glanced back, but the child was fuming in safety on the other side, having lost that grappling gun thing he used earlier in the chase, it seemed Danny was safe for now. The kids mouth was moving, probably talking to more of the heroes.

He wasn’t gonna be safe for long, but Danny allowed himself a moment to breathe in relief. Suddenly his breath stuck coldly in his throat and he froze. Impossible! The shades of this city barely tickled his throat, he hadn’t met anything that would even halfway classify as a ghost to his senses. Urgency was like a cold hand around his throat, a desperate longing hummed in his core as he slowly spun trying to get a sense of where - he only managed to see a blur of red before a heavy weight knocked into him slamming him to the ground. The cold mist in his throat was pushed out in a pained oof, and his head bounced first on one thing then another, but that didn’t matter because his core was singing; close, not alone, hug!

Danny’s head spun, his whole body felt pained and smushed. A man, no a freaking tank, was laying on top of him. Body armor dug into his ribs, probably something there was bent or broken and he felt certain that ominous red helmet had left a mark where it hit his forehead. Also his hair felt a bit wet beneath him. Yet that didn’t matter because he was so overwhelmed, warm with hands and feet tingling from the humming joy in his chest. Hug! His core sang again.

Somewhere in the fog in his head he recognized this was no hug, but he hurt, his head was spinning, and he was not alone and he was happy and wasn’t that more important than a bit of pain? Oo o oO

Jason was unsure what was going on.

He’d managed to tackle the elusive thief Dick had so “creatively” nicknamed the Ghost for his ability to go invisible and the inability for them to land a decent hit on him. In fact if he hadn’t seen footage from previous run-ins with the man, Jason would have thought they wildly exaggerated his skills.

After all the man had frozen up strangely when Jason pulled himself onto the rooftop as he listened only with half an ear to the demon brat angrily grumbling in the comms, that he would have had him had he not been a coward who ran away all the time. Their thief was slowly turning around as if looking for something, the green glass of his goggles reflected in the moonlight and for a moment gave the illusion they were glowing.

Jason had not wasted a moment, got to his feet, crossed the distance in a mere three large steps before he crashed into the man - so, he’d halfway expected the man to move and therefore hadn’t prepared to soften another person’s landing. His helmet hit the shorter man’s forehead and his head rebounded and hit the roof with a sound that made Jason internally wince. The next moment there was a snapping sound and a gasp as the man’s ribcage was caught between the roof and Jason - he really wore no armor, just that thin hoodie. No matter what B said about the danger of the stolen items, Jason was really starting to doubt they had a budding super villain on hand.

He immediately made a move to get up, but stopped, a strange feeling of something overtaking him. It took a moment for him to discern because of the dichotomy, but it was… happiness? What the fuck, it wasn’t his emotions, that made no sense. The pits had only ever sent him rage and in rare moments gruesome satisfaction. This was joy, he felt almost like he was floating caught in a wave at the beach, weightless, happy, warm in the sun. He shook his head pushing the foreign emotions away like he would the pit and focused on his dazed perp.

There was something wet glistening in his unruly black hair.

“Fuck,” Jason muttered, thankfully too low for the helmet to project, but loud enough that he got a breathless but insistent “report” back from Bruce where he was clearly hurrying toward their destination.

“I knocked the Ghost down, he’s bleeding from a head wound,” he muttered at his comms as he pulled the goggles up to get a look his eyes to check for signs of concussion, but immediately froze. The goggles, he’d thought it was a trick of the light earlier, but no, his eyes were glowing - bright and green and just a shade lighter than the Lazarus pits. A shudder ran cold down his back. Somehow the foreign emotions were coming from him, Jason was sure of it, but it explained absolutely nothing! Unrestrained joy? Was this some kind of shock response?

More footsteps landed on the roof and Jason didn’t need to look to know it was Bruce with the Brat along for the ride. He finally remembered he’d been trying to get off the other man at some point.

Oo o oO

No, no, no, Danny’s core protested when the other ghost moved away, and he clutched onto what he could grab, which he dazedly recognized as a very nicely muscled arm. The other arm, because human shaped ghosts have two arms (good job Danny), supported Danny by holding onto one of his arms and that was good. Getting upright gave him the worst moment of vertigo, and his breath whooshed out of him. His legs were like jello and didn’t support him, but that didn’t matter, because his new friend had a good firm grip, could probably even hold him up entirely without Danny clutching his arm, good friend, mine. He butted his head into his chest because that was what he could reach and just leaned there. His core hummed so happily he felt like he’d almost shake apart.

Friend.

Mine

Good friend

…

Why no response?…

Hello? Danny was confused, why wasn’t he getting a response. Also why did his head and chest hurt so bad?

“Tt, what is the matter with him?”

The question, delivered in a haughty voice was like a bucket of ice water on his senses. He gasped and pushed away from where he’d been nuzzling some guy’s chest! Alarmed, he stumbled, but dodged the hands reaching for him, to support him, to catch him, he wasn’t sure. There was the big bat and the midget and the tank in the red helmet; the guy who felt like a ghost and he just wanted nothing more than to go back to him, and- Danny shuddered taking another step back, his face was hot and flaming red right now. This was, this was- he couldn’t-

Hiding his powers be damned; he sunk through the roof.

So embarrassing! He closed his eyes fighting tears as he sank down down down, all the way into the ground where they for sure couldn’t follow him. All the while his insides screamed, because he didn’t want to be lonely anymore. Fuck, he just wanted to go home.

He was so sick and tired of this city.

So... yeah hope you enjoyed this, now I can reveal why I blame Clock, they said and I quote "Danny, like a cat with catnip suddenly" and now Danny is a cat, what can you do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Jason's gonna have to lure this feral ghost in slowly with food and hugs.

edited with link to the next part:next Masterpost where you can subscribe: link

#dead on main #dp x dc #Jason is catnip to Danny #Missed connections #cause that's a shorter tag for this story than the title #long title is long but it makes sense #because danny is in a another dimension and missing his friends and family back home #angst #cw depression

[heretherebedork]

The worst is Dohan wasn't just afraid of coming out, he had a very realistic fear of being outed by his evil sister which is a million times more violent and traumatizing than deciding on his own to come out. And Dohan's fear of being out is 100% justified by the narrative, yet somehow the writers still treated it like a character flaw. He started the show being sent pictures basically threatening to out him, he is from a very homophobic society/country, he has siblings who hate him and Jihan and want to ruin their lives, his Grandfather has been trying to marry him off for years, we find out the Grandfather wanted him to stay in the closet, and he was suddenly forced into the public view without much warning and really without his consent at the beginning of the show because his Grandfather decided Dohan needed to take over the company. Dohan had literally every piece of control stripped away from him throughout the entire show. He was consistently threatened and pressured and he knows he's at risk. OF COURSE he tried desperately to hold on to the marriage plans?? And again Jihan doesn't take a single second to think about how Dohan must feel or what he's going through. No, instead Jihan and the writers try to convince us that having a secret, even if that secret could put you in actual danger, is the most selfish thing you can do.

And on another note, I think you've discussed this before but the people saying Jihan and Ahjeong had no reason to suspect they would be followed on all their public romancing must've been watching another show than I was. It was literally established that both Ahjeong and Jihan knew reporters were looking for Ahjeong, they even found her house!!! If I remember right Jihan knows Dohan was being followed because Dohan mentioned pictures of him in New York. Jihan literally sent a photographer after Dohan in the first episode. Ahjeong got recognized by a famous actress who hates her when her and Jihan were together. They were later chased by a reporter and had to go on a whole car chase! AND Jihan knows his siblings are angry schemers. And yet neither of these people stopped for one second to think that there's some possibility they could be followed or recognized? That the siblings would send someone? That the actress could spread rumors? And somehow people think I should go "well their faces haven't been plastered on the 9 o'clock news yet so obviously they won't think this could happen!" ??? They even kept having public meet ups AFTER knowing they were photographed!!! The writing on this show is genuinely just bad. There's really no other way to put it. I've seen more coherent writing and characterization in BLs that got about $15 and a dream to make them. What a let down.

Yeah.

The fact that the show starts with someone threatening to out Do Han seems to be mostly forgotten by the narrative and completely ignored by the narrative in terms of emotional connections and emotional reasons for narrative choices.

Because the show had no idea what to do.

I really want to be clear that this show was not good.

Yeah, Ah Jeong and Ji Han made like no sense. Ah Jeong was stalked by reporters, Ji Han had hired reporters before and knew his half-siblings were looking for ways to take Do Han out of the inheritance line up so like... it's nonsense to think that they had no reason to believe they might be followed. None! Of course they were followed.

Ugh.

It's over!

Let's start daydreaming about a Thai remake.

This remake will add in a romance for Do Han, make Ah Jeong a better friend and focus on their friendship and her understanding of why Do Han doesn't want to come out, give Ji Han an actual redemption arc including a lot more sympathy for Do Han not wanting to come out and for the fake relationship and just generally be much more friendly to the whole storyline and make us very happy.

Let me dream, okay?!

#wedding impossible #asked and answered

[northsealight]

Hey, when you said RHATO Jason is the worst version on your last ask, were you referring to the first comic, second comic, or the Webtoon? (Honestly annoyed the Webtoon took that name, makes things even more confusing)

I have problems with all 3 (Webtoon most of all for sure, with the second and first switching places behind it based on what characters or plots I’m thinking about tbh), but I was just curious haha

oh. oh. oh you're not ready for this. I've been trying this entire week to find a good time to air out my thoughts:

so! in my opinion (again, this is not shaming anyone for liking what they like! if you happen to like RHATO!jason all the more power to you! dont read this!) all three reiterations of RHATO!Jason .. are not great. the one I think might have potential to be salvaged is the second one with Artemis and bizarro! (although roy harper is in my heart of hearts)

the way Jason is written in rhato... the rhato written by Scott Lobdell anyway, (who is actually a sexual predator and when you start to think even a LITTLE about how the women are written in RHATO makes so much sense) portrays Jason as yet another cookie cutter anti-hero-deadpool-esque personality who's mainly confined by the narrative restraints of his character.

I say this because hes so.... the way he goes about his vigilantism is so .. shallow. It's like the narrative is finding excuses to make him violent so the reader can be stimulated with Michale Bay explosions lol. You hardly see any stories in there where Jason is an actual champion for the people, and you hardly see his background as a street kid come into play... its like... he became... a vigilante because....he knows how the system can fail those... alienated and forgotten by those sworn to protect them... and thus channels his energy into said people through acts of radical protection... (also because the whole bruce thing yeah I know)

I keep thinking about injustice!Jason's monologue where he literally says something along the lines of "while bruce and clark were fighting I fought for the people who were being caught up in the whole thing" like if that doesn't just tell you who he is idk what will! and sure, injustice isn't Jason source material, so look at under the red hood! he literally becomes a drug kingpin TO CONTROL crime ... and then instead of getting these immense shows of care he has for the community in RHATO, we get panels like this:

like ok get it I guess 😭😭😭😭

this is the new and improved Jason!! he's suave.. hes American... he's... just like every other antihero now!!

I don't know how to explain it without sounding like an idiot- best bet is to read the comics yourself to kinda get what im saying! but even rebirth Jason is (kind of) getting what RHATO Jason doesn't-- he's a product of his huge heart. rebirth Jason has countless stories where we see how Jason ACTUALLY operates as red hood, and what his symbol means to the citizens of Gotham!

if you pour too much grit and "edginess" into Jason, then you kind of miss what he's all about- he can still be silly and sarcastic! in fact, one of my favorite Jason moments is from red hood: lost days, a series where he's portrayed as an edgy, "misfit" ruffian:

like. hello this is hilarious. and we can still have moments like these while balancing his emotional range as a vigilante that's motivated by his big fat heart! (ignoring the fact that he slept with Talia in the next issue 😭 Jason fans can't have shit 😭)

but anyway! ill likely add more when I'm not feeling so tired, but god!! is it so hard to show Jason's propensity for kindness!! is it so hard to realize that his character to the core is revolved around a deep understanding for others based on personal experience!!

there's a reason why DC (in the rare moments when they know what to do with his character) always writes stories with Jason consoling children, or Jason being good with kids in dangerous situations!

it's because he's been there before. he's felt the grief and confusion of being helpless in a situation of his control. he's felt the consequences of adults who were supposed to protect and raise him! he's been killed for daring to cling on to the notion of trust even after all he's been through!

and I don't know, I think his dedication to the people, children especially, is his way of forgiving himself- his way of telling little Jason that it wasn't his fault.

#I went a little crazy midway through but I hope this answers your q! #and I hope it makes sense. I swear im more coherent when I have my thoughts together #the last panel actually makes me sob god above what the hell is that and why are my eyes sweating #Jason robin :((((( #Jason todd #vee's soapbox #asks #thank you for the question btw!! I love answering qs like this #batman #red hood and the outlaws #under the red hood #red hood lost days #red hood

[quietwingsinthesky]

(tags from @wounded-hands on my post about spn backing down from god as an abusive father. hope you don't mind me using this as a jumping off point.)

BUT YEAH! YEAH EXACTLY!

This (among other reasons) is exactly why I fully have not finished the Lucifer tv show, despite the fact that I loved the first few seasons so much. But those first few seasons were not pulling their punches about this fact! They looked you in the eye and went "Lucifer is severely fucked up because of what God did to him" and for a while, they didn't back down from that!

Whether I ever go back and watch the show again or not, I know that two scenes are always going to stick in my head forever. The scene of Chloe seeing the wing scars for the first time (we the audience know that the scars are self-inflicted (but given how he cut his wings off specifically to separate himself from God, it's still connected to his abuse) but Chloe assumes that his dad did that to him. And the way Lucifer reacts, immediately defensive and trying to get attention away from them...!!!), and the scene of Linda, prompted by Amenadiel, cornering Lucifer in a therapy session, telling him that God actually loved him. (And for me specifically, the very trans-coded subtext of that scene being that she's! She's literally deadnaming him! And he reacts Violently!!!! Before just fleeing!!!!)

Not to mention, later, the extreme distress he feels at the idea that his dad forced his wings back on him against his will, or how Chloe was literally created to fill a love interest role for him. Lucifer loses more and more autonomy as the show goes on, and it's almost like we're just meant to?? ignore that??? accept that he's not in control of what's happening to him and that his dad meddled with his life and love just because he'll be happy if he's with Chloe. (This is a horror story!!!!!!!!!!)

(His wings, if I remember correctly, turned out to be His Own Fault Actually. which. I think that was the turning point for when the show started placing the blame on Lucifer (for overreacting. for not shutting up and accepting these gifts. etc. etc.) rather than actually exploring God's role as an abusive father.)

(Sidenote here, I'm focusing on Lucifer, but this problem obviously began to affect Amenadiel, too, as the show went on. Like, he's clearly suffering under the weight of the same abuse + expectations of God in the earlier seasons, but. I'd probably have to rewatch the show to break down his part in it. Which I don't want to do. Because the show turned on me >:(. )

And then when God does show up on the show.

I can't even.

My problems with this can roughly be summed up in one scene. During that episode where God is following Lucifer around, and I can't remember exactly, they run into some people, and God starts reminiscing about the past. And he describes Lucifer's rebellion (the thing that got him thrown into Hell! the thing that has been a source of trauma for seasons! a very very serious fucking thing!) as Lucifer basically throwing a tantrum.

And this could be so good. This could be so good, if the show was using this moment to portray how God has twisted up the events, even to himself, to make all of this Lucifer's fault, to make it seem like Lucifer's trauma isn't actually that bad. But I really don't feel like that was the point of that moment. It felt like the show was siding with him. Telling us that Lucifer's issues with God weren't actually that bad. Should be forgiven and not thought of any longer.

The worst part is that this could have gotten even more interesting. Lucifer assumes the role of God and his first act as God? Cutting his brother's wings off and casting him into Hell. HE FELL INTO THE CYCLE!!!! HE DID THE THING!!!! HE BECAME HIS FATHER!!!!! but then the show just doesn't ever bring Michael up again and I guess we were supposed to cheer when Lucifer turned his vengeance on him and cast him down. (Despite us having multiple seasons before this and the whole point of the seasons after it being that punitive justice is Bad, Actually, and Lucifer shouldn't be Judge, Jury, and Executioner, for his sake and those he hurts.)

Sorry for rambling. I, uh. have a few issues with the Lucifer tv show.

(It's almost worse than Supernatural in my eyes for this reason. Supernatural's decline was slow and predictable. Lucifer veered right off a cliff into being so much worse and never recovered. It set up so many things and then backed down completely from all of them. At least Supernatural had the guts to go "Yeah, God's a dick, and we're going to beat the shit out of him", even if the weight of that had mostly gone by the time they did it.)

#yeah so. thoughts. about this show. #lucifer tv #lucifer morningstar #like to be clear? i still love the first few seasons of this show. they aren't perfect. but god i want to chew on them. #lucifer and how he reacts to things relating to his past/abuse at god's hands is soooo. soooooooo.

[littleclownopinions]

We need to talk about Hollywood's current biggest flaw.

CONTENT WARNING: major spoilers for Cyberpunk: Edgerunners

So, I don't know about you guys, but I've certainly noticed that there's a major problem that's been cropping up in more of the media being released nowadays and it's getting harder to ignore. What is that issue? Well, it's quite simple, stories are no longer being told in appropriate lengths of time for the character development and world building required of them to succeed. Ironically, I want to use an incredibly popular show to help explain my point, but I'm choosing it specifically because of the incredible amount of lost potential I personally noticed whilst I was watching. So, let me dive into it.

As evidenced by the spoiler warning, I want to look at Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Now, I think this will probably be a controversial opinion, after all, many people seemed to adore the show. It received raving reviews and was generally being praised all across social media. However, I finished the limited series feeling really dissatisfied and underwhelmed.

Firstly, I did not fall for David and Lucy's romance. There was zero chemistry between the two. Lucy was incredibly cold towards David and frankly it made absolutely zero sense for David to still be unconditionally head over heals for someone that was manipulating him into a false sense of security to have him killed. I felt far more attached to Maine and Dorio's relationship. And yes, yes I understand Lucy's backstory and her past trauma have made her the way she is but I mean c'mon.. They live together and she still doesn't even talk to the guy! And I'm expected to root for them? There's nowhere near enough exploration of their connection or bond for me to be sold on the pair and the lack of a redemption arch for Lucy after betraying David is baffling to me.

Secondly, Rebecca is a failure of a character. Her reaction to her brothers violent and traumatic death is just pathetic. I mean, yeah, she insults the cyberpsycho and tries to shoot him but by the next time we see her it's like nothing even happened. David had more of a reaction to Maine dying, someone he'd known for like a couple months at most! Also the whole "subplot" (if you can even call it that) of her having feelings for David makes zero sense. It comes out of nowhere, is addressed like 3 times and then she just forgets about it. I have no idea why they felt the need to include it at all. And don't even get me started on her being the first to notice David spiralling into cyberpsychosis. Again, this show wants me to believe in David and Lucy's romance and she doesn't even notice when he starts going insane? Rebecca is just a walking contradiction. She's really close with her brother! But doesn't care if he dies.. She's a wildcard, she's insane! But she's also so perceptive she notices David's condition before literally anyone else.. She's super cool and doesn't care about anything! But also she's developed feelings for the (somehow) spoken-for main character.. I'm sorry guys but I fucking hate this character.

And lastly, the ending… I genuinely cannot believe this ending had people in tears. It was not gripping at all. Why would I care about Lucy's dream to visit the moon? Throughout the entire show Lucy is nothing but closed off and emotionally unavailable. I was given no reason to care about her character, so I didn't. So why in the world was the ending given to her? Lucy manipulates David, tries to have him killed, stays emotionally unavailable for almost the entire show to the point she can't even see how badly he's struggling and after all that I'm expected to find solace and comfort in the fact that, of all the characters this show has introduced me to, she's the one they chose to give the ending to.. It's just absurd.

Edgerunners is a terrible show but what sucks is that it did not have to be at all. I enjoyed the overall idea of the story they were trying to tell and the characters really could have worked if only the show was longer. The episodes were roughly 25 minutes each, but they were trying to touch on so many topics and explore so many relationship dynamics that it simply didn't fit. David and Lucy's relationship could've worked if it was explored at more depth. If Lucy was given a redemption arch where she realises her feelings for him, somehow finds a way to make up for her earlier transgressions and actually opens to up to him in a meaningful way that sticks. Not the "I was kidnapped and used, that's why I am, and will continue to be, so cold and heartless towards you.. but I swear I do care!" bullshit storyline we were given. Rebecca could've been cool if she wasn't a sloppy last minute addition to the story and art style that both visually and otherwise does not fit in with the world we were given. And the end would've worked if Lucy had been given the time to develop into an actual character rather than the shell she was for it's entirety.

Edgerunners is one example of a story being given too little time for us to really explore and connect with the characters and lore, but there are examples I could give for the opposite too. Obi-Wan Kenobi was originally intended to be a movie, however, it was apparently rewritten to be a limited series after the box office failure of Solo: A Star Wars Story. Ironically, Obi-Wan Kenobi failed too because nobody gave a shit about the other storylines and subplots they worked into the story. Fans where watching to learn more about Obi-wan Kenobi and his complicated relationship with Anakin/Darth Vader and as far as I'm aware, a lot of fans stopped watching because they lost interest because of all the other gunk clogging up the story.

If you had fun watching Edgerunners then great! I don't want to take that away from anyone reading, but I do want to see a change in the way these cinematic universes are being treated in regards to world building and character development. They are vital to the viewers watch experience because they determine if/how well we will relate to and therefore sympathise with a character and their motivations/actions. I'm sick of watching newly released media (especially majorly hyped ones like Edgerunners) just to find myself feeling incredibly disappointed and underwhelmed. Again, a lot of the series' problems could've been fixed if the episodes were longer and allowed for a more in death look at the concepts, characters and relationships of the world. I'm envious of people that can watching anything and everything without a care in the world and just have fun no matter what. Maybe I'm just becoming too cynical at the ripe old age of 22, but I just can't look past such glaring issues.

Again, this issue goes both ways. Some things are too long and some things are too short. Call me Goldilocks but I do think a movie/TV show needs to be "just right" length wise to be enjoyable and I am struggling to understand how studios keep getting away with this. There are still fantastic pieces of media being released today and also an endless back catalogue of things that came before for me or anyone else to explore but this is still an issue I wanted to talk a little about. I haven't really seen others talking about this subject but it's been bubbling up in my mind for honestly a few years now and I finally have a place to put it in writing and get it off my chest.

#essay writing #media analysis #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk edgerunners #movies #tv shows #tv review

[decolonize-the-left]

This is the anon about why voting is important. Be mad at people who stop at voting. But if the gun wins, good luck protesting and getting something. This is coming from an European living in a country where the right wing government made it illegal to record the police. I have friends in legal battles and who might end up in prison for being in protests. Historically, think Thatcher vs. the Miners. Vote the knife AND protest. It only works if you do both.

P.S: Also, I understand you're replying to the side you think I'm on and not to me personally. But I'm pro violent protests, pro strikes, pro boycotting, pro sabotage, pro self-organized autonomous zones... etc. In fact I've been actively involved in everything I've mentioned. And I still fucking vote. Because low voter turnout always, ALWAYS benefits the right. So again, it's not vote OR protest. You can do both, and you fucking should.

Hey anon. Today is Orange Shirt day.

You may know it as the day where we think about how Every Single President (both red AND blue), prime minister, and monarchy regardless of their beliefs allowed residential schools to function and kill natives, even FDR the most social Democrat this country ever had and even the same man who created the minimum wage and asked corporations to stop bleeding workers dry.

Yeah he didn't do shit. Neither did our "allies" who constantly wanted our vote but didn't want anything to do with us when elections are over.

Decades later look at you. Still using the same bullshit, gaslighting tactics.

Anyway did you know attendance was mandatory at the residential schools til 1947? You may recognize this as the year WW2 officially ended. Y'all remember what inspired Hitler? Yeah I guess keeping mandatory attendance at the 'schools' that inspired Hitler's concentration camps must have been a bad look for allies. They kept functioning tho. The last one didn't even close until 1997.

And what have yall done about those schools since? In the 70 years since. What have yall done about the treatment of natives besides pretend to care for a week whenever it's trendy? Besides try guilting us to be the bigger person & vote your way every time the guy you don't like seems like he might win? Which of the 13 presidents you've had since then has given a singular shit about anyone who wasn't a settler? How many times have y'all demanded your president to give a shit about us?

Exactly.

Not one. And you voters haven't done a damn thing about it except bitch at us to accept the slow death you've sentenced us to over and over again. You refuse to recognize your participation in our genocide. Voting doesn't help. It never has. It's something you tell yourselves is reducing harm when the opposite is true. To placate your own conscience.

Maybe if you spent less time trying to recruit votes that Do Nothing then we'd have more to show for 200 years of "progress" than reservations still without running water and an ignored national MMIW crisis spanning 2 countries.

Hell, we still have to beg your goverments to give our kids back. Over 200 years of asking to be considered humans worth respect and you still want me to vote for the guys who killed our sons, our daughters, our elders and won't even do us the decency of admitting it, let alone return them to us.

Voter turnout has enabled white supremacists and has helped uphold white supremacy. In fact, that's literally why laws were created. Reminder that prison labor was created specifically to be a form of ongoing slavery in the same exact article where slavery as a whole was abolished. That article still allows slavery through the prison system and in fact it's used and abused all the time to exploit prisoners to do shit they have no business doing (like fighting fires). And that's just One Law. Just one example. Nevermind the thousands of others that sought to harm specifically BIPOC, some even passed this year.

So fuck you, your knife, and the horse you rode in on.

"vote for the knife that's stabbing you in the throat"

When settlers show me they give an actual shit about brown people, I'll start to give an actual shit about your half formed colonizer opinions.

#asked #answered #voting #ndn #Indigenous #white audacity #vote blue #anti Indigenous #reblog #just Colonizer things

[forbidding-souda]

Hello! I recently found your blog, so I don know a whole lot about you. I’m sorry if you’ve already explain this, or if it’s a sensitive subject. You can totally ignore this if it is, don’t worry!

Are you deaf? I mean, yeah, you’ve said you are. But, like, how deaf? And how does it work? Because you also listen to music, as far as I understand, so you must hear something, no?

I’m really sorry if this annoys you or offends you! I’m really just curious, if it bothers you, just ignore it, okay?

OMG HELLO NO ONE HAS ASKED ME THIS BEFORE IN MY OVER A YEAR OF HAVING THIS BLOG LMFAO I AM VERY EXCITED TO TALK ABOUT IT!! Yes I am Deaf >:) I love talking about this stuff (I'm also majoring in it LMFAO)

Me personally - I allegedly was born partially deaf in my left ear (like 50% I'd say). We don't really know why. Could be because my dad is also deaf. We didn't really realize until a couple of years ago when I went to an audiologist for another reason and they were like you know ur also like really deaf in this ear and I was like oh I thought it was just because of my headaches - and the symptoms were things I remember even from my childhood. Anyway and then I actively starting loosing my hearing started when I was 10 because I developed a weird, magical random thing where my ears don't pop, so I got a lot of bruises and trauma to my ear drums that I had to take hella antibiotics for as a kid (big plastic blue and purple pills). This would not have been as bad if my parents weren't travel nerds and didn't force me to go on at least 6 airplane flights a year until I was like 16 /srs. As well as that, we just recently discovered that I have reverse slope hearing loss (meaning I can't hear deep voices/I can't hear you if you're facing away from me/I can't hear you talking if there's background noise) (recently discovered as in it's been on my MyChart for like a year and we never noticed it [we do this a lot. it's embarrassing]).

This is semi related but my first language was ASL and that's not even really related to the fact that I was born Deaf - it was mostly because i literally didn't talk and my parents were getting nervous. Now I'm going to school to be an ASL teacher so it all works out! And also now that I'm an adult, when I talk to Deaf people from other states, they say I have a violently strong Californian (bay area) accent - isn't that funny? I started going deaf the year I moved to California. I wonder how I would be signing if I stayed in Vegas.

I think what you're asking me is if I'm stone deaf ([Deaf people with 0% hearing] sorry if I'm mansplaining) - which is actually a very very small percentage of deaf people - 1/2%? don't quote me on that but that's what we learned in high school, might be dated. Deaf people can still hear small, fuzzy things, and some Deaf people even have enough hearing to be able to talk on the phone normally (jealousy).

This is all off the top of my head -> My good ear is around 56 to 59 dB I think that's also minus the fact that I can't hear low frequencies? Which isn't bad - it's moderate severe hearing loss, which isn't as dramatic as it sounds. idk, last time i saw an audiologist was last year yawn.

(did you know 1 in 20 Americans are medically deaf or hoh? I didn't - I found that out trying to google the percentage of stone deaf people LOL! This is actually quite funny because out of the people in my ASL language class alone, 3 of us are Deaf).

What's my daily life like? I can function in a normal conversation with people that I've been talking to since before my hearing went to shit (because I recognize their talking patterns / the noises they make and what it means). But if a stranger with a mask walked up to me trying to talk to me I would definitely be completely confused on what they are saying!! and also the mask doesn't help!! I also need closed captions on things. And unlike 90% of deaf people, yes, it kinda does help me if you over-annunciate your words.

also yes, I listen to music :) I frequent local punk and metal shows and I sit right there next to the speaker and feel the drums. I just can't listen to black metal because oftentimes I find it too low for my silly ears to pick up on and it gives me headaches. Death metal is sometimes too low for me - the guitars are never, though. I don't like listening to any other genre because it all just sounds bland to me. I like fast drums. I do like mitski, however, but that's beyond me.

Any other questions? :)

(if anyone has read this far and you're also trying to learn ASL - join my discord! link is in the pinned post. We have a channel specifically for me sharing cool ASL youtube videos and sources that I find

EDIT: I found this - 10% of deaf people are classified as profoundly deaf (90-120 dB, which, I can tell you right now that the Deaf people I know who are in their 90s can still hear small, 'fuzzy' things)

-Mod Souda

#deaf culture #deaf community #not an imagine

[dreamcatcherrs]

toxic - sapnap x reader

+ this is an entry for the writing competition hosted by @salinesoot​! go and show them some love<3

++ DISCLAIMER; in no way do I claim that sapnap is addicted to any form of drugs. this is all just fiction! with that I hope you enjoy this longer story :)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: drug addict/ex-lovers au! addict!sapnap x addict!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: months after your break-up, nick reaches out to you to put a peaceful ending to the disastrous fall of your relationship. the meet-up is rough; you're not willing to comply with anything he’s saying, and he just can't seem to get over the state he sees you in once he arrives.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.952

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: !ADDICTION! drugs, alcohol, smoking, break-ups, swearing, manipulation (?), abandonment.

I want to put a very big emphasis on addiction, as I don't want to trigger anyone! if you feel in any way uncomfortable with the things listed above, please don't continue reading :) thank you.

playlist:

save your tears - the weeknd

so high - doja cat

apocalypse - cigarettes after sex

high - sivik

habits - tove lo

champagne problems - taylor swift

the silence in the room was violent - it lay like a thick fog between you; hard to breathe in, hard to see through. not to mention the rays of sunshine hitting your back through the windows behind you, glowing into his clear eyes and burning you up inside. but not in a nice way - not in the same way that the first intake of the tip of a cigarette would once set to a flame; not in the same way the almost glowing row of white would once going up your nose and through your system. no, this kind of burn felt claustrophobic, not freeing or euphoric at all. it felt awful - but not as awful as his sorry eyes staring over your body like you were the entrance to a pity party.

a quiet flicker sprung from the lighter in your hand, a small flame glowing under the shade of your frame. your brows furrowed slightly as you lifted the lighter to the death stick sat between your lips, silently lighting it and immediately sucking the sweet smoke right into your tired body like it was oxygen to you. removing the cigarette from your lips and letting it hang from your index and middle finger, you blew out the smoke in one big puff, eyes meeting his.

“so... what do you want?” you snarled at your ex-lover, leaning back on your seat on the counter to lean your weight on your right hand - the one without the cigarette -, watching as he inhaled through his mouth slightly, only to quickly close it again once catching some of the smoke in his mouth. he waited till the cloud was gone to speak up;

“can you... not do that in here?” was the first thing he could say to you. one year after leaving you, and that’s the first thing he has to say? it made you scoff, but you chose to put out the cigarette in the ash tray beside you anyways. funny how times can change so quickly.

he cleared his throat before adding; “I don't smoke anymore - I’ve been clean for nine months now.”

the way he said it with such pride, such happiness - it angered you. was it because you were the one sitting in the dust and ashes of addiction, and not him? well, you both knew it wasn't. or at least he would if he had a sense of memory, which you guessed he had.

all you could do was raise your eyebrows at his words, arms crossing over your chest after bouncing off the kitchen counter. “I asked you a question nick - not for an update of your wonderful life,” you spat, squinting your eyes at him. his eyes somehow softened, and you just hated to see it. because you knew it made your heart beat just a little bit faster. you knew it brung back memories that you both despised and at the same time absolutely loved to have.

he moved away from the fridge he had been leaning his back against, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at the ground instead of your eyes.

“I came to apologise.”

“for what?”

“for… everything.”

it was at the biggest college party of the year for newcomers that he met you.

he was high. he’d spotted you in the crowd, looking like a lost puppy. was that what made him come to you? no, but he couldn’t deny the fact that your innocent complex caught his attention. throughout the night, his eyes would gaze away from the conversation he had with his friends and over to you, and after a nice two rows of heroin through his nostrils, bubbling his blood and dilating his pupils, was when he noticed the guy approaching you. grabbing you, twirling your hair around his finger when you were clearly uncomfortable with it. and as if he hadn't already had about 3 already, he chugged a whole can of beer all in one go, before pushing himself out of the chair he was sat in. clay and george mumbled something in drunk behind him that his ears blocked out anyway as he moved towards the douche in front of you, combing a had through his hair.

he made it to you just as the guy grabbed your thigh with his rough, dirty fingers that god knows where had been, and with complete fury and the world spinning around him, nick grabbed the guy by his shoulder, turning him around to be met with his fist. when the realisation hit you, you visibly gasped (not that he could hear it over the loud music or the ringing in his ears), watching in shock as the guy stumbled back into the cupboard behind him, hand reaching up to grab his eye. the people around you seemed to notice as well, some stepping back a little in shock, some taking photos, some laughing and wooing for more. when nick noticed that the guy was about to get up again, and to his knowledge about to throw some punches back at him, he quickly grabbed you by the waist, pulling you to his side.

“get your filthy hands off my s/o,” he snarled, drunkenly and not very intimidating, but still made for a good effort. he didn't notice the way you'd tried to hide your disgust when smelling his alcoholic breath and his scent of weed - everything was hard to pay close detail to when in a drunken state like his.

to nick’s surprise, the guy, who by the was was way bigger than him and could probably easily take him down in one hit, backs away with a bleeding nose, and everyone else returns to partying as normal.

he turns to you, and you’re blushing. either that or you’ve just taken 10 shots in a row, but that was clearly not the case. your lips moved, but he would have to have the most powerful ears to be able to hear you over the loud music pumping through his body. so instead he leans down, lips hovering by your ear.

“what?” he slurred, loud enough for you to hear, and as if your cheeks weren’t already burning, his close proximity to you sure didn’t help. from behind, a couple of giggling girls shoved into him to get over to the counter filled with alcohol, causing him to push you further against the cupboard. his hand landed on your hip in reflex, preventing him from literally falling into you.

quickly you uttered out into his ear, louder this time; “I- I said thank you,” and closed your eyes tightly in embarrassment, because why did you have to stutter? and why did this drunk mess of a guy have to be so goddamn attractive?

he took a step back, letting his hands fall with him. he looked back at his friends - clay glancing over at him, laughing confusedly, while george was busy downing a shot with karl. he ignored clay’s signal to come back to the table, and instead leaned over to your ear again.

“you wanna get out of here?”

your eyes widened. why did this complete stranger want to leave one of the biggest parties with you? it would be stupid to say yes, yet something in you strived to know what the night could turn out like if you did. it’s not like you had much fun anyway, and what the hell, your life isn’t one filled with surprises, so what was one night filled with them gonna change?

“so... you’re a first year’er?” nick inhaled deeply, the smoke from the blunt of weed between his lips going straight to his head. you nervously scratched your elbow, kicking a harmless rock that was in the way of your path as you nodded. the smell from the stick of weed in his hand went through your nostrils, tickling your nose in a not-so-pleasant way. you chose to ignore this though, not wanting to seem fussy.

“yeah. but parties are not really my forte, in case you hadn’t noticed,” you laughed quietly, folding your arms over your chest when a cold breeze fanned your body. he turned to look at you with slightly squinted eyes, taking in your sober self.

“well, have you ever tried weed? cause I’ll tell you; everything can be a party with this shit.” he laughed at himself, sucking in smoke once again from the blunt, before turning to see you shake your head. he suddenly passed it in your direction. you stared down at it, a trail of smoke rising from the tip of it, before looking at him again. “wanna try?”

he didn't look too bothered wether you said yes or no - just high and drunk out of his mind, which actually made him look kinda peaceful and… cute? what the fuck. you shrugged your shoulders, grabbing the stick of weed from between his fingers. it was the start of college - everyone does this, right?

“do I just… inhale?” you asked, clearly a rookie and non-professional weed-smoker. he chuckled, stopping in his tracks, making you stop as well, as he fished out something from the pocket of his jacket; a lighter.

“yeah, you just gotta light it again cause of the wind. just treat it like a cig.” you raised your eyebrow at him, watching as he stepped closer to you with the lighter, waiting for you to put the blunt between your lips, and when you didn't was when he noticed your confusion and raised eyebrow. he looked shocked. “you've never smoked a cigarette before?” you shook your head, swinging your arms along with their place inside the pockets of your jacket, a lopsided smile forming on your face. his eyes widened further. “drugs? alcohol? nothing?” you gave an innocent smile, flashing your teeth at him as you shook your head. he raised his eyebrows. “damn. well, it’s no shocker to me that you don't like parties then. you've never tried real partying.”

he softly took the blunt from your hand, gesturing for you to open your mouth, before tucking it between your parted lips. he moved closer to you, close enough so he could focus on protecting the flame from the wind using his hand, and holding the lighter up to the tip of the weed stick. “this’ll be fun,” he mumbled to himself, igniting the lighter. “now you just inhale and then eventually blow out the smoke. it might burn to start with, but fuck does it feel good afterwards.”

you did as he said, squinting your eyes as you inhaled the smoke, feeling your throat burn with every passing second you of inhaling, and before you had the chance to blow it into a cloud casually, you coughed out all of the smoke, choking on the pure taste and burn of weed. he chuckled lightly, patting your back gently as he watched you gasp for fresh air.

“alright alright, not too bad.” he took the blunt once you handed it over to him again, easily inhaling the smoke like it was nothing to him, before blowing it out into the fresh september air in different sizes of ‘o’s. you watched in amazement as he did so, wondering how long you’d have to smoke for, for a person to be able to do that. your guess was quite a while.

he handed it over to you again, encouraging you to take it. you did. “here, keep it.” he sent you a dopey smile, watching as you took it. you placed it in your mouth just as the wind passed through you again, making your body shiver very obviously. you were stupid to not bring a jacket. in your defense, you thought that you wouldn’t have stayed long at that party anyway; not that you’d be here, walking through an empty playground with a stranger. well, not a stranger anymore - nick was his name, as you’d come to learn.

he noticed your freezing self as you inhaled again, the smoke making you cough again even when you tried your hardest not to. busy getting your oxygen under control, you didn’t notice him taking off his leather jacket before it hung heavy on your shoulders, immediately giving warming you up from the body warmth it had consumed from him.

you moved the stick out of your mouth, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, trying to play his gesture off cool. “what are you doing? you’ll freeze.”

he scoffed playfully, inhaling the fresh smell of the cool air. “I’m drunk out of my mind right now. you think I even think about what temperature it is right now?” you giggled at that. it was crazy how your cheeks were able to grow so warm despite the cold breeze flushing over you constantly, hands tugging the jacket tighter to yourself.

“thank you,” you quietly said, a small smile spreading across your face. your head started feeling empty - a good kind of empty, causing you to smile even more without even noticing. the sudden release of dopamine in your brain was causing you to feel lighter - that’s what it was, you thought.

without realising, your eyes had been closed and you’d stopped walking anymore, just taking in the feeling and the nice, fresh air hitting your skin in small waves. you felt a hand on your back, and then heard a quiet laugh from beside you. you turned in the direction, opening your eyes and smiled up at the handsome creature of a male in front of you. he smiled along with you, looking into your clouded eyes with his reddened ones, placing his hands on your neck softly.

he started laughing. and you started laughing. you placed your hands on top of his, leaning in closer to get a better look at his eyes. they looked like a cave filled with shiny crystals if you looked close enough. and you’d still be looking into them when he kissed you if he hadn’t closed them.

it was mainly a very toothy kiss, your white pearls clanging together as your smiles stayed on your faces throughout the kiss. when he pushed his tongue in between them though, they slightly faltered, and your hands flew up to hold his face in your hands as he started kissing you harder and with additional sloppiness.

you pulled away to catch your breath, and before he had the chance to lean in for a second kiss, you placed the marijuana between your lips, spending him a playful smile as you sucked in the burning smoke.

were you high or were you just crazy about this guy that you barely even knew? at that very moment you felt that the answer was both.

your brows furrowed. he actually looked… sorry? you weren't sure if you were willing to hear what he had to say - after all he’d put you through. but… something made you listen. something made you wanna give him the chance to speak up. maybe it was the soft spot you had for him in you heart, that you so badly wanted to deny yourself was there.

“look… I know I’m the reason you've ended up like this. I’m the reason you can't even let go of that pack of cigarettes in your hand. and I can't stop thinking about that every single day. I- I ruined you, y/n. and I realise- well, I’ve realised this a long time ago - I just left you here to rot. all alone. I fucked you up, and left you to deal with it all alone. and I’m really fucking sorry about that. I treated you so badly and got you into things you probably wouldn't have gotten into if you'd never met me...” he trailed off, a solemn look in his eyes, almost glowing as they stared compassionately into yours.

you broke away from them, a soft frown on your face as they trailed off to the wine shelf stacked with bottles of alcohol behind him. he was right. you knew he was. but it didn’t explain why he came here. to seek your sympathy? for you to accept his apology? to give him that form of closure? you weren’t really sure if he deserved that.

he saw the look on your face, and figured he’d continue; “I don’t expect you to accept my apology or... stop being mad at me. I just wanted to come here to finish things the right way instead of the way we left it. well, the way I left it.” all of a sudden he stopped in his tracks, eyes focused on your arm. his eyes widened once noticing the bruise on the inside of your elbow, clearly from some type of syringe or needle. he would know what that looked like.

he took swift steps towards you, grabbing your arm in shock. you were worse than he had thought. you looked down in shame when his eyes tried meeting yours.

“y/n,” he said seriously, very carefully rubbing his thumb across the mark. “you need help. like, serious help. you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

with that, you tore your arm away from him, staring into his eyes with your eyebrows furrowed and teary-eyed. “why do you care? since when did you ever care, nick? I don’t understand why you’re here - you don’t really want to help me.” you stepped away from him, heading over to the pile of ashes from the previously smoked cigarettes to get another one, but were stopped by his hand grabbing your arm.

he hugged you.

you sobbed into his shoulder,

and hugged him back.

you swallowed a big gulp of air, craning your neck as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. a pleasurable smile appeared on your face, the sweet feeling of cocaine rushing through your system being the cause of it. you lay down on the flat rooftop of the college gym, inhaling the smoke from the already ignited cigarette between your two fingers. you blew the smoke out into the air in small rings, like nick had showed you, happily succeeding in it. needless to say, you'd done it for what felt like a million times before.

nick grabbed your hand from his place on the roof beside you. you turned your head to look at him, squeezing his hand in the process. he moved closer to you, lifting your hand to his lips before placing a wet kiss onto the back of it. he gestured for you to place the cigarette between his lips, and you did so, holding it in place as he inhaled the smoke like you had. when you moved the cigarette away from him though, he pushed you closer to him by the back of your neck, placing this lips on yours in time for him to blow the smoke from his mouth into yours, catching you by surprise.

you waited till he’d moved away again to blow the smoke out, turning your head as you did so so that he wouldn’t get it in his face. he laughed at the way your eyes had widened, leaning over you to place a kiss on your flush cheek.

“did you like that?” he asked with a raspy voice, followed by a giggle and still holding your hand in his as he clung it to his chest. you looked up at him with a pouty smile, watching as his eyes crinkled at your soundless response.

“you know… we’re probably not allowed up here,” you muttered, tracing figures onto his palm

“yeah, we’re not allowed many things. including all of this cocaine, but I don't plan on stopping,” he replied nonchalantly, clawing up some of the white, illuminating powder onto his finger, sniffing it up his nose with one large inhale, before exhaling deeply in satisfaction. you watched as he did so, and it made your chest turn. something about this felt wrong all of a sudden. you felt bad, ashamed to even be sat on a roof at 2 am, doing drugs and smoking weed, when you really came here to study and make friends.

your thoughts did not just swim away once he started leaving small little pecks onto your neck, hair tickling your jawline with bubbly giggles flying past his lips. you gently pushed him off, letting go of his hand and standing up from the rooftop. your sudden distress did not go unnoticed by nick, though, and he stood up with you, stumbling, but standing, watching as you threw the remains of the cigarette onto the ground, and looked off onto your campus with a clenched jaw and stern look on your face.

nick was confused, and a little uncertain with what he should do. you'd never acted like something was wrong before, so he didn’t exactly know what to do in this type of situation. all he could do was walk over to you, standing by your side as he looked off into the same direction as you. his eyes glanced over to you every now and then, chewing on what to say exactly. he tried saying something, but stopped himself before he had the chance to even let out a squeak.

“is.. what- argh. did I do something wrong?” he finally spoke, frustrated with his own form of speech. you turned your head to him, your small smile causing relief to rush through his body. when you responded with a ‘no’, he felt a little better, but that still didn’t stop him from seeing right through that smile and into your worried self. “well, what's wrong then?”

what's wrong? you almost wanted to ask yourself that question. why would you want to ruin such a nice moment with him just because of some doubt? maybe it was because you thought that all good things wouldn't last, and that whatever this was between you was too good to be true. or maybe it was the fact that you could feel your lungs set on fire just thinking of every bad thing you’d consumed into your previously healthy body, head feeling empty, but at the same time heavy enough to keep all of the bad things inside of it to weigh down on you. maybe it was because you'd never felt so unlike yourself before as you do now, and you weren't so sure if that was a good thing anymore.

when you told him this (well, the parts about the drugs, not your feelings), he sighed heavily, placing a hand on your shoulder to fully turn you to face him. “y/n,” he started, moving his hand up to your cheek and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone, sending you a lopsided grin. “you're overthinking too much.” you raised your eyebrows slightly, looking at him with a mix of confusion and hope in your eyes. he continued; “we’re just having fun. there’s noting wrong with that! isn’t that what college is all about?”

he did his best to assure you that nothing was wrong, and it seemed to be working. you eased up - he could feel it -, yet you still had that worried expression stuck on your face, and he knew he had to do something to change that. he kissed you softly, cold nose touching yours in the process. you couldn’t help but to kiss him back, placing your hands on the sides of his neck as you closed your eyes tightly, wanting nothing more than to get lost in his lips.

when he pulled away, the tip of his index finger lightly bopped your nose, causing the very least of a smile to form on your face. that made him smile. “don’t worry, baby,” he assured you, kissing your forehead before fishing the metallic circle-shaped box out of his pocket, offering you some of the addicting white powder by handing it to you. “we’re in this together.”

his phone buzzed on the coffee table, the waves of vibrations feeling as if they filled up the entire room. someone was calling him, and you only just managed to see that the caller ID was someone named “rose” before he dismissed the call. as far as you could remember, he’d never even met someone by that name.

he put his phone in his pocket, doing up the zipper before staring across the table and over to you again. his brushing off didn’t help your curiosity from spilling out. “aren’t you gonna get that?” you questioned, wiping the wetness on your cheeks away fully from your previous outburst of tears. you could still see the tear stains on his shirt.

he shook his head. “I have more important matters right now.” your heart warmed at his words and you hated to feel that. of course you’d been on his social media since your break-up - you knew very well that the girl calling was his new girlfriend. and as much as you hated yourself for feeling it, you couldn’t help the jealousy from flaming up inside of you. you decided to hold back from saying more about it, though, knowing that it would just be your hurt and anger talking.

he stared at you for a while with droopy puppy eyes, and it made you hate this moment even more, moving around in your seat to distract yourself from the situation. but then his hand was on yours, squeezing gently like he’d done so many times before. you tried not looking into his eyes, cause you knew it’d make you weaker, but it was so damn hard when all you could feel was his eyes burning into your skin, the pity from him seeping right into you. it made you feel awful.

“I want to help you, y/n. get you out of this shithole I put you in in the first place,” he explained lowly, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. tingles trickled up your arm and down your spine, a knot forming in your stomach. you looked down at the table, away from him. “I still care for you, you know?” he gave your hand a squeeze, wanting you to look at him again.

you didn’t.

he sighed.

letting go of your hand, he stood up from the chair. your eyes followed him as he walked over to your side of the table, pulling out the chair that was right beside you and taking a seat on it. he looked at you for a while, taking in the way you looked.

your eyes were bloodshot, red streaks coming out from the beautiful crystal in the middle of your eye. those deep and dark bags under your eyes weren’t there before, the cause of them being so very obvious. you were thinner, frail, weak. you looked as if you would break if he as much as lay a finger on you - like you’d turn to dust if he tried reaching out to you. if he tried to save you. it was soul-crushing to see you in this state. he couldn’t believe he’d done this to you.

you noticed his staring. he didn’t care. you needed to know this had gone too far, even if he was the cause of it.

he pulled his phone out of his pocket, pulling up a list of names and numbers on his phone from his contacts. he gave you his phone.

“these are the places I went to when I tried getting clean. it’d be no problem getting you in there. you just have to try. have to want the help. that’s all I ask from you.” you scrolled through the contacts slowly, like it’d make a difference to the foreign names on the screen.

“nick, I-,” you sighed and shook your head. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“of course you can,” he assured you, grabbing your hand once again. you turned your head to him, heart pumping louder in your chest as you stared at him. you missed him, you realised. “you won’t be alone.”

it all happened so fast.

you pulled him to you by his hand, yours coming up to grab his cheek softly to simultaneously pull his face to yours, closing your pained eyes tightly and-

“what are you doing?”

your voice boomed through the dark room. you stood with crossed arms and a tired look on your face, having just woken up by the rustling coming from the living room, only to find your boyfriend packing his stuff with tear-stained cheeks. worry shot through your tired body as you watched him halt, staring back at you with a startled expression on his face.

“y/n? wh-why are you awake?” he quickly shoved a shirt of his into the duffel bag in his hands, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with baggy eyes.

your eyebrows furrowed. you knew what this looked like, and you realised exactly what was happening. he was leaving you. he’d been distant for the past few weeks, but you never thought it was because of you. you thought that, maybe, it was just a phase. because, he would never really leave you. would he?

you took a step towards him. “nick are you… leaving me?” you could feel the tears well up in your eyes when you heard yourself say it out loud. you felt like you’d just been hit by a truck, lungs failing and body crashing down. you didn’t understand. you didn’t understand at all.

he didnt answer, just looked down in shame? sorrow? you didn’t care. how could he leave you? how could he? you wanted to pinch yourself to wake up from this horrible dream- no. from this nightmare. but this wasn’t just a nightmare - it was reality. this was really happening.

“I-I don't understand, nick. don't you l-love me?” you sobbed, feeling your wet tears trickle down your face. here they came. the tears you hadn’t cried for so long now.

he softened up at the sight of you crying, wanting so badly to hug you, comfort you, but knowing that he couldn’t let himself. he had to leave somehow. leave this town, this drug-filled life. he had to escape it, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to with you.

“I can't stay here, y/n. I have to go,” he muttered lowly, grabbing his headphones from the coffee table and stuffing them into the bag as well. he started packing again.

“wh-why? I thought things were good between us?”

“they're not, y/n!” he yelled suddenly, causing you to step back slightly. he turned to you, a wild look on his face as his arms flailed around in the air. “I’m sick of only being able to feel good because I’m drugged up or drunk. I’m getting clean.”

he packed the last couple of things into the bag, scanning the room quickly to make sure he got most of it with him, before taking haste steps over to grab his jacket from the coat hanger. you followed after him with just as fast steps, heart beating out of your chest. was this the last time you were gonna see him? no. you refused to believe that.

“b-but you can't just leave me!” you pulled at his arm, tugging him over in your direction as he struggled to slide his leather jacket on. he looked at you for a moment, chest heaving slightly from the bad feeling he had inside of him.

“if you're not gonna let me leave, then you have to.”

you looked at him with pure shock and anger- the audacity. he sighed, calming himself down before continuing; “if you still love me you’d leave.”

you shook your head, angrily shoving a finger at his chest. “you got me into this mess in the first place! you’re the reason I’ve ended up like this! and you want me to leave?” you scoffed at his words, yelling out yours in rage as tears of frustration kept falling from your eyes.

he sighed, brows furrowed and a sad expression stuck on his face as he looked at the ground. “I’m sorry, y/n. I can't do this anymore.” he turned to grab the doorknob, and your eyes widened with the movement.

“you can't do this to me nick!,” you clawed at his arm, dragging him backwards, away from the door. but he was stronger than your weak body and easily pushed you away from him to get access to the door. you hit his back with your fists, crying out in anger as you did so.

“you bastard! you can't just leave me here!” he stayed quiet as he rushed out of the door, not even looking back as he made it out of the door, escaping your grasp on him. you sobbed even louder, walking out of the door to follow his body with your eyes as you collapsed to the ground. “I hate you! I fucking hate you, you hear me?”

nick silently cried as his back hit the elevator wall, the doors closing in front of him as he made his way downwards to the entrance of the apartment complex. what had he just done? he placed a hand over his mouth, wide eyes staring into thin air in shock. nick’s only ever done what he was raised to think was right. it’s not his fault, right?

it’s not.

it’s not.

for a moment, you kissed.

did he not pull away because his feelings for you were still there somewhere in the depts of him? or because he was so shocked that he was unable to think straight enough to pull away? honestly, he couldn’t tell.

but alas, he pushed you off. and all he could do was look at you, baffled, confused and feeling more lost than ever. “y/n…” he trailed off, watching as you stared back at him with wide eyes and red lips from the kiss, almost looking as if you were just as shocked as him.

“I’m… I’m happy now. without the drugs, without the alcohol, without the cigarettes. I’m with someone else now, y/n,” he mumbled quietly, hands still pressed against your shoulders as he stared at your plump lips in a flustered state. he sighed. “we can't be together, y/n. not like this.” he didn’t specify “like what”, but his eyes staring up and down your form clearly showed what he meant. you knew that already, but it still hurt you. it still hurt you that he’d moved on and you hadn't - that he was away from all of the things you now lived off of. it hurt you that he was able to find happiness without you.

he lifted your head up by your chin, and you hadn't even noticed that you were looking at the ground, and got to eye-level with you. his eyes were soft (when weren't they?) and this time, he looked like he was pleading, begging for you to hear him instead of denying him. “I want you to be happy, too. that’s why I’m trying to help you. if only you’d let me?”

your eyes dropped to the ground again, brows furrowing in thought. should you? should you let him into your heart again? into your shitty life? what if he just ended up leaving you again like he’d done before? breaking your heart into a million pieces this time instead of just two? you looked up at him again, biting down on your bottom as you made your final choice.

__________________________________

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[redrobin-detective]

The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death. 

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave. 

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air. 

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough. 

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die. 

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town. 

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper. 

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light. 

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally. 

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

 Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock. 

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

#danny phantom #my writing #i made a headcanon post and immeaditly said 'i have to write this' #and then I did #tw: suicide mention #there is a non described background death of an OC #opinions are like assholes #everyone has one #and *everyone* has an opinion on how phantom died #some are reasonably close and some are waaaay far off #but they wonder and gossip and argue when the kid cant hear #its human nature

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Song of a Mermaid Warrior pt 2

Part 2 to the mermaid story!

Decided to continue it, wanted to see where Jordan's story ends up.

You can read pt 1 here.

Enjoy!

___________________________

“Well, well, well! Never thought I’d see the mermaid herself swimming over to my fetid swamp here in the slums!”

A slim young man with bright purple hair grinned, flipping a silver coin into the air over and over without looking at it. “Thought you said you were never coming back? What, did your last book not sell as well now that you're peddling comforting little lies about your species?”

Jordan leaned against the doorframe of the dilapidated shop, wondering for the thousandth time if this was a bad idea. She knew the answer, deep down, but chose to ignore it. “Tock, cut the crap.”

“Oh sweetie, you haven’t changed. “ Tock laughed. “ I can cut the crap, but not sure what use it would be… crap is notoriously difficult to cut, tends to mush up, you know… and whose crap should be cut? Mine?” He shrugged. “ Sorry to say this body doesn’t make physical waste. What about yours?”

Jordan rubbed her forehead. “I should have known better than to do anything other than speak as literally as possible… I hate fairies.”

“You only know one fairy, darling.” Tock’s eyes blinked, the irises turning green, than orange, than staying at a robin’s egg blue. “Unfair of you to judge the whole species just because you don’t like me. Especially because I have been nothing but fair and helpful to you.”

“You tried to trick me into giving you my skin.”

“TRIED. Tried is the key word there. Plus you didn’t fall for it, so what’s the problem?”

Jordan sighed, knowing that there was never any point with arguing with Tock.

She had run into the fairy over two years ago. At that time she was frantic, trying to find Hunter’s location, and her desperation had led her to the darker corners of the city. She had spent every last coin she had, unable to eat or sleep, and at her darkest moment, she stumbled into Tock’s shop. Later Jordan had realized that it was likely that despair that had allowed her to find his place. There were magic wards to keep all but the most vulnerable out.

When they met, Tock had seen her madness, her obsession, and was ecstatic. He tried to get her to agree to many terrible deals in exchange for tracking down Hunter and after adding a small addendum she had agreed, feeling that whatever price she had to pay was worth it.

In the end, the addendum she had insisted on saved her skin, quite literally. She had added on a time limit that he had to track Hunter down and arrange a meeting. And to Tock’s shock and dismay, whatever elven magic was hiding Hunter’s identity; it was beyond the fairy’s ability to dismantle.

Tock had failed to find Hunter, and the contract expired. Jordan left, at the time feeling a strange mix of disappointment at the failure and gratitude to be still in one piece. As they parted ways, she swore never to come back to his broken place of deals with the devil.

Until today.

“So what brings you here, my lovely little fish?” Tock flipped his coin again, and it sizzled as it disappeared into thin air. “Still trying to find that stubborn elf boyfriend of yours?”

“He was just a friend, and no. I gave up on him years ago.”

Tock frowned, blinking as his eyes turned a bronze color. “Pity. Your skin has only gotten prettier since the last time I saw it… would love to find your price to part with it.”

“…” The memory of Hunter cheerfully making plans to run away with her still hung in her mind. What was it that he had said? “We might lose our clothes and money, but at least we’d have a fun story to tell”? We had no idea what real fairies were like. The ocean’s song in Jordan’s ears was rising, she kept her lips closed to hold back the seductive call of the magic. The fairy noticed her struggle, backing away slightly.

“Fine, fine, no more talk about your skin. Why are you mermaids so sensitive about losing organs?” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Mermaids regenerate, right? Or was that trolls?”

“Tock….” The name was forced out between clenched teeth.

The fairy rolled his eyes, changing them to a pure silver color. “So what deal DO you want to make today, my angry mermaid friend?”

She dug through her pocket handing over a silver badge with a handkerchief. Her touch shouldn’t affect his abilities, but Jordan still didn’t want to touch it. It represented something she had tried to move beyond in the last few years, a part of the past that caused her to wake up sobbing some nights, and to stay up drinking others.

Hunter had been her only friend, the only person in this world she thought she could trust. She had learned the hard way how foolish that trust had been. But once she had finally made peace with that fact, he had sent someone to intrude in her life once more. After forcing her to stay out of his battle, he was inviting her to join him, dangling the one thing he knew she couldn’t resist to get her to agree: the existence of other full blood mermaids.

She wasn’t going to play by his rules. If he was expecting her to run back to his side after forcing her away years ago, he would be sorely disappointed. And if she was going to use the clue he had given her, it was for her reasons and no one else’s. Because for everything he had gotten wrong, Hunter had gotten one thing very right:

She did want to find the mermaids in the city.

Not out of any sense of loyalty or need to find others like her, however. She was simply desperate. The instincts to fight and kill, to use her magic to trap and destroy, grew stronger by the day. Soon she was afraid she’d start killing innocent people. She needed to find a way to control it.

Jordan was hoping that other mermaids would know how.

Maybe other mermaids don’t have this problem. She thought at her darkest moments. Maybe I’m just a killer, a monster.

She tried not to think about that to often.

Tock gingerly picked up the badge, his eyes widening with surprise and turning a glowing violet.

“You always have the best things! Let’s see… silver… It was made several years ago… it had other forms years ago… but the owners of those items died quite violently…” He paused, glancing at her curiously. “Your handiwork, I would guess?”

“No comment.”

“Such an unfriendly fish… good thing you have such pretty skin, otherwise I wouldn’t pay you any attention.” He turned back towards the badge in his hand. “It was made with care and love… quite a pure emotion of care… along with a large amount of hope, all mixed in with the silver as it was reformed… it was part of a set?”

“Yes.” She swallowed uncomfortably, pushing back the memories of a young naïve girl, who thought herself hardened and bitter, carefully making a birthday present for her best friend.

“Can I see the other one?”

She thought of the location of the badge she had once treasured. “No.”

Tock pouted. “Fine. It contains quite a few auras, but the strongest one… is quite familiar.” His eyes turned a bright angry red. “Elf!”

“Yeah, it was Hunter’s.”

“That BASTARD! His blasted elf magic forced me to lose my contract with you!” He tossed the badge to the counter with a disgusted grimace. “You’ll never be that perfect combination of desperate and vulnerable again!” He looked back at me. “You are STILL trying to find that elf who dumped you three years ago? And I thought you had standards.”

The ocean song roared in her ears as it sensed her anger, pushing at her control, leaking from her lips. She could feel it swelling beneath her skin, threatening to force itself out. Tock rolled his eyes at the sight.

“Don’t try your battle magic here. You may be quite terrifying to meet in a dark alleyway, but I have some great wards in place.” He sneered as she kept her lips closed tightly. “Just a word of advice: Don’t face off a fairy in his own home.”

Jordan forced her magic down with great struggle, every instinct wanting to lash out. “I don’t want you to find Hunter. I want to know most frequent locations this amulet has been over the past six months.”

“And that’s not the same thing because…”

“Because it’s not him I’m wanting to find.” If he's found mermaids, then the locations he's been, the people he's spoken to... they'll be clues to track them down.

Tock raised an eyebrow. “Then what ARE you trying to find?”

“None of your business. I just need the locations this object has been most frequently.”

“Very well.” His smile became sly, his eyes shifting away from the angry red to a dark blue. “What deal shall we make for me to do this? How about your skin…”

The last word trailed off as Jordan held up a golden coin.

“…”

_________________________________

The silence in the room stretched on, as Tock’s gaze was locked on the object in her hand. His eye color was shifting rapidly, brown, grey, orange, green, before the whole eye filled with color finally turning a solid, glowing silver. His shoulders twitched, and his teeth grew longer in his mouth, the sharp points pressing into his still human appearing lips.

“Where did you get that?” His whisper had lost all of his previous joking tone. There was a small amount of magic woven into his words, a minor compelling spell to force her to speak, and speak truthfully. It buried itself in her ear, making her thoughts foggy. Jordan smiled, shaking her head as the ocean song within her rose in volume, drowning out the fairy magic easily, keeping her mind clear.

“I’ve picked up a lot of things these past few years.”

“ANSWER. THE. QUESTION.”

“No.” Jordan flipped the coin, mimicking the fairy’s earlier actions. “Don’t try your magic on me, fairy. I’ve had too many years of practice ignoring magical compulsions.”

“Fine.” He sighed loudly. “Do you know what it is you have there? Do you know if there’s any more?”

“I’ve heard stories… tales only whispered in dark alleys and in crumbling basements. Do you know in schools here they teach that the humans are the only ones affected by the Darkness? That losing the ability to have children was the be all and end all of the curse?”

“…” Tock kept silent, staring at her. Shrugging, she continued with a mocking smile.

“What a limited view, right? Turns out that everyone lost something to the Darkness. Every single one. It took whatever that species valued most. For humans, such a short-lived, social people, it was taking away the ability to make new generations. But fairies… you are born of magic and air, part of nature and outside of time. Procreation means nothing to you.” She flipped the coin up, letting it spin in the air before catching it and holding it firmly in her hand. “The Darkness took something much more important to you fairies.”

Tock was trembling at her words, unclear if it was with fear or anger. “What do you think the Darkness took from us?”

Jordan glanced at his empty back. “Your wings.”

“…” The fairy’s hands were gripping the counter in front of him. His fingers sank into the wood as easily as if it was made of clay.

“If it were just something to help you fly, I bet you would have simply made do without them. But they represent something much more important, don’t they?” She leaned closer, ignoring his threatening aura. “That’s where fairies store their magic. So now you have the live with the scraps of magic you absorb from the earth and enchanted items, unable to store it within yourself. That’s why you work here, in this pitiful little shop, unable to do more than hide behind these wards and peddle minor magic tricks for favors.”

“Be careful, mermaid…”

“Oh I’m careful enough, Tock.” She opened her hand and stared at the coin in her palm. “No wonder you wanted my skin… how much magic should be stored within it, I wonder. Enough to last you a few years I would think. Which is why this little coin is so important to you.”

“…”

“Fairy gold.” She held it up again. “Quite pretty, actually, looks like the real thing even on close inspection. But if I were to try to spend it… it would expel all the magic stored inside, turning to wood and taking away my lifetime’s luck. An inconvenience for me… but for you?” She grinned. “It stores enough magic for you to live comfortably for quite some time. You could leave this shop, set up protective wards wherever you ended up. Magic enough to stabilize your appearance so your eyes and ears don’t change; let you blend in if you wanted to leave your house for a change. “

“…”

“So what do you say, Tock.” Jordan flipped the coin one last time. “Do we have a deal?”

After a long pause, the fairy spoke up. “… I …”

“TOCK ARE YOU HERE?!!”

The shop door slammed open and a short redheaded young man burst in. As he rushed to the counter, Jordan got a closer look. He was a few inches shorter than her, his leaner frame still obviously muscular. His facial features were handsome, with bright green eyes that glowed with excitement and fiery red hair that was cropped short. He wore regular clothing, a grey t shirt and jeans, and would have seemed very average except for the massive axe strapped to his back.

Who the heck is this?

“Glit, this isn’t the time.” Tock warned, his tone still angry and tense.

“No, Tock, I’ve been thinking about it… maybe I SHOULD be willing to compromise… exactly how much skin would you need to help me find the dwarves?”

The fairy’s eyes glowed an excited gold, his teeth retracting once more as he stabilized his appearance. “Well now…”

“Add his bill to mine.” Jordan interrupted, glaring at Tock. “No skin.”

“But… that’s unfair! We already had a deal!”

“You didn’t accept it in time, so now the deal has changed. “ She shrugged “The price I’m offering is more than enough to cover us both. I would suggest you take the deal before it changes again.”

Tock glared. “FINE! FINE, I ACCEPT!”

The young man turned to her, shocked. She met his gaze, holding back the urge to sigh. Jordan wasn’t much one for random acts of kindness to strangers, but he reminded her of herself a few years ago. Lost, desperate… the only kind of people who can slip past Tock’s wards. She just wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to her interference… annoyance? Gratitude?’

He grinned at her. “You look really strong! Wanna fight?!”

… Well that certainly hadn’t been the reaction she was expecting.

“Maybe later…”

His shoulders slumped. “Dangit. I was losing hope of meeting a strong person in this awful city… no offense if you like it here.”

“None taken, I don’t.”

“I finally meet someone worthy of a good fight, and I make a terrible first impression.” He sighed. “My Ma always did say I needed to work on my introductions.”

“…And you are?”

His eyes widened. “I haven’t told you that yet?” His hand slapped his forehead. “Sorry, must have been distracted by the whole ‘trading my skin’ thing. I’m Glitenaere ni Tolk Vhelarite, firstborn of Marleiun ge Nerturin, the greatest Dwarven warrior alive… but you can call me Glit!”

She looked over the short young man. “You are the greatest warrior?”

“Nope. My Ma.”

“You’re a dwarf?”

“Since I was born.”

Jordan felt curious, having only ever read about dwarves from human textbooks, which said they were a reclusive, unfriendly race.

The reportedly unfriendly, reclusive dwarf was reaching out to shake her hand. “Thanks for the saving my skin, friend!”

She didn’t take his hand. “Shouldn’t you have a beard?”

Tock burst out into laughter, his eyes turning a humorous magenta. “Wow, way to go straight for the gut.”

“Aww, shut up fairy, she didn’t mean anything by it. Can’t blame her for not knowing in a city like this.” Glit leaned against the counter, rubbing his chin with an idle hand. “I’m a darkling, a child born infected by the Darkness.”

“Every race lost something.” Jordan whispered.

“Not everyone was infected, but those who were never grew beards.” He looked sad for a brief moment. “It’s a symbol of strength, of connection to the Earth… everything in our culture revolves around it.”

“What about the women?”

“Oh they grow them too. You should see my Ma. Her beard makes all the boys cry with jealousy.” Glit laughed. “They all thought with her being the strongest and all, her child would be too… but…”

“…Sorry.”

“Oh don’t worry, friend. I’m not weak. I may not have a connection with the earth and a powerful beard, but I’m a force to be reckoned with when I have an axe in my hand!”

Tock looked up, his eyes turning bright white. “You may have to test that out sooner rather than later. We have company.”

BANG! Something slammed into the closed door behind them.

_________________________________

Jordan took a defensive stance, while Glit drew his axe. “Who’s coming?”

“Probably one of those damn purity obsessed groups. They constantly sweep the slums, looking for low bloods and part elves. Usually the wards keep them away, but today, I got a little… distracted. “

“Great. Not really in the mood to deal with these guys, Tock.”

“They bad guys?” Glit spoke up.

“Yep.” Jordan answered softly. “They do horrible things to those who can’t defend themselves.”

“Fair enough. Today they picked on the wrong type of people, though.” Glit grinned. “Let’s kill them!”

His easy acceptance of the violence they would face ahead gave her a little pause. Before she could examine it too closely, the door crashed open, and a large group of men wearing black cloths around the lower halves of their faces rushed in. In their hands were standard pistols, the dull metal glinting off the many lamps of Tock’s shop.

“Looks like we got a haul, boys!” One of them spotted Glit and Jordan, his eyes widening with shock. “That short one definitely can’t be high purity… he’s either a low blood or a dirty elf mix blood! And the other…” He glanced and Jordan and laughed. “A No Blood? Thought they were all gone!”

Glit twirled the massive axe in his hand with ease, looking confused. “Do I look like an elf?”

Jordan thought of the tall quiet young man who had always followed behind her, always trying to avoid violence. “Not even a little.”

“Ah.” He tossed the axe lightly, catching it with the other hand. “Hey fellas, despite your insults and poor eyesight, I’m gonna be nice. Here’s your one chance to run away, before my strong friend and I start slicing you to pieces.”

Even with the majority of his face covered, the disdain on the attacker’s face was evident. “Shut up, dirty elf! Even with your axe, you really think you can face a group with guns?" He snorted, "Now we’re gonna have fun killing you.”

Glit just laughed at the threat. “I was hoping you guys would say that!”

As the group of attackers spread out around the room, he turned to face one side, leaving his back open to Jordan.

Jordan hesitated briefly at Glit’s open back, startled at the gesture of trust, before slowly turning to cover him. She glanced around to see that Tock had disappeared before closing her eyes, calling up the song within her and setting it free.

From her mouth a song of battle rang out. Several of the attackers stopped in their tracks, caught in her illusion, but the rest were only mildly affected, just barely losing their grips on their weapons.

Jordan cursed silently, still singing. Her magic was very effective against small groups of enemies, but the more people it was spread out against, the less useful it would be.

As the song of death spilled constantly from her lips, she felt her nails grow out into claws and moved forward, striking the attackers that were not incapacitated first. From the side she heard Glit run forward, spinning his axe, blood and tissue flying through the air as he cut through enemies.

Blood dripped from her fingers. She heard someone behind her, preparing to strike and turned, grabbing his neck. She felt the water within his heart, and used her magic to stop it in place. His face turned pale, and clutching his chest, he fell to the ground.

Jordan was feeling the drain of her magic. Her vision was turning a bright blue, the song growing in her mind, calling for her to give in completely.

BANG! A shot rang out past her ear, and sensing the danger, the song surged louder in her soul.

Can’t give up all control to my instincts. She thought grimly, slicing the shooter’s face. I might just lose myself completely.

It was hard, fighting against physical enemies while resisting the magical bind of her own blood, but Jordan forced herself forward, grateful for the help of the dwarf beside her. If she had faced all these enemies by herself, she might have lost to the bloodlust within her.

The air was filled with blood and screams.

And then… there was silence.

__________________________________

Jordan’s vision cleared as she forced the song of the ocean down, keeping it tightly controlled within herself. Her nails retracted and she stood in place, staring down at the blood on her hands.

Hunter always said he didn’t want me to be a killer. She closed her eyes briefly with pain. She felt dirty, worthless. Maybe if I wasn’t one he wouldn’t have left me behind.

Lost in her thoughts, she only came out of it as she felt a warm touch on her hands. Shocked, her eyes flew open, only to see Glit pushing a large wet cloth into her grasp.

“Here, friend, you can clean your hands with this.”

She paused, unused to the kindness, but took it anyways. “Thanks.”

“No problem! You’re amazing! That battle song… had magic in it right? Are you not human?”

“Mermaid.” The word came out before she could stop it, and Jordan pressed her lips together, annoyed. He’s a stranger. No need to tell him anything more. She tucked the dirty rag in her pocket, not wanting to give Tock a free sample of her blood.

“Really? I thought they had all disappeared!” Glit’s face lit up. “My Ma always said that the mermaids were the only warriors she wouldn’t want to face up against! That’s awesome!”

She glanced at the dismembered bodies on his side of the room. “You’re not such a bad fighter yourself.”

His smile brightened. “Really? Thanks! Those guys back home thought I was pretty useless, being a Darkling and all, but if a mermaid warrior says so, I’ll trust your opinion!”

“This is all very touching… but what am I supposed to do about the mess you made?” Tock’s annoyed tone caught their attention.

“We fought off your attackers while you hid in the back, fairy.” Jordan raised an eyebrow. “You can worry about the mess. You’re lucky we don’t charge you for the service.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Glit crossed his arms, standing at her shoulder, and smiled at Tock, the still bloody axe in his hand making the gesture threatening.

Tock rolled his now yellow eyes. “Fine. While you two were gleefully tearing those idiots to pieces, I finished the tasks you gave me.” He spread a map on the counter, ignoring as the far corner was stained with blood. Jordan recognized it as a map of the city. With a golden pen the fairy circled a few buildings. “Here’s where the amulet has spent the most time in the last six months, in order of most time spent.”

She glanced over at Glit beside her. “And the dwarves?”

“Tougher, since he doesn’t have a possession from the dwarves in question, but…” He picked up a silver marker, and circled one place. “There is a high concentration of earth magic here.”

Glit and Jordan stared at the spot, where silver and gold overlapped.

“Looks like me might be looking for the same place.” She whispered.

“Really? That’s great, friend!” He paused. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Jordan. But I don’t think we’re friends. I don’t trust anyone.” Not anymore.

“Jordan!” He grinned. “Don’t worry, we can still be friends. You don’t have to trust me. I’ll trust you enough for the both of us.”

Tock groaned. “You’re so naïve… why couldn’t you have shown up when the mermaid wasn’t around?! I could have extorted you for so much skin!”

Jordan grabbed the map silently, unsure of how to respond to the dwarf’s enthusiasm.

“If you’re going there, can we go together? I’m looking for a large group of dwarves that disappeared, we think they might be being held captive in the city.”

“…You really shouldn’t trust people so easily.” Her words came out as a pained whisper.

Glit’s face became solemn for the first time since they met. “It’s okay. I’ve grown up in a world that hates me. It’s not been easy, but over the years, I’ve developed a good sense of those around me, and what kind of people they are.”

“And kind of person do you think I am?” She was genuinely curious what the cheerful dwarf thought of her.

“You? Well, you’re someone who cares too much and wishes you wouldn’t. My guess is that you’ve been hurt very badly by someone you trusted… and now you would never wish that same pain on another person.” He shrugged. “So that’s why I trust you. You might kill me if you have to, but you’ll do it facing me. You won’t stab me in the back. You couldn’t bear to do that to someone after what you’ve been through.”

“Interesting opinion.” Jordan felt a strange mixture of despair and relief at his words. “Not put off by me killing men while they’re stunned by magic? That wasn’t just a fight…I’m a killer.”

“Hmm… well, I just chopped up six guys with an axe, and the only reason they didn’t shoot a bunch of holes in me is because of your magic, so I’m pretty sure I can’t judge.” Glit patted her on the back. “Are you looking for mermaids, like I’m looking for dwarves?”

She nodded silently, although silently she thought their reasons for looking were quite different.

“Then let’s go find our people together! You don’t have to trust your back to me, but don’t worry! I’ll defend it anyways.”

“Can you two leave?" Tock rubbed his face tiredly, his eyes flickering between purple and pink. "This touchy feely stuff is bad for my business. What if some desperate fool walks in and is inspired by all your motivational speaking?”

Jordan tossed him the fairy gold, taking back the silver badge she had given him, and turned and left the shop. “Never coming back, Tock.”

“Keep telling yourself that, my fishy friend!” He called back. “You’ll come back. They always do.”

“Okay then! See you later, Tock!” Glit called out as he walked behind her.

“…Actually, I would prefer it if YOU don’t come back. You give me a headache.”

Jordan and Glit left the carnage filled shop behind them

_________________________________

“So mermaids and dwarves being held in the center of the city.” Glit thought out loud. “Some sort of human conspiracy?”

Jordan thought of growing up in the orphanage, the city’s emphasis on having higher purity of mermaid blood rather than human, the complete lack of information on other races. She thought of Hunter and the underground Resistance. Of the Darkness that spread everywhere, touching every species.

Everyone lost something to the darkness, right?

So what did mermaids lose?

... What did I lose?

“There’s something broken about this world, more going on here then we realize.” Jordan answered softly. “But we’re going to figure it out.”

“Together?”

“For now.”

“Awesome!” He pumped a fist in the air. “Wait until I tell my Ma I went on a quest with a mermaid warrior. She’s gonna be so impressed!” He paused. “You two would get along, I think. Strong warrior types and all.”

Jordan sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Why does everyone keep sighing around me?”

“… Let’s go. “

_________________________________

They moved quietly towards the place marked on the map. Glit, surprisingly, activated a hidden mechanism on his axe, folding it into thirds and hiding it in a backpack, and pinned on a “34” badge. He saw her glance at the silver ornament and shrugged. “Snatched this off some guy who tried to mug me when I arrived in town. Most people think I’m just a low purity level student when I’m dressed like this .”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“…” Older than me? Jordan adjusted her mental view of him silently.

“Don’t worry if you thought I was younger.” He raised his hands helplessly. “No beard and the dwarven height tends to confuse people.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries, as long as you don’t think I’m weak and helpless just because I’m shorter than you.”

She thought of him cutting through enemies with his axe. “No chance of that.”

They made they way to the abandoned factory that Tock had marked for them. As they neared the area, Glit pulled out a machine from his bag waving it through the air.

“What’s that?”

“Dwarven machine, it detects the presence of magic.” He frowned. “We need to be careful. This whole place is covered with spells.”

“If this was a human holding place…”

“It shouldn’t have magic.” He finished her thought. “Maybe go up to the roof and enter from there instead?”

They scaled the wall silently, cutting a small hole in the roof with yet another tool from Glit’s bag. As she peered into the building, she felt the ocean’s song start welling up within her.

“There’s danger here. We should go back and regroup.”

“Jordan, look out!” Glit pushed her to the side, wincing as the blow from behind her struck his head instead.

Jordan opened her mouth to release her magic, but before a sound could escape, a hand grasped her arm and magic flooded her body.

“Sleep.” The voice was familiar, but her mind was already falling into darkness.

Jordan woke up on a couch in a dark room. Groaning, she rubbed her head, feeling angry. She knew this feeling, this hung over dizzy sensation. Remembered it too clearly even though she wished she could forget.

“Elven magic.”

Glit groaned from his sprawled position in the corner of the room, his arms and legs tied tightly. The ropes dug into his skin, but he ignored it as he flipped his body into a sitting position on the floor, looking up at her with a sad expression. “Sorry I missed them behind us.”

“It’s fine, thanks for taking that hit for me.” She glanced at the wound on his head, crusted with dried blood, and winced. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a friendly tap. I’ve got a hard head.” He grinned, then looked around. “Real question is, who has us, and why?”

“I have an idea... but I really hope I’m not right.”

“You always did have good instincts, Jordan.”

The familiar voice spoke up from the doorway, Jordan forced herself to sit up on the couch, staring at their captor with a pained expression.

She knew him.

Of course she knew him.

He had set his trap, sent her his badge, knowing she would use it… and she had fallen for it.

The man who haunted her nightmares smiled sadly at her. “Not happy to see me?”

She blinked, shaking her head slowly. “Hello again, Hunter.”

#writing #fantasy #violence #elves #mermaids #dwarves #fairies #apocalypse #action #part 2 is here! #Will answer asks with next pfts part

[onecanonlife]

Wilbur has never had wings. He has long since resigned himself to that fact. However much of his father's blood runs through his veins, it is not enough to grant him that gift.

Wilbur comes back to life, and his back begins to ache.

(word count: 6,141)

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

It’s stupid, but when his back first begins to ache, he assumes it’s old age.

The thing is that he doesn’t have any real frame of reference for what constitutes as old and what does not. His father is old, but his father has lived for literally thousands of years. Technoblade is not quite so old as that, but Technoblade never dies is more than just a catchphrase. Tommy is young, he’s sure of that much, but Tommy has days where he wakes up and his head and ribs won’t stop aching, remnants of that third death that have never quite left him, so Tommy is perhaps not the best gauge of what pains are and are not normal for a young person.

Wilbur doesn’t think that he’s particularly old. He’s still not yet thirty, unless he counts the void years. Then, he’s older than thirty. Then, he’s older than his own bones. He tries not to dwell on the void years, because dwelling on the void years gives him urges that he’s still learning how to ignore. Urges like informing everyone gaily and at length when the inevitable heat death of the universe will be, or giving everyone a graphic description of what happens at a microscopic level in the human body when it picks up a stomach bug.

The point is, he’s not very old. But he feels it, a lot of the time, so when he wakes up one morning and his back is killing him, he shrugs it off and goes about his day. It hurts, sure. It hurts kind of a lot. But he’s had worse. The void took him apart molecule by molecule and put him back together again so many times that he learned to love it, and compared to that, this is nothing at all.

Life in the Arctic has been—nice. It’s been nice, reconnecting with Phil, cautiously rebuilding his relationship with Technoblade. Tommy comes to visit a lot, and it’s odd, trying to juggle the kid he thinks of as a brother with his father and his father’s best friend, especially when there’s so much bad blood between the lot of them, but they make it work. And Ranboo is around a lot, and he’s a nice kid, and Niki stops by every so often, and it’s good to see her. No one else is very interested in coming to visit him, which is understandable, but she always smiles at him, and he knows that they’re still friends. Which is good.

He’s fairly sure that the four of them, Phil and Techno and Niki and Ranboo, have some sort of secret club thing going on. They always give him different answers when he asks about it; Niki blinks and tells him it’s a book club, and Ranboo does not blink because he does not have eyelids, but Ranboo claims that it’s a pet grooming society. So they’re lying to him for sure, and he thinks he could know the truth if he wanted to, if he tapped in just a bit more to those bits of void that have nestled in his heart. The temptation is strong, sometimes, but he resists.

He doesn’t want to mess with a good thing, is all. He’s found a peace here in the snow that he didn’t think he would be able to find outside of the grave. He is hesitant to call himself healing, but most days, when his head cries out for blood and fire and burning the world and himself along with it, he can push the idea away and carry on without trying to act on it. That is healing, perhaps.

Captain Puffy tells him it is, anyway, and he’s found that Captain Puffy tends to know what she’s talking about.

But so. His back hurts. And he expects it to stop after a while, because even old person aches surely can’t last forever. Except, it doesn’t, and in fact seems to only get worse over the next few days, to the point that he starts to worry that it’s going to begin interfering with his functionality. Which he doesn’t want. He needs freedom, freedom to go where he wants, even if where he wants to go usually isn’t very far. It’s the principle of the thing. He does not do well with confinement, with spaces that are too enclosed, and if this pain ends up laying him out in his room, he’s going to go insane.

Poor choice of words, that. But the point still stands, so he makes a decision. The decision is this: he’s simply not going to allow that to happen.

So he slaps a smile on his face and carries on with his business, and does his best to ignore the way his spine starts to feel like it’s cracking open and stabbing into the surrounding muscle. And he is a very good actor, if he does say so himself, so for the most part, no one seems to notice that anything is wrong. Phil asks him if he’s feeling alright, but he’s able to deflect by claiming fatigue, and Phil accepts the explanation easily. And the pain only increases, does not let up at all, but it’s a gradual sort of increase, so before too long, he figures out how to adjust to it. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

And then Tommy stops by for a visit, and they’re chatting outside for a moment, and Tommy says something stupid and ridiculous, so he smacks him gently upside the head, which Tommy takes objection to. And then they’re wrestling, which makes the pain flare a bit, but it’s manageable, especially since he gets Tommy pinned in about four seconds flat, which. Is concerning, a bit, because he is not particularly strong, physically, so if he can pin Tommy, there are a lot of other people who could also definitely pin Tommy.

But he’s probably not thinking about it the right way. This was a play fight, not a real one, and it’s difficult, sometimes, to remember that the server is currently at peace.

He pins Tommy, both of them panting and grinning in the snow, and he doesn’t let up until Tommy admits defeat. And then he gets to his feet, and here is where he makes the error: he turns his back.

The snowball impacts him right between his shoulder blades. He stumbles forward with the force of it, and his knees hit the snow.

Tommy is already cackling, is calling him a bitch. Wilbur barely has time to think oh, shit before something spasms, and it’s like something has taken a knife to him from the inside out. He hears a strangled little scream, choked and agonized, and barely recognizes the fact that it’s coming from him, because black spots are dancing across his vision and his lungs aren’t inflating properly and he can hardly think.

“Oh, come on,” Tommy says, a wide smile still in his voice. “Don’t be such a pussy. I didn’t even pack any ice in.”

He can’t reply. The agony is centered where the snowball hit, but it’s radiating outward, and the whole of his back feels like it’s burning and freezing all at once, and he shudders violently, breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He clenches his fists, braces them against his thighs, pressing down hard enough to leave bruises.

“Wilbur?” Tommy asks, more uncertain. And then, Tommy is there, kneeling down in front of him, and his face goes all wide and panicky. “Wilbur? Holy shit, are you dying? Are you having a heart attack? A stroke? Are you freezing to death? Have I just killed you with a snowball? You’ve got three lives again, right? Where are you hurt, Wil, come one, you’ve got to tell me, you’ve gotta tell me so I can fix it, are you—”

“My back,” he manages, “my back’s been—my back’s been hurting, it wasn’t your fault, it’s just—” He cuts off with another gasp as all the muscles in his back convulse, tensing and untensing and tensing again and sending a wave of stabbing pain through his nerves.

“Oh, Prime,” Tommy says, “oh, Prime, alright, you’re gonna be fine, big man, let’s just get you inside, alright? Can you walk? Nevermind, just—” Tommy hooks his hands underneath his arms and hauls him to his feet, slinging one of his arms across his shoulders as soon as he can get them in the right position. He lets out a little whimper, and hates himself for doing so, just a little bit, but fuck, that hurts.

The stairs are a trial. His feet drag, and he would trip and fall flat on his face if it weren’t for Tommy. But then, they’re inside Phil’s house, and Tommy sits him down on Phil’s ratty little couch, and he immediately curls in on himself, hands gripping his forearms as if the pain will go away if he hugs himself hard enough.

“Okay, shirt off, Wil, let me see,” Tommy says, and he blinks dumbly for a moment.

“What?” he asks, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

“No, just—you’ve got to let me see what’s wrong, yeah?”

“‘S old man aches,” he mumbles, but doesn’t try to fight it when Tommy begins manhandling his arms, pushing at his coat sleeves.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy demands. “You’re not that old. Who do you think you are, Philza fucking Minecraft? Come on, just let me see—” He finally manages to get the coat off, and then the shirt, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh as it’s exposed to the air. Tommy freezes.

“What?” he asks. “What is it, what’s—”

“I don’t,” Tommy says, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t, Wilbur, I don’t know what this is, I don’t—holy shit, that’s actually kind of scary. Um! No, nevermind, don’t pay attention to me, just keep um, breathing! Breathing is good! Breathing exercises!” He breathes in and out, loud and exaggerated. “See, just like that. I’m just gonna—”

And he puts a hand out, and before Wilbur can stop him, he rests it on his back. Light and cautious, but still too much, and Wilbur stuffs a fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming. In the same motion, he flinches away, violently, but the damage has already been done. Because the contact hurts, a lot, but what’s worse is the horror, because in the split second that Tommy’s hand touched his skin, he could feel the way that it is wrong, that his back is wrong, that there is something terribly wrong. Because there are ridges protruding from his back, long and thick and raised, and it’s wrong and it hurts and Tommy’s right, actually, this is scary, he’s fucking scared.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tommy is saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I won’t do that again, I’m so sorry, Wilbur, are you okay? Please be okay, please—”

He nods, though it’s more like he lets his head fall and then painstakingly brings it back up a little.

“Okay, I think we need—” Tommy says. “I think that I don’t know what to do, so I think we need—” He takes a deep breath. “Phil! Phil!” Loud, panicked, earsplitting. Wilbur winces. “Phil! He is home, isn’t he? Phil!”

A second passes, and then, drifting up from the basement, a distant, “Tommy? Everything good?”

“Phil, get up here right fucking now!”

There is a beat of silence, and then there are footsteps, quiet at first but growing closer, and they are quick, hurried. Phil must have detected the genuine fear in Tommy’s voice, because Tommy and Phil generally stand on very shaky ground with each other, so while Phil will typically indulge Tommy in his whims, it depends on the day as to how far he’ll go, how quick he’ll respond. But it’s only a moment or two before Phil’s head pokes out of the floor, his hands clinging to the ladder, his face twisted in confusion.

“What on earth is the matter?” he asks, and then breaks off as his eyes land on Wilbur, who—he must be a sight. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. But terror flashes across Phil’s face, and he is crossing the floor in an instant, hands hovering over him, fluttering helplessly, though thankfully, he doesn’t touch.

“What’s wrong, where are you hurt, what—” The words come out in a jumbled flurry, but he stops just as abruptly, and Wilbur knows that he is looking at the horror show that is his back.

“It hurts, Phil,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Phil says, sounding—still concerned, but perhaps marginally calmer? “Okay, you’re going to be alright. I think I know what this is.” He settles himself on the couch right next to him and opens his arms, and Wilbur doesn’t hesitate before leaning forward, slumping against him. Phil seems to know better than to put any kind of pressure on his back, and instead places one hand on his arm and the other on the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Tommy demands.

“Tommy, I need you to run over to Techno’s and ask him for something for pain, and something for sleep. Can you do that for me?” Phil asks instead of answering, and perhaps Wilbur should be terrified by the implication that he’s going to need either of those things, but the promise of some kind of relief overrides any kind of trepidation.

“Like fuck I will,” Tommy says, “Not before you tell me what the fuck is wrong with him!”

Another convulsion wracks him. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, and tastes blood. His breath is hitching, and he can’t stop it.

“Tommy.” Phil’s voice is sharp, but then, Wilbur feels rather than hears him sigh. “It’s wings, I think. I don’t understand why now, but I went through this a long time ago, when I was very young. I recognize the signs. So Tommy, please.”

Tommy makes a surprised little sound. Wilbur isn’t looking, has his face buried in Phil’s shoulder, but he can imagine the look on his face: the slack jaw, the wide open eyes. And then, there are rushed footsteps retreating, and the door slamming, and Tommy’s muffled voice calling out for Technoblade.

And then, Wilbur processes what Phil just said.

He twists his head around so he can see his face, regretting it a moment later. Any kind of movement seems to make the pain worse, and he has to take a moment to tremble through it.

“Wings?” he whispers. “How?”

He’s never had wings.

If he were going to have wings, he would have gotten them a long time ago. He remembers nights spent as a child, staying up and hoping for feathered appendages to somehow miraculously appear on his back, just so he could be more like his dad. He remembers the crushing disappointment when he finally accepted that no matter how much divine blood runs in his veins, it is apparently not enough.

But he did accept it. He accepted it years ago. There is absolutely no reason for him to be developing wings now, as a fully-grown adult, but Phil sounds so very sure, and his back hurts so very much, and perhaps that’s consistent with actual appendages trying to sprout out of him.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “I’ve never heard of it happening so late, even in avians. Which, I’m not exactly, but I got mine when I was a kid like they do, and I don’t—I don’t know, Wil, I really don’t, but I remember what it was like, yeah? I know what to do. It’s gonna suck for a little while, but you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he croaks, “okay—” and then he has to stop talking, because the pain flares again, bright and intense and holy shit, but it’s worse this time, because now that he knows what’s going on, he can feel them. He can feel things inside of him, pushing against his muscles and his skin in ways that absolutely should not be possible, and there is too much of him to be contained in his body, and there are things inside of him trying to escape—

It’s almost like the way he gets when he thinks about the void too hard. Except not, because when he does that, he feels the urge to dissolve away, gently and peacefully, to let himself back into the quiet that is not quiet and the darkness that is not dark, where all the knowledge of the world is at his fingertips, too much for a mortal brain to contain and remain sane. That is not this. This is his own body trying to explode. There is no peace, no dissolution; it’s messy and physical and Prime he just wants it to stop.

He shifts in Phil’s grasp, fruitlessly trying to find a position that takes the pressure off, a little bit. It’s no use, of course, because he can still feel something moving under the skin of his back, and his vision whites out, and when he comes back to himself, he’s shivering, shivering and shaking and sobbing in Phil’s hold, and he doesn’t remember when he started crying but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Phil is keeping up a steady stream of soothing nonsense, and he latches onto the sound of his voice like it’s the only lifeline he has.

And then the door bursts open, and Wilbur doesn’t bother trying to look, but there are two sets of footsteps, not just one.

“Here,” Tommy says, panting, and there are several thumps, and several clinks, glass on glass.

“Oh god, don’t—and he’s doing it, he’s just dumping all of that on the floor. Don’t break those, Tommy, those aren’t splash pots. Have you never handled a potion before.” Technoblade pauses for a moment. “So, what exactly’s wrong with him? The child was making no sense at all.”

Wilbur thinks he detects a note of concern. But he’s not thinking clearly, and it’s always hard to tell anyway, with Technoblade.

“He’s got wings growing in,” Phil responds, voice clipped. Wilbur feels his hand leave his arm, and he whines at the loss of touch. And then another spasm, and he whines again, pressing his face harder into Phil’s shirt.

“Oh. Huh. Yes, that makes perfect sense, of course.”

Phil’s arm dips a bit, and Wilbur finds himself being moved, his head gently tilted back. Phil’s face comes into view, pale and blurry.

“You want to drink this for me, Wil?” he says, and then there is glass at his lips, and he parts them immediately. He doesn’t like being knocked out, doesn’t like the loss of control that comes with it, but if he has to be aware for another five minutes, he’s not going to be able to keep himself from screaming aloud.

He swallows, grimacing at the taste. The effects start hitting right away. His mind detaches from himself, and the pain drains from him. Every muscle goes lax.

He exhales.

“There we go,” Phil murmurs, “there we go. It’s gonna be alright, Wil. I’ll be here the whole time. You’re gonna be okay.”

The world falls away. He lets it. He trusts his father to catch him.

----------

He wakes up a few times, and each time, it hurts. Phil is always there, and usually, Tommy too, and sometimes Techno, and he can barely move but they always see that he’s awake, and they give him a potion and he’s under again, and he’s glad for it, because those moments of consciousness are a spiral of pain and confusion and his thoughts flying apart because he barely understands what’s going on or why he’s hurting and he just wants it to go away.

And then there is the time he wakes up and he thinks somebody is cutting his back open, and he can feel his own blood on his skin, sticky and hot, and he thrashes, trying to get away, and that makes the pain so much worse, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is inhuman, and he fights until a potion is poured down his throat and it’s back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and people are talking in low, hushed tones. He can’t make out what they’re saying. He cracks his eyes open, and it’s Phil and Technoblade, deep in some discussion, both looking terribly concerned. He decides he’ll ask what’s wrong later, and then closes his eyes and goes back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and some part of him is moving, and he doesn’t understand what it is because it’s not any of his limbs, not his arms and not his legs, and it feels alien and foreign and his back feels like it’s been shoved under a woodchipper and then tossed through a paper shredder for good measure, and he’s not aware enough to know why, so he panics. There is a bit of the void that still dwells in his heart, and he calls on it, cries out to it, and it answers, comes rushing in around him, and his mind expands to peer into galaxies.

Philza is at his side a moment later, and he is able to look at him and see all the weight of years that lie behind his eyes, and all the years that lie ahead of him, and the moment of his death, all spiraling out like a tapestry and like a mass, and the music is atonal, confused, but a closer glance reveals it to be twelve-tone, order in the chaotic lines. Wilbur is with the void again, and his heart still beats, but it’s a near thing, and he could stop it if he chose.

“Do you want to know, Philza?” he asks, words spilling from his lips like rain, like the river, like the flood. “Do you want to know when it will happen? I can see it. I can see how some part of you wants it. All our histories are like tangled up threads, but they all come to an end, and I can see those endings, Philza, I can tell you about them if you like.”

Pain constricts Philza’s face, and Wilbur doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who wouldn’t love the void and its peace and its everything.

“I know, Wilbur,” Philza says, “I know, but how about you come back to me now, okay? Come back to me?”

“We’re all little bits of code, Philza,” he informs him. “None of us are real. We’re little bits of code and words on a page and lines in a script written by our better selves. Nothing in this world really matters. We might as well have all the fun we can before the lights go out. Do you want to know when that will be, Philza? Not too long after you, Philza. Not too long at all. I told Tommy, he knows, he didn’t want to know but that’s alright, he’s better off for it, if he hasn’t forgotten.”

“Come back, Wil, come on,” Philza says, “you can do it. You’ve got a heartbeat, do you feel it?”

Philza takes his hand and places it over his heart, and—that’s right. He’s alive. He’d forgotten. The void spins, and then it tucks itself away again, waiting for the next moment he needs it, and he is left with only vague impressions of what he’s just said and a vague idea that everything hurts and something is wrong with his back and he’d like to go to sleep now, please.

“Alright, yeah,” Phil says, “here, you can have this, you can sleep. You’re doing so well, Wil, I promise it’s almost done.”

He takes the potion. Or tries to; Phil has to hold it for him.

“Okay,” he says faintly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he hears Phil say, very far away. “So long as you come back, everything’s okay.”

He goes back to sleep again. He thinks he wakes up a few more times, but he doesn’t really remember. He doesn’t really want to.

----------

And then: awareness.

The first thing he processes is that everything aches, deeply and acutely, but none of it feels nearly as bad as it did before, and not even as bad as it’s been over the past couple of weeks. It’s irritating, painful, but more than manageable, really, practically a relief. The second thing he processes is that he’s lying on his stomach, and that there is something weighing him down.

His mind puzzles over this for a moment. He tries to roll over, to see what’s going on, but something stops him, and then he remembers: wings.

He’s got wings. There are wings on his back. Growing out of him. A part of his body. Wings.

As soon as he realizes that, he becomes aware of them. And it is so very strange, to suddenly have access to two extra limbs, to suddenly have additional body parts to move about and control. It’s a feeling impossible to describe, and he has to take several minutes to process it, to try to become accustomed to it. It doesn’t really work, but he tries moving them anyway, just a bit of a flex, and—

Ouch.

He groans, shoving his face into the pillow. A mistake. That was a mistake. He’d rather like to go back to sleep now and pretend that none of this is happening.

But his vocalization draws attention, and then there is a hand on his shoulder, gently brushing him just enough to feel, not enough to pain him. He turns his head to the side, reluctantly, and Phil is kneeling beside him, his face open and soft and clearly relieved, his lips curling into a slight smile.

“Hey,” he says. “How you feeling, Wil?”

He considers this, and decides on honesty. “Bit like I’ve been caught between a piston and a wall for the past couple of days,” he admits. “Better than before, though.”

“Good to hear,” Phil says, and then his face goes a bit more serious. “How much of that do you remember?”

“Not much?” he says. “I don’t think? Impressions, I guess. I know I wasn’t having a good time. I’m glad I don’t remember it too clearly. I was out for most of it, yeah?”

“Most of it,” Phil agrees, and Wilbur thinks that perhaps there is something he’s not saying, but he doesn’t feel like pressing the matter. He can guess what it is, anyway; there is a chill in his chest, and his thoughts feel just slightly more fractured than usual, so it’s not hard to assume what might have happened. Not hard to assume where he might have gone. He’s sure he’ll feel terrible about it when everything stops feeling so surreal.

He has wings.

“It’s over now?” he asks, and winces at the way his voice cracks. “It’s done?”

Phil’s eyes do the thing where they go immeasurably soft and crinkly at the edges, and it’s love and relief and sadness all at once. “It’s done,” he agrees, and then hesitates. “You’re not gonna be able to fly on them for a while, but would you like to see?”

He doesn’t understand why Phil is being so cautious about it. Of course he wants to see. If he’s going to be put through hell, he wants to see what came of it. He wants it to be worth it.

“Usually, when wings grow in, they’re all downy and shit. Like a baby bird,” Phil says, probably in response to whatever face he’s sure he’s making. “Flight feathers come in over the next few weeks.” He pauses again, and Wilbur thinks he understands his reticence, now, understands the still-present concern.

“But that’s not what happened with mine,” he states, and Phil shakes his head.

“Yours are fully fledged,” he says. “Probably part of why it hurt so much. I don’t know why, Wil. But do you wanna have a look?”

Wordless, he nods, and Phil takes that as his cue to reach out and help him sit upright. It’s far more effort than it should be, compounded by the fact that his sense of balance feels all wrong, and that’s going to take some getting used to, he can already tell. And he’s sore, like he’s run a marathon or fought another half dozen wars all in one go, and his head spins a little bit when he finally situates himself. He closes his eyes against it, breathing in sharply.

He feels Phil guiding his wings forward, into his field of vision. He opens his eyes.

They are very big, is the first thing he notices. They would have to be, of course, to hold his weight up. Magic and suspension of disbelief only stretches so far. They are very large, and the feathers are very large, and they are very angular and neat as well, so neat that someone has to have arranged them while he was unconscious, because there’s no way that they came out looking like that.

The color, though. The color. He swallows, hard.

They are black, perhaps. They look black. But he knows on an instinctive level that they are black in the same way that the void is black, and that if someone were to stare at them for too long, they would realize as much, would realize that actually, they are not black at all, but rather some color or some lack of color that is beyond human comprehension. The void translates as black to the human mind because it is as close as the human mind can get to true perception, and most of the time, Wilbur remembers it as black, but it was not, and his wings are not, and he is never going to be free of it, is he?

On some level, he knew that. Knew that the void is in him and about him, and no matter what he does, it will never leave him completely, not after all the years he spent with it, intertwined with the infinite nothing. But now he has wings on his back, and they should be a connection between him and Phil, should be something to celebrate, but he stares at the plumage and feels sick to his stomach.

“Wil?” Phil asks. He sounds confused, sounds worried by his reaction. “You okay, mate?”

He’s not sure how to phrase this in a way that Phil will understand. Not sure that he wants to.

“Void,” he manages, voice a broken whisper. “They look like void, Phil.”

He looks up just in time to see Phil’s face crumple.

“Wil—”

“They look just like it, Phil,” he continues. “Just like it. And I know I’m not always good about, about being here, about keeping myself stable, but I’m trying. I try to ignore it when it calls, I try not to reach out to it, and when I fail, I, I try to come back, I do, I swear. I can’t—I can’t have these, Phil, they’re from it, that’s why I’m getting them now, maybe it triggered something, I don’t know, but I can’t, Phil, I can’t—”

He reaches out toward them, intending to do—something, maybe, and Phil must have a better idea than he does, because his hand darts out and snags his, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, Wil, don’t do that, okay? We can work on it, we’ll figure it out, but please don’t—”

“You’re up!”

He and Phil both freeze, and as one, look to the door. Tommy is standing there, grinning like nobody’s business, and Technoblade is lurking behind him, his face contorted into an expression that looks like he wants to murder someone but really just means he’s feeling very awkward.

Tommy glances back and forth between the two of him, and his face slowly falls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Nothing—I mean, it all went right, didn’t it?”

He blinks. Tilts his head slightly. Gently removes his hand from Phil’s grasp, and then spreads out his wings behind him, putting them on full display, as far out as he can make them go, and it aches and he’s not going to be able to hold them there for long, but it’s worth it. He wants Tommy to see. Because Tommy will know. Tommy remembers. And unlike him, Tommy hates to remember. Tommy hates the void. So perhaps this is an act of self-sabotage. That’s what Captain Puffy would say. But he does it anyway, because he wants someone else to see and understand, understand in a way he knows Phil won’t be able to.

“I’ve got void wings, Tommy,” he says, and a smile splits his face. “See them?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he flinches.

Gratification is not nearly as sweet as he thought it would be. Actually, he just sort of feels like crying.

But then, Tommy’s brows draw together. And he steps further into the room, coming closer and closer until he’s standing right up against the bed, staring at the feathers. Wilbur holds himself very still.

“I see,” Tommy says slowly, “but Wilbur, I’m not sure you do.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and cranes his neck to try to see whatever Tommy’s looking at. For a moment, he doesn’t; there’s just the feathers, void feathers, death feathers, a reminder that—

But arctic sunlight slants through the window, and if he shifts his angle just a little bit—

The noise that escapes him is small and involuntary. He hopes no one calls him on it, but that’s the least of his concerns right now. Because the colors do not change, not exactly, but if he holds them to the light, the sun illuminates the feathers, haloing their edges in gold, and there is a sheen of color running across them, a sheen that ripples and moves as he shifts them in the sunbeam, and it is a beautiful, rich blue.

And they’re lovely.

“Oh,” he says, and Tommy laughs at him, the fucking gremlin.

“Yeah, fucking oh,” he says. “You’re such a moron. They’re so fucking ace, Wilbur.”

“I think that maybe you need to work on rememberin’,” Technoblade says from the doorway, “that you’re the sum of all your experiences, and not just one.”

Wilbur stares at him.

“Oh my god,” he finally says. “That’s so cheesy. Who the hell are you and what have you done with Technoblade?”

“Alright,” Techno grumbles, “see if I do anythin’ nice for you ever again. I didn’t come up here to receive this kind of treatment. This is an outrage.”

He laughs. He laughs, from the sheer relief of it, and his trepidation is melting away like snow in the sunshine, and he can allow himself to revel in it, to revel in the wings on his back, and he is sore and tired but this is what glory feels like, maybe, and perhaps he can fly into the air and there will be no wax to drip away.

Perhaps these wings are of the void, but they are of him, too.

And he looks to Phil again, and Phil is smiling at him, warm and happy. His own wings are flared out behind him, tattered at the edges, so many feathers torn or still missing entirely, and the more time that passes, the more and more likely it is that those feathers are never going to grow back, that Phil truly will never fly again. Phil has already resigned himself to it, he knows, but Wilbur has never given up hope, will never be able to bring himself to give up hope.

“It’s not fair that I can fly when you can’t,” he says quietly, and the room goes still and quiet. Especially when it’s my fault, he doesn’t say, though he knows everyone hears it.

“Wil,” Phil says, “nothing could bring me more joy than this.”

And Wilbur hears what he means: you, here.

So he flexes his wings and revels in the ache and revels in the sunshine and revels at his family, here, his father sitting by him and his friend-protege-brother poking at curiously at his feathers and Technoblade still in the doorway, not leaving even for all his grumbling. He revels in this, revels in this life, and for a time, the void recedes entirely.

And in its wake is the sunlight.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #philza #tommyinnit #technoblade #alivebur #/rp #wingfic time babyyy #listen i am simply of the opinion that there should be more c!wilbur-centric wingfics #i am here to provide #cat writes fic #long post #cw blood #cw swearing #cw unreality #cw body horror #probably

[twinklelilstarkey]

I absolutely LOVE your GoodGirlxBadGuy!Rafe and I have to ask. I would love love love if you could do something with JJ again, but like where the Good Girl asks Rafe to back down/do something for her & he does it & all of his friends or whoever is there is like woah. Sorry if this literally makes no sense. You do whatever you want with this. I don’t really know what I’m asking for, but you’re the bomb so I have faith you’ll make it amazing

A/N.: You absolutely do not need to worry about making sense in this blog. I will not ever judge anyone by what they write to me. I know how confusing it is to ask someone for a request, I’ve been there.

Soft [Part 1] - Rafe Cameron

Words: 3.6k+

Type: Fluff & Angst

Warnings: Swearing. Female!Reader. Rafe vs JJ. Annoying as all hell non canon JJ. Sorry, it had to happen. Bad boy x Good Girl trope.

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

You should read this before reading this imagine just for some context. 

Part 2

Today is a beach day. Something you can never get enough off. Especially with your friends.

Rafe, like every other day of summer break, has only been able to get out of bed after midday, so let’s just say that you’re a little late. 

All because, Mister Cameron thought yesterday was a good night to play COD with Topper and Kelce until 5.

You have been awake since at least 10am, and Rafe only let you get off bed at 10:30. His arms are like complete iron around you when in bed. It’s almost impossible to get out of there. “Almost” being the keyword.

You had your breakfast, put on your bikini/bathing suit and waited around the house for Rafe to get off his ass and start getting ready to leave. 

You did try to pull him out of bed but to no avail, that man did not move a muscle.

And when he was out of bed, the clingiest person ever. You could be screaming in his ear that he needs to go get ready, since your friends are already waiting for him, but he does not even flinch.

Walking around your house with only boxers on, whining about not knowing what he wants for breakfast and then grabbing you out of nowhere and throwing onto the couch “to cuddle”, as he had said.

Your phone was already blowing up with messages from his and your friends, because they were already at the beach waiting since 11am. 

An hour as passed and you’re only walking to the beach now. How amazing.

Rafe is not even half awake yet. Dark sun glasses hide his half open eyes, heavy with sleep, and you’re almost dragging him down the dirt path so he doesn’t fall to the side.

“You’re unbelievable” You giggle as he sighs dramatically at how much you still have to walk.

The walk wasn’t as bad as he thought. It just took you less than 5 minutes to get to your friends. But that isn’t going to make him stop whining about how tired he is.

“Look who decided to show up” Topper screams from the towels, drink on his hand, “What’s wrong with him?”

“I’m tired, leave me alone” He groans at his best friend, who completely ignored him.

You all walk closer to everyone’s towels. Your friends are all sun bathing, sitting up to greet you and Rafe, while his, are all at the water.

You give Rafe his towel and he’s quick to lay it on the ground and lay down, probably planning to go back to sleep as soon as he rested his head over the sad. 

You, on the other end, took your sweet time with your towel and talking to your friends, siting away from the harsh light of the sun under the umbrella, just for now, right next to Rafe.

Rafe, sensing you close, lifts his head from his towel and decides to use your leg as his pillow instead. Not that you’re complaining, at least his head is not all that heavy.

You talk to your friends about everything and anything, and Rafe is more than asleep beside you in less than 5 minutes. Peacefully going into his dreams.

“Of course, they had to come to this beach” One of your friend comments, sitting up and bringing her glasses up to see whoever she’s talking about.

You follow his gaze to find none other than a group of Pogues, John B, Kiara, Pope and JJ. People you supposedly met at a party, but you do not remember of. You just remember Topper telling you to stay away from them the day after that.

“What’s so wrong about them?” Your other friend asks.

“They’re just not these guys’ favorites” She answers, pointing at Rafe and the vacant towels next to him, his friends’.

You decide not want to listen to anything else since it only sounds like trouble to you, and you look down at Rafe. Still fondly asleep, eyes closed and face squished on your leg.

You lay your hand over his head and, for your entertainment, you start playing with his hair.

The infamous group of Pogues scream something in the distance to each other, and you look up at them, seeing them all run to the water, leaving their things scattered around the sand. One of them stay behind, the girl. You assume, Kiara.

She starts picking all her friends’ stuff from the ground while shaking her head, putting them all in a pile before she starts taking off her clothes to join her friends in the water.

“Why the fuck are they here?” Kelce asks from in front of you.

He had just come back from the water, and you didn’t even notice him walking this way before his question.

“No idea” Your friend answers.

He lifts his eyebrows as if to not act annoyed and takes a look at the naked back of the man sleeping beside you. 

A grin appears over his lips and he looks at you, he has a plan. Oh no.

“Has he been sleeping for long?” He asks you and you shake your head, not wanting to be caught talking in the alteration that is about to happen. “Good”

He reaches from his empty cup from the towel beside Rafe and does a run for it, going to fill his cup with the cold salted water before saying anything else.

He comes back not even a whole minute later with his cup filled to the brim, guilt eats you up inside slightly as you watch him, and as he gets close enough to do it, Rafe lifts his arm in the air.

“Don’t you dare” He groans.

Kelce looks at his half asleep friend in shock and Rafe turns his head to take a good look at him. The girls beside you fall into laughter, as you try to hold in your own.

“How did you even know?” Kelce asks in shock, eyes widen in shock.

Rafe turns on the towel, now laying in between your legs on his back, head resting a bit on one of your legs.

“I have super powers, remember?”

(...)

It has been an hour. 

Rafe has already slept everything he needed and now he’s in the water with the guys. You, after much convincing, decided to stay with the girls instead.

You sip Rafe’s cold drink, which rests on your hand, and you try not to cringe at the taste of the alcohol. 

Can he drink anything that does not have alcohol?

You were so distracted with the bright blue drink that you didn’t even notice who is walking right past you and your girls.

“Can we help you?” Your friend asks the pair.

Kiara, the only one you can identify by the name, is standing next to a guy. Someone you have no idea who it is. Is he JJ? John B? or Pope? 

As they walk by the towels of all your friends, a few feet away, Kiara keeps looking at you.

“No, thank you” She answers, “We just someone we recognized. Y/N, right?” She asks pointing at you.

All your friends look at you confused and you look at her with no emotion that can explain anything to them.

“Yeah, that’s me” You answer.

Your tone was enough to make Kiara understand that you weren’t recognizing them as well as they recognized you.

“We met at last week’s party remember?” She asks, trying to help you out. “At the bonfire pogue and kook party?”

“I remember the party, but I... don’t really remember talking to you guys” You answer with a slight forced smile, “Sorry?”

“No need to apologize” The boy says, holding his hand up as if to dismiss you, “You probably were just a little too drunk than we were” He says as he sends a glare at Kiara, almost as if he was telling her to shut up.

You nod at the silence and your friends sense the tense air building up. 

And the sight of all the guys coming back from the water isn’t making anything seem better either.

“Well, I believe you guys can go now” Your friend says, eyes hidden by her glasses as she steals glances at the guys to check how close they are.

“Yeah, we should” The guy says, grabbing the girl by the wrist.

You look over at the guys walking back to the towels and your heart speeds up slightly at the idea of this causing a scene. A violent one, to be more precise. Rafe is such in a good mood, you really don’t want anything to ruin that.

“Heyward and Carrera, what the hell are you two doing here?” Topper asks in a malicious playful tone as the pair walks away, or rather, as the supposed “Heyward” pulls Kiara away.

Your view of all the pair walking away is cut short as Rafe stands in front of your towel, catching your attention. He walks carefully between towels and takes a seat in front of your seated form, letting some cold droplets of water fall into your warm skin.

You hiss at how cold the water and your boyfriend are and he takes the drink from your hand with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Did you have fun?” You ask as you wipe the water from your skin.

“Sure did” He says before downing his whole drink in one go.

He looks back at you to find you frowning at him. The fact that you fought a whole cringe and body shiver with a small sip of that drink and Rafe just took it all in one swig is... concerning. 

“What?” He chuckles, leaning in closer to you to be under the umbrella that is shielding you two from the sun.

“That was... disgusting” You say slowly with your frown and he chuckles.

He leans in quickly and steals a kiss, making you close your eyes for a bit. You don’t push him away, but it doesn’t take him long to pull away to look at you. 

Some of the guys turn to look at you as they hear the sound of the kiss.

“Find a room, Jesus!” One of the guys screams with a playful tone, making the guys join as well.

“Every fucking time we go out” Topper joins in. “Always the same thing with the two of you” And also does Kelce.

You roll your eyes as Rafe laugh along with them.

Not too far from you, Pope and Kiara get back to their towels, one more visibly concerned than the other.

“Stop staring, JJ” Pope warns his friend.

“I’m not” The blonde says while looking away.

Kiara takes a seat with the boys.

“I still don’t see why they’re dating. She’s, like, the nicest person I know” Kiara groans, again, making the boys look at her.

“Did she say anything when you two went over there?” John B asks, thanking Pope, for the drink he gave him, right away.

“Yeah, she said she didn’t remember us. And it looked like she was saying the truth too. Her friends are just straight up garbage, though” Kiara explains, leaning against Pope.

“Maybe she really doesn’t remember us” Pope starts with a shrug, “And maybe, she’s actually happy with Rafe Cameron- Guys, this is ridiculous. Since when do we care about what the Kooks do with their lives?”

“This is all because JJ got a crush on her” John B says with a chuckle, gaining a glare from the blonde, “What, dude? It’s true. You always go for the most expensive and most difficult meat to get in the market. It’s your fault why we’re all doing spy work today”

“Whatever” JJ says while shaking his head.

(...)

“No, guys! This makes no sense, we need more people if we’re going to play like this” One of the guys’ says as everyone walks around and ducks under the net to move to the other side.

Everyone decided to do a game of volleyball not too long ago, but since the guys want to play with larger teams, and the girls’ smaller. 

This is all taking way too long to decide.

Rafe has his arm over your shoulders, holding you close as everyone yells at each other about the rules and who is on what team.

“We have to separate the power couple. Ain’t no way I dealing with both with their result. I can hear so much whining from losing” Another guy yells while sending a look at the two of you, making you laugh beside Rafe.

“Okay. But you guys, ugh! We need at least 3 more people to play with us! Don’t you know math?!” A girl from your group screams.

“We can join”

Everyone shuts up and looks towards where that voice had just came from, behind you all. 

Exactly where the certain group of Pogues are standing confidently. Well, all of them except for that “Heyward” kid. He really looks like he doesn’t want to be here.

You don’t judge him.

“Since when do you play volleyball, Maybank?” Topper asks the blonde guy from the group.

“I always played. You’re just not that acquittanced with all my skills” The guy answers, making Kelce laugh.

“Using big boy words, ugh, JJ? Since when did that happen?” Kelce butts in.

The blonde, you mean, JJ, ignores him.

“Are we playing or not?” He asks. Silence, “What? You’re scared of losing to a Pogue”

With that, JJ sends a quick glare over at Rafe, who seemed more than unfazed with all of this, having his fun with playing with the volleyball on one of his hands.

“Alright, who’s playing from your group?” One of your friends asks.

They split, Kiara steps forward, just like the other guy, a brunette.

“Okay, let’s do the teams then” Topper says, “Rafe. Give me the ball”

Rafe snaps back to reality and throws him the ball, letting his arm fall from your shoulders to your waist.

They spend a few minutes all discussing, which made you learn everyone’s names in Kiara’s and JJ’s group. The “Heyward” kid is Pope, who will not be playing but sitting on the sidelines, and the brunette kid is John B. 

Everything makes sense now.

“Okay” Kelce announces, “Rafe let go of Y/N and go to the other side of the net” He starts, making the boy beside you scowl and take a step back. “John B go with him and...”

He names everyone, pointing at each one, and you stand with your team. The team that has both JJ and Kiara. Doesn’t seem all that bad. For now at least.

As everyone scattered around to their positions, JJ stayed on the position behind you and you can’t help but find his sudden glances a bit too strange. 

Are you supposed to start a conversation with him or something? What did you even do at that party, good God!

The game begins and almost everyone’s competitive spirit jumps out of their skin. 

From doing way too much for just a innocent beach game to insanely loud celebrations. This game is just going to end badly and you know it.

Bad thing for you when you did a quick forearm pass to save your friend from any complaints from your team, and it hit one arm more than the other close to your wrist. Meaning: it hurt like a bitch for a good moment.

As everyone talks between themselves as one of the girls runs to go grab the ball, you look down at your arm and cringe a little at how it stung with the slightest touch of your fingers.

“You okay?” Someone asks as they step close to you and you look up to find JJ, walking up really close to you.

“Yeah...” You say with a shy smile, “I just hit my arm wrong”

As his hands were about to reach your aching wrist, a shout stops him.

“Don’t touch my girl, Maybank!” Rafe shouts from his side of the net, eyes glaring at the guy next to you. “Stay the fuck away!”

JJ looks up at your boyfriend and doesn’t even flinch at the glare or the shout. Kiara hisses his name and the boy just holds his hands up almost as if in surrender.

He doesn’t say anything back to Rafe, which surprised everyone from his friend group. You, on the other hand, are just expecting the worst to come crumble down, now that you know how much they don’t appreciate each other.

The game continues once your friend is back and, now, many points later, both Rafe and JJ stand as middle blockers. The blonde walks to stand in front of your boyfriend, who is trying to not even spare him a look.

Your friend starts talking to you right in the same second as JJ opens his mouth to whisper at Rafe, distracting you enough not to catch it.

“Nobody can touch your girl, uh, Rafe?” He whispers, “I knew you were bad with women, but, my god, you treat them like property too?”

Rafe scoffs at his words.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, uh?”

“Funny” JJ says with a smile. “How long have you two been dating?”

“That doesn’t concern you”

Rafe looks away from him at you to see you talking to your friend, completely entertained. All of that while he fights his urge to shut up the guy in front of him as the two stand in silence.

“Is she any good?” JJ pokes the bear again, “Sure, does look like it”

Rafe looks at him as he clenches his jaw.

“Ooh, did I struck a nerve?” He continues, now gaining the attention of some of the people around them. “Come on, bro, I’m sure you can share” He shrugs, laughing a bit.

Rafe’s blood is boiling in anger with all of JJ’s words, plus his little innocent laughs that just make his voice even more obnoxious.

“Just shut up” He says, shaking his head a bit.

“Or what?” JJ continues, “What are you going to do, uh?” He tilts his head to the side amused, “What are you going to do if I just grab your little girlfriend and take her with me?”

Rafe keeps quiet, almost in physical pain from holding back so hard.

“I’m sure she would like that” He smiles widely, “To be my own little slut”

That’s exactly what it took for Rafe to snap and take a step forward, closer to the net and closer to JJ, who as a reflex stepped back.

“Where are you going, uh?” Rafe asks with a fakest smile he could pull off, “You had all of that to say and now you’re backing up?”

Everyone looks at the two guys as JJ steps back and Rafe ducks under the net to get to the guy.

“Come on. Keep talking. Keep saying all you were just whispering to me” Rafe says, making Topper and Kelce duck under the net too to be his back up.

John B follows them and stands beside his friend. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

Rafe gives JJ a slight push as the blonde smirks at the taller boy in front of him, and stumbles back a little.

“Rafe” You start while walking close to him. 

He is not doing this here. Oh, hell no.

“Come on, let’s go! You were so brave a few seconds ago and now you’re backing up like a little bitch, let’s go, bro.” He continues.

“Rafe, stop” You hiss at him as you try and get closer. “Please, don’t do this”

He looks away from the boy in front of you to look at you for a slight second, chest moving rapidly in pants of the adrenaline circling his system.

You move past Topper and Kelce and stand in front of him, not giving a crap that a whole fight is about to start right where you’re standing.

“You promised” You whispered only for him to hear, giving his chest a slight push.

He looks away from you to send a glare at JJ and slowly takes a step back from the altercation.

“No fucking way” JJ says out loud before letting out a chuckle, “She got you whipped, uh? Oh my god” He whispers in disbelief the last part.

You fight your urge to turn to the boy yelling behind you, and just lay your hands over Rafe’s abs, pushing him back further.

“What happened to big bad Rafe? The little Kook prince who used to beat everyone up?” He continues to bicker.

“Ignore him, please” You plead as Rafe rests his hands over your wrists, “You’re better than this”

He looks down at you for a second and nods, gaze softening a little as he takes a little breath.

“Daaamn, you’re really her little bitch, dude! I can’t believe it” He continues, “You’re actually going soft. Rafe Cameron is going sooooft!”

You shake your head at the words and push Rafe again for another step back. Rafe doesn’t do much, he steps as you push him and keeps quiet.

After some staring, he turns back and walks over back to the towels, probably to get his things.

“Damn!” He exclaims from behind you, exaggerating once again, “Come on, sweetheart, you can do so much better!”

You finally turn around and face the boy, who seems to not want to shut up. 

The large group people that are your friends and that aren’t also walking away to get their things, open up like the Red Sea so that you could glare at JJ.

“What? There’s a lot of free guys out there who-”

“Yeah, no shocker that you’re one of the them” You say back, “Just grow the fuck up and move along, you’re nothing but obnoxious at this point”

Some of your friends and Rafe’s stare at you in awe, right as JJ shuts his mouth.

You turn back around to go after Rafe, who is already putting on his shirt, and walk over to him..

You get to your boyfriend and grab your things. Trying to be as quick as you can, taking his hand in yours once you have everything in your other hand or over your shoulder. 

And now, only home awaits you.

Is this any good? I feel kinda judgy over my work today, and I’m sure if this is good. Hope it is!

#rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron imagines #drew starkey imagines #rafe cameron #drew starkey #outer banks rafe #outer banks #netflix outer banks #obx #obx netflix

[desertno3]

Violet – Chapter Five (6/7)

When Sean finally meets his daughter, you wonder why you ever left him in the first place. Sean Wallace x fem!reader Chapter Five: 2136 words

Prologue // Chapter One // Chapter Two  // Chapter Three // Chapter Four

A/N: Oh my god. It’s been so long since I updated. I offer you the longest chapter yet as a peace offering. Let me know what you think because this one was a lot of fun to write 🧡 Also I cried a lil but that’s just me getting emotional at literally anything fluffy, lol.

Taglist: @ysmmsy​ @prettyinpayne​ @the-a-word-2214​ @peakywitch​ @danceyreagan​ @ella1grace03 @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes​ @lovemissyhoneybee​

“Seeeaaaannn!” Violet yells excitedly as she runs up the path towards his front door.

Walking at a more leisurely pace behind her, you watch as it swings open and she all but launches herself at the man standing behind it.

“Hi Sean!”

“Hello, love,” He greets her, picking her up.

She grins excitedly and shows him the box she held in her hands, “Me and mummy brought dessert!”

Sean looks over to you and smiles when he meets your gaze. Your heart had already been preemptively fluttering as you pulled up and now, as you return the expression, it was out of control.

“Thanks Vi,” Sean tells her as he sets her back down. “Why don’t you go ahead and put that on the counter, hm? Your mum and I will be right there.”

Violet nods and patters down the hallway, holding the box of desserts close to her chest. 

“Don’t blame me if some of those pastries aren't the best,” You murmur to Sean as you both watch her go. “She really wanted to choose them for you.”

“I’m sure they’re great,” He chuckles before turning to face you. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” You tell him with a shrug. “Nothing new since we last spoke.”

You and Sean had been texting back and forth all week since the night he invited you over for dinner. At first it was just him asking what Violet’s favourite food was - to which you replied literally anything with pasta in it - but it gradually evolved to a casual back and forth where you’d tell him about your day and he’d tell you about his. 

“I’m glad I don’t have to cook tonight though,” You confess with a sly smile, making him laugh.

“Well, that was the whole point,” He says. “I wanted to treat you and Vi a little - I made your favourite as well, you know.”

You look at him in surprise, “Did you really?”

“Yeah, of course,” He says confidently, like it was an obvious course of action, and he steps aside and motions you into the house. “C’mon, before I burn everything that’s been cooking.”

You shake your head in disbelief, ignoring the fact that you quite literally wanted to melt, before following his lead and heading inside.

Just before you reach the kitchen, you see Violet’s head peeking out from around the corner, having been observing the pair of you as you chatted. You give her a knowing look and she lets out a giggle before Sean comes striding over to pick her up again, making her squeal in delight.

“Do you want to try the food, Vi?” He asks her and she nods eagerly.

You follow them into the kitchen and raise an eyebrow at the amount of things he had going on the stovetop.

“You sure it’s just the three of us, Sean?” You tease. “It looks like you’re cooking enough for a small village.”

Sean just flashes you a wry smile in response before setting Violet down on the kitchen counter.

“Alright,” He says, handing her a bowl with some pasta in it. “Let me know what you think.”

Violet makes a happy noise when she sees what’s in the bowl and before you could tell her to take it easy, she digs into it at an alarming speed - inevitably making a complete mess.

“You’d think I hadn’t fed you at all today,” You tut although you can’t help but be amused when she smiles approvingly at Sean, the food still in her mouth making her look like a little chipmunk.

“It tastes good, mummy!” She says when you come over to wipe the sauce from around her mouth.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it darling,” You tell her, thinking about all the dinner dates you and Sean used to have at home. “Sean's very good at cooking.”

You glance at Sean at the same time he turns from the stove to look at you and you just know the same thing is on his mind as well. There's a hint of a smirk on his face and you have to fight your blush, turning your attention back to Violet who was completely oblivious to the whole thing.

“Can I have more?”

You shake your head, “If you have any more, you’ll be full before dinner even starts.”

“No I won’t!”

“C’mon,” You say, ignoring her protest. “Let’s see what else Sean’s been cooking.”

 ~

"Is that what I think it is?" You ask dreamily as you come up behind Sean, wrapping your arms around his middle and peeking past his shoulder at the stovetop.

You’d had a long day but the delicious scent of your favourite food had perked you up considerably. It hit you the moment you entered the house and you wasted no time in immediately scurrying over to the kitchen to investigate. 

“It is,” Sean confirms, moving to comfortably place an arm around your shoulders.

You smile and look up at him curiously. “What’s the occasion?”

“Does there need to be one?”

“Well, no. But-”

“Maybe I just wanted to treat you, hm?” He says, his finger poking you in the side, making you yelp and jump away from him. “Maybe I just wanted to be a good boyfriend.”

You squirm when he reaches out to you, trying to avoid another jab, but he just pulls you back into his embrace. You smile and relax against his body, letting your arms rest on his shoulders.

“You’re always a good boyfriend,” You murmur as you look into his eyes but he immediately raises an eyebrow at the statement and you can’t help but laugh at his - quite valid - skepticism.

“Okay, you’re mostly a good boyfriend,” You concede, giving him a quick kiss. “Especially when you don’t come home all bloody.”

Your eyes fall on the healing bruise by his cheekbone but your attention is quickly diverted back to him when he moves to rest his forehead to yours.

“I love you, y/n.”

 "Y/n?"

Jolted out of your thoughts, your gaze snaps up to Sean standing by the kitchen sink, looking at you expectantly. 

"Hm?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah,” You tell him, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment as you try and shake yourself from the vivid memory of being wrapped up in his arms. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

“You don’t have to help clear up, you know.”

“No it’s fine,” You assure him. “Really. I want to help.”

Not to mention that helping meant you could stick around a little bit longer.

Sean nods and continues loading the dishwasher. From the living room, you can hear Violet giggling at whatever she was watching on the TV. 

“What’s on your mind?” Sean asks, sparing you another glance.

You blink at him dumbly, trying to come up with a decent excuse, but you come up blank.

The dinner had made your feelings for him stronger than ever. You’d observed Violet swing her legs happily as she ate, her joy at having Sean around for dinner palpable, and you’d observed the way Sean doted on her, listening to her every word as she told him about anything and everything. You knew then that there was no denying the fact that you wanted Sean to be a permanent part of yours and Violet’s life. No denying the fact that you wanted Sean, full stop.

“I was just thinking about the dinners we used to have,” You tell him honestly, throwing all caution to the wind. “The dinner dates, I mean.”

Sean’s back to busying himself with the plates but you can see the smile on his face from where you stand.

"I've been thinking about those too,” He confesses. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“You were a good boyfriend, you know,” You say, thinking back to the memory. Contrary to what you’d told him then, he had been a good boyfriend even when he got himself into trouble. “I- I should’ve trusted that you would always keep me safe. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

There’s a silence and your gaze drops to the countertop, embarrassed, but you can’t take it back now. You start occupying yourself with the containers still on the counter, too nervous to look up at him and see the expression on his face, but you have no choice when he abandons what he’s doing and crosses the kitchen to stand before you.

Your heart hammers violently in your chest as you look at him - partly afraid of what he’ll say and partly surprised at his close proximity.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” He says eventually, looking resigned. “I didn’t give you much reason to trust me, the way I’d go on taunting people I should’ve just left alone.”

You give him a sad smile and at this point he can’t help it, he reaches up and lightly caresses your cheek. You lean into his touch with a sigh, the action feeling all too familiar and all too foreign all at once.

"All I ever wanted was to make sure you were safe, y/n,” He breathes. “When you left… even I had to admit it was a smart thing to do on your part. I thought it meant you wouldn’t get caught up in the crossfire anymore.”

“I thought so too.”

“It terrified me when I got your call that night. I… thought the worst."

“You know,” You tell him quietly. “I half expected you wouldn’t answer once you knew it was me.”

“Why?”

“Thought you might’ve hated me.”

“I could never, y/n.”

Without even thinking about it, you launch forward and give him a hug, feeling so much emotion you think you might choke.

“Thank you Sean,” You manage to say with your cheek pressed against his chest. “For everything.”

He wraps his arms around you and, after a moment of deliberation, presses his lips to your forehead. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Muuum!” You jump, not expecting the sound of your daughter’s voice to pierce the air. “Sean! Come watch this movie with me!”

The both of you look in the direction of the living room while she calls out to you both and you let out a watery laugh at her timing. Sean chuckles too and as it reverberates through you, you realise neither of you have moved to let go of each other.

“We’ll be right there, Vi!” He calls out to her.

“Okay!”

“We should probably head off,” You say softly, looking back at him. “It’s getting late.”

Sean hums in acknowledgement but you can tell his mind is elsewhere, his gaze soft as it meets yours.

"Stay till the end of her movie," He asks of you. “I don’t want you to go just yet.”

You’re slightly dazed in his hold but you manage to nod. You wouldn’t have needed much convincing to agree in the first place.

Sean gives you a small smile, “You and her have been the best things to ever happen to me. I hope you know that.”

"We could say the same thing about you,” You tell him. “You've changed Vi’s world Sean, I've never seen her more happy than when she's with you."

"And you?” Sean inquires, searching your expression for an answer. “Are you happy too?"

You nod again, your voice barely above a murmur. “More than, since you’ve come back into my life."

You only have a second to register the glint of joy in his eyes because before you know it, his lips are on yours, kissing you like his life depended on it. You don’t hesitate to kiss him back and his hands immediately go to your waist to pull you flush against him, earning an involuntary whimper of pleasure out of you. God, you'd forgotten how good it felt with Sean.

You feel lightheaded when you finally pull away and the grin you see on his face is worth everything.

“I’ve missed this,” He murmurs, arms squeezing around you slightly. “Missed being with you.”

“Yeah,” You say breathlessly, fingers lightly running through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Me too.”

Just as he moves to capture your lips in another long kiss, you’re interrupted by another impatient shout from Violet.

You pull back and sigh at the way it breaks the moment you were having but Sean just chuckles and kisses you again anyway, like he can’t get enough of you.

“C’mon,” He says eventually, giving you one last quick peck before taking your hand in his. “Best go see what our daughter's up to."

Feeling the giddiest you’ve felt in a while, you let him pull you in the direction of the living room - and if Violet notices that you and Sean are sat closer together on the couch than normal during the movie, she doesn’t say anything.

#I have missed writing!! and making gifs of joe cole's face!! #feels good to be back #sean wallace x reader #gangs of london fanfiction #violet series #*writing #gangs of london imagines #sean wallace imagine #sean wallace fanfic

[cloud9in]

Promises (Poppy x MC) Part (2/?)

Read Part ONE (summary for fic is there)

ITS BEEN A MINUTE. @iamsimpforpoppy I hope you’re still around to read :P I love this story lol. Hope you guys do too!!!

Word Count (2.8k)

Bea and Poppy’s relationship became official a month after their initial meeting. One would say they moved quickly, too quickly. But every love story is different. This one in particular seemed to have little to none flaws, if you ignored the fact that Bea was promoted to Carter’s right hand woman in the Southside Spades.

 They did end up having that conversation after all.

 “…Are you sure Carter? I mean this is a huge deal and a special role-“

 “If I didn’t think you were capable you wouldn’t be here right now Goldilocks.”

 Carter winked and clinked his half empty beer bottle against Bea’s, who surprisingly had a nearly full bottle. He took note of the abnormality. 

 The blonde instinctively rolled her eyes at the nickname, “Okay but that name has to go. We need codenames……ooooh how about bimbo and himbo.” 

 “I’m guessing…..no, hoping I’m the himbo?!” Carter comments as he promptly tries to stop the laugh escaping from his lips.

 “Mmmmmmm, I’ll get back to you on that.”

 They share a laugh and Bea feels Carter’s gaze latch onto her in her peripherals. She could sense the shift of energy in the space between them, it almost felt uncomfortable, and that was something she never felt with Carter. “I never asked you if you were okay with such a role. If you aren't, I understand completely, I just want the best for you.”

 The blonde eyes soften at his comment and she looks at him, “never doubted that, where is this going though because you never express your feelings like a normal human being.”

 He pulls on the strings of her hoodie until it completely caves around her face, burying her whole.

 “Hey asshole!” 

 “That’s for talking too much.”

 Bea yanks her hoodie open and sticks her tongue out in a mock expression. “Oh boohoo. Poppy literally says the same thing, I don’t get it. I talk, it’s a problem. I don’t talk, it’s an even BIGGER problem. Damn a girl can’t ever exist in peace.”

 Carter places his bottle flat on the table and studies the blonde’s face. 

 She kept rambling on about her new girlfriend and the gang leader didn’t know it was possible to feel happy yet anxious at the same time. He was aware of when they entered the talking stage, went on their first date, and finally became official, because Bea told him everything. As much as the experience of being in a real relationship was new to her, Bea looked up to him and somehow she knew Carter would give her the best guidance possible. 

 It didn’t stop him from worrying. Like an older brother would. He feared the two would mix, and everyone knows that love and crime will eventually combust. He is no stranger to it.  

 “Bea.”

 “Did you know she stole one of my hoodies and actually won’t give it back?? What am I supposed to do, just take it? No she’d murder me.”

 “Jackson.”

 Her voice slowly dies down after sensing the seriousness in his tone. She takes a sip of her beer to ease the silence that sat in the air, and Carter responds shortly after.

 “You know I trust you with my life right? You’re very important to me, kid.” 

 “I know.”

 Guilt was a feeling he chose to lock away in an unbreakable box and bury six feet deep. There couldn’t be guilt in a lifestyle like this. But Bea was his only exception. And she was slowly bringing that box back up to the surface. 

 “I need you to promise me that you won’t let these two worlds collide.”

 “Carter….”

 “One of you will get hurt. And I won’t forgive myself if it’s you.”

 He leaves Bea at the table, the remnants of his comment still replaying in her head. She pulls out her phone and sees a text from Poppy on her lockscreen. 

 Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- Can’t wait to see you tomorrow 😘 

 The blonde smiles unconsciously and opens the message to respond.

 I’m missing you like crazy. I have a special surprise for you.

 Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- You know I highly dislike surprises, just tell me. 

 And ruin the surprise? You must be crazier than I thought. 

 Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- Jackson.

 Patience babe…tomorrow it is. 

 Bea clicks her phone shut and slips it back into her pocket before downing the rest of the beer. 

***

“You know your hand on my ass only makes them stare even more Jackson?”

 Bea bites her lips and gropes the blonde’s plump backside shamelessly while slowly whispering into her ear.

 “That’s the point, princess.”

 Poppy shivers almost instantly at the boldness. “Is this the surprise you were talking about?” Bea doesn’t answer, instead trailing her hand up Poppy’s skirt. This was definitely not the time and place for such behavior but she was clearly still learning everything about her girlfriend. 

 And it definitely felt good to call her that.

 “Since when did you get so brazen? You know you’re exactly the type of person my daddy told me to stay away from.”

 Bea laughs at that statement and wraps her arm around the blonde’s waist, “yeah? And why’s that?”

 “Well I can’t ask him now, he might rough you up and that’s my job.” 

 Poppy could feel the stares of everyone burning into them, but she could only focus on the blonde cuddled up against her. The shorter girl wouldn’t call herself an attention whore, but she sure loved the PDA that Bea projected without a care. It felt nice to be genuinely admired in public rather than putting on a mask everyday. 

 But it’s safe to say that Poppy preferred all the handsy stuff to happen in private. 

 “Do you want to grab dinner with me tonight Pops?”

 “Am I picking the place?”

 “…Yes.”

 “Then yes.”

 Bea rolls her eyes at the blonde’s downright shady self but smiles nevertheless. 

 “Now don’t cancel on me out of the blue. I will not be thrilled about it.”

 “Shouldn’t I be telling you this? Your dad always has something going on in his business that somehow has to involve you too.”

 Poppy sighs and glances over at Bea, “well you know I’ll have to take over eventually. Especially since I’m legally allowed to handle deals now.”

 “I hate that word. Legal. Ugh.” 

 The shorter girl scoffs and plants her hands on her hips, “yeah I bet you do.”

***

Bea dragged open her closet in search of clothes for dinner tonight but the dinging noise of a text distracts her. 

 C-Dog🖤- Need you tonight. Something came up, meet us at the garage.

Bea wanted to thank the gods up above that she didn’t promise Poppy that she’d show up for dinner. But that wasn’t going to save her from the fury of the blonde. Good thing it can’t get worse than that, right….?

Only it was. And Poppy will probably beat her up herself, if she wasn’t dead by the next day. 

Bea’s mind and heart races as she digs her brain for a proper excuse to tell her girlfriend, but is very unsuccessful. She’s good at drug dealing though. 

 Going with the good ole truth never really hurt right?

 Baby I’m so sorry I won’t be able to make it tonight. Got held up with the gang. I know I’m an asshole, I’ll keep in touch I swear. 

 Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- What else could I expect from my gang banger girlfriend 🙄 please stay safe..

 You know I always do.

 Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- Do I? We need to talk about this tomorrow.

 Of course Pops.

 Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- Call me every chance you get or I swear I’ll track you and trust me you do not want me to do that.

 Yeah she definitely doesn’t. Especially since Carter sounded frantic over the phone. The last thing Bea needed was a paranoid girlfriend, so she played it cool like always. 

 Just simple stuff baby girl, talk soon.

 ***

“…What do you mean it’s gone?! So where is it? Do you know what this means Carter??”

 The gang leader sighs frustratingly, rubbing his eyes in efforts to gain some stability. “The product was here, and now it is not. Which can only mean it was stolen. And when I find out which son of a bitch did it, they’re dead.”

 “In the meantime, we are dead”, Bea emphasizes wildly. “This is the Red Raven gang we’re talking about. If they get any inclination that we lost their drugs, they’ll kill and replace us. No mercy. None.”

The blonde paces back and forth trying not to think about buying a plane ticket to Timbuktu. 

Carter approaches Bea and plants his hands on her shoulder, “breathe Jackson. You are my partner. The leader of this gang. So get it out of your system and start being rational.”

 The blonde lets her shoulders sag as she inhales and exhales in place for a while. The minute she’s grounded she catches Carter’s gaze and her eyes light up. “List. I need a list of whoever went in the room with all of the product. We need to narrow it down.”

***

“Jackson you’re a fucking genius.”

 “It’s called having common sense but I’ll take the praise. It’s the only one I’m getting from you anyways.”

 Carter resisted the urge to pick a fight with the younger girl, because finding stolen drugs and not getting killed seemed like a much better idea. 

 Bea figured out that Henry, one of the newly recruited members of SS was a thief, or maybe just a crackhead. Same thing. He was the last to be in that room so all eyes were on him, and guns.

 “Heyyy buddy. Henry right?”

 The shorter man trembled at the sight of a gun lodged right into his mouth. “Mmmm!”

 “Oh I’m sorry, did you want to say something? Here let me just”, Bea clicks the gun which only causes the thief to panic even more. It was almost pitiful. 

 “Alright lay off the poor sucker.” 

 Bea pulls the gun out of his mouth and sits down on a stool in front of Henry with a grin. “So…where is the stash darling?” 

 He points almost immediately to a built in storage locker with a shaky finger. 

 “Ohhh well that was so easy Henry! Glad you could comply. You should tell your friends to be more like you. But…between me and you, they might already be dead”, Bea whispers that last part slowly, smirking when Henry’s lip quivers violently. 

 “Please just do it already! Why are you guys waiting?”

 Bea raised an eyebrow in surprise and glanced over at Carter who scanned the man’s face intensely. “I guess he wants to die? Talk about kinks I mean come on”

 “No.”

 Carter reaches his arm out towards Bea but never takes his eyes off Henry. The blonde watches in confusion until she realizes the thief is looking behind her, and so is Carter.

 “It’s a setup Bea, duck!”

 She dived for the ground quicker than lightning as a bullet flies through the air, leaving a trail of dust behind. Carter ducks for cover as well and starts firing rounds towards the men who snuck up on them. He managed to hit three of them but one grabs Bea by the leg and drags her against the rough concrete. 

 “Son of a- get your dirty hands off of my Dr. Martens. My girlfriend bought me these!”

 A swift kick to the face shut the blonde up real quick but she manages to recoil and send the man sprawling backwards into a row of barrels. 

 Carter guns him down and Bea finds her footing, pistol in hand and a thirst for revenge. But they never stopped coming. 

 Her and Carter were left battered and bruised, but alive. Their product was gone again though. But atleast they were alive. Carter told her that it was a theft mission primarily and neither of them were meant to die. But it only made Bea wonder who those people were.

 And why were they kept alive?

***

“Beatriz Naomi Jackson what the actual fuck?!”

 “Oh not the middle name…”

 Bea tries to avoid Poppy’s killer gaze as she surveys the damage that had been done to her girlfriend’s torso, legs, and face. 

 The strawberry blonde could barely mutter a word. Her mouth opened and closed in brief shock before collapsing next to the injured girl. 

 Bea could see the tears flowing down her rosy cheeks, which contrasted her porcelain skin. “Poppy…are you crying? I..please don’t..”

 “What do you expect me to do Bea? It kills me to see you hurt like this. Who did it? Tell me!” The blonde chokes on her own words as her hands hovers cautiously over Bea’s wounds, afraid to make her feel pain.

 “No I can’t tell you. I mean…I didn’t expect this to happen. It was a setup and we were outnumbered-“

 “We need to get you to a hospital Bea oh my god.”

 The blonde knew that she couldn’t go there. Not with the cops on the scene of the shootout, and actively looking for the people involved. Aka her and Carter. He told her to lay low and heal up, but she didn’t expect Poppy to be sitting on her bed waiting for her when she got home. The initial look on her face made Bea regret ever choosing this life. 

 She regrets it ever since being with Poppy. But it’s like a drug, once you start it’s hard to stop. 

 “I’ll call my father, he has the best doctors available and we’re gonna get your the right treatment and-“ 

 Poppy immediately cuts off, her eyebrows scrunching up until she realizes something. “Wait…what do you mean you were outnumbered Bea?” 

 Bea swallows heavily, praying that this conversation couldn’t escalate further, but that isn’t the case. 

 “Bea, answer me”

 “It..it was just me and Carter. We didn’t think there would be an ambush. We had just gone there to get goods we lost.”

 “And where is Carter? Does he know you’re like this right now? Did he leave you, I swear to god Bea if he left you…” Poppy’s voice cracks as her whole body shivers in violent waves. 

 Bea pulls her girlfriend in for a hug even though it causes every inch of her body to sting harshly. It was the comfort that she needed though. Watching Poppy breakdown over the sight of her was too much, and she began to contemplate everything. 

 “Pops listen to me, I cannot go to the hospital right now. There are cops looking for us.” The strawberry blonde stares at her until she understands the velocity of Bea’s words. 

 “Fine. But there will be a doctor that will come to treat you at my house. And you’re coming, I don’t want to hear it.” 

 Bea knew not to protest that. It was quite obvious this whole incident has left both parties distraught and she didn’t want to try and tell Poppy how to feel. 

 “Just tell me something. Are you in immediate danger? Is someone trying to harm you right now.”

 The blonde chose her words carefully. Because even after coming home beaten to a pulp, she still couldn’t tell the love of her life the full truth. 

 “No Poppy, they just wanted the drugs. They got what they wanted. I’m not in danger.”

 For now.

 “I will be okay.”

 I hope.

 “Don’t lie to me Jackson. I can’t do this if you lie. You promised me you wouldn’t get to the point where you’d have to choose between me and the gang.”

 “I know Poppy…I-“

 “You promised.”

 “And I’m going to keep that promise-“

 “Yeah the hell you are. And you’re going to promise me that you won’t ever come home like this again. You’re going to get yourself killed before we even start our life together. Our future.”

 Bea sucks in a breath which punctures her chest. She couldn’t tell if the injuries or Poppy’s words had caused that terrible ache. “Our…Wait I..”

 “I love you Jackson. I…don’t care if you think it’s too early to say that. I don’t care if I sound too cheesy for a mean girl. I love kissing you and feeling the laughter run through your body when we hug. I love being the reason you smile. I love you. And you don’t have to say it back. I just..I needed you to know-“

 “I love you too. Probably maybe from the moment I met you.”

 Poppy’s eyes seemed to glisten once again and this time there was no sadness etched into the shape. She smiled a pure smile and wrapped her arms around Bea in a tight hug. 

 She captures her lips in a searing kiss that leads to a trail of kisses down the strawberry blonde’s neck, dip of her collarbone, and chest. Bea kisses her until her chest gives out from exhaustion and pain.

 “Then you have to promise that this won’t happen again.” 

 “I promise.”

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

NOTES: They’re gonna be fineeeee, right guys??? Graduation next chapter woooo.

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme  @baexpoppy @poppysmc @doey-eyes8 @veenast @straightlikewetspaghetti @phoennixxsblog

#i came up with that middle name on the spot lmaooo #no bug motivation this time just pepsi #poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #mc x poppy

[smolla-than-a-bug]

you’re definitely flirting with me

—jason todd x villain!reader

second and final part to are you flirting with me. can be read as a stand-alone tho

navi | bat boys m.list | are you flirting with me

content — language, blood, mentions of harassment, mildly suggestive (use of the word ‘daddy’ but ironically)

notes — i know that its literally been years and that i formerly posted a part two to are you flirting with me, but looking back, i didn't like how it turned out. i did find a fun drabble in my drafts with villain!reader as well, so i decided to rewrite it and use it as a continuation. i actually deleted the old parts personally, i prefer this version of the end!

"I'm in."

"Hot. You should be able to see–"

"Nothing?"

Silence.

"Is this your way of telling me you're visually impaired?"

"I will scoop your eyes out in your sleep."

"Please use an ice cream scooper. My eyeballs would fit so well, it would be so satisfying–"

"Harper."

"Okay, okay. What do you mean nothing?"

"By nothing I mean nothing, ball sack. The warehouse is fucking empty."

Frantic rustling of papers and violent knocking of objects could be heard on Roy's end of the line. Jason sighed, going to pinch the bridge of his nose before realizing he had a helmet on. 

The whole situation was throwing him off his rhythm — that much was evident. The intel they had collected on the gang of criminals seemed too obvious, too predictable. Jason had his suspicions, but Roy was quick to shut him down. 'Dude, trust me,' he said. Famous last words.

A crackle of static sounded in his earpiece. Roy's voice urgent and choppy before completely dying out. Jason could only attempt to call out to his partner in the hopes of a full response, but his efforts brought no avail. That's another thing that went wrong today.

"Hey, sexy."

What in the fuck.

"Your ass looks great from this angle. The party you're looking for is in a bar on the other side of the city, by the way."

You couldn't actually see him, but he doesn't need to know that. It's just your thing to mess with him, and by the sounds of him cussing you out for hacking into his means of communication, it was working. It was amusing. He kept you entertained.

That was all you had to say to him for now though, so you bid him goodbye. The roaring of his motorcycle over his colorful language directed at you was the last thing you heard before you cut off and allowed his partner to get back on the line.

"Jaybird? You there?"

"Ah, you're back. I'm never trusting you with getting intel again."

"Whatever. Anyway, was that...?"

"Yeah. Y/v/n."

"Hm. I don't know what she's on, but you have no ass like–"

"And yet I have more ass than you, so shut the fuck up, paddle board."

“That... That was a bit harsh, bro.”

Soft gushes of wind blew against your masked face. You shut your eyes, feeling the breeze and relishing in your little moment of peace. Lazily pacing, you hummed a random tune.

Your mischief and cunningness is something your alias was known for. Most often, it's a convenient trait to be able to slip around with ease and get the job done in a snap, but sometimes you get bored. It can be such a drag when nobody tries a confrontation with you. That's why you're so fond of the Red Hood. It's a shame that it's been a while since you've seen him around, so imagine your delight when you feel a familiar presence behind you.

You took a seat at the edge of the building. To anyone, you would've looked like you were having your main character moment, peacefully looking over the city if not for the small pile of bodies rotting away not too far from you. The dried blood on your attire and your fingers no longer irked you in the slightest. It's something you've gotten used to, which lead to your habit of picking the blood under your nails. Red gets annoyed when you do this — all the more reason to entertain your habit in front of him.

You let your legs dangle over the edge without a care. You didn't bother to greet the vigilante, who currently had a gun aimed at your back. Sigh.

“Oh, I do hate the sight of blood.”

“Well then, maybe — just maybe — you shouldn’t kill for a living.”

That got you to turn your head to face him. You cock an eyebrow — doesn’t he kill for a living too? Sure, his victims are usually criminals and thugs while yours are people you’re paid to target, usually business owners and the occasional politician, but you digress. Details. The point is, he kills people too.

A few seconds of staring and prolonging the tension passed, and Jason weighed his options before eventually putting down his gun. He then opted to join you on the ledge.

“So,” he started, “what’s your favorite color?”

Funny.

“Sweetheart, if you thought you’d be able to keep me entertained with small talk... I think I’d rather you shot me.”

You stood up from your spot on the ledge and leaned over the rooftop to examine your altitude. You grin to yourself.

“What are you doing?”

You don’t answer. You want to see something. Instead you turn your body to face Jason and mockingly salute him before leaping off the building, though not before you heard him call out your alias’ name and yell a panicked ‘Wait!’

Immediately after you, Jason followed. You chuckled when you saw him get closer. You enjoyed fooling him around almost as much as you enjoyed fooling around with him.

With no time to waste, he pulled out his grappling hook, yanked your body by the waist, and zipped to the rooftop of the nearest building — one different from the last one you were on.

Jason‘s heaving chest radiated distress.

“You’re fucking insane! You could have died!”

You stood in front of him, arms crossed and your stance relaxed. Nobody would’ve suspected that you literally jumped off a building just a few seconds ago. Aw, you pout, he cares about me.

“Would’ve made your job easier. You know, you heroes are supposed to get rid of the bad guys.”There’s humor in your eyes. Jason knows you’re enjoying this. He hates how much you enjoy this. “So, why’d you save me?”

“Why’d you help me with my mission last time?”

He’s deflecting. Cute.

“Hey, I asked you a question first.” You know he won’t budge til you give him an answer. He’s probably been asking himself that question since it happened. You mentally pout, aww he thinks of me. Sigh. Okay, fine.

“The gang you were after just so happened to have given me a job a little while ago.” You recall some of the gang members attempting to grope you. Some unpleasant memories you’d rather live without. “Pissed me off. Now your turn.”

Why’d you save me?

A pause. He shifted to look to the side. Oh, this is interesting.

“You could have died.” Ah, this again.

“Well, you’ve died,” you remind him. “Not that it really stuck.”

He says your name — your real name. You wonder when he discovered your identity, but then again, you’re not all that surprised. It’s him after all.

He can see your growing smile the longer he refuses to answer your question. He knows you’re already thinking of something, and still opts to ignore your question, allowing you to further indulge in your thoughts. He dreads you enlightening him; he knows it’s coming. Jason could not fathom how one woman could frustrate him so much.

“You like me.” There it is, he thinks. There’s your stupid smirk and your dumb air of arrogance.

“Come on, just admit it, hot shot. You can’t live without me.” Okay, maybe that one’s a bit of a stretch (just a bit), but you stand by it nonetheless.

You grin wide as you approach him. Leaning slightly forward to grab Jason by the collar and pull him down to meet your eyes, you repeat yourself.

“You like me.” Stated with more emphasis, like a significant fact that you try to drill into your head when studying for an exam.

“I’ll shoot you.”

“Please, daddy.”

© smolla-than-a-bug, 2021. please do not copy or repost my works. reblogs are appreciated!

tags — @iwriteaboutstuff @comicsgirlimagines @httpfandxms

#bat family #batfam #imagine #jason todd #jason todd x reader #bat boys #red hood imagine #the red hood #red hood #red hood x reader #roy harper #arsenal #reader insert #dc comics

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 2: Birthday Boy

…in which Harry gets the birthday surprise he didn’t ask for.

Word count: 4.7k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Thank you for all the love for Harry and Ezi after chapter 1. Please let me know what you think about each chapter so I can be motivated to write faster 😆

.

.

.

“Humans are so funny. You make up false stories about us and refuse to believe anything that isn’t the same as your imagination,” the siren said.

Harry tossed his head back and laughed. He held out a finger at her. “No, mermaids aren’t supposed to exist. You’re not supposed to exist.”

The siren narrowed her sharp gaze, and Harry quickly moved back a bit in fear of her grabbing his leg and pulling him into the water. To his surprise, she said, “And who are you to decide that? A useless human with a useless tail–”

“Okay, enough with the tail joke.”

“–can’t even survive the drowning deep. You don’t want to believe we exist, so you won’t have to carry the guilt of trashing our homes and murdering our kind.”

Baffled, Harry worked his jaw while silently cursing himself for never taking part in those debate classes back in school. Well, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that one day he would have to debate with a deadly siren in a cave on his goddamn birthday!

He shut his eyes and sucked in a breath. “Look, lady. I’m only one small human, with a bigger than average human tail, FYI.” The siren eyed at his crotch in disbelief, so he quickly crossed his legs. “But that’s beside the point! What I was trying to say was that, if you’re seeking revenge, I can’t satisfy you because I’m not responsible for trashing the ocean or shit like that. I’m a singer, alright? And I don’t even live here. I’m from London. A land far away. If you wanna murder a human, I suggest looking for Elon Musk.”

The siren stared at him like he was the mythical creature. “I’m not familiar with all the names you mentioned,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, which had been a big distraction for him. Good to know that he could still get horny while facing death.

“Don’t you guys have fish Wikipedia?” he asked, and she tilted her head, looking rather confused. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that you should know all the facts about humans. That sounded like discrimination against sirens.”

For the first time since Harry met this siren, she actually smiled at him. “You have a lot of funny words, you strange creature,” she said, her eyebrows knitted in fascination.

“You know what?” Harry exhaled sharply. “Since you’re my kidnapper, I’m gonna stop arguing with you in case you still wanna kill me. But today is my birthday, so I can’t be kidnapped. I haven’t posted a thank you message on Twitter yet, and I might get cancelled for that. Celebrities get cancelled for literally anything nowadays. It’s annoying.” The siren blinked at him, her pink lips slightly parted. “Right,” he breathed. “You don’t have a Twitter account.”

“You said you were a singer.”

“That’s all you got from my long speech?”

“What is it? Singer.”

Harry bit his dry lip and frustratedly combed his fingers through his damp hair. “I sing. Use my voice to entertain other people.”

“Oh, like sirens.”

“I guess.”

“Except that we use our voice to kill people.”

“What?”

“Sing for me,” said the siren despite Harry’s horrified look. She seemed excited as she rested her folded arms on a boulder and gazed up at him with a twinkle in her crystal clear blue eyes. “Let’s hear it. I didn’t know humans could sing. Let’s see if it’s good.”

“Fine.” Harry blew out his cheeks and cleared his throat.

He began to sing.

“Walk in your rainbow paradise–”

“What’s a rainbow paradise?” the siren asked, but he didn’t stop singing to answer her.

“–brown skin and lemon over ice.”

“Why are you singing nonsense words?”

Once again, he ignored her, this time, closing his eyes. “I get so lost inside your eyes. Don’t you believe it? You don’t have to say you love me.”

“Love,” the siren repeated the word as if she had never heard of it in her whole life.

Harry opened his eyes and found that she was looking at him as if she could see right through him. He went on, “You don’t have to say you’re mine. Oh honey, I-i-i-i walk through fire for you. Just let me adore you.”

“Why would you walk through fire for someone?” the siren wondered out loud as she stared off into the distance, her strong brows knitted. “That's stupid. Fire is hot. I saw the humans on the boats use it one night. I almost burned my fingers trying to touch it.”

“Yeah, don’t play with fire.”

“Then why would you walk through it?”

The siren pouted, and Harry caught himself smiling at her naivety. “It’s supposed to mean that you’d do anything for the person you love. Even risking your life.”

“That’s stupid,” the siren repeated her earlier remark. For a second, Harry saw a curious little girl and not a dangerous sea creature from earlier.

“Well, it’s just a song,” Harry told her. “I personally wouldn’t do that for anyone, either, but some people do love with all they have, and would sacrifice everything for the one they love.”

An angry frown had replaced the siren’s previous perplexed expression. “Some humans murder the ones they claim to love,” she said in a cold voice. Harry felt a chill running down his spine, but then the siren went on with a softened expression. “Sirens are not supposed to love. Love is a weakness for my kind.”

Harry nodded. “Bet you don’t even have a heart.”

The siren cocked her head; a corner of her mouth raised subtly. “Every living and breathing thing has a heart. Sometimes it’s valuable. Sometimes it's not.”

“Only valuable if it’s the heart that you want,” replied Harry.

For a long moment, the siren looked into his eyes as if she was trying to read his thoughts. Could she do that? Read his thoughts?

Beads of sweat were trickling down his back as his heart began to race; he could hear it in his ears. Suddenly, the siren was pulled beneath the water. Harry stiffened at once. The ocean was still for a moment, then two sparkling tails burst through the surface. Harry’s jaw fell slack with a soundless scream when he saw another siren sinking her fangs into the first one's neck.

The other siren had bright red hair and a silver tail. There were visible scars all across her pale, lanky arms, and he couldn’t see her face. Legs too stiff to run and hide, he stood on the edge and watched in absolute terror. The scene in front of him was madness as the sirens screeched, their tails flapping, creating violent waves as they sank their claws and teeth into each other’s flesh. Harry could see blood. The first siren was not as strong as the one that was attacking her. He must save her. Maybe a part of him knew that she wasn’t entirely evil. Maybe because she was the only hope for him to get home. Either way, he couldn’t just stand by and watch her die.

Before Harry could even think of a way, a bony hand wrapped around his ankle and dragged him into the sea.

.

.

.

Harry’s dreams were thick with blood and haunted by the siren’s face. He’d been in the dark water, drowning, and the last thing he’d seen was her sapphire eyes glowing with the sunlight above as she’d stretched out her arm to grab him before he sank deeper. He woke up gasping, still feeling the saltiness of the ocean on his tongue and the pressure of water on his lungs.

He found himself lying on his bed, fully naked under the covers. Had he been dreaming?

Kneading his temple to chase away the headache, Harry scanned his sore eyes around the room and screamed when he saw her sitting in the corner. Naked. He looked away as soon as he caught her ocean blue eyes staring back.

The siren was in his room. And she had legs!

“You’re alive!” she exclaimed.

He heard her standing up but couldn’t bring himself to look. She sat down on the edge of his bed, smelling like the ocean. Not the fishy kind of smell; one that was unique, and Harry liked it even though he shouldn’t.

“This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream,” he mumbled to himself while clutching the duvet to his chest.

The siren, now a human girl, let out a sigh. “It’s not. This is real. I’m real.”

“You’re not.”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re...naked.”

Even though Harry wasn’t looking, he could feel her questioning gaze pinning on him. He grabbed the covers and shoved them at her. “Cover yourself.”

“Oh...okay.” The siren did as she was told as Harry quickly placed a pillow on his private part. He finally looked at her, and she smiled while covering her upper body and the area between her legs with the duvet.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Better. Okay, why are you here?”

The siren’s eyes widened. “You don’t remember?”

Harry shook his head.

“We were talking when my sister attacked me, then dragged you into the water. You were lucky I saved you twice and brought you back to where I’d found you. This is the only palace on this beach, so I assumed it was yours.”

Harry sat and stared her face, trying to detect a lie but failed.

The siren rolled her eyes. She seemed disappointed as she swept her long black hair over her shoulder, exposing the huge bite mark on her long pale neck. The skin had healed, and the blood had dried, but the area was still bruised. Harry fought the urge to touch it. There was no way this was really happening.

The siren shot a glance at his ankle. And that was when Harry noticed the red claw mark around it. He shivered at the flashbacks of a siren with red hair and a silver tail charging straight at him with her mouth wide open, her sharp teeth ready to tear off his flesh.

“Sorry about my sister. She could be very...deadly,” the siren in front of him said, looking remorseful.

Harry eyed her up and down once again. Finally, he broke his silence, “What happened to your tail?”

The siren refused to look him in the eye as she said, “My mother found out that I saved you, a human, so she cursed me.”

“Cursed you?”

The siren said nothing; the corners of her mouth lowered as she stared down sadly at her legs.

What kind of The Little Mermaid plot is this? Harry thought to himself, yet didn’t say it because it shouldn’t be a joke. She’d lost her tail, which meant she couldn’t go back to the ocean. Ariel from The Little Mermaid had wished to become a human. This girl had been cursed with the life she never wanted just to save him twice.

Harry buried his face into his palms. “Shit. Fuck. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“It is your fault.”

His head whipped up at her honest response. “You always say what you think, don’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Harry sighed and ran his palm over his face. “Never mind. How...how do I get you back to your mermaid form?”

“Siren.”

“Sorry, siren. How do I help turn you back?”

“I don’t know,” she said sadly, clutching the duvet to her chest. “But I need a place to stay until I figure it out.”

Harry thought for a moment and nodded. “I’ll pay for your hotel room.”

“What’s a hotel?” the siren asked, her eyes round. “And why can’t I stay here in your palace? It’s big and you live alone.”

“This is a house, not a palace,” Harry said. “But I’m going back to London tomorrow, and I can’t take you with me.”

“Where is London? I want to see London.”

Seeing her so excited made Harry laugh. “No, you don’t; trust me. It’s not sunny there. Always dark and gloomy and raining.”

“It’s not sunny underwater, either.”

Harry held up a finger and kept his mouth open for a moment as he pondered over what she’d said. “Good point. But I’m still not taking you to London. That’s not a good idea.”

The siren’s eyebrows drew together. “It was your fault I’m in this situation.”

Harry gasped. “You’re so manipulative!”

“I don’t know what it means.”

“It means you say things like that to get me to feel sorry for you, and so I have to help you.”

“Oh, then, yeah, I’m manipulative,” the siren said. “Take me to London with you, or I’ll find you in London and make your life hell.”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. As if he hadn’t been traumatised enough by all the events that had happened today, now he had to take responsibility for the life of a mythical creature. If he had been a bad guy, he would have just let the government have her and keep her in a lab like that Oscar-winning movie about the dead girl and her fish lover. But Harry wasn’t a villain. Sure, he could be an asshole, but he couldn’t betray someone who’d risked her life to save his. Twice.

Maybe if he’d just say yes and then leave quickly in the morning, he wouldn’t have to deal with her. He’d ask someone to take care of her, pay for a place for her to stay and her food. Her mother would have to take her back eventually. He didn’t know about sirens, but even in the animal kingdom, mothers never abandoned their children.

“Fine, I’ll take you to London,” he said. Seeing the smile on her face, he was lowkey thankful that he was so good at lying. “First, you have to put some clothes on. Wait here.”

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, holding a pillow in front of his crotch and one behind him to cover his butt, then padded awkwardly to his closet to change and get her something to wear. When he returned, she was still sitting on his bed, humming a familiar song and kicking her feet as if testing out her new body parts. He found it endearing, but of course, he wouldn’t tell her.

He handed her a bathrobe. “Put this on. I’ll find some real clothes for you later.”

The siren accepted the bathrobe and stared at it as if she’d been told to put it in her mouth and chew. She glanced up at him. “I don’t understand the purpose of this.”

“To cover up your private parts.”

Suddenly, she seemed sad. “I think I’m broken.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

She looked at him again, pouting. “I don’t have a tail.”

“I can see that.”

“No, I mean, a tail like yours.”

When Harry realised what she meant, his face burned, and he cleared his throat into his fist. “You’re not supposed to,” he said awkwardly. “You’re...a female. I bet male sirens don’t look the same as you, right?”

“There’s no male sirens,” she told him.

Harry cocked his head to the side, squinting his eyes. “Huh? Then how do you guys...you know?”

She blinked innocently at him. She didn’t know.

“Mate.” The word made Harry cringe. “How do you mate?”

“Sirens mate with mermen. We only need them for children.”

“Okay, that’s...new…”

Harry would be glad to find out more, but this was definitely not the right time. He waved his hand, urging her to hurry up. Clumsily, the siren got to her feet. Harry didn’t intend to stay here while she changed, but since she could barely keep her balance, she had to hold onto his arms. He stood there, staring at the ceiling as the duvet dropped. She was completely naked in front of him now and so dangerously close. The voice inside his head was telling him not to peek. Fuck. Why did she have to be sexy?

“Do you...um...do you need help?” he asked as she seemed to be struggling with the bathrobe.

“No, thanks. I got it!” she said between ragged breaths, then, “Hey your tail is growing!”

Harry’s eyes dropped to the front of his boxers, his face heating at the sight of his erection. He gently pushed her back onto the bed and rushed to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” she shouted after him. “I need to see it in its full form!”

“This is its full form!”

“It’s still small.”

“Shut up! It’s not!”

.

.

.

Ezili felt bad for lying to this human.

Well, lying was the whole point of her mission, but he had been so nice to her when he found out she couldn’t return to the ocean. She blamed her new human heart for these emotions. Siren Ezili would never feel sorry for this ugly creature. No, wait, this one wasn’t ugly. The mermen were ugly. As much as she despised humans, she must admit that most of them were beautiful.

When this human wasn’t looking, Ezili would regard him with as much curiosity as he had regarded her in secret. The way his brown curls swept back messily. His defined jawlines. The deep dimples in his cheeks. The look of wonder in his eyes. He looked about her age, but his eyes were innocent, greener than seaweed.

She looked away as he caught her gawking. They were sitting at a small table on the floor. The room was darkly lit by the light in the corner. On the table was a mushy pile with little fire sticks on top.

“What is this?” Ezili asked, inspecting the object.

The human smiled at her, the firelight dancing in his leaf-green eyes as he said, “It’s a cake. We’re celebrating my birthday.”

“You told me not to play with fire.”

“We’re gonna put it out anyway.” He winked at her. “A little fire won’t hurt.” Ezili watched the human take out a little black thing and flick his thumb. Fire flared out, making Ezili flinch. “Relax,” he chuckled and the fire vanished. “This is called a lighter. It makes fire. This is a cake. These are candles.”

“What do we do with the cake?”

“We eat it.”

“You eat fire?”

The human laughed at Ezili’s distressed look. “No, silly. We blow out the candles, then eat the cake.”

“Oh,” she said, making him laugh harder. She found it disrespectful and annoying. Was this creature making fun of her? “What’s so funny?” she asked through gritted teeth.

The human stopped laughing, yet his dimples were still visible. “I can’t believe I’m celebrating my twenty-fourth with a siren,” he said.

“Who do you usually celebrate with?” Ezili asked.

��My friends or family,” the human said. “My friends were supposed to be here but their flight got cancelled due to bad weather.” The sadness in his eyes disappeared as he gave a dismissive wave and laughed. “Oh well, it’s not bad being alone. In fact, I’ve been alone my whole life.”

“That’s sad,” Ezili murmured, mesmerized by the candles.

“It’s not,” replied the human. “Some people live their whole life surrounded by others, and yet, they’re still lonely.”

As he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, smiled, and blew out the candles, Ezili sat there and pondered over his last words.

They didn’t eat the cake right away, because the humans said they ought to eat it after dinner. Apparently, humans ate three main meals a day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sirens ate when they were hungry, so this was very new to Ezili. She picked up the small shiny thing that shaped like her mother’s trident and pushed around the foods on her plate. “What is this?”

“Fish,” the human said with a smile.

“Dead?”

“You expect me to eat alive fish?”

Ezili scowled at him. “That’s what we eat.”

“You’re human now. Try cooked fish.”

When she didn’t do anything but stare at the plate, the human nudged her hand with his knuckles. “Come on. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you the raw fish in the fridge.”

Ezili doubted that this imbecile creature would poison her with these colourful foods to get away with his responsibility, but at the same time, nothing was impossible.

However, she would probably faint if she didn’t eat. This dinner actually smelled good, and her stomach was rumbling because she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. And so she stabbed the fish’s burned flesh with her little trident, closed her eyes and put it into her mouth. It was soft, salty and a bit spicy, and...surprisingly delicious. She quickly took another bite, and another, and another.

“Wow, you’re really hungry, huh?” The human chuckled. “You like it?”

Ezili nodded fast, unable to answer because her mouth was full.

The human seemed satisfied. “Good. Means I’m a great cook.”

Ezili chewed fast and swallowed as the human began to eat. She tried to copy the way he held the little trident and the knife, and felt like she’d changed. Her mother would hate her so much for enjoying this. And Koa would make sure everyone in their kingdom knew and turn her into a laughing stock.

“Do you have any questions for me?” she said, breaking the silence, mostly to distract herself from thinking about the mission and her family.

The human thought for a second. “Hmmm, I have a bunch so I don’t know where to start.” Then, after a pause, “Why did your mum do this to you? Doesn’t she love you?”

Ezili wished she could stab him for bringing up the topic she’d been trying to avoid. Instead, she sucked in a breath. “She does. It’s just...the way sirens show love is different from humans. We teach our children to be strong from the moment they are born. Sirens live dependent on one another to survive, and so we always have to look out for one another. I guess that’s love for us. My mother is the Sea Queen. She’s very powerful, and so she has high hopes for my sister and I. My sister is better than me, though. I’ve always envied her.”

“Your sister is scary as hell,” the human remarked. “But if your mum is the Queen, you must be a princess.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, so does that make me Prince Eric?”

“Your name is Eric?”

“No,” the human chuckled. “It’s a reference from The Little Mermaid. You should watch that film. You’d probably hate it though. Anyway, it’s so weird that we don’t know each other’s name. I’m Harry.” The human, well, Harry, put his hand across the table. Ezili didn’t know what to do with it so she just stared.

“I’m Ezili.”

Harry smiled, picked up her right hand and shook it. His hand was bigger than her and warm. She liked it.

“Cool name. Can I call you Ezi?”

Ezili instantly pulled her hand back. “No, you filthy creature. That’s not my name!”

“Ezi is short for Ezili.”

“What?”

Harry ignored the look of confusion she was giving him. “Or I could call you Bubbles. That’s a cute nickname.”

“Why Bubbles?”

“Because…” He tossed his head back and groaned. “Damn, woman, you gotta read the story, too. I can’t make these jokes if you don’t get the references.”

Ezili had so many questions. Just as she was about to ask, the black thing on the table lit up and started playing a song that startled Ezili.

“Sorry. My mum’s calling,” Harry said as he picked up the thing and swiped his fingers across it. “Right on time.”

“Is your mother trapped in that thing?” Ezili asked, clutching the hem of the shirt Harry had told her to wear. It was too big on her but she loved that it was comfortable and kept her warm.

“No, this is a phone,” Harry said, shaking the magical device with light coming out of it. “So my mum’s in London, and when she calls me on the phone, her voice gets transferred through it, and I can hear what she says.” He pushed himself up and told Ezili, “I’ll be right back.”

Once Harry was gone, Ezili sat there and tried her best to process all the new information. It was only her first night on land and she was already going through it. This mission was harder than she thought. Still, she had no choice but to continue. She must have that heart, and her mother would be so proud.

.

.

.

When Harry woke up this time, he was on his private jet.

“Hey.”

He screamed, causing Ezi to fall back into her seat in front of him. He whipped his head around and saw that they were the only two people in this cabin. Before he could even come up with a question, Ezi got up, her hand resting on either side of his seat as she leaned forward, until her face was so close to his that he could smell the vanilla scent of the cake in her breath.

Her eyes sharpened at once. “I know you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No...I didn’t.”

“You did, Harry. You were going to leave me at your beach house. I heard you talking on the phone last night with someone else after talking to your mum. You mentioned a hotel room.”

Harry had booked a room for her on the phone last night. He should have done it on the website.

“But guess what?” A corner of her mouth lifted. “I might not have the ability to control tides anymore, but I still have my voice. And so I can control humans with it. I sang you to sleep last night. Then when your servants came to take you to this metal bird, I made him carry you to the magic black carriage and I came here with you. You think you’re one step ahead, you’re wrong. Try that again. I dare you.”

Harry swallowed hard. He could feel his palms sweating as he rubbed them against his thighs. “Okay, I’m sorry for that,” he said.  “But you can’t control people like that. If someone found out what you’re capable of...what you are...you’d be in big trouble.”

Ezi arched an eyebrow as she slowly backed away and stood straight with her arms across her chest. Thank God, Harry’s mother called just in time. He immediately got up and excused himself to answer the phone. He left a pouty Ezili in the cabin and went to the exit to talk to his mother.

“My precious boy, are you on the plane right now?”

“Yes, Mum,” Harry sighed.

“Good. I just need the name of your date for the seat arrangement.”

Harry stiffened for a second then quickly glanced over his shoulder to check if Ezi was eavesdropping. Fortunately, she was distracted by a magazine.

“Like now?” he asked his mum.

“Yes. Last night you told me you found one.”

Yes, Harry remembered that part, but he’d only said that so his mum would stop pestering him.

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I did.”

“Her name?”

He hesitated before saying, “Ezili Hans.”

Hans as in Hans Christian Andersen. The writer of The Little Mermaid. If he had the energy to be happy, he’d give himself a pat on the back for the creativity.

“Great,” his mother said, sounding as if he’d just told her he was getting married. “I’m so excited to meet this girl.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, dear?”

“I-I said ‘Well, of course’,” Harry said and covered it up with a nervous laugh.

When he got off the phone with his mum, he felt a light tap on the shoulder and turned around to see Ezi. Shit, had she listened to–

“I promise I won’t use my singing voice to control you again,” she said, to his surprise. "Please. I cannot survive on my own." She twisted the hem of his band-tee uneasily. Even though she looked super cute in his t-shirt and joggers, she was still too underdressed for someone that was travelling on a private jet.

“Fine. You can stay,” he heard himself say while trying to imagine her with actual clothes that fit her.

Ezi’s blue eyes lit up, and the smile that rarely showed up on her face caught Harry off guard. He almost forgot what was happening.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But we need to set up some rules.”

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