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kinocomix · 5 months

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Untitled project Devlog #3: The crab effect

Today we’re going to talk about how art and politics are inherently inseparable on a conceptual level, but first: let’s talk about boots.

If you google Doc Martens you’ll be taken to their website where you have the option of buying an assortment of very overpriced shoes that a lesbian on tiktok assured me are made less good than classic ones from the 90’s and 80’s. When I was in class one day our professor mentioned how nowadays a lot of companies adopt an ideology put forth by Ford (the car manufacturer) where if you have a very sturdy part of a machine that’s expensive to make but the rest of the machine isn’t, the “smarter” idea is to make this part cheaper and less sturdy than to spend a bunch of money to make the whole machine better- supposedly this is better for the consumer somehow but that’s not the point. Setting aside how that raises the question of planned obsolescence and potential consumer exploitation, part of the reason that people say old Doc Marten shoes are better… is probably because they actually are.

from how to geek: https://www.howtogeek.com/731791/what-is-planned-obsolescence-and-how-does-it-affect-my-devices/

This sentiment, the idea that companies aren’t worth your respect because they optimize their products to make more money and not to actually sell you a good product is part of what a lot of punk subcultures are about. Those same boots were likely part of the original fashion focused subculture, skinheads, that assisted in the creation of the punk genre.

The original meaning of “skinhead” referred to some working class young people who had some extra cash to spend on clothing. Because history is always very messy, some racists saw that and thought “oh wow young people who can vote” and then neo nazis happened. in reaction to that you had people still calling themselves skinheads now taking an anti racist anti fascist approach. to note: it’s not clear cut, you still had people in the middle not caring.

This is how the ideology of punk was born. It’s this whole messy history lesson spanning continents, politics, fashion, a distaste for what was then the way too polished mirror sheen of rock. they wanted something tangible, something of the people by the people. so take the urban fashion of the original reggae/soul/ska influenced skinhead movement born in the UK, combine it with the now beginning to be unique sound of american punk just trying to sound different, the image of the working class “bastard” that deconstructed and challenged the idea of what a musician was and you get a socio-politically motivated genre of music that wants the best for the people.

sidenote: in case you’re wondering- yes there were neonazi punk musicians, but it’s not called punk, it’s called hatecore, which is… a fitting name. Genres are not only defined by sound, but themes as well.

Remember when I mentioned that music changes based off of the social fabric it’s built on? there you go. Punk as we know it would not exist the way it does today had it not been for that messy history. Now with that in mind, you can hopefully see why there’s an overlap with metal. If I were to vaguely state “loud music that actually wants to say something very important” you might have a hard time telling me which genre I’m talking about. This overlap is vaguely similar to how nature keeps evolving crabs independently from each other:

“Carcinization is of interest to carcinologists and evolutionary biologists for several reasons and at different levels. First of all it is an instance of astonishing convergence, concerning a whole set of structures.”

Scholtz, G. (2014). Evolution of crabs – history and deconstruction of a prime example of convergence, Contributions to Zoology, 83 (2) 87-105. https://brill.com/view/journals/ctoz/83/2/article-p87_1.xml

And… it’s weird right? how these people trying to do different things ended up in the same place. to note, I’m aware that both of these genres are not exclusively worried about social and political issues, no genre is. Metal is first and foremost fun, and punk music is first and foremost that: MUSIC. But it’s hard to deny that both genres are intense in their messaging.

Remember the time System of a Down set aside years of creative differences to talk about the war happening in Armenia?

youtube

Literally any Russ Russel song will be talking about some variation of politics/the man/religion

Napalm Death, Metaphorically screw you

Here’s a fun fact, Rage against the machine got the N-word pass (I would presume) to sing their cover of Fuck the police

youtube

You know the meme of Gojira being all like “come here bb girl” and then it’s just like a tree? I mean that’s not based on nothing either…

youtube

On the lesser known end of the spectrum, you have artists like 3teeth which raise an interesting question:

3teeth, president X

“It’s all kind of… tongue in cheek?” you might say. There’s the song “God hates us all” by Slayer, when the lead singer Tom Araya was asked if he actually believes that he simply said the following:

Tom Araya in in Metal: A Headbanger's Journey, directed by Sam Dunn

Metal Musicians aren’t dumb. They know what they’re doing. Sometimes they’re Genuinely convinced of what they’re talking about. Other times They’re just trying to be outrageous.

Dee Snider, Lead singer of twisted Sister

A lot of the gender norm defying things the metal scene did in the 70’s was because they were just trying to look cool and outrageous. But let’s forget about that for a moment. I can hear someone giving the arguments “What about Nu metal?”, “What about Rob zombie?”, “what about Ghost”, “what about [insert commenter’s band here]?”. Are those political? no, neither is most music in general. No one listens to Feiruz and thinks “ah yes, you can clearly hear the Palestinian struggle represented through the lyrics” but you might just look up Feiruz, learn she’s from Lebanon and then learn about the part of the world glued to Lebanon called Palestine. This is called tangential learning, so in that same sense, maybe you’ll be listening to Bodies by Drowning pool–which is about moshing by the way– and for a moment you’ll think of something else more serious for example. Again, you might not, and that’s fine… but you can’t deny that the path is there.

Setting that aside for a moment, let’s consider the argument that music is a form of escapism. Leaning on this as your sole argument is very narrow minded and forgets the idea that escapist fiction is inherently anti-escapist. When you read Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson (which is great by the way go read Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson) sure you’re immersed in the world of the book and the intricacies of this nigh-impossible magical bank heist. But once you put down the book, you’re always reminded of the world you’re escaping from. Escapist fiction offers a temporary relief from reality, there is always a thread that tethers that fiction to the real world it pushes against.

Craig Thompson, Blankets

If you're still reading at this point you’re probably wondering how any of this is relevant to a comic book, let alone one that I'm making. The project I'm working on is going to feature a band that we’re going to be eventually making characters for. but in order to do that and do it properly, it’s important to understand the motivations behind the music. If I don’t then you end up with cliche characters like “angry rebellious metalhead” and “overly verbose activist punk” which no one wants and that would make the whole thing a shit fest at worst, and a boring comic at best. It’s important for me that i don’t rely on the events taking place in the story to hold it up, the world and people in it need to be just as interesting and complex as the contrivances of my narrative, otherwise I’m just writing a less good bandslam or a very uninspired rip off of inception that completely misses the point.

Anyways!I would be remiss to not specifically point out that I actually have a goal I’m working towards, I have a plot outline that’s been figured out for a while. All the work I’m doing fits into that skeleton in one way or another, but that’s it for now.

Devlog updates on tuesdays

#comic #kinocomix #devlog #graphic novel #metal #webcomic #craig thompson #twisted sister #slayer #punk rock #Youtube

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spencersawkward · 3 years

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*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed!

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best.

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him.

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't.

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh.

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals.

"you should bring one of your other friends."

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world.

"I thought that was just me." he says.

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?"

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep.

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up.

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't.

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other.

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open.

"yeah?"

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift.

"I could hear your breathing change."

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds.

"I wanted to say goodnight."

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound.

"now I can't because you made it weird."

"how did I make it weird?"

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?"

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated.

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours.

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do.

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship.

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing.

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs.

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate.

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge.

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart.

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it.

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over.

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again.

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing.

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest.

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things.

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath.

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars.

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most.

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle.

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out.

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull.

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate.

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head.

he definitely has a concussion.

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway.

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun."

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold.

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor.

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious.

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know.

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank.

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key.

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could.

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called.

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed.

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.

"hi."

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here.

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me."

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second.

"Y/N, I'm really fine."

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed.

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully.

"sounds like a nightmare."

"it is." he cracks up.

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?"

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too."

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm.

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter.

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her."

"oof." you wince.

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did.

"yeah." he avoids your gaze.

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard.

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares.

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder.

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret.

"you already said that."

"shut up."

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks.

"whatever. you care about me, too."

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you."

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums.

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas.

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud.

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you.

"were you thinking about anything in particular?"

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care.

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you."

"like?" now you're intrigued.

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down.

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?"

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um."

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be.

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you."

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal.

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed.

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you."

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more.

your heart swells.

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder.

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way.

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look.

"I'm in love with you, too."

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod.

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable.

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it.

"I'd say so, yeah."

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9.

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly.

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead.

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before.

never like this.

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his.

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact.

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans.

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in.

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection.

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you."

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer."

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you.

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other.

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast.

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material.

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god."

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too.

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now.

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow.

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..."

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth.

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans.

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down.

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully.

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like."

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop."

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines.

"mhmm."

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something."

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers.

"I'm a virgin." you say.

Spencer frowns. "really?"

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful."

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry.

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence.

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?"

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency.

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts.

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands.

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face.

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you.

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back.

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting.

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly.

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop."

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort.

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock.

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it.

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin.

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect."

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum."

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too."

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement.

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan.

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high.

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions.

you collapse fully, him still inside.

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it.

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out.

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird.

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy.

"we should try multiple times."

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?"

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?"

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate.

"yeah."

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #baby spence #mgg #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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mittensmorgul · 3 years

Text

For anyone interested in long-term residence in the supernatural fandom, please have some observations I’ve made over the decade I’ve been here. Take it or leave it as you will, but I’ve found all of this info useful over the years I’ve been here.

I wrote this yesterday, and it achieved its mission of identifying the sort of folks who would react negatively to it (i.e. a lot of block lists have been updated), so now that it’s been edited for content, it’s going under a cut (because that is how we do things on tumblr in general, unless we have a deliberate purpose for annoying readers with excessively long text posts) for the sake of people who actually do care about the fandom and its history. If that’s not you or your reason for being here, then keep on keeping on with your own thing, I guess. For those who are interested, there’s a lot of fandom resources some of us have been building for years that you might enjoy knowing about.

First off, I’ve been informed by a few friends who’ve read through this for coherency’s sake that it sort of reads like a *shakes cane from porch* fandom grandma complaint, but honestly... I earned this rocking chair and goshdangit imma rock now. So apologies for any “back in my day” vibes or faint aroma of tiger balm this post might give off. Then again, it’s loosely based on a similar post from 2012 so like... time is a flat circle anyway I guess.

1. There is no such thing as “tumblr famous,” unless you’re referring to the hilarious and delightful fic of the same name (please go read it, you will cackle). Posting Hot Takes for imaginary Clout™ on this site is kind of pointless in the long run. Sure you can post solely for the sake of stirring shit and getting notes, but the majority of the folks who do aren’t long term residents of the fandom. They’re just tourists moving through our little beach town for spring break. If you’re actually intent on moving to this corner of the fandom for an extended stay, please bother to really feel out the permanent residents and understand the culture and general mood of the neighborhood. It bears no resemblance to whatever’s going on across town where all the bars and beach parities are happening, and those loud, drunken revelers are, again, gonna disappear back to their regular lives or on to the next party eventually. That doesn’t mean the fandom is dying, it’s just evolving.

(funny how I had several comments implying that I’m just trying to keep the fandom from evolving with this post, because I sincerely do want the fandom to continue on for years to come, and that is impossible without evolution. We can evolve without self-immolating, though. mostly i included point 1 for an excuse to push ancient but hilarious fanfic on you.)

2. Once you post something here, it’s been unleashed to the fandom winds. You never know where it will end up, or who will comment on it or add to it. Remember that time Misha tweeted the link to the Epic Cockles Love Story post? No? It was wild. That was 2012. They all know we’re here, and how to find us if they want to. Please don’t take it to their doorsteps.

Obviously if someone is being a dick on your posts, please feel free to block them, but the whole entire point of this site is to engage people with your posts. Being big mad that someone reblogged your post with comments or supporting evidence, or happy headcanons or “HECK THIS IS GREAT BECAUSE (insert personal story about their experience or whatever else made them Feel Things about your post)” is frankly ridiculous. If your goal is to avoid any sort of engagement with your posts, then maybe try instagram instead. From what I understand, there is a SPN fandom presence there, and nobody can tarnish your original posts with unwanted commentary. But the ability to reblog with additional commentary is a FEATURE of tumblr that builds community through conversation. Otherwise we’re all just talking to ourselves in a vacuum, and that’s what actually kills fandoms.

(and for the folks who just want to blog how they want to blog and don’t want people to engage on their posts at all, please feel free to block anyone you want, as well... nobody wants to step on your toes, but most of us also don’t want to walk on eggshells wondering if this post is one of the “do not add comments for any reason” sorts of posts, either. This is a huge fandom and most people can’t even begin to keep track of every creator and their url du jour, and what their personal rules might be regarding interaction with their content. Including a “please don’t add comments” note at the bottom of your posts-- and not in your tags that won’t even show up on reblogs, but in the actual body of the post-- would sincerely help avoid any awkward or unwanted interactions, too. At the end of the day, you are in control of your own fandom experience and the block button exists.

For the record, I block zero fandom blogs (which is why I posted this, I wanted it to reach a wide scope... refer to the opening paragraphs as to why).

3. Since this post was partly inspired by a tag I left on that post going around about how “previous tags” mean fuckall on this site (which you can read here), just a reminder that if you like someone’s tags or feel they add value to the post, part of the Peer Review structure of tumblr encourages you to PASTE THEM INTO A REBLOG. If you do this, then at least credit the person who actually wrote the tags! Don’t just copy someone else’s tags into your tags on your reblog of the post without credit either. They were not YOUR tags. (I have had this happen to tag rambles I wrote and someone else got credited with them on a subsequent reblog and it is FRUSTRATING). Just... don’t even bother to write “previous tags” because WHAT PREVIOUS TAGS?! Nobody is gonna bother to chase back the chain of reblogs trying to find where the mystery tags came from, friendos. That way lies madness.

(for the record, since some folks seemed to focus on this point solely, writing “previous tags” on a post isn’t inherently a BAD thing, but for anyone who actually is here for more than one-off shitposting, then it’s sort of a pointless thing in the long run. This wasn’t intended to suggest people who ARE here for one-off shitposting are bad or “doing it wrong,” but for people who might actually want to preserve that hilarious joke or insightful comment. People delete posts and entire blogs all the time around here. Links break. I get that the upcoming generation just shrugs at that and moves on with their lives, but heck... you don’t have to accept that all entertainment is disposable if you don’t want to. There’s a bizarre sort of nihilism plaguing us all about the impermanence of pretty much everything that feels like something we should be fighting against rather than buying into wholesale, even in our escapist entertainment. I’m just exhausted by the complete loss of joy in community.

*shouts from the peanut gallery* IT AIN’T THAT DEEP, JUST GET SOME FRESH AIR AND LOOK AT A PUPPY OR SOMETHING

Yes... yes it isn’t really that deep, but bigger picture in the state of reality we’re all entirely disillusioned with, are we supposed to just give up on everything, including the things we cling to because they bring us a tiny spark of hope that we’re not all just trapped in this dystopian nightmare and things might actually be worth living for?

*peanut gallery clinging to burnt husks of peanuts in a barren peanut field* but this is how we have chosen to cope

Okay... you do you... I feel bad for you but if that’s the case then this post is NOT FOR YOU. AND THAT’S FINE. I honestly do not care if you don’t care! I mean, I’m sorry anyone has to live in a world that drives them to that mindset, but I understand. This post is for anyone who might look at their lives and their choices and think “no wait, I unironically enjoy this and want more from the experience of that enjoyment than I’m currently feeling.” Everyone else can continue with their lives as usual.)

4. CONTENT THEFT IS NEVER OKAY. PERIOD. Things like “credit to the artist” or tagging gifs or images you found on pinterest as “not mine” isn’t actually credit. If you can’t source an image or gif set, DO NOT POST IT! We don’t REPOST (i.e. save an image and then create a new post with it as if it was our own creation). We REBLOG (click the little square arrows and reblog from the actual creator). That goes for gif sets, fanvids, screencaps, meta, fic... everything.

(hopefully everyone here already understands this one, but I felt compelled to include some “these are stupidly obvious” reminders anyway, since this is ostensibly some sort of advice column. This is the equivalent of the warning label on your toaster reminding you not to use it in the bath. Like... duh...)

5. Close kin of item 4 is SOURCE YOUR SHIT.

(for 100% disclosure purposes, I specifically discussed this one in this specific way because of an influx of anon ask messages I received in the wake of the finale. Literally the inciting incident for creating this entire post was what I can only assume was a joking ask about a comment Misha made at a con years ago. Someone actually bothered to take the time to type out those sentences to me. I have no idea what they were expecting in reply, or what could possibly motivate them to send this comment about something so entirely random from, again, several years ago. Just a joke? No idea, but whatever... it got me thinking that there might actually be people who are new to the fandom who MIGHT actually care about the fandom history, and maybe they just don’t know where to go for that info, or how to even begin searching through 16 years of history for things they might actually find enjoyment in, rather than just hauling random out of context garbage out on main and pointing and laughing about it now. People are actually allowed to care about things. It’s not cringeworthy to actually care about things, and you are not alone in actually caring, and there’s this whole big room over here full of people who are thrilled to share in that with you. This post is intended FOR THOSE PEOPLE SPECIFICALLY, so if that is not you, please just continue walking by.)

Yes, I know lots of y’all are new around here right now, but dredging up stuff from years ago that fandom has completely debunked and presenting it as TRU FAX again is just exhausting. We’re not trying to be party poopers, but seriously, we have seen it all and are mostly done with extinguishing bags of flaming dog poop on our front porches for the umpteenth year in a row. I’ve seen a lot of posts that have the same tone as “I saw Goody Proctor dancing with the devil” or “I heard kylo ren has an eight pack” and just... the information is there for anyone who cares enough to find it.

This goes double for “why is nobody talking about this thing I just discovered while watching the show for the first time?!” And, oh hon, we have talked it all into the ground over the last fifteen years. We’re happy you’re discovering it again, but I promise we talked about it plenty when the episodes originally aired. We have such a rich meta history that lots of us have worked really hard to preserve. I encourage you to seek it out, if nothing else than as historical artifacts. The way we have discussed the show has been a 16-year evolution. People have written literal doctoral dissertations on this show. Your shitposts are fun! We love reliving our own experience through fresh eyes, and seeing your wonder at experiencing it all again for the first time! But y’all didn’t invent this fandom in the last six months, either.

Meta Sources and Minerals provided by our friendly neighborhood fandom archivist, @lets-steal-an-archive

Academic books and articles about SPN

A collection of Meta Essays going back to s1 and organized by topic (all of this has happened before, all of it will happen again)

SPN Heavy Meta Archive (s1-3)

Mel’s Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-12)

Oranges8hands Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-15, with many similar entries to Mel’s... though ymmv on viewpoint in a lot of these too)

Anyone remember Fandom Wank? Not the concept but the actual LJ... No? Okay have a link to SPN topics that ended up there. Through 2013. We have seen so much... including several fandom containment breaches.

for all your art sourcing needs, please see @theroadsofararchive, the repository for so much fandom art.

need to find a gif of something? canonspngifs is a vast repository of gifsets of the entire series. If the gif you want to use in your post happens to be the first gif in the gifset, in the tumblr gif finder thingy just paste the permalink to that post from canonspngifs (which is easily searchable by episode, character, location, situation, quotes, and sometimes even color and clothing items the actors are wearing... it’s really well organized, especially for tumblr >.>) and the first gif will be automatically linked with credit to the gif creator attached. It makes life easy that way. It’s also convenient when trying to remember something specific but can’t remember what episode it’s from. I’ve used the site to jog my memory before going to the superwiki armed with more specific search results to find episode quotes and references. Or sometimes I just scroll through all the nice gifs for fun, too.

Need a screencap of something and know exactly which episode it’s from? Try Home of the Nutty. You might not find the exact screencap you’re looking for, but they have a complete set of caps of every episode, and it’s an incredibly useful resource for quick reference checks and the like. Just give pages a chance to fully load before clicking on the next one. The site is easily overloaded, but it’s still free to use (and again, with credit... Pretty much every screencap on my entire blog is from HotN unless otherwise credited).

As you can see, this is a fandom built on preserving our history. You absolutely are not required to engage with any of this if that’s not of interest to you, but I can only assume that there are people who would be interested in it if only they knew it existed and how to find it. Well, now they do.

6. A few more notes on tags, and how they work on tumblr. The first 20 tags on your ORIGINAL posts are searchable sitewide, so if you want to be able to find something again, tag that thing first before going on general tag rambles. The only place tags on reblogs are searchable is on your own blog. So you don’t have to put 50 tags trying to get a post seen if it’s a reblog. You’re just spitting into the wind at that point. If you have a filing system for finding things again, then by all means add those tags (again, in the first 20, so they’re searchable), but you don’t need to tag a reblog “destiel” and “deancas” and “dean” and ��cas” and “dean x cas” or whatever. Pick one for your personal blog’s filing system, that’s all you need.

(this was only added because tagging and searching on this site is so very broken... I get that a lot of folks don’t care about ever searching their own blogs again for anything, so this one only really applies if you do often find yourself trying to find old posts. If not, then it’s not really relevant. It took me years to work out a decent tagging system, and at the beginning of my time here I never thought I’d end up camping out here for a decade and falling this deep into the fandom, and I regretted my lack of consistent tags only years later when I realized I actually wanted to be able to go back and find specific old posts again. So... for anyone who wants to err on the side of caution, working out a sensible tagging system really helps if you’re here for the long term. I personally tag content by episode, because some of my other general tags are so large as to be practically useless as a search term. But whatever system you choose to file stuff on your own blog, it really only has to make sense to you. And again, if this is pointless advice for someone who has no intention of settling here for the long term. Please feel free to ignore it. I just wish someone had explained it this way to me ten years ago and saved me the hassle of retroactively tagging something like 30k posts... especially now that using the mass tag replacer is the fastest way to get your entire blog deleted... oops? so yeah, don’t use the mass tag replacer either >.>)

7. Tags on Tumblr DO NOT WORK LIKE TAGS ON TWITTER. If you @ someone in the body of the post, it will show up in their notifications (if they’re the sort of person who even checks their notifications... not all of us do. For the record, I generally don’t...), but putting actor or ship names in the tags on a tumblr post does absolutely nothing. It’s not the same as tagging the actor’s twitter account in a tweet. Nobody’s getting notifications about you tagging a post about Jensen here as “Jensen Ackles.” There is a difference. Please learn it. (and don’t take headcanons and ESPECIALLY RPF or otherwise explicit art or fic from tumblr to twitter and tag the actors in it. That’s just... not okay.)

(I have seen the pearl clutchers getting all in a huff about the mere existence of RPF or even explicit content of fictional characters if it doesn’t meet their purity standards, but tagging those things allows people who don’t want to see it to actively avoid that content here. Nobody has a right to tell people their fictional content shouldn’t exist at all, or that creators of that fictional content somehow deserve harassment or threats for having dared to create such “immoral” content, won’t somebody PLEASE think of the children... and no... you do not do that here. Don’t be the problematic behavior you wish to ban from the world. Learn to use tags to protect yourself from, as i have attempted to emphasize here, fictional content you are personally upset by. That’s a you problem, not a problem for the creators of potentially upsetting content that they tag appropriately for.)

8. General formatting stuff: If you’re writing long text posts, visually break them up so people aren’t faced with one long wall of text. The enter key is your friend. Also, if you put long text posts under a Read More break and send people to your blog to finish reading, please ensure that your blog is actually visually accessible (tiny text, or light grey text on a dark grey background, or a visually busy background might be aesthetically pleasing to you but nobody can actually read it. Loads of folks won’t even try. Which is great if you don’t actually care whether people are able to appreciate your content or not, but something to at least consider if you *do* actively want to encourage engagement with your work. Confirm how your blog looks on both mobile and desktop and make sure it’s actually functional in both, too).

And since I mentioned that most of my experience on fandom tumblr has been in the SPN fandom, here’s a bit of a reminder for folks who are new around here. With the reminder that I have been here more than a decade and still feel like a newbie myself sometimes...

This is an OLD FANDOM. There are many, many people who have been at this longer than some of you have been alive. The average age for creators in this fandom is older than you think (I think of my friends in their 30′s as young’ins okay? okay). With that understood, you are responsible for the content you consume and are exposed to. Curate your experience. Ship and let ship. YKINMKATOK. Don’t deliberately expose yourself to content you find upsetting for whatever reason. Tags and warnings are your friends, not targets for you to attack in some sort of purity war. People will ship things you do not like (or in specific ways you do not like), will say things you do not agree with, and will find their happiness in things you abhor. That is not your concern. Find what you do like, and support and engage with it, and ignore (or block, or unfollow) the rest. Tumblr has a feature that lets you blacklist tags so the content you’re trying to avoid won’t appear on your dash.

Remember the paradox of tolerance.

It is not your job in fandom to police how other people enjoy the fandom. It’s not *my* job to police how *you* enjoy the fandom, UNLESS your enjoyment is in actively harming other real human beings in the fandom. If you don’t like their take on the character or the show or the plotlines or their ships or anything else, you don’t need to engage with their posts at all! The necessary corollary to this is that clarifying misunderstandings or correcting factual misinformation is not “policing.”

(this is where the peanut gallery reminds me it ain’t that deep, and I plead with them to put down the social media and find just one (1) thing to actually believe in in this godforsaken life, find something other than disdain and cynicism and spite to live for. If those things motivate you to find a larger cause for yourself, then great, use them to your advantage, but use them to find something that makes you a better person or brings you a modicum of joy and connection to your fellow human beings despite living in a dystopian hellscape of a world)

I have seen a lot of posts lately that are founded on the sort of authority that comes with “I watched through tumblr for a few months and then watched the last three episodes of the series” and as such are just... missing the larger context of the entire show, and are unfounded entirely in canon. I 100% appreciate the new enthusiasm for the fandom that we’ve been living in here for years, and it’s wonderful to see new people enjoying the thing we love. Your headcanons are valid, you are valid, but recognize that your headcanons aren’t canon. All of us finale denialists have accepted this in some measure, so we feel you. We truly, truly feel you. But regarding actual canon, we have a resource for that: the Superwiki. Learn it, live it, love it, as Metatron would say.

(which you could discover he said in 10.17 Inside Man, thanks to the superwiki! accept no substitutes!)

(and again, there have been people who have been involved in fandom for years who haven’t engaged with canon in years, either! You can play in this universe however you choose, BUT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT CANON AT ALL, WHICH I AM AGAIN POINTEDLY SAYING MIGHT NOT BE YOU, READER, AND I’M NOT SUGGESTING YOU ARE WRONG FOR NOT WANTING TO ACTUALLY ENGAGE WITH CANON, but if you DO want to engage with canon, please have some useful resources. Why do people feel personally attacked by being presented a list of helpful resources? Absolutely baffling.)

(also: words have definitions. “Canon” is a specific thing, meaning in this case “the finished media product that aired on television.” Anything beyond those limits is secondary canon (think: john’s journal, which is not canon but canon adjacent at best...), word of god (i.e stuff said by the writers and showrunners), or headcanon (which includes actor commentary-- they may have helped create the show with their acting choices and whatever, but they are not in control of the story overall). If there’s something you dislike about actual canon, you can reject it and supplement it with your own theories or preferred outcomes-- that’s basically what fanfic is-- but that doesn’t make your theories canon (much to all our dismay, that’s just not how any of this works. This is not to invalidate how anyone engages with the show or the fandom, just trying to clarify what seems to have been a source of unintentional misunderstandings. Your theories do not have to be “canon” to be legitimate interpretations.)

***I am setting this section apart, and did make a separate post of just this following information, because this is where we go from being relatively chill about different parts of fandom choosing to interact in different ways and you do you and blog however you want, to “hey can everybody please understand that the way you are interacting with this specific material might be harmful for specific legal reasons, and stating that you do not care about the consequences of your actions does actively make you the asshole here...” Okay, now that we have that understood:

The spnscripthunt collective has been steadily acquiring new scripts (which are posted in full on the superwiki for everyone to enjoy, for free). The language around how some folks are talking about these scripts is... concerning. For very real legal reasons, actually, and not because we’re feeling precious about the collection and don’t wike it when meanies use them in shitposts.

-First off, these scripts are not “leaks.” They are all verified and legally purchased (or gifted, in some cases, but still acquired entirely above board. we didn’t whack anyone over the head in a back alley for these scripts, or swipe them out of someone’s trailer on set).

(in case anyone was unaware, these scripts are the copywritten protected property of Warner Brothers. So yes, how we use them and share them with the fandom could have legal repercussions. We present them as a collected resource of fandom history which SHOULD fall under Fair Use doctrine, but this is untested legal water. Insinuating that the scripts are somehow not entirely legally obtained, or that posting them for public access involved less than 100% transparent and entirely legal transactions is incredibly concerning.

Once again for the peanut gallery, if you don’t care about any of that and are just having a good time with it, at least be mindful of the work and expense a large group of people have gone through to acquire and present the content you’re all too eager to exploit for cheap thrills. Some of us do actually care and are not exactly comfortable with the fact that others don’t seem to care about burning it all to the ground. We can’t force you to listen or behave as we’d hope you might, but at least be aware of the potential consequences of your actions. All we’re asking is for you to not be the douchebag who sets the whole neighborhood on fire with your illegal fireworks display. Is that too much to ask for? more on that in a second, first... a psa)

-If you see a script for sale and are unsure if it’s legit (or believe it might already be freely available in our collection), please feel free to ask us for advice. Our goal is to make as much of our fandom history available to the entire fandom, and we absolutely do not want anyone shelling out money for stuff you can already find for free.

(seriously, we’ve seen a bunch of resellers cropping up selling printed versions of the scripts we bought and uploaded for everyone to enjoy free of charge, or scripts that are otherwise of dubious origin. We’ve been at this for years now and know what’s actually out there. We don’t want anyone to fall for a scam if we can help it)

-Also, the usual reminder that the scripts we acquire ARE NOT NECESSARILY THE FINAL SHOOTING DRAFTS. In fact, the majority of scripts in our collection are NOT. Changes are made daily to scripts, even during filming. Comparing a Production Draft (white pages, effectively the first “final draft” of what usually becomes a series of drafts before filming wraps) to a much later revision (say... green or goldenrod revisions, several of which we DO have in our collection for comparison) and how those earlier drafts often differ wildly from the aired version versus how similar a much later green draft is to the aired version, for example, can teach you a lot about the television writing process. The link above to the superwiki scripts page has a nice little explainer about how this process works.

Differences between our posted scripts (many of which are white drafts, aka FIRST complete drafts, which will likely go through multiple rounds of revisions before filming even begins) and the aired version of the show are not all “acting choices” or a director or editor just cutting whole scenes on a whim. It’s insulting to everyone involved in production to suggest that’s the case.

(and yeah, fine... whatever, make any sort of posts you like regarding how those changes came about, but at the very least understand that it’s not actually the truth about how any of this works. Don’t care that that’s not the truth and want to make the posts anyway because shitposting is fun and that’s the extent of your sense of humor? FINE! You’re entitled to do that! But at least you DO know the truth now, and hopefully so do the people who engage with your posts. Deliberate ignorance isn’t cute, smooth lions notwithstanding)

There’s probably a whole other post to be made on fandom tagging etiquette, but again I don’t really use the tags enough to know what’s going on with that whole situation. I’ve also probably left a lot of stuff out, so please feel free to add things I’ve overlooked.

Thanks also to @trisscar368 and @thayerkerbasy for help compiling this, too. They were kind enough to escort me through the park to feed these pigeons. Now I need to take them out for ice cream. :’D

So I guess welcome to the neighborhood. Make yourself at home, but like... try not to trash the place while you’re here. Some of us live here by choice, lol.

#this blue hellsite (affectionate)#fandom problems #kinda wish i'd made this post six months ago but here we are i guess lol #long post #now edited for the people who are actually personally invested in the fandom #thanks for participating in this little experiment and I hope this version is actually informative to those who are interested #meaning there's a lot more links to stuff and explainers and whatnot...#and one last reminder that for folks just swinging through for laughs absolutely none of this applies to you #if you are legit interested in fandom history and preservation as we move to the post-canon world then hopefully this is useful to you

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justiceraffles · 3 years

Text

About the Gosho Boys and literary crime fiction

This is a lengthy text wall in which I ramble about detectives. It started out with me thinking about the Gosho boys and their relationship with classic mystery fiction and literary/fictional detectives and it ended up derailing into a Hakuba rabbit hole in which I overanalyse details pointlessly for hours because I guess that is simply how most of my free time is spent.

(Fair warning that this is probably ridden with mistakes because I am capable of only 1.3 thoughts at a time)

So, when it comes to Shinichi, Heiji and Kaito, they all have a literary character from classic detective fiction that they’re closely associated with. Namely, it’s Sherlock Holmes for Shinichi, Ellery Queen for Heiji, and Arsène Lupin for Kaito. The relationship they hold with each of these figures (and with crime fiction in general) is very different, but it’s quite telling of their personality, character, their relationship with literature, and their respective approach to their profession. I talk about each of them a little bit and then just spend half the time talking about Hakuba.

Shinichi is born in a household where mystery fiction is extremely important. He is surrounded by this type of story and his parents nurture this interest actively. Detectives and mysteries permeate his life wholly. For Shinichi, Holmes is seen as the maximum exponent of a genre. Holmes is The Great Detective. The archetype, the one that defines what it means to be a detective and the one later writers will seek to emulate one way or another. Detective fiction is what it is today because of Holmes, so it makes complete sense for Shinichi to have him as his idol. Holmes is what he strives to be and it’s what people associate him with.

Heiji is a lot more subtle than Shinichi is, but he is also very much a lit nerd. Ellery Queen is both a character and a pseudonym for the writers that created him. As a character, Ellery Queen is such a perfect choice for Heiji’s favourite detective. He’s a mystery writer who doubles as a sleuth and helps his father, a police inspector, in solving crimes. Wonder if that sounds familiar, huh. Aside from similarities in the character (I could go on about some passages that have such strong Heiji vibes I’d be here forever) the Queen novels challenge the reader very directly. They tell you to pay attention, that you are presented with the exact same clues as the detective and should therefore be able to solve the mystery as well. The mystery story is a competition and the author issues a challenge by presenting it to the reader. I love this because Heiji has a huge competitive streak, and this is highlighted from his introduction. To find that the stories he’s passionate about also encourage this side of him is just so fitting and appropriate.

The case where Shinichi and Heiji meet always makes me think of the contrast between reading a Holmes novel and a Queen story. Personally, I feel like the enjoyment of a Holmes story often relies on letting yourself be awed by the deduction. You can follow along with the mystery but a big part of the charm is based on the detective himself and the way he explains the thought process that leads him to his conclusion. You’re meant to sit down and enjoy as Holmes explains himself, and admire his brilliance. There’s a focus on the truth and the way to reach it, which is very, very Shinichi. A Queen novel, on the other hand, invites you to play along as you read. You are on equal standing with the detective, and it’s up to you to reach the same conclusion he does. These are the principles of “fair-play” in mystery fiction. As it implies, it is very much a game! So Heiji challenging Shinichi to a battle of wits and deductions goes perfectly in line with what he’s reading. Holmes is the genius detective you look up to with admiration, Queen is a sleuth that invites you to solve the crime alongside him. These suit the vibes that Shinichi and Heiji give off themselves very well.

Kaito is much, much different for obvious reasons. He’s not a detective, and he’s not nearly as much of a mystery geek as the others are. The entire KID persona is closely associated with Arséne Lupin because Toichi fashions it accordingly. Even if phantom thieves aren’t quite the same as Leblanc’s original idea for the Gentleman Burglar, they still have a clear origin in Lupin and there’s important similarities to be made between them. Storytelling-wise, KID heists work on the same principles as Lupin stories. You know the criminal is there, hidden amongst the cast presented to you, and you know he will carry out the crime. And, regardless of whether you have an inkling of an idea of how he’s going to pull it off or not, you still allow yourself to be amazed by his methods regardless when the trick is revealed! Even when the schemes are outlandish and border on the fantastical and unbelievable, the stories are best enjoyed when you suspend your disbelief and allow the plots and characters to be over the top. But well, the connection between Lupin and KID is fairly self-explanatory. So, rather than KID, I think it’s more interesting to think about the relationship between Lupin and Kaito himself.

Kaito doesn’t seek to be seen as a modern day-Lupin in the same way Shinichi wants to be a modern day-Holmes. Unlike Shinichi who becomes a detective in great part because he has Holmes as his idol, Kaito doesn’t become a thief because of his admiration towards a literary character, but because of his love and admiration towards his father. Kaito dons the KID suit with pride because it’s something his father left behind, and he embraces each part of it because it can lead to answers and understanding. But, always cryptic, Lupin doesn’t provide a whole lot of answers and understanding, and neither does Toichi. Lupin admits that he struggles to recognise himself under all the disguises and roles he has played. The truth behind his father’s character seems to become more elusive the more Kaito becomes involved with thievery. The “gentleman thief” persona, despite being charming and theatrical, has consequences on a personal life.

...And then there’s Hakuba.

Hakuba is complicated.

But, Raffles! You say, Saguru is another Sherlock geek!

Well, yes. Of course he is. The deerstalker outfit and him naming his hawk Watson make that clear. Hakuba is an absolute Holmes nerd.

I’m here to read too deeply into it when it’s most definitely not that deep at all. But, there’s never enough information about Hakuba and I have a blast overthinking stuff. So that’s what we’re gonna do!

Despite obviously being a big fan, Hakuba’s relationship with Holmes is different from that of Shinichi’s.

First, we don’t get to see Hakuba nerding out about Holmes novels and stories in the same way Shinichi does. He doesn’t quote Holmes at length or go on about how much he loves the books. Instead, we know Hakuba’s a nerd because he’s apparently passionate enough about this character to include things associated with him into his own personal image and identity.

Second, there’s the way others perceive him. Shinichi and Kaito (as KID) get “Heisei Holmes” and “Reiwa Lupin”. Despite irking a couple officers every now and again, Heiji is held in high regard and considered a great detective by the police force. Hakuba has a considerable amount of fame, but he doesn’t receive the same amount of trust people place on Shinichi and Heiji. It’s easy to forget because Hakuba acts with a lot of confidence and familiarity around crime scenes, but several of his appearances highlight the way his presence is tolerated at heists because of his father’s influence and is generally seen as an outsider. The police take orders from Shinichi and look up to him for advice— it’s not quite the same with Hakuba. More often than not, Nakamori treats Hakuba like a visitor or observer than a consulting detective. All of this rambling to say that even though he presents himself that way, Hakuba isn’t (or, at least, isn’t seen as) the Holmes he admires.

So, if not Holmes, is there anyone that suits Hakuba better?

I’d say yes and no.

As far as I can recall, the series never makes any explicit comparisons or references to other detectives when Hakuba is concerned. That said, much like you’d associate the deerstalker and Watson to Holmes, Hakuba has some other quirks and behaviours reminiscent of other detectives. Now, I’m not here to say that Hakuba was made deliberately as a compilation of references to literary detectives. These similarities are admittedly mostly coincidences. That said, deliberate or not, I think an argument can still be made that the connections exist! And well, considering the lack of concrete information about Saguru, thinking about them is fun. So this is what I think:

One of Hakuba’s most prominent quirks is his fixation with time and exactitude. His pocket watch is a memorable prop and being precise about minutes and seconds is an important part of his character. You can find very similar behaviour in Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, who also carries a pocket watch around and is extremely particular about punctuality and numbers. Another thing interesting about Poirot is that he’s most interested in the psychology behind a crime, in understanding the mindset of the killer. Poirot mysteries have each of the suspects explaining their own version of events, because the detective wants to understand everyone’s version of perceiving the truth. In other words, Poirot mysteries have a focus on the whydunnit.

You can probably tell that now I’m going to gesture wildly at Hakuba’s “Why did you do it”

Speaking of Hakuba’s signature question, it’s probably also worth mentioning the Father Brown stories by G.K Chesterton. The sleuth is a catholic priest, and after his deduction and identifying the culprit, the stories usually end with the priest spending time with the criminal. Before an arrest is made, Father Brown has a private meeting with the killer (or thief). It’s implied that this is carried out as a personal confession of sins, and expresses a need to seek out an understanding of the motive as perceived by the criminal themselves.

I say this because the catchphrase does come off as a little strange. It’s curious that Hakuba asks why when we usually expect the detective to be able to sort it out by himself. But, it’s really not that strange to find equivalents to it in stories that focus on the psychological part of the crime and empathy towards them.

(Also worth mentioning that both Christie and Chesterton were presidents of the Detection Club, a group of writers during the golden age of detective fiction that based their stories around the concept of “fair-play” that I mentioned earlier when I was talking about Heiji.

Back on track: Hakuba and Poirot share key similarities.

HOWEVER! There are also differences between them. I’m referring to the fact that Poirot puts the most emphasis on this psychological level of a crime. Poirot says “I am not one to rely upon the expert procedure. It is the psychology I seek, not the fingerprint or the cigarette ash” On the other hand, I’d argue that out of all of the Gosho boys, Hakuba is the most fastidious about procedure. He has some level of knowledge of forensic investigation and places importance upon it.

Sherlock’s methods do draw inspiration from precursors of forensic science, so you could trace it back to that. You could also go to R. Austin Freeman’s Dr. John Thorndyke, who is inspired by Holmes, but places a heavier focus on the scientific method behind deductions. Thorndyke is probably the one to properly kickstart the forensic/medical sleuth subgenre that grows later with the improvement and development of DNA evidence and technology. We have Hakuba being observant enough to find one of KID’s hairs, and then use Hakuba labs to narrow his identity down. It doesn’t resemble Poirot’s methods, it also isn’t quite Sherlockian, but it does resemble other classic british sleuths!

OKAY, COOL. WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH THIS RAFFLES.

I’M NOT REALLY SURE! I NEVER KNOW WHAT I’M DOING! I JUST WANTED TO TALK ABOUT HAKUBA AND DETECTIVE STORIES.

Alright. This is more of a personal interpretation/headcanon than anything else, but unlike the other three Gosho boys, who have one clear inspiration/basis/model, I like the idea of Hakuba reading a vast array of detective novels and picking up the little habits, methods, that he finds interesting or comforting. The deerstalker, the name for his hawk, his pocketwatch, his signature question, his methods, his knack for competition, all of them handpicked from the things that he enjoys most about detectives.

It’s also worth mentioning that all of the authors for these stories I’m associating with Hakuba are British. The thought of him being passionate about English authors as a way to understand his English side of the family is a headcanon I quite enjoy. And, technically, the same could apply to his Japanese side as well. I can imagine young Saguru reading Rampo’s Kogoro Akechi stories and also wanting a rival like the Fiend of Twenty Faces and jumping at the chance of chasing KID because how much he resembles the character. Or appreciating Akako’s cryptic clues because Rampo’s fiction also has supernatural edge to it.

I don’t know. I just like the idea of Saguru learning about the world, his family, and himself through literature? This is pure, unapologetic self-indulgence on my part, I have to admit.

Though, if I HAD to assign one specific detective to Saguru, I think it would probably be Poe’s C. Auguste Dupin. Poe’s stories with the character as seen as the start of detective fiction, and Dupin serves as the prototype for detectives to come — even Holmes, even if he doesn’t get nearly as much recognition as Conan Doyle’s detective today. Despite the fact that Hakuba is the original teenage detective in the series, and he’s also often forgotten and neglected by both Gosho and a big portion of the fandom. Even so, he paved the way for Shinichi and Heiji, and is very important regardless.

Anyway! I don’t know why I wrote this and I am now very embarrassed but thanks for reading all the way!

#In which Raffles rambles #I am a very boring person and this is what I do for fun #Do you think my professors would accept Hakuba as a valid topic for a research thesis?#I am very bad at this #this is embarrassing #dcmk #gosho boys #hakuba saguru #saguru hakuba #shinichi kudo #hattori heiji #conan edogawa #Kuroba Kaito #kaitou kid #detective conan #magic kaito #detective fiction

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katzkinder · 3 years

Note

(multiple linked image references throughout this post)

Ok, so I loved this post

The part that got me though was when you said “I wonder what type of animal form they take factors into that” - that’s where the gears in my head started turnin’

So I went snooping on each animal counterpart associated with each sin.

1.) SLOTH: are cats sensitive to cold?

So Kuro isn’t JUST a neet that prefers blankets or a kotatsu over the cold… his animal form being a cat does play some part… key word beings some

“Cats are pretty well adapted for cold weather, but when the temperature dips below freezing they are susceptible to hypothermia and frostbite. During periods of cold weather, cats will go looking for a warm place to hunker down. How cold is too cold for indoor cats? Cats prefer warmth but will be okay in rooms hovering between 50-60°F degrees; while their counterparts Lions, in a zoo environment, stay outside in the winter unless the temperature dips below 40°F (in the wild, most lions don’t have to worry about temperatures dropping below 65°F so in most cases 40°F and below is too cold).”

SLOTH SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

2.) PRIDE: are bats sensitive to cold?

“Bats can't survive freezing temperatures, even when they're hibernating. Any roost bats shelter in for the winter must be at least 45°F or warmer. They also seek out dark, secluded, and sheltered places that can keep them safe from predators. Bats are defenseless while they're hibernating.”

PRIDE SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

3.) ENVY: are snakes sensitive to cold?

Jeje being a snake is pretty much a given… but it’d be mean to not include him (so no funny ideas outta you, ok Mikuni?)

“What is the coldest temperature a snake can withstand? Snakes usually stay out of cold climates. Because the coldest temperature any snake can thrive in is around 65°F, snakes normally live in the warmer temperate or tropical zones. Below 60°F, snakes become sluggish. Above 95°F, snakes become overheated.”

ENVY SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

4.) WRATH: are wolves sensitive to cold?

“Wolves don't need to do anything. They're much better adapted to cold weather than we are. Thanks to their winter adaptations, wolves can live in temperatures as low as -40°F. During the coldest nights, a wolf will curl itself into a ball, covering its nose with its tail, which will hold the exhaled warm air over its feet and nose, conserving precious body heat. It will also sleep close to its pack-mates(her Eve) in a unified effort to stay warm.”

WRATH SENSATIVE TO COLD? ♾ (neutral-ish)

5.) GREED: are hedgehogs sensitive to cold?

“Hedgehogs getting cold is a BIG ‘No no’. It slows their metabolism down, leaving them susceptible to infections, dehydration and starvation. It's important to keep your hedgehog in an environment between 72-80°F. Even if it’s not always comfortable for us humans (comfortable for angels? no clue), temperatures lower than 70°F are considered ‘cold’ for hedgehogs and can result in a hibernation attempt, which can be fatal.”

Maybe that’s why Lawless always wears that scarf? Since hedgehogs are severely thermally sensitive then it would make sense…

(Crantz, Gil… please stop the angel from getting any ideas)

GREED SENSITIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

6.) GLUTTONY: are pigs sensitive to cold?

In this case I will refer mostly to Vietnamese Potbellied Pigs because as far as I know, we haven’t actually seen Ildio’s pig form yet - one of the only depictions is Lawless’ stage depictions of the 7 vampire siblings in ep6… and based on his stage depiction of Ildio’s pig form, Viatnamese Vietnamese Miniature Potbellied Pigs seem like they’d be the common type of pig that seems to fit that shape/size.

“The ideal temperature range for a potbelly pig is 65-88°F. Pigs in winter do not need any type of supplemental heat down to at least -20°F. Most potbelly pigs require more feed to maintain heat production and body condition; meaning that housing aside, the more feed/calorie intake, the easier it can be for pigs to regulate their body heat.”

However, seeing as Ildio is an ageless vampire with the mother-effing holy grail of metabolisms, we don’t know if his MASSIVE calorie intake, that he doesn’t really gain much/any weight from, will actually help him in cold weather.

GLUTTONY SENSATIVE TO COLD? ♾❔(neutral/unknown where they stand exactly)

7.) LUST: are butterflies sensitive to cold?

Snow Lily’s butterfly appearance is probably one of the most exaggerated of the 8 servamp animal forms. That gorgeous shade of pink and black aside, I couldn’t find any real buttwrfly species with that wing pattern or wings shaped like that. So color and wing pattern aside, I’d say the closest real-world butterfly to Snow Lily would be a variation of Swallowtail Butterfly.

Butterflies are cold-blooded critters, however, generally speaking butterflies won't fly when temperatures are less than 55-60°F.

LUST SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

8.) MELANCHOLY: are foxes sensitive to cold?

Even though Tsubaki’s two tails seem to be a play of of the legends of Nine Tail Fox, generally speaking based off his other details being black fox with white on the end of his tail(s), he is most likely a Silver Fox; which is a type of Red Fox.

The upper critical temperature of the red fox is probably between 86-89°F. An official temperature range of what is too cold for red foxes is more or less unknown or unofficial at best. The arctic fox is said to be able to tolerate temperatures as low as -72°F but red foxes haven’t occupied the tundra in the past partly because it was too cold; with their longer ears and limbs, they lose heat faster than their arctic cousins. So we know the average red fox can tolerate and survive cold temperatures, but most likely not temperatures like their arctic counterparts live in.

MELANCHOLY SENSATIVE TO COLD? ♾❔❌ (neutral/unknown where they stand exactly/least affected of the bunch)

and after ALL OF THAT…

the most interesting thing is–

when I first got into SERVAMP, I remember being curious where the concept of ‘the different sins transforming into animal forms’ came from. After a little research, I found that there is a history to it! A very detailed account of the origins and representations of them within history. And a small portion discusses the animal depictions of the original 7 deadly sins⬇️

“An allegorical image depicting the human heart subject to the seven deadly sins, each represented by an animal (clockwise: Toad = Avarice [greed]; Snake = Envy; Lion = Wrath; Snail = Sloth; Pig = Gluttony; Goat = Lust why? I have no idea; Peacock = Pride).”

So Jeje and Ildio’s animal forms are the only ones true to the original depictions of their associated sins.

Pride as a peacock does make sense… but I can understand adding the bat into the mix because - vampires.

I get why they’d change Kuro to a cat instead of a snail because I can’t see a snail being threatening at all unless it’s either severely poisonous or Gary… like, supernatural vampire powers or not, Kuro as a snail wouldn’t be very badass.

Why the ever living f*ck would a goat reprint lust? Originally I was going with the possibility that goat could be related to ram, ram represents Aries, Aries is one of the most lustful zodiac personalities… but no, apparently the goat represents the Devil, lust, lubricity and the damned… so that’s fun - I prefer the butterfly thank you very much.

Apparently frogs symbolize greed because it is a greedy creature in desiring to live in both worlds- on the land & in the water… okay I guess?

& lastly even though the Lion role is also occupied by Kuro within the series, I can understand Wrath not maintaining the original Lion role swing as Wrath is female and they probably wanted a male to hold the depiction of Lion so that the could use the lion’s mane, again, to add to the badass factor… regardless I don’t think Wrath as a lioness would have played out the same way… is it sexist when referring to animals? Whatever - that’s a question for another day.

If you’re interested, the full article can be found here

I am so sorry this random rant turned out WAAAAAAAY longer than I originally intended… I always love your analysis and theory posts so I hope you enjoy :)

YOOO ANON, THAT’S AWESOME! I’ll definitely check that article out!

In return, have this!

We know what piggy ‘dio looks like now! :D

Hopefully this will make your research a little easier?

#servamp #kat’s katerwauling #asks #anonymous #servamp analysis #thanks for the ask nonny!!#tumblr didn’t want to publish this so I just gave up and went to mobile #long post

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ssoojinism · 3 years

Text

BONNIE & CLYDE | pjm

Pairing ; criminal! Jimin x criminal! y/n

Genre : angst, nsfw (16+), crime au

Warning : alcohol consumption, kissing, graphic murder (pretty gory but some might find it isn’t, idk)

Plot summary :-

“you make this world a little wild, and we shout through crowded streets, turn up the noise and make it loud, and let the world fall at our feet,”.

The story of you living a reckless life with your boyfriend, Park Jimin as the most wanted criminal couple in the big city of Seoul. Inspired by Yuqi's Bonnie and Clyde and also the story of Bonnie and Clyde itself.

[next]

The atmosphere in the nightclub located in the center of Seoul is very noisy with the presence of young people dancing on the dance floor, enlivened with lively songs and colorful lights flooding the dark room. The smell of alcohol filled the space mixed with the smell of sweat from those who were still fiercely dancing at the middle of the club.

Meanwhile, in one corner, there was a woman sitting alone in a drinks bar accompanied by the alcohol she had ordered before. She was seen staring at another man who was also sitting not far from her sitting spot. The man who was also aware of her gaze turned around and carved a sweet smile, making the girl to shyly blushed. She then sipped on her drink to relieve the embarrassment before she got startled by a voice that suddenly greeted her out of nowhere.

“Are you new?” He asked.

His voice dripping with honey, not too deep and not too feminine as it’s sounds a bit raspy to her ears. A seductive smile and droopy eyes staring at her that had her heart beating a little bit too faster than usual.

“Kinda. I always want to try the alcohol here,” she said. He then stares at the glass in her hand.

“Martini. Nice one,” He complimented. “Whiskey sour is my favorite,” he added, showing her his half empty glass. She just smiled before he lifted his glass, signaling her for a cheer which she then clashed her glasses with his.

“What’s your name?” He asked first before sipping his drink.

“Yerin,”

“Cute. I’m Jimin,” He reached out for a handshake. Yerin happily accept it but when she about to pull back, Jimin tighten the grip of his hold while staring deep into her face, causing the girl to get flustered, especially when she saw the way his pupil dilated and get darker as he darted his tongue out to wet the bottom of his lips.

“I wonder if you’re…single?”

Her back slammed against the brick wall before Jimin once again hovered her to attack her lips for another messy, rough kiss. Yerin let out a breathy moan, her hands wrapping around his neck to deepen the kiss.

“Jimin, Jimin!” She tapped his shoulders for attention but he didn’t seem to listen when he continued to french kissing her like there is no tomorrow.

“Let’s get a room, yeah?” She suggested after she managed to get him off from her for a while. He pouted. “But I can’t wait any longer,” He whined.

Yerin blushed. “It’s embarrassing to have people watching,” She replied while looking around the alley. It was dark but anyone could freely walk in to them so she rather doing it in a closed area. “I will rent a room and I’ll let you do whatever you want, okay?”

Jimin’s lips curled into a mischief smile and nodded. He gets off to let her walk out from the alley towards the open streets but after like one or two step, her way got blocked by someone, judging from a strange silhouette in front of her.

“Who-“

Yerin looked up and saw you, standing in front of her with switchblade in your hand, pointing towards her. Her brows connecting in a confusing manner.

She recognizes you. You are the woman sitting next to her at the bar back then. She remembers you ordering beer next to her and silently drinking while Yerin still busy having her great time with Jimin before.

But why are you suddenly show up like this? Pointing a knife at the base of her throat in a threatening manner like she doesn’t even know you!

Yerin doesn’t even get a chance to scream because you had slashed her neck open with the switchblade, the blood splatter on your black dress and some even landed on your face too.

The woman collapses lifelessly with her eyes still wide open. You breathe out meanwhile Jimin stepping out from the shadow with a grin.

“That was beautiful, baby!” He applauded, referring to the gruesome image in front of him. You sent him a glare before let out a grunt while walking away, earning a confuse look from your boyfriend.

“Hey! At least get her wallet! Gosh,”

Jimin get into the car after he managed to retrieve the wallet and some jewelry belongs to their previous victim and he saw you wiping the remaining blood on your face, even trying to erase the red lipstick painted on your lips but Jimin was quick enough to stop you from doing so.

“Why are you trying to ruin your lipstick? You know I like it,” He whined, lips jutting into a disappointed pout.

“Uh huh. I know. That’s why I wear this for you but I always ended up seeing you kissing someone else. So, what’s the point?”

You tugged your wrist back while Jimin drew a smile. “Come on. This is not the first time we doing this. You kissed and seduced someone else too. Fair and square, isn’t it?”

“You think I enjoyed it!?” you barked.

“Woah, chill their babe. Okay, I’m sorry, okay?” He apologized, bringing both his palm together in an apologetic manner. You instead glared at him, brows still creasing together.

“Fuck you!” Your snarl doesn’t intimidate him at all that he replied with a wide grin since he knew that you didn’t mean those words at all.

“I love you too,” he reached out for your face to cup them in his palm, squishing your cheeks gently that even you automatically leaned in for more contact since you’re too used to his affectionate touches.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” His whisper makes your eyes flicked up to meet with his face, at the same time making your expression to soften as soon as you met with the pretty face of him.

“Yes please,” With a nod, you answered. He didn’t let you wait for any other second as he crashed his plump lips on your soft one. You quickly buried your fingers into the his light blonde locks, messing them a bit while your lips busy moving in sync to his kiss as if they just found their rightful home.

When he arrived at the scene, he could see group of people circling around the area. Seokjin padded his way towards the crime site, carefully slipping in between the crowds who chattering and whispering at the sight of the forensic team busy taking photos and collecting evidence.

“Captain Kim,” Seokjin immediately turned around when his underling coming from behind. Namjoon then handed up some pieces of photos to him. It was the photograph of the victims and some close up to the wounds that was believed to be the cause of her death.

“Victim known as Shin Yerin, 26 years old was found dead by the bartender of the nearer club this morning. The body has been brought to the forensic for autopsy. They however assumed that the victim had been slit in the neck by a sharp weapon, thus being the cause of her death. After a few more research, victims also lost her jewelries and purse which led it to a murder and robbery case,” Namjoon summarized everything he could get from his early investigation.

“I believe the crime was committed by the same persons,” He added. Seokjin pursed his lips.

“It’s definitely them,” He sighed. He obviously was talking about you and Park Jimin.

You and Park Jimin are the infamous criminal partners that are currently being at the top of the police wanted list. Based on some witnesses, both of you are known to be a pair of attractive that would seduce their victims, lure them into a quiet spot to brutally murder them – by slashing their neck – before proceeding to fled along with valuable things belongs to the victims.

“This is their fourth victim, Captain…” Namjoon said with worries painted all over his face. “We can’t let them roaming around any longer. They will put more people in danger,”

Seokjin was silent for a while, staring at the chalk outlines that used to mark the original position of the dead victim.

“What did she do in her past?”

Namjoon let out a sigh, as if he knew what is running in his head when his superior began to throw that question. Namjoon flipped the notepad in his hand to read another information he has written down before.

“Shin Yerin, has a history involving hit and run case. The case happened around 2 months ago where she ran over a 12 years old boy. The boy died. She was arrested but later was released with no specific reason. I believe it involved bribery,”

Seokjin smirked. “Heh, I knew it,”

One thing he are sure about this couple is that they didn’t target just random people. Majority of their victims are people that have criminal past that most of them managed to get away from getting the punishment they deserve. For example, their previous victim is a man in 50s, whose the occupation is a teacher at one of the private schools in Seoul. He was once reported to have sexually assaulted some of his students, both boys and girls but he was freed from being sentence as they said that he lacked of evidence.

A week later, he was found dead in a car with his pants half undone other than the familiar slash on his neck which obviously, it was your doing.

Namjoon let out a low grunt which it immediately distracted Seokjin. “But it’s still doesn’t justify their actions, Captain. Murder is still considered as murder. Those are crimes and they need to be charged over it!” Namjoon exclaimed.

“You know something about them, isn’t it, Captain?” The younger squinted his eyes at him. “You are the only officer that managed to see their face. Why you didn’t give out their details when we ask for your testimony?”

Seokjin glared at him with brows a deep frown. “I told you that I barely saw their face. I don’t know how they look. Do you really think I’m lying? You doubt me?” The older guy had both his palm on his hips while staring deep into Namjoon’s soul.

“I’m sorry, sir. I did not mean to offend you. I’m just making sure,” Namjoon lowered his head, cowering at Seokjin’s sharp stare that didn’t stop from penetrating his face. It made him realized that he probably has spoken something he shouldn’t. Seokjin snorted.

“Whatever. Send reports on my table once they are done with the autopsy. Call me if you guys need anything,” Namjoon nodded. Seokjin turned his heels around as he slowly walking away, with Namjoon bowing at him while telling him to have a safe journey. Seokjin quietly fishing out his phone out of his jeans.

He slammed the door of his car shut once he entered it with his eyes still glued to the screen of his phone. It was shown that he was calling someone with “***” saved as the ID of the mysterious person. Seokjin quickly pressed his phone on his ears while eyes looking out if anyone is watching him at the moment.

Hums and giggles can be heard throughout the air. Clothes can be seen scattering on the floor of the hotel room and there’s also two figures hiding under the thick white comforters before one of them decided to pop out to take a breath after being confine under it for a long period of time. Jimin later on followed that he appeared on top of you just to cup your face and smooched your lips again and again.

The kissing got interrupted when your phone on the nightstand rang but you decided to ignore it by letting Jimin proceed with the making out, not even bothering to shove him to answer the call or anything.

But as the time goes on, the ringtones start to irritates your ears that you told Jimin to hold on so you could check on whoever the hell that was bothering you at the moment. Your eyes rolled when you see the ‘Captain Busybody’ ID popped up at the top of your screen. You never felt this confident when rejecting someone’s call, especially from that person.

“Is it him?” Jimin asked. You nodded, lips pouting.

“Ignore him,” He dived into your naked collarbone to leave another mark even though your skins are already full with his love bites he made from last night. But you never complain, instead you enjoyed the way his lips trailing down your skins, making it way to your stomach, lower and lower.

“Yeah, Jimin. Please eat me out, will you?” You demanded, inviting a Cheshire like grin on his lips.

“Of course, m’lady..”

You leaned back on the pillow, relaxing your body and let Jimin do his work when another ringing breaking the moment, making your eyes to shot open. An annoyed groan emits from your throat as you rolled to get the phone and answer it because if you don’t, he will definitely not letting you leaving in peace.

“What the fuck do you want?” No hello or hi, you straight growling at Seokjin. The male’s guess was right though.

“Sorry. Did I bother you?”

“You always bothering me. Are you not aware of that?”

“Is Jimin with you?” His question makes your eyes moving lower to look at your boyfriend who just came up to comfortably lying on your chest, one of his hand fondling with one of your boobs, treating them like a stress ball. When he saw you looking at him, he just draws an adorable smile without saying any words.

“He is. Now, what do you want?” You replied lazily.

“We found another bodies today,” His unimportant information makes you to rolled your eyes once again.

“Okay and?”

“You two did it?”

“So, what if we did it? That woman is one of the scums on this Earth too. Sleeping with your higher ups in return for a jail bail. She deserves to get her neck slashed by me,” You glanced at Jimin who obviously was proud by your witty answer. But, of course, Seokjin was not having it.

“You still can get arrested, y/n. You are literally one of the most wanted criminals right now along with Jimin! Do you ever plan to stop?”

“Blah, blah. Are you done? We are busy right now. If that’s what you want to talk about, I’m hanging up,” You wish you could throw your phone away and let Jimin fuck you senselessly like what he supposed to do.

“I’m being serious, Y/N!”

“So am I,” This time you sat up a little bit but your boyfriend still clinging on your chest, burying his face into your skin despite you have those annoyed frowns on your face since he know, the frowns aren’t made for him.

“Look, Seokjin. We broke up ages ago. Back then when you barely care about me as you are busy chasing your dream to be a police officer. Now, you got what you want and I’m happy with my life too,” Seokjin scoffed at your last statements.

“Your life? Your life as a criminal? Are you happy with that?” His question earned him a chuckle.

“Yeah, so what? I chose this. I don’t care about your nags or if you disagree with my choice, just stop sticking your nose into my business like you are my mother. We are supposed to be done long time ago!” You ended the call with a loud grunt before tossing them to the side of your bed. Jimin’s snuggling into your neck made you to close your eyes and taking a deep breathe to soothe your anger.

“You alright?” Your boyfriend brushing some strands of your hair that were sticking on your face. You nodded, drawing a tiny smile at him. He never fails not to make you feeling calmer everytime you look at those eyes. The eyes that deceive lot of people despite on how innocent they look.

“Yeah. You know, Seokjin just bothering me like what he always does,” You let out a sigh while brushing your hair back. Jimin smiled as he once again snuggling into your skins like a cat which only make you to giggle when his breathe tickling your skins.

“Understandable. I mean, I, too, wouldn’t stop bothering if you looking this gorgeous,” You burst into a laugh when his ticklish touch spreading to your sensitive spots on your neck that make you to fall your back on the mattress where even Jimin immediately get on top of you.

You stuck your tongue out to licked on your bottom lips as your palms running down his bare chest, your fingers dancing on the inked skins at his abdomen.

“I love you,” You whispered. Jimin tilted his head, lips never stop smiling at you while he rests his forearms above your head to support his weight. He somehow didn’t respond you right away to planted a soft kiss on your lips before he finally whispered something against your lips.

“I love you too,”

A/N : This is pretty short bcs its just introduction to the characters haha next chapter would be a flashback to y/n’s early backstory

#jimin #bts #bts smut #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin imagine #bts imagine

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tyrantisterror · 3 years

Text

THE A.T.O.M. CREATE A KAIJU CONTEST 3-D!!!

YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE SAFE! YOU THOUGHT THAT THE TIME OF MONSTERS WAS AT AN END! BUT YOU WERE WRONG, FOR NOW YOU MUST WITNESS…

THE A.T.O.M. CREATE A KAIJU CONTEST 3-D!!!

That’s right, it’s back! Celebrating the publication of The Atomic Time of Monsters Volume 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth! (which in turn completes The Ballad of Tyrantis arc for this series), I’m holding another monster design jam. The third of such jams, in fact!

Like the first A.T.O.M. Create a Kaiju Contest, the aim of this contest is to create kaiju that would fit within the setting of my big kaiju story series, The Atomic Time of Monsters. Think of it as me letting you into my sandbox to play with my toys for a bit, or like you’re being put in the director’s chair of a new ATOM-verse kaiju movie. That means your entry does have to fit into ATOM’s world, which in turn means that yes, there are limitations to your creativity here. But limitations can be good sometimes - they can make us explore options we wouldn’t consider when given completely free rein to do what we want!

(also you don’t have to make a three dimensional image or anything, the title’s just a pun on how the third movie in a monster movie franchise will often be a 3-D film)

Read below the cut to learn the rules and whatnot:

THE RULES:

1. You are limited to one entry per person. Work hard and make your entry count!

2. Your kaiju must have some sort of description of its physical appearance and its personality - you can submit a drawing or a written description (or both!) for the physical appearance depending on what you’re most comfortable with. Using the same template/format as my official ATOM Kaiju Files (https://horrorflora.com/monster-menageries/atom-kaiju-files/) isn’t required, but it was cool when people did it in the last contest, so feel free to do so this time too!

3. The kaiju you create must specifically be created for this contest - no repurposing characters you made for other, wildly different stories. This is not “trick TT into drawing/canonizing my main OC” time.

4. The kaiju must fit the setting and aesthetics of ATOM. I’ll explain this in more detail down below.

5. The kaiju should add something meaningful to the world of ATOM. The more unique and interesting your kaiju is, the more likely you will win the contest.

6. Don’t make your kaiju too dependent on pre-existing ATOM characters - no “Tyrantis’s long lost evil brother who’s the strongest kaiju in the world.” These should be to Tyrantis’s story what War of the Gargantuas is to Godzilla’s movies – heroes (well, monsters) of another story in the same world.

THE REWARDS:

I will make pencil sketches of the top 5 entries in the contest.

I will then make fully rendered illustrations (lineart, colors, & shading) of the top three entries.

The winning entry will be made into a model ala the ones I’ve been making for ATOM’s core 50 monsters, which can then be shipped to the person who created it (should they be able to cover the shipping costs). That’s right, your kaiju could be brought to life in THREE GLORIOUS TECHNICOLOR DIMENSIONS! (Hey, we worked the gag title in to the prizes!)

THE DEADLINE: All entries must be submitted by July 3rd, 2021. You can submit it here on tumblr, via the horror flora e-mail, or any other channel you know how to reach me through. I’m in a lot of places.

THE GUIDELINES (TO HELP YOUR ENTRY FIT THE RULES AND WIN):

The smartest thing you could do if you want to win this contest is familiarize yourself with the world of ATOM by, y’know, reading all the material I’ve published on the subject. In addition to the many kaiju files that are free to read on horrorflora.com, there are now TWO, count ‘em, TWO novels in this series for you to peruse, both of which establish many of the rules of the setting as well as its general themes and tone! You can get them in either paperback or e-book formatting (I’d recommend the former over the latter since I lack the technology to make a really nice ebook, but if money is an object, the kindle version is only $1). Here’s the links again if you missed them:

Vol. 1: Tyrantis Walks Among Us!

Vol. 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth!

However, since I know reading a bunch of stuff is, y’know, not something everyone is inclined to do, I’ll jot some good bullet points for you in an attempt to outline how ATOM works in a brief, easily digested way:

ATOM is an homage to the monster fiction of the 1950’s and 60’s (i.e. the Atomic Age), and is set in those two decades, albeit an alternate universe version of them where, y’know, monsters and space aliens exist. If you aren’t familiar with the monster fiction I’m referring to, there will be some reference material provided at the end of this post along with some recommendations for further research.

Kaiju/giant monsters in ATOM work under very specific rules. There’s a full description of those rules at this link, but here’s the jist:

ATOM Kaiju are created created by the radiation of a mineral called Yamaneon, which naturally converts harmful radiation into its own unique energy. In natural circumstances, it takes hundreds of years of exposure to Yamaneon radiation for a creature to become fully transform into a kaiju (luckily, Yamaneon radiation slows the aging process while speeding up the healing process). However, an explosive burst of energy - such as the geothermal and kinetic energy released by an earthquake, or the blast of a nuclear weapon - can speed up the process, turning a normal animal into a kaiju within a matter of seconds.

All ATOM kaiju can heal grievous wounds within minutes or even seconds, are supernaturally strong and durable, and can convert harmful radiation to harmless energy that they then feed off of. Kaiju do not have an equivalent of old age, and can theoretically live forever (though their violent lifestyle means that few do).

ATOM Kaiju generally don’t need to eat unless they are severely injured, getting most of the energy they need from solar or geothermal radiation - but many still have instincts that drive them to seek out food from time to time.

Most ATOM kaiju stand roughly 100 feet tall (depending on their body shape), i.e. smaller than the original 1954 Godzilla. There are exceptions to this rule - younger kaiju can be smaller, while exceedingly old kaiju can be significantly larger, but these are rare.

In general, ATOM kaiju are significantly more intelligent and emotionally complex than people expect animals to be, though most are incapable of speech or complex tool use. There’s a reason ATOM Kaiju Files have a “personality” section.

Most ATOM Kaiju are tooth and claw fighters - ranged weapons are a rarity in this setting.

While the terrestrial monsters in ATOM look strange, they are intended to fit within the taxonomy of animals in reality - reptiles, mammals, fish, arthropods, molluscs, etc.

ATOM’s mesozoic era was dominated by a fictional clade of crocodile-relatives called retrosaurs, which are based on the outdated paleoart that one would find in the 1950’s/60’s fiction - i.e. when dinosaurs were viewed as trail dragging lizards instead of strange birds. You can learn more about retrosaurs here (https://horrorflora.com/2016/11/15/atom-kaiju-file-bonus-a-guide-to-retrosaurs/).

Kaiju appear on every continent in ATOM, but certain areas tend to be dominated by different types.

North America is mainly besieged by retrosaur kaiju and giant arthropods.

East Asia is technically also mainly plagued by retrosaurs and big arthropods, though they tend to look more fantastical and mythic - and, often, oddly well suited to being portrayed by a person wearing a monster suit.

Russia is beset by prehistoric monsters that seem to come from the Cenozoic, particularly the Ice Age.

Western Europe is plagued by creatures that vaguely resemble creatures from myth, if they were also prehistoric. Dragon-y lizards, fiery birds, etc.

Towards the mid-way point of ATOM’s timeline, earth is invaded by a coalition of aliens from different solar systems called the Beyonder Alliance, and as a result a bunch of alien monsters can be found on earth.

Mars and Venus both host (or hosted in Mars’s case) animal life. The surviving Martians colonized Venus, and sent some of their kaiju guardians to earth to help us fend off the Beyonders (who are responsible for the destruction of Mars’s ecosystem). Martian and Venusian kaiju have specific anatomical quirks, which you can see by looking at these kaiju files:

Venusians:

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/03/atom-kaiju-file-29-karamtor/

Martians:

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-39-kemlasulla/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-40-podritak/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-41-sombarvot/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-38-ullawdra/

Giant robots exist in ATOM, but are big, bulky, and incredibly expensive. Fancy beam weapons also exist, but are similarly clunky - there are no sleek, elegant machines in ATOM.

Since the fiction ATOM takes inspiration from was made at a time when interplanetary travel was only just beginning to be possible, its scope is significantly smaller than modern sci-fi. Alternate universes/dimensions were pretty uncommon because the idea of alien planets still held a lot of wonder to it. So, as a general rule, don’t try to go farther than the one galaxy.

ATOM is a setting for stories that are focused on humanity learning to coexist with monsters, rather than humanity destroying them. A certain level of sympathy is put into almost every creature of its canon, even the ones that are meant to be villains.

REFERENCE MATERIAL

Here is a playlist of 1950′s monster movie trailers.

Here is some reference material from various monster comics of the 50′s and 60′s.

Good movies to track down to understand ATOM’s inspiration and tone include Ghidorah the 3 Headed Monster, Son of Godzilla, Destroy All Monsters, Them!, The Black Scorpion, 20 Million Miles to Earth, Gamera, The Giant Claw, and The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra.

And here’s the intro cutscenes for all the different giant monsters in the PS2 videogame War of the Monsters.

#The Atomic Time of Monsters #The ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3D

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marauders-venting · 3 years

Text

I Know Him

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: murder mystery fluff

warnings: several mentions of murder, child abuse, blood (stabbing and bullet wounds), hints at homophobia, hints at sex

words: 4447

a/n: this is a switching fandoms fic with harry potter characters in the sherlock holmes universe. In this fic remus is holmes and sirius is watson. I have kept certain aspects that i thought were important about remus and sirius’ personalities but i had to give them some of holmes and watson’s personality traits for the fic to make sense.

also just so you know I based this fic off the original sherlock holmes books only. I have never seen the tv shows or film adaptations but i’ve heard they are very different from the books.

It was a chilly Saturday afternoon and Remus and I were sitting together in an armchair by the window. He was reading a book but I simply stared absent-mindedly. At Remus, at the street outside, at the dust in our apartment catching the light. But mostly at Remus. Suddenly, I caught sight of a flurry of movement outside. A woman bundled up in scarves was running down the street looking flustered.

“Remus,” said I, as I watched the woman scan the numbers on the building and near our apartment, “if I am not very much mistaken, the very thing you have been craving for the past week is approaching right now.”

“A client, you say?” said Remus, laying down the paper. “About time!” His eyes lit up with excitement and I scrambled out of his lap just as a knock sounded on the door.

“Mr Lupin?” said Mrs Hudson, the landlady. “I have a Miss Anne Robinson here to see you.”

“Yes, yes let her in,” replied Remus impatiently. Within a few seconds, Mrs Hudson had returned, leading a friendly-looking, middle-aged woman into the living room. Miss Robinson had a cheerful face with wrinkles next to her eyes that come from smiling and yet she looked sullen and tired, as do many of the people who visit our rooms at 221B Baker Street to seek professional help from Remus.

“Pray take a seat, Miss Robinson and tell me your story,” said Remus eagerly. “I have had no other cases to occupy me for the past week and would be glad for a problem of any kind. You are a cook, I presume?” The woman looked startled.

“Why, yes, Mr Lupin,” she said. “I work as a cook for the Wright family. But how could you have known that?”

“It is of no importance, I assure you. I simply noticed the soup stain on your dress,” said Remus. I could hear the slight note of impatience in his voice. However, I doubt anyone but I could have noticed it.

“How very clever of you,” said Miss Robinson, smiling at him. Remus brushed the compliment aside with a gesture of his hand.

“Now what is the case that you have brought for me today?” he asked.

“Well, Mr Lupin,” began the woman, “just three days ago, tragedy struck the Wright family. I spoke to Dr Wright and he agreed that it would be best to bring the case to you. I should probably begin by explaining to you the history of the household. Mr and Mrs Wright were very fitting for one another; they loved each other very much. When they decided to have children, Dr Wright hoped against hope that the child would be a boy. He desperately wanted someone to carry on the family name and honour. Poor Mrs Wright died in childbirth and Dr Wright heavily mourned her loss. To add to the trouble, little Mary Wright was not the boy her father had hoped for. Regardless, he learned to love his daughter and cared for her always; I would even venture to say he spoiled her a bit too much, although she turned out to be a lovely, modest young lady. And the spitting image of her dear mother she was too! Never saw a girl resemble her mother more than Mary resembled Mrs Wright.”

Miss Robinson smiled serenely at the thought of the mother and daughter together but then, her mouth turned down at the corners and her eyes became watery. She blinked several times and shivered slightly before continuing with her narrative.

“Anyway,” she continued, her voice shaky and unstable, “this is where I come to the crime. Just three days ago, at 9:30 on Wednesday night, Mary and her fiance, Charles, were found dead in Mary’s bedroom. He was stabbed right in the heart and she was shot in the head. The police have their suspect and I must say that the evidence against him is quite startling, that is to say, it seems like a finished case. But I thought I had better come to you sir, for I have the strangest feeling that the police have got it all wrong and I always trust my instincts, Mr Lupin.”

“Who is this suspect and what evidence do the police have against him?” asked Remus.

“His name is Joseph Williams, sir. He is a servant of the Wrights. He was found bending over the body of Charles after a gunshot was heard. When the other servants arrived, myself included, and called out his name, a triumphant smile rested on his face, his eyes ablaze, alive.” Miss Robinson shuddered. “The mere thought of his face chills me to my very core. I don’t know why I believe him to be innocent, sir, he seems perfectly capable of committing so horrible a crime. He has confessed to the police to have loved Mary ever since he first laid eyes on her. This would, of course, explain why he would have killed her fiance. The police think that he killed Mary because he was angry with her for not requiting his love but he denies all claims. He says he would never have touched a hair on her head. And as for Charles, he says he would have very much liked to kill him but that he did not do anything of the kind.”

“Were the weapons for the crime found?” asked Remus.

“The gun was in plain sight, thrown on the floor right beside the two. But the knife has not been located.”

“And I suppose the crime scene has not been preserved if the crime happened three days ago?”

“No sir. They moved the bodies on Friday morning.”

“Very well,” said Remus, straightening up. “Then I shall like to interview the other servants and Dr Wright if possible.”

“I shall speak to him, Mr Lupin. Perhaps you could come around to the house tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, I think I shall,” replied Remus. “Alright then, I just have one question before you leave, Miss Robinson. What hotel was Dr Wright staying at that night and why was he out of town?”

“How the deuce did you know he was out of town?” asked Miss Robinson, her brows raised and her eyes wide.

“It was quite simple, really. You never mentioned anything about how he ran into the room and cried out at the sight of the couple’s dead body or anything about how he slept so heavily that he didn’t hear the shot. I have heard many recounts of murder and this detail is included every time without fail. And yet you left it out of your narrative. Therefore, he must have been out of town at the time.”

“Oh,” Miss Robinson chuckled, “you gave a fright there for a moment Mr Lupin. Dr Wright was staying at L'Hôtel D'Affaires as he had an early conference meeting the next day.”

“Very well,” said Remus, “We shall see you tomorrow morning, Miss Robinson. Good day.” And with that, she bustled off back into the now significantly more crowded street.

The following day Remus and I ventured out to the Wright house to investigate. Remus questioned the two other servants but the interviews were brief and nothing new was discovered.

“Now we shall question Dr Wright and then I might head to the station to hear Mr Williams’ account,” said Remus.

One might think that it ails me to watch Remus question so many people and not understand what he understands. However, I must admit that it is one of my greatest pleasures to watch Remus work through a case. He is the master of deduction but there are a few telling signs that allow for me to draw my own conclusions. I know that he is excited despite his efforts to conceal it. Perhaps he fools the rest of the world but not me. I have the expressions of his face memorised. The furrow of his brows when he collects his evidence, the twinkle in his eyes when the pieces fall into place in his brilliant mind, the bite of his lip when he’s concentrating (sometimes I wish I were the one biting his lip in his place), the curl of his lip when, once again, he manages to outwit everybody else in the room. I believe Remus is the only man I have ever met who can be both modest and proud at once. And I love him for it.

“I was devastated when I got the news Mr Lupin,” said Dr Wright, once we were all sat down in the living room. “Naturally, of course. My beloved wife has passed and now my daughter and son-in-law too. This was the order of events as I had it. I left that evening at 6:15 and checked into L'Hôtel D'Affaires at 7:30. I had an important conference meeting early the next morning, you see, and I abhor rising early. The next day, I was summoned by the police and told that Williams had been arrested for the murder of Mary and Charles. I never knew Williams had feelings for my daughter but I think that his actions were certainly a poor expression of love.” Dr Wright’s face tensed with anger and despair. He looked truly broken and empty, as though he were lost and unsure about what he could do now that everything he had loved so dearly was gone.

“With your permission, sir, I will ask you a few questions now,” said Remus. “Were the couple happy together?”

“Oh yes. My Mary loved Charles truly; I believe she would have done anything for him.”

“And how did you feel about the match?”

“I too was satisfied. I thought that the boy was a wonderful young man and that he would take good care of my girl. I looked forward to their marriage.”

“What was the boy’s family like?”

“Oh, they lived quite comfortably and were very kind people. I thought Mary would be happy to be welcomed to such a family.”

“Well sir, I am truly sorry for your loss; I think we shall quit your company for I think I know everything that can be of use to me.”

---------

“Now to the police station then?” I asked once Remus and I left the house.

“No,” said Remus, still deep in thought, “no, I think our time would be better spent at the town gossip house.”

“Two beers, please,” said Remus as we walked into the nearest pub and placed three two-pence coins on the bar. When the bartender handed us our drinks, Remus turned to me and said, “Did you hear about what happened up at the Wright house?” I was familiar with Remus’ tactics by now and knew that he was, in fact, not speaking to me at all but merely hoping to be overheard by one of the locals at the bar.

“Know ‘bout that now do you?” the bartender interrupted before I would have had a chance to reply. He turned to face us once more.

“Yes, I read about it in the paper,” said Remus casually. I have said it before but he is an incredible actor. He fools them all. All but me. I grow warm at the thought and a smile begins to spread across my face but I suppress it. Smiling now would seem odd at the very least, suspicious as most. “They arrested the man, didn’t they? The servant they suspected?”

“Sure did,” replied the bartender. “And I reckon ‘e’s the one ‘oo dun it, too. D’you think ‘e’s the one ‘oo caused all them yellin’s up in the Haunted Shack?”

“Excuse me?” said Remus in evident surprise.

“You ain’t from around ‘ere, mister, are you?”

“No, I can’t say that I am.”

“Well, there’s a shack up there next to the Wright ‘ouse, a right nasty shack I’ll give you that. Now them Wrights is livin’ in a nice house, ain’t nothin’ too grand but it’s more than modest. Right by the Wright ‘ouse there’s an ol’ shack, abandoned I reckon. Dr Wright had fenced it off but ‘e never ‘ad it torn down. Now sometimes, in the dead of night, we villagers would ‘ear someone sobbin’ up in that place. Once we even ‘eard a scream. Ghosts, that’s what everyone’ll tell you, that the place is haunted. Rumor ‘as it that the reason that Dr Wright never tore down the bloody thing is because ‘e fears them ghosts. But I think different. I say whoever been makin’ those noises up in there, that’s your man, that’s the murderer. It ain’t makin’ much sense but it’s the bloody truth I’d be prepared to swear to it.”

Suddenly, Remus drained his drink in a gulp and said, “That’s an interesting idea, but we really must get going, Sirius, if we’re going to make the next train.”

Next, we visited L'Hôtel D'Affaires where Remus made some small inquiries while I admired the hotel’s lounge and thought over our discussion with the bartender. Why on earth would Williams, the servant, sob and scream in an old, mangled shack? I had no answer but I was sure that Remus did.

Finally, we returned to Baker Street for a spot of supper and bed. We ate without exchanging a word until Remus suddenly broke the silence.

“This case is wrong, all wrong!” he exclaimed in frustration. “But I haven’t enough evidence just yet to get the man convicted. But I shall find it, I shall.” And with that, he marched up to bed. I waited to follow him up. On nights like this, I give Remus space to mull over his thoughts about the case alone before going to bed. He has never asked me to but I know he wants the time to think.

“Hello,” said I, upon entering the room later that night. Remus seemed to have been lost in thought; upon my entrance, his head turned sharply towards me. “Would you like me to leave?” I asked hesitantly.

“No, of course not, darling,” he said, his expression softening, revealing the man I know behind the great detective. “As a matter of fact, perhaps I should let my mind become distracted by other matters and return to the case in the morning. I sometimes find it easier to approach the facts at a different angle when doing that.”

“I could think of a few ways to keep your mind distracted,” I said, grinning at him.

“Can you now?” he smirked.

---------

The next day, Remus decided to go back up to the Wright house and search Mary Wright’s room, the place where the crime was committed, for evidence of his new theory. He came back with a triumphant look on his face that indicated success. That night, after a small supper, Remus asked if I wished to accompany him.

“Where would we be going?” I asked curiously.

“To bring this case to justice,” he replied simply. “Bring your revolver,” he added; even though I had not yet consented to join him, he knew I could not refuse an offer such as the one before me. Not only because of my all-consuming love for him, but because of my curiosity as well.

When we arrived at the Wright house – which was, apparently, our destination – the door was opened by Dr Wright himself.

“Mr Lupin,” he said in surprise. Without waiting for a reply, Remus stepped over the threshold and into the house; I was on his heel as always.

“I must insist that you leave,” said Dr Wright in rage. “What is this hour at which you call upon me? Surely what you want can wait until tomorrow?”

“As a matter of fact, it cannot,” said Remus. His amber eyes bore straight into the brown ones of Dr Wright as though seeing right through him. “I don’t often carry out the commands of murderers.”

“I—what—h–how dare you—?” spluttered the doctor but he had turned significantly paler.

“Would you like to tell the story or shall I tell it for you?” said Remus.

“You know everything?” asked Dr Wright, sinking into a chair.

“I do.”

“Then I may as well come out and say that I had no intention for it to go this far. I suppose it began with my wife. I loved her dearly and I wanted a son terribly. When Mary was born and my wife passed away, I was in agony. I felt as though I had lost everything that I held dear. Mary was the spitting image of my late wife; she was a constant reminder of my lost love which was both excruciatingly painful and necessary for my survival. I hadn’t the heart to kill the girl but the pain drove me to near insanity sometimes and in those moments I would drag Mary into the shack on the outskirts of this property and whip her with my riding crop. I treated her terribly though nobody knew, not even the servants.”

My hands began to shake at that. Memories of my own childhood filled my head. The whipping, the beating, the screaming. I clenched my hands into fists to mask the shaking but Remus noticed. He noticed everything. His hand twitched towards mine but I met his eyes and shook my head ever so slightly. Not now. And certainly not here. Only one arrest would be made tonight and it wouldn’t be either of us.

I forced myself back into the present, feeling a surge of anger towards the man sitting before me but I did nothing more than continue to glare at him. All these years working alongside Remus had taught me to control my temper if only a little. This man would get what he deserved. Hitting him now wouldn’t solve anything. It would make me feel a whole lot better, though. The thought crossed my mind but Remus met my eye again. He knew what I was thinking. His eyes flashed, reminding me that acting now would be unwise and reckless.

Dr Wright must have noticed the disgust and fury with which Remus and I were glaring at him, for he added defensively, “I’m not proud of it; these were certainly my lowest moments save when I… well I’ll get to that later. Anyhow, the villagers heard Mary’s sobs and started the rumour that there were ghosts living in the old shack. I encouraged the rumours, or at least I didn’t discourage them.

“Then, all of a sudden, my little Mary was announcing that she was engaged, that she was to be taken away from me; my last living link to my wife. You must understand my position gentlemen.” Dr Wright’s eyes were wide; he looked like he was pleading with Remus and me to put ourselves in his position. “On Wednesday night, I left the house at 6:30 that evening, telling everyone that I was staying the night at a hotel as I had an early conference meeting the next morning. I wasn’t lying but I wasn’t telling the full truth either. I intended to go to Charles’ house and confront him, to tell him to call off the marriage and threaten him with everything within my power. I went to Mary’s room to bid her farewell and left for Charles’. I knocked on the door but there was no reply. The door was left unlocked so I entered. I called for the man but without success. Then I saw a letter lying on the table.

“‘Dearest Charles,’ it read, ‘Father is leaving town tonight for a conference. Perhaps you would like to stay at our house for the night? All my love, Mary.’ I was infuriated. I rushed back to the house but rather than entering through the door, I climbed into Mary’s room through the window and found Charles sitting at her desk, a mischievous smile dancing on his smug face. Anger surged through me and, without thinking, I grabbed the knife I had brought with me, for caution’s sake, and stabbed him in the heart. He gave a strangled sort of scream; it was not loud enough to wake the servants but it was loud enough to cause Mary considerable alarm.

‘Charles?’ she called from the hall. ‘Is everything alright?’ And that was when my world fell apart. Mary entered the room and I stood up so violently that I pulled the knife right out. So many emotions flooded me at once and it was too much for me to handle. I pulled out my gun and shot her. I stood frozen for what felt like eternities, watching my only child fall dead to the floor from a bullet I had shot. The servant’s yelps of concern from downstairs caused me to snap out of my reverie. When I realized what I had done, I dropped the gun, pocketed the knife and scrambled back out the window. I left for L'Hôtel D'Affaires and spent the night there. The rest of the story, you already know gentlemen.” Remus’ look of disgust had not yet faded off his face. My hands had not yet stopped shaking.

“I have alerted the authorities,” said Remus, “and they are waiting for us outside. You will accompany them back to the station and await your trial in jail. If you do not come peacefully, I will use force.” Dr Wright said nothing else but followed Remus and me outside where he was arrested by the county police.

---------

“I believe I owe you an explanation, Sirius,” says Remus once we were seated once more in the comfort of our armchairs in 221B Baker Street. “And an apology. I shouldn’t have suggested that you accompany me on this specific case. Not when the details of it could… resurface unwanted memories.” I shake my head.

“It’s quite alright,” I say.

“No, it’s not,” says Remus, taking my hand in his own. “I forced you to relive your worst memories without so much as a warning, all for my peace of mind. All because I wanted you by my side. It was horribly selfish of me.”

“I would have insisted on accompanying you anyway,” I say. “I want to be by your side, my love. Now, pray tell me about your thought process. How did you solve the case?” This, perhaps, is what I enjoy most about working on cases with Remus. The moment when the case has been solved, the victims avenged, the villains confronted and punished appropriately, and only Remus and I remain, in the living room of our flat, our limbs tangled together as I watch the excitement and passion that radiates from Remus as he explains to me how his extraordinary mind saw what only he could.

“Firstly,” he begins, and already I can hear the shift in his voice. He loves his work. And he shares it with me. It is one of the things I love most about him. (I do say that quite a lot. Perhaps it is simply because I love everything about him.) “I will admit that I entered the case thinking that Williams was very likely the culprit. I consented to conduct the investigation in the case that my client’s instincts proved to be correct but I was almost entirely convinced that the investigation would be worthless. My suspicion first fell upon Dr Wright when I was interrogating him. I asked him what he thought of the match between his daughter and Charles; he said he was looking forward to their marriage. I found this most abnormal as nearly all fathers feel some sadness when their daughters leave their houses for that of another man especially when their wives have passed on. Why should this man be glad to lose his daughter? My immediate response was that he wasn’t, he was merely pretending to avoid suspicion. This, however, was hardly evidence, it was nothing more than a gut feeling.

“So we went to the town pub and learnt about the shack. I followed this by visiting L'Hôtel D'Affaires and inquiring as to the hour at which Dr Wright checked in. As you may recall, he told us that he had checked in at 7:30, an hour after his departure. But at L'Hôtel D'Affaires I was informed that Dr Wright only checked in at 10:30 on Wednesday night. By this point, my theory was formed and I was certain of its accuracy but I still needed proof. Therefore, the following morning I went to the scene of the crime and, after some rummaging about, found Mary Wright’s diary which included Charles’ reply to her letter that invited him over on that fateful night. The diary told me everything I needed to know. Then you and I went to confront Dr Wright, he was rightfully arrested and here we are now.” Remus concludes his explanation with a grim smile.

“Wonderful!” I say, applauding him for his achievement. Remus shrugs but I can see that he is attempting to hide a smile. If I could only shower him with compliments for the rest of my days to see his beautiful smile, I would do so. “You know, detective, one might find it very attractive when you make all these deductions,” I add.

“Oh?” he says, eyebrows raised. “And would this ‘one’ be you, by any chance?”

“Is that another deduction?” I tease.

“That wasn’t something I needed to deduce, love, it’s written all over your gorgeous face,” he says. Then I kiss him slowly, bringing my hand into his hair when I feel his on my waist.

“I do love you, you know,” he says, his lips still lingering on mine, refusing to pull away. “I don’t say it as often as I should but I do. The world can continue to hate it but I will never cease to love you, Sirius.”

“I know,” I reply, allowing my hand to fall and gently brush his cheek. “I love you too.” Remus blushes and I can see the man I fell in love with. Where the rest of the world sees only his brilliant mind and his icy exterior, I see beyond. I see the goodness in his heart, the emotion in his voice, the passion in his eyes, softness of his lips. I see it all and more. He shows it to me and only to me. He lets me have him. And I give him all there is of me in return. It is of this that I think when I lean in to kiss Remus again. And it is of this that I think when he kisses me back.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #sirius black #sirius black fluff #moony #padfoot #wolfstar #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar fanfic #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar oneshot #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #Marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders oneshot #sherlock holmes #switching fandoms

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

In a Week

Part 2/4 - The Importance of Being Idle

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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Summary: Things get easier between you and Frankie as the storm outside rages on.

Authors notes: Hello! Sorry this took so long (I forgot I had a lab report due this week so I was busy panic writing 6000 words the patient few days!) anyways this is soft makes my heart happy 🥺 thank u for all the support in the story💕💕

Tw: Swearing, dead sibling mentioned (I think that’s all)

Work count: 4.9k

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 2

You don’t know when,or how it happened, but sometime during the night you had found your way over to the heat being emitted from human furnace Frankie Morales. Your limbs were wrapped lazily around him, with your leg over his and your arm resting idly on his chest. You blink into the light emitting a dissatisfied grumble realizing you had woken up. You hear a sigh from above and with one eye still closed, you tilt your head up to see Frankie currently hyper focused on winning whatever game he was playing on his phone.

"You could have woken me up you know.” You say, detaching from him and rolling over onto your back rubbing your eyes. “How long have you been awake?" you ask, yawning.

"Few hours, you’re quite the sleeper, slept through all 4 alarms that went off." He responds, still fixated on his phone.

"Shit, sorry about that. My mother used to say I could sleep for England" you state, earning a soft chuckle from the man beside you. Even after years of working on hospital hours, waking up was always a struggle for you, no matter the time of day. After a few moments of contemplating whether you really had to move, you rip off the covers and scoot out of bed. Tearing open the curtains you let out a dissatisfied groan when you see a snowscape where the parking lot once was. You turn around arms crossed, eyes glazed over inadvertently boring into him. You hear him say something but it doesn't register.

“What?” you ask, shaking yourself from the trance and moving towards your over packed bag to retrieve clean clothes.

“Nothing.” he says, eyes back on his phone. You raise your eyebrows and head into the bathroom to get changed, emerging in sweats and a vintage band shirt that you’d tied at the waist.

"The clash? Nice." Frankie says, as he passes by you into the bathroom, closing the door.

"Ya London Calling" you respond sitting down on the bed and pulling on some socks, not fully listening to what he had said. "I’m going to ask the front desk if we can renew the room, doesn't look like we're going anywhere anytime soon. I can see if there's another one available if you don’t wanna share" You say, when you hear the doors lock click open, knowing he may still be mad at you for not pulling over sooner.

"I mean I don't mind sharing, unless you’d be more comfortable..." he starts, mouth hanging open downturned slightly, as he rinses his hands.

“I’m fine sharing, nice to have some company plus it's cheaper this way.” you say, grabbing the room key off the nightstand.

"Let me know how much it is, I'll pay half" he says, stretching out his back, cursing the mattress for being too soft.

"I feel like you should be paying more since you get the good half of the bed.” you offer, pointing your finger at him.

“I think they call that extortion,” he says, grinning “Oh, see if they have any food while you're down there I’m starving” he calls as you exit into the hallway and make your way downstairs.

“Hey, I was looking to re-book the room from last night” you say to the receptionist who you recognized from last night. Suppose she got stuck here as well, you wonder if she’d gotten any sleep.

“For how many more nights?” she asks.

“How long do you think this storm is going to last?” You ask.

“At least a few more days, but then the roads will have to be cleared, so maybe a week? We can book you in for two more nights then go from there though, no one else will be coming in”

“That’d be great,” you say, taking out your credit card. “What about food, is there any way we can get some stuff to make sandwiches or something?” you ask

“Well the culinary staff was trapped here by the storm, another reason why so many rooms were booked, so they’ll be able to have food sent up.” You nod, the hotel was upscale and you hated to think how expensive the food was going to be, but what choice did you have?

“It's past breakfast, but we may have some spare sandwiches leftover, let me just go check.” she offers, returning a few minutes later with a couple of boxes.

“Thank you so much!” you say taking the boxed up food from her.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

“Oh yes” you say, “booze, can I buy that here?”

“That, we have plenty of!” she smiles.

~~~~~

You re-enter the room with the boxed up breakfasts, a case of beer and two bottles of wine

“Here food” you say, sliding the boxes off the beer and onto the counter next to the fridge.“We missed breakfast, so it’s probably cold, and I booked the room for another two nights, but we can go from there” you say, reiterating the receptionist's words as you place the drinks in the fridge.

“Planning on sharing that or?” he laughs watching you strategically maneuver the booze into the fridge

“Hey, I get a week off work, I'm going to be drinking. Do I wish it was on a beach in sunny south Carolina? Yes, but this will have to do, and I hate drinking alone so congratulations you’ve just been conscripted” You say, as he empties out one of the breakfasts onto a plate placing it in the microwave for a few minutes.

“Here. Do you want this? You say peeling the sliced ham off your sandwich” waving it infront of his face.

“Not a fan of ham?” he asks, taking it and adding it into his own.

“Not a fan of meat in general, I’m a vegetarian”

“Course you are.” he laughs.

“Bold words coming from a guy wearing a baseball hat inside, in the middle of winter” you say, throwing a balled up napkin at his head.

“So what exactly do you do? Santi never said.” he asks, leaving you to question what Santiago had said about you.

“I’m a doctor, well almost a doctor one more year of residency, hopefully” you say, crossing your fingers.

“Shit, aren’t you kinda young to be a doctor?” he asks, looking you up and down with raised eyebrows.

“Older than I look, but thank you. How about you?”

“I was a pilot, me and Pope served together for a while, but I’m mainly just teaching now. How’d you two meet by the way? I’ve never seen you round base before, I’m sure I’d remember you hanging around” he says.

“He basically lived at my house growing up, well until he went into the military when I was in middle school. ”

“I thought you said you weren’t young” he laughs “So you didn't serve?”

“No, my brother did though, he was a few years older than Santi but they were inseparable.” you state, preparing yourself for the imminent conversation.

“Who?” Frankie asks, slightly offended that Pope had a secret best friend he never introduced to him.

“His name was Parker '' you say, hoping the past tense clues Frankie in.

“Ya I’ve met Parker! Good guy what branch is he in these days?” he says, not picking up on your word selection or how your mouth hangs slightly ajar or how your eyes have gone vacant.

“Was in” is all you say, you avert your gaze staring down at the floor “he passed five years ago in active duty”

“Shit, I’m sorry I…” he stumbles over his words trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Not your fault how were you supposed to know, besides I'm sure you’ve lost your fair share of people.” you say offering him a not very convincing, but reassuring smile. You let the awkwardness hang in the air, not wanting to speak first.

“What... kind of doctor are you?” he says, hoping to cut the tension he’d caused.

“Medical, diagnostics.” you say, exhaling as the easiness you felt around Franki came back.

“So like House?” He asks.

“Ya cane and all.” you laugh, his lopsided grin having returned to his face, as he leans in to grab your plate.

“Hey, I uh.. I need to make a phone call.” He says, washing the dishes in the sink.

“I'll make myself scarce, give you some privacy. Is it fine if I'm in the shower or did you want me to fully vacate the premise? I can go down to the gym for a bit.” you offer.

“Showers perfect.” He says, mentally questioning his word choice there. He waits to hear the water run before pulling out his phone and dialing his mother who was currently watching his daughter for what was only supposed to be a few days.

You let the water wash over you turning on some music to drown out the conversation Frankie was having, not wanting to pry on his personal life. You did find yourself wondering who he was calling just simple curiosity, nothing else. You had decided you liked Frankie despite the rocky start, the more time you spent with him the more you felt like you'd known him for years. You could see why he and Santiago got along so well they were two sides of the same coin, his calm nicely balancing out Santiago's rashness. Or should you call him Pope? What kind of nickname was that, and Santiago was anything but a saint. You made a mental note to ask Frankie for the origin stories later he may be more forthcoming about it than Santiago. Lathering your hair you close your eyes, allowing Frankie’s image to come to the forefront of your mind. He had an old beauty, a kind of beauty that was suited to a ruler of a long forgotten empire. You begin to feel the water run cold, had you really been in the shower that long? You turn off the tap and dry yourself off redonning your sweats and tying the Clash shirt into a crop. As you exit the bedroom you’re met at the door by Frankie who hands you a cup of coffee.

“Thanks” you say smiling up at him.

“Take it as an apology for being an ass yesterday, I was tired and shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum about it, you don’t control the weather”

“Well I guess I should apologize as well for not listening to you, especially considering you’re the one with training in navigating radars.”

The rest of the day is spent in relative silence breaking into conversation every once in a while about nothing in particular. You sit on the couch reading while he sits in the chair across from you book in hand as the news plays faintly in the background. The storm had been dubbed “snowmageddon” by the anchors, not particularly innovative but it got the point across, 20cm had fallen and another 30 was being predicted you groaned internally thinking about how long it was gonna take you to clear off your car. At least you'd have military help. Dinner comes and goes and he doesn't ask you many questions, unsurprising considering how the last conversion had turned out. Instead you tell him about the weirdest cases you’d ever seen come through the hospital and he tells you about the incidents that got him and Santi sent to the hospital.

“Alright I'm going to turn in” he says, as you look up from the rabbit hole you'd currently found yourself stuck in.

“Shit ya good call” you say closing your phone and rubbing your eyes. Once again he beats you to the bed, giving him a prime position to watch in amusement as you dig through your bag.

“Lost something? Seriously, how deep is that bag? What are you looking for?” he inquires.

“Normal pyjamas” you mutter, all concentration currently being used to find something appropriate to sleep in.

“What pray tell are normal pyjamas?” he asks, a confused look plastered across his face.

“Let's just say a certain king of sleepwear was packed for someone who was suppose to be at the wedding”

“Who?” he asks.

“Ah ha!” you cry victoriously, pulling out your day-to-day sleepwear. You exit the bathroom in the silk sleep set you’d gotten a few years back. Frankie’s eyes widen slightly when he sees you emerge, the pyjamas leaving little to the imagination. If those were your normal pyjamas he didn't want to think about what the other ones were. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by coming off as a creep. Which he was already feeling like by ogling you as you bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. His eyes dart down to look at his hands as you walk around the bed to bed, only looking up once the covers are pulled up over you. He turns off the lamp and settles into the mattress, placing his hands on his chest and closing his eyes.

“Please for the love of god, stop moving” he mumbles after 15 minutes of patiently waiting for you to stop wriggling. Your eyes open as you shift again, completely aware of how annoying you must be to him.

“I know I'm sorry, I‘m just..” you move one more time, balling your fists up and slamming them into the mattress in frustration.

“Not comfy” he finishes for you, eyes opening staring up at the ceiling.

“Ya especially since someone took my side of the bed” you bemoan.

“Look, you’ve already slept wrapped around me once, so you can... do it again. If it’s the easiest way for you to sleep.” he says hoping the offer comes off as sincere, and not weird. You chew your lower lip for a second before accepting the fact that it was the only way you’d be able to sleep. He lifts his arms above his head allowing you to position yourself comfortably on top of him, before lowering them down. One hand on his stomach and the other wrapped around your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about trying...” you start, eyes batting sleepily up at him.

“I know you don’t know me well, but i'm not like that. It's not good or fun unless everyones fully and consensually on board.” With that you ease into him, trusting his words. Breathing deeply you drift off to sleep to the smell of clean laundry that you’d come to associate with Frankie.

Day 3

“Hey I'm going to the gym if you need to make a call or whatever” you say, pulling on your sneakers, feeling refreshed from the good sleeps you’d had the past two nights.

“Thanks,” he says, watching you leave before calling to check in on his daughter.

“Hey mom how is she? Good good ya, put her on would ya? Hey darling how are you! Yes I'm going to be home soon. Were just stuck in a big snow storm, did you see it? I wish you were here then we could build a snowman together! Yes just like Elsa and Anna. Yes we can watch them when I get home and absolutely I will try and save you a snowball. Alright, okay, I love you.” He says, a few minutes was more than he’d expected from the kid, toddlers aren’t known for their keen telecommunication skills after all.

“Hey mom, thanks again for watching her. This storm came outta nowhere. We're going to miss the wedding, I know they’re gonna be pissed. That’s not a swear Mom! No, I'm not alone. One of Santis friends she's a doctor. Yes, I mean I don’t know! Why does it matter? Look, I'm hanging up now. I am. No I won't be doing that I love you, I'll call later.” he hangs up shaking his head. Despite what everyone around him thought, the last thing on his mind was dating, his kid was his number one, scratch that, his only priority especially since her mother disappeared in the night. Leaving nothing but a note about having other reasons to live. Whatever the hell that meant. He hears the key unlock the door and watches as you re-enter, not stopping to make conversation, bee-lining straight for the shower. Knowing he’d have a good half hour to kill he dials his phone again.

“Hey Pope” he says, taking the opportunity to call his friend and deliver the bad news.

“Hey ‘Fish where the hell are you guys?” he shouts from the other end, evidently in a crowded room.

“Trapped by the storm, we're not gonna make it.”

“Shit Gen’s gonna lose it, and Stella if it wasn’t for her four sisters Y/N would be in the wedding party they were roommates for years.” He stresses.

“Damn, ya man i'm really sorry, she's in the shower, but I can pass the phone to her when she's out?” Frankie offers.

“No man, don't bother her. I'll text her in a bit. Hey you guys sharing a room?” he questions, the agenda behind it obvious.

“Wasn’t much of a choice, rooms were all booked up.”

“You're sleeping on the floor I hope” A protective tone taking over.

“You know my back’s bad Pope.” he explains calmly, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

“Catfish you better keep those hands to yourself, she's not one of your nightly conquests”

“Man I haven’t been like that since my kid came along” He chuckles, knowing full well that those days were long behind him.

“I'm a serious ‘Fish, she's too good for you, and she's in no place to be fucked over by another guy alright?”

“Look I know she'd never go for me Pope and I'm flattered you think she would. Glad i'm still handsome in your eyes.I’ll call you later” he laughs, ending the conversation on a lighter note.

“Hey” you say, pulling your Boston University sweater over your head, drying out your hair with a towel.

“Pope says hi” Frankie says, hanging up the phone

“What's the nickname mean?” you question, ready to get to the bottom of it.

“That's top secret information” he taunts, shaking the phone at you.

“Oh I'm sure I could figure out a way to get it out of you.” you smirk, raising your eyebrows

“Hey! I have military training!” he exclaims, offended at the insinuation.

“Militarys got nothing on me.” you retort, slapping him on the shoulder as you pass by.

“Well, if the plan is to ply me with alcohol, it may just work” he confesses.

“Perfect” you say, heading to the fridge opening up the wine bottle “let the games begin” you say tossing him a beer bottle watching as he uses a lighter to open it before bringing it to his lips.

“So tell me what does Pope mean?” you ask after a few hours of meaningless conversations and playing a drinking game that went along with the forensic files repeats you were watching. “Is it a dick thing” you whisper yell, causing Frankie to burst out laughing.

“Why? You wanna know what it looks like?” He asks forehead creased the trace of laughter still etched on his face.

“Ew No! but I am asking if it looks like a Pope?” you say trying to hide your amusement with a stern look.

“Which Pope?” Frankie asks in an equally serious tone, curious as to where you were going with this.

“Francis?” you ask.

“Nope” He answers after pausing for a moment.

“Fred?” You ask, now entrapped in a bizarre game of guess who, but in reference to what holy figure most resembled your friends penis.

“Was there a Pope named Fred?” He asks unsuccessfully, stifling a laugh.

“Probably? There were like three Popes at once at one point in time.”

“No his dick doesn't look like the Pope, now can we please stop talking about my best friend's penis!” he exclaims.

“Fine, but this isn’t over.” you say chewing your lip trying to think of other possible explanations when a phone ringing interrupts you thought.

“Shit, Sorry I have to take this,'' he says, pulling out his phone and walking to the next room, forgetting to close the door, leaving you to inadvertently eavesdrop on his conversation.

“Good night sweety I love you to the moon and back I'll be home soon.”

Your eyes go wide as you feel your stomach sink, of course he was married, he was too nice, too easy, something had to have been off. A ick comes over you at the thought of being unknowingly draped over a married man, and you suddenly begin questioning Frankies motives.

“Sorry about that. It's my daughter she uh, I didn’t say goodnight to her last night and she missed it” he says with a slight chuckle, pride evident on his face.

“How old is she?” you ask smiling at how he lit up at being asked about his kid.

“Three” he says, grabbing another beer and grunting slightly as he sits back on the floor next to you.

“Good age” You offer, shaking off the feeling of betrayal and disappointment that had come over you for a brief moment.

“Ya she's perfect” he beams.

“I bet, I mean I don’t know what your wife looks like, but if she's got your eyes watch out world.” You offer turning to face him only to see that his smile had faded, replaced instead by a somber hurt.

“Her mothers not in the picture” He says, clearing his throat and taking a long drink.

“Shit Frankie I'm sorry” you say quickly, feeling like a prize idiot for making assumptions about his character.

“Hey I brought up your dead brother, only seems fair you bring up my ex who abandoned us.” He says with a shrug. “Don’t, don’t look at me like that” He says, shaking his head and knitting his brows together tired of being looked at like he was broken. It was horrible when it happened. It was fucking shitty that she had left her daughter without a care, but now? Hell, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Watching his daughter grow up was worth it.

“Fuck” you say, scrunching up your face “I hate when people do that to me.”

“You need another drink?” he offers, hoping to ease the sudden awkwardness into the room, one he was accustomed to after telling his dates about his kid, not that this was a date.

“Ya I need it to wash the taste of foot out of my mouth” you laugh, feeling worse than when your brother was inadvertently brought up.

“Seriously don't worry about it. Speaking of a palette cleanser you wanna watch a movie or something?” he says pouring the rest of the wine into your glass, before grabbing another drink out the fridge for himself.

“Ya but it's gotta be horror, the only thing i'm in the mood for.”

“Didn’t think bringing up my ex was that scary.” he laughs, handing you the glass.

“No, but talking about Santiago's penis was.” You deadpan, causing Frankie to snort out his drink. “What? Do all the girls say that about it? A real nightmare?” you continue, giggling as he coughs through a laugh. “Was it the inspiration for the creature from the black lagoon?” for some reason the stupid bit your doing causes Frankie to double over subsequently encouraging your own laughing fit. After the ache in your side subsides Frankie sits down on the couch next to you. Using his sleeve to wipe any spillage from his beard.

“Any preference?” you ask, leaning your head back against the couch. He shakes his head. “Alright, the Conjuring it is! I gotta pee first though, need anything before we start?” you ask, walking towards the washroom.

“Just you.” he calls out, as the door closes behind you. Fuck, why the hell did he say that. He shakes his head at how desperate it sounded. Jesus christ, he was embarrassing.

You were just tipsy enough that the bathroom's bright lights made you feel wobbly. You cross your arms as you pee, thinking about the words you’d just heard, about how he needed you. Well maybe that was a reach, but it was okay to pretend just for a night? In all honesty, even though this wasn't a date, it was definitely the best time you'd had with a guy… ever, something about him was just so easy. You flush the toilet and open the door washing your hands, hotels were so weird, why wasn't the sink in with the toilet? You felt like you needed to wipe the handle down after every use.

You flop back onto the couch next to him, closer than you’d been when you left, but leaving enough space between you. After a few jump scares that catch even the pilot off guard the two of you found yourself snuggled into each other. You knew the movie was getting to him, because the arm wrapped around your shoulder pulled you closer into his side whenever the ominous music began to play. He wouldn't say the movie was getting to him per say, it was just in his nature to protect others. Even if it was just a stpid movie he wanted to make sure you felt safe. After the movie ends you quickly separate from each other and clear up the glasses, leaving them to ‘soak’ overnight. Frankie gets to the bathroom first, again. Thirsty, you wander back out to the kitchen grabbing a glass and filling it with water jumping when you think you see a shadow move out the corner of your eye. It was strange, how you loved horror so much while watching it but the second it turned off, any sounds, or hat rack or shadow scared the living daylights out of you. At least this time there would be another person with you. After getting ready for bed you switch off the lights and make your way to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Frankie asks, watching you lift up the bedskirt peering under the bed. “Are you seriously checking under the bed right now?” He laughs, unable to get over how you, a medical professional was afraid of ghosts.

“Better safe than sorry!” you exclaim eyes wide as your head pops up.

“You can't believe in this shit can you?”

“Hey man you get sleep paralysis then tell me that shit isn’t plausible” you respond pointing a finger at him, before pushing yourself off your knees and up onto the bed.

You crawl under the covers and sit up parting your hair to braid it before going to bed.

“Can I ask you a weird favour” he asks, you panic slightly, fuck he was too good to be true, no way a guy was that sweet without an alterior motive.

“Yes, but proceed with extreme caution” you say.

“Can you teach me how to braid hair? I want to be able to do my daughter's hair but I’m pretty terrible at it. Her teacher once asked if she'd gotten caught in a bush on the way in.” Your heart jumps slightly, at the sincere revelation. How, how could one guy be this sweet, and thoughtful and not creepy?

“Of course I can show you.” you say and you proceed to give him a step by step tutorial, followed by a demonstration prior to actually letting him have at your hair so he can try and replicate the motions. Once he got the motion down you’d mistakenly tried to show him how to french-braid it down from the top.

“Be honest doc, how bad is it.” He says.

“Well, maybe we shouldn't have tried a french braid quite yet.” you say laughing feeling the matted mess currently on your head. You turn upon hearing him groan, watching as he leans back into the pillow bringing his hands up to hide his face.

“For someone who's a pilot i'm shocked you can't do this.” you say, hand reaching up to salvage your hair.

“Are you judging me?” he says, sitting back up when he sees you struggling to untangle the mess he’d made.

“Maybe a little.” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand grazed against yours. You drop it to the side upon contact allowing his fingers to work gently at removing the knots.

“Are pilots supposed to be good at braiding?” he asks.

“I just assumed if you could weave in and out of the sky you'd be good with your hands.” you laugh as he frees the last of your hair from the prison he'd made. He watches as you effortlessly put your hair back up into tidy braids.

“You make it look so easy,” he says.

“Well practice makes perfect, but look on the brightside, now you have a sure fire pick up line that'll work on all the MILFs youll be dating!” you exclaim turning back to smile at him.

“Malo '' he mutters, pushing your shoulder slightly as you giggle, dramatically falling back onto the bed and pulling the covers up over you. It doesn't take a moment before you're back around him, breathing silently, and fast asleep. He wasn’t far behind you, he never used to sleep well in hotels, or at all really, not after the mission, but something about this place made it easy. He's sure it's nothing to do with the idle hand on his chest or the rhythmic beating of the heart belonging to the person draped over him.

#frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie x y/n #catfish x you #catfish x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #in a week #part 2

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vetlan · 3 years

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Summary: Nothing says "Impromptu Darkwing Duck Reunion" like being arrested for something a group of lookalikes did, and then being bailed out by a… Darkwing Duck cosplayer? Fanboy? Well, there were odder things that happened in relation to that cursed show.

Characters Present: Megavolt ( Actor ), Quackerjack ( Actor ), Liquidator ( Actor ), Bushroot ( Actor ), Darkwing Duck ( Drake Mallard )

Notes: The Actors are named after the original Voice Actors! Also this isn’t meant to make much sense, I just sat down today and chose violence, and by violence I meant a “short” humor fic based on the idea of the old actors seeing their villain alter-egos on the news. Serisouly how did this turn into writing almost 5k words in one day...

---

Dan Rattus-Sphynx was having a bad day, but not a terrible one. He was stuck in traffic on his way home after a long day at work, thinking on the cold tv-dinner he'd be indulging in while wondering what was causing the hold up -- unfortunately, if he'd been listening to the news on the radio, he would've been tipped off to the one fact that was about to turn his bad day into a terrible one: the old cast of Darkwing Duck was to be brought in for questioning. After Jim Starling's little explosive breakdown, when mirror-perfect images of the old actors started looting and terrorizing the city, the mayor wanted to take no chances.

And maybe then he wouldn't have laughed and asked the cops if they were a fan of his work as Megavolt -- he was pretty sure now, sitting in his cell, that they took that the wrong way.

He was the first to be apprehended.

Next came Michael Peckbell, once known as the actor behind Quackerjack, who was embarrassingly enough, arrested in a clown costume. Dan genuinely tried to hide his snickering as the old clown jingled miserably into the cell, done arguing for his innocence. It is only after he threw a dirty look at Dan that he recognized who he was sharing a cell with, and his annoyance turned to recognition and then confusion, head tilting to the side and making his hat jingle.

"Wait, why are you here?"

"Same reason you are, I guess… There's a warrant for our arrest because some lookalikes decided to rob banks while cosplaying as our old Darkwing Duck roles."

"No, seriously, Dan, why are we here? I was at a brat's blasted birthday party when these BRUTES went and tackled me!" Hands on his hips, Michael didn't look particularly amused as he tapped his foot, and Dan tried his best not to get short with the ex-actor turned party clown.

"Hey, I am serious! It's all they're showing on the news, I got taken while driving home! Wait, shh, do you hear that--" "Oh no, you're not shutting me up--" "I'm serious serious Mike, listen!"

Holding the duck's beak shut, which earned him another dirty look, Dan shuffled them closer to the holding bars so that they could listen to the news from the dingy little tv at the start of the holding cells corridor. Seriously, couldn't they turn the volume up a little? Luckily, as if hearing his silent wish, they do turn the sound up.

"... we interrupt this segment to bring an update on the current string of robberies and break-ins that have been plaguing St. Canard to inform that massive plant growths are starting to block off city exits, we strongly recommend that you resist fleeing the city and instead head home where it is safest -- ah, I am now getting reports of streets being flooded! Again, stay indoors and do not head out until further instructions! Your city's law enforcement is currently working with Darkwing Duck to apprehend the criminals behind this!"

"Oh quack, actual super villains, we're doomed!" A wailing voice can be heard from the front of the police station, paired with a stern: "GET IT TOGETHER, they have Darkwing Duck on the case!" The commotion paired well with the confused and genuinely taken aback look Dan and Mike shared.

"Drkwng dck?!" Mike tries to get through his beak, then realizing Dan was still holding it shut and slapping the hand away. Probably for the best right there, as that exclamation would've been much louder otherwise. "Has the world gone cuckoo? He's fiction! We're fiction! Well, not us, we're not fiction, but the characters we played! They can't be serious, this why we're here? Hah! Give me a break!" The party clown jumps on the cell bars, shaking the door and making a ruckus, refusing to believe a single thing he's heard: "Ha! Ha! Ha! Very funny, now let us out!" Each 'laugh' is punctuated by a vigorous shake and increased irritation, visibly huffing from anger from his beak… and absolutely not helping their case. One policeman dared peek over their way, and he squealed!

(Jeez, what is it with clowns and short tempters?)

"Would you cut that out? You look deranged! Is this what you do at birthday parties?" With a sharp tug at the back of the collar, Dan manages to pry his ex-co-star from the bars, who seemingly immediately deflates and jingles to one of the benches, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his cheeks in his hands, absolutely pouting. "I'm not any happier about this than you are, you know! But it makes sense! Almost! It explains why we couldn't get any work done at the office today, our system kept going down like someone was messing with it!" That earns him a scoff from his current cell companion, and Dan can't help but throw a look in the clown's direction. "What?"

"You, work in an office?" The question can come across as derogative, but there's genuine curiosity there. "I thought you were big into the acting thing, had your big break and everything as a villain or something." A pause. "Well, bigger villain than before."

There Dan pauses, brings up an index finger as if he's going to make a point, then just sighs and practically collapses into a slouch. It has been a while since the last Darkwing Duck meet-up, huh? No wonder Mike was so out of the loop.

"Yes, well, I gave it up. Want to hear a secret?" An earnest jingly nod is his reply. "I was asked to return for the Darkwing Duck remake… reboot… whatever movie they were making, but I just said no. I feel like I got typecast into the 'weasely evil rat' archetype, you know? After a while, I just started to wonder if people were laughing with me or at me. At least you made it work out somehow."

"That's exactly my deal! People kept making me into the laughing stock so I figured I might as well be an actual clown and beat them to the punch. The brats are annoying, but it beats the circus I was at before the show. Keeps me from getting rusty, even if I'm just going through a checklist of party-tricks at this point." From his pout, Mike perks up, banging his fist on the bench to his side before standing up again, seemingly bracing himself for -- ah, he twirls into a handstand, and Dan claps in genuine amazement.

"Wow, you still got it!"

"Eh, it's nothing. Unlike you guys, I had to work with Jim directly, by his rules. No doubles allowed, or I was a puffy-tailed coward. Quackerjack had no real special effects, remember? Just toys and acrobatics to use against Darkwing Duck." He could do it, but admittedly his endurance wasn't what it used to be. Still, to be a bit of a show-off, Mike stays like that for another minute before twirling right side up, trying to shake off the dizziness that came up with it -- only to stumble and be steadied by Dan when the lights in the entire station flicker and a distant rumble shakes the entire street, and suddenly they remember their current predicament. Yeap. Whatever was going on was very real.

"Hey, cut that out!" Someone calls from the front of the police station, and Dan tries his best not to sound absolutely peeved off when he answers back. "It's not me, you bumbling meatheads!" He genuinely tried.

The silence after that is frustrating and uncomfortable. Meeting up was nice and all, but no one was talking to them, they didn't know if their friends and family were safe, and apparently, the city really was being overtaken by super-powered criminals based on characters they played in a kid's tv-show. So Dan sat on the bench, momentarily stunned by that fact even though he was the one trying to convince Mike it made sense, all the while the clown decided to tire himself out further by continuously jumping up to try and look out the tiny cell window they had.

"Would you STOP your jingling about!?"

The only answer Dan got was a raspberry blown in his direction. Real mature.

---

Tino had made his mind up the moment he caught sight of himself on live tv robbing a bank: he was turning himself in. For one thing, it would immediately prove his innocence because he couldn't be robbing banks if he was in captivity, and then he'd hopefully be safe from these super-powered evildoers! Alright, so, well, his initial plan was to flee the city, but then his green lookalike decided to go and BLOCK every exit to St. Canard just as he was trying to drive away. It was almost impressive, really, to see what a bigger budget could have gotten them back in the good old days, but it was mostly terrifying that the guy behind these massive green growths was out there. W-w-what if these copycats had some sort of personal vendetta against the originals?! He wasn't sure why they would, but he wasn't taking any chances! He was driving to the nearest police station and that was it!

Only one road is cut off, the other is flooding towards him and it takes all his composure to slam on the reverse and scream at the same time, and instead, Tino decides to just head for the high ground at a park and go from there. Tino might have been speeding for the first time in his life just then, but he figured that it was fair -- and hey, maybe a cop would come and arrest him! No such luck, however.

The mallard duck looked positively green in the face ( no pun intended ) as he thought over his options, though it felt more like he was frozen in shock, just sitting there with his hands on the wheel and looking straight ahead. Was that… the ground shaking? If he looked at his bobblehead of Bushroot (which he'd be tossing out after this endeavor, thank you very much), he could take note of how it kept shaking as if with the steps of a giant duck --

The passenger door to his car opens, a figure jumps inside and Tino screams like a banshee and just tosses his wallet and car keys at them, fruitlessly trying to open the door and escape after he reactively locked them with the press of a button.

"TAKE IT, I DON'T NEED IT, I'M A POOR COLLEGE PROFESSOR SPARE ME --"

"JUST CALM DOWN, I DON'T WANT YOUR DANG -- wait Real? Tino Real?! It's me! Jack Pumi! Old co-star?!" And as if a switch had been flipped inside Tino's head, first his voice gives out and then his beak shuts, and his feathers unruffle themselves. Yes, he knew a Jack Pumi, that's right.

"Oh, sorry friend! You really shouldn't sneak up on a duck-like that, I feel like I almost laid my heart there!" Tino practically melts into his seat as his stress is wrung out of him at the sight of a familiar face during these scary times. "What brings you to… my car?" Hey, why did Jack get into his car?

"Ah, don't sweat it old chum! We're all a little jumpy nowadays, criminals on the run and all that." The Bushroot bobblehead is starting to shake with considerable vigor, but this is missed by the two as Jack pats Tino on the shoulder. "As for why I'm here --" A look in the rearview mirror, the surprisingly unmistakable sound of a car being stepped on not too far behind them by a giant clown robot. "DRIVE!"

You didn't have to ask Tino twice, even if they both fumbled with the keys back and forth before finally taking off as a massive foot concaved the ground where they just were, but it was best if they focused on that later. Right now, they were flooring it to… somewhere.

"Just like the good old days, don't you think? So, what's the plan, captain?" As Jack tried to hold on through Tino's panicked driving, he felt he might as well make some small talk -- not to mention that he talks when he's nervous.

"In the good old days, we were the bad guys squashing innocent civilians, and I have to say, it isn't much fun when you're on the other side of it! And p-plan, well, I don't know, drive until it leaves us alone? Until the deranged clown gets bored?"

"If I recall, boring that quacking menace is the last thing you want to do…"

"Well, what do you suggest?! Ohnononoit'sgettingcloser!" And the laughing is getting considerably irksome, if not straight up giving the both of them goose-skin.

"Where were you going before I showed up, why were you just sitting there at the park?"

"I was thinking of driving to a police station and hiding there, but the streets got flooded so I drove to higher ground and then… I froze in the existential terror of considering that a super-powered copycat of myself was wreaking havoc."

"First: beats driving in circles trying to lose this clown, second: boy I feel ya, but now's maybe not the time to focus on that pal-io! How's about you really step on the gas and see if we can't throw it off? There, right there! Turn!"

A paired screaming match occurs when Jack just grabs the wheel and sends them on a sudden turn right, Tino struggling to regain control of the car before laughing hysterically with nervous energy as Quackerjack's mech kept going straight… before turning to look at them again. They screamed again and floored the gas as far down as this crusty old car could go.

Meanwhile, Quackerjack just let out a singular 'huh' at the realization that there was a car under him the whole time… before devolving into a manic fit of giggles at the realization of the terror he caused to the two little bugs hidden under his massive robot's beak. Oh, he loves being a bad guy. Endless fun!

---

"I'm TELLING you, that's a giant Quackerjack robot! Look! Look!"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I can't jump that high?!"

---

The rest of the drive was… surprisingly peaceful. Sure, there were random root systems on the road that pretty much served as speedbumps every so often, but outside of that there was no sign of any evildoers, only the ominous red glow in the sky coming from some skyscraper or other, neither Tino or Jack cared much for the fancy science labs uptown… but that probably explains the commotion going on! The bet was on if it was science or magic behind this mess, and Tino was feeling pretty sure about his bet on magic.

Alright, so maybe peaceful wasn't the word, more like… eerie. But it beat constant panic 100%, so Tino wasn't complaining! About that, at least. He was most certainly complaining about his current treatment at the police station -- they wouldn't arrest him! Which wasn't a complaint he thought he could make.

"We're not looking for fanboys, we're looking for the actual actors to turn themselves in!"

"F-fanboys!? Why I oughta -- do you expect me to grow a plant on top of my head? I'm Tino Real, I played Bushroot, this is Jack Pumi, he played the Liquidator. What's next, you expect him to turn into liquid?"

Perhaps a bad choice of words, as that's exactly the footage that was shown through live news on the tv right then and there, Bushroot and the Liquidator teaming up and just wiping the floor with what appeared to be… Gizmoduck. Huh. Oh well.

"Honestly, yes. We already caught the other two, and they're not causing any problems anymore."

"Wait, other two? Do you mean Dan and Mike?" Jack interrupts, only to be interrupted himself by the officer that had just been speaking. "Quackerjack and Megavolt," the officer corrects.

Tino can't resist facepalming.

"You can see Quackerjack in the distance from here…" It was true, it looked like he was headed for the building emitting that ominous glow, for whatever reason, but there's no missing that giant clown robot-toy thing. That murmured exasperation does give the officer pause, and he holds up an index finger telling them to wait where they are… which they do, with a tap of a foot and impatient crossed arms, as he walks around his desk, doggy tail impatiently swooshing behind him… before quickly tucking between his legs as he hurried back inside, seconds before the lights inside the station all shut down, emergency generators kicking in seconds after.

"Quackerjack, Megavolt, accounted for. You were right." Snout pale, the dog looked like he was sweating underneath his coat of fur, licking his lips in nervousness. So maybe they shouldn't have been quite as ruff when apprehending the first two… Oh well. "I don't care anymore, you can share a cell with the other washed-up acts." The green duck said something about it being safer in than out, and well, the police dog couldn't exactly argue against it. Besides, the mayor said to apprehend them, right? Hopefully, no word about them trying to turn these two away would surface…

---

"Dan, Mike, buddies, remember me?!"

That got the two sitting in the cell snap their heads up so fast, one could almost hear a whip crack, and Mike punches Dan in the shoulder, a large grin on his face. "See, what did I tell ya, they got caught too, which means they know we're innocent, so they have to let us out. That, and you owe me 20."

"Funny joke, clown, they're joining you, not the other way around."

One click, two click, and Toni and Jack join the other two actors inside the cell, and Toni nearly kisses the floor he's so glad to be inside and safe. Well, safe-ish.

"Haha, don't mind him, we just had a rough trip on the way over, traffic was absolutely killer!" No, Jack couldn't help it, he had to make that joke. "We would've gotten here sooner, but we spent like ten minutes driving away from a killer giant robot that looked like… what's with the clown costume?" It wasn't Quackerjack-y, but that was definitely a clown outfit.

"Oh, was that your car?! Ahahaha -- sorry, sorry, but that's all I could see from that window -- he almost crushed you two a good five times! And I'm a clown. End of story." The tone of voice certainly said so, but then it quickly turned to confusion. "Wait, what do you mean 'gotten here sooner'? You want to be in jail?"

"Well, we, we, we were going to turn ourselves in! And we did! It's safer to be in here than out there, you know! You watched us almost get crushed!"

Mike looks like he's about to say something, and then he realizes Toni definitely had a good point there, so he settles on shrugging his shoulders, looking at Dan and hoping he'd have any sort of opinion on this other than just 'meh'.

"So…" Dan starts, feeling particularly coerced by Mike's incessant staring, but not having anything interesting to talk about.

"So…" Jack copies as he looks around their holding cell before slapping his hands together. "We're staying in here until this all blows over, as I'm pretty sure they know we're not the ones causing the big old ruckus. Kind of slaps me with a terrible sense of deja-vu, to be quite honest. The Fearsome Four, back together!"

That does bring up some amused mumbling from the group, even if the mere mention of the show had since gotten stale thanks to Jim Starling's obsession with it, mentioning it wherever he went.

"The only thing that's missing is Dorkwing Duck, huh?" Mike adds, snickering to himself, before pausing with a pensive look on his beak, and Toni can't help but regret what he's about to ask:

"What's on your mind, Michael?"

"Just thinking, really, but… What if this is Jim's doing? You all heard how he went crazy about the movie, right? Single handedly got it canceled, got into a fight with the new guy playing Darkwing Duck. What if this is him trying to reboot it on his own now?" Ignoring the fact that it sounded like a conspiracy theory, it almost made sense. He hasn't been seen since, so what if he was planning his comeback all this time?

The four occupants of the cell look at each other, and then break down laughing.

"As if! That thick headed, self-centered dimwit couldn't plan something this far ahead!"

"Where would he find these super-powered copycats, anyway?!"

"You'd think he'd come for the source material, if it came to that!"

"Ahaha, I know, right!?"

And just like that, the ice was broken, and the four of them made themselves as comfortable as they could in their current situation, deciding to look at it as a surprise reunion. Funny how most of their problems with the old show stemmed from Jim…

---

A large explosion echoes through St. Canard, and Mike wastes no time in trying to peek out the tiny cell window while a commotion began at the front of the police station. The ominous red glow faded from the sky, the plants withered, lights flickered back on through the city, and floods ran down drain pipes.

Whatever it was, it was done. Hopefully.

---

The next morning wasn't exactly glamorous. They were served their breakfast slop and told to wait until they fixed the bureaucracy involved in this mess, because apparently there was no paperwork for "interdimensional villains from an old live-action hero show", and there was no real proof they weren't connected somehow.

"Outside of the fact that we spent all night in here?! Let! Us! Out!"

"Seriously, what is it with clowns and short tempters…" Dan mutters, but all that Toni and Jack offer him is a vague shrug. Mike was just like that, why else would they pick him to play Quackerjack?

"Experts agree, stressing yourself out won't get you anywhere, friend!" Jack starts, even if he's not exactly sure who the experts would be in this case. It does make the duck stop trying to strangle or otherwise pry the cell bars appart with sheer physical strength -- that, or someone was finally coming to see them. Turns out it was the later, but Jack would like to believe he helped anyway!

No words of acknowledgement, just the same cop that greeted Toni and Jack yesterday, but now, instead of a scared look on his face, he looked positively starstruck. Which would be nice, if he hadn't made it clear that he didn't care about their acting careers, so what gives? The four of them look at each other, and after a vague shrug from Dan, they file out of the holding cells and make their way out. Or plan to, at least, until Mike comes to a full stop and forces everyone behind him to stumble over each other.

"Hey, what gives --!"

"JIM!? I WAS KIDDING WHEN I SAID THOSE THINGS YESTERDAY, I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS ACTUALLY YOU BEHIND THIS --"

The clown-attired duck rattles off, and that startles both the party behind him and the supposed Jim, who jumps a whole foot into the air and stretches his hands in front of him, trying to calm the shocked duck down.

"N-no, no, you got it all wrong, I'm Darkwing Duck! The one and only! Technically based on the remake but we don't talk about it! AlsoI'mabigfanandIwaswonderingifyouwouldn'tmindsigningthisposter--"

The first part wouldn't be unbelievable if it had been Jim, but the mention of a remake knocked it down a peg, and then saying he's a fan and asking for an autograph, even if said all in one breath, definitely meant it wasn't Jim. The (once) Fearsome Four let out a shared sigh that they didn't know they were holding as they surrounded this… cosplayer, for lack of a better term.

"Could've fooled me, you're his splitting image, I tell you what… Well, no, you're smooth. He was more…" Mike takes a second to mess up his face feathers, making it look like he'd been sleeping face down for a month. "Gruff, yeah? You look like a baby in comparison."

"Hey! I'll have you know I saved this city from complete annihilation!"

"What was that about a poster, kiddo?" Jack interjects, leaning over Mike's shoulder. "I guess it's the least we can do for saving our city, and in turn us. Not going to lie, it's been a while since I've signed a poster, ever since I started selling --"

"Tupperware?! I have your entire collection, you weren't lying when you said those things could last!"

Jack had to stop and blink for a second, even if his brain automatically had him fetch a pen from an inner pocket. The guy was a "hero", yet here he was fanboying over a tupperware salesman. "Haha, well, I don't like having my face attached to cheap products, what can I say. So, who do we make it out to be?"

"Uh… Darkwing… Duck?"

"Creative," Dan adds with a snicker, but takes the pen from Jack anyway to sign the poster.

"Short notice, what can I say, I came as soon as I heard that they had you guys locked up in here, after making sure the interdimensional evil-doers were in their respective places of course!" The masked duck before them poses in what they guess he thinks is a heroic pose, and out of politeness they don't mention that it makes him look like an absolute tool.

"So those… look-alikes, they're gone? Oh, I never realized quite how frightening our characters were at the time, it was just a silly children's cartoon…" Genuinely, all that Toni wanted now was to crawl home and pass out for a week straight, even if he might miss a weeks worth of work. He felt like it was only fair!

"Darkwing Duck guarantee! I would tell more in hopes of assuring you, but it's all classified, I'm sure you can understand. Just know that there's a real hero watching St. Canard now! Petty thug or super-villain, I'm your guy!"

The poster goes from hand to hand, and they all sign it before giving it back, and the excitement the masked duck shows for it is a little nice, as Jack had mentioned previously. Usually Jim hogged all the attention at fan meetings, whether the fan wanted it or not.

"Oh Launch… I mean, LP is going to eat his scarf when he sees this! You guys have just made a hero's day! Say, would it be too much if I asked for a h--"

"Yeah, no, too much." Dan deadpanned, and everyone agreed wholeheartedly, instead offering a handshake instead, which is gladly taken.

"So, what are your plans now? I could give one of you a ride!" Wringing his hat between his hands, this Darkwing Duck wannabe looked like he wanted to tag along with them, as if he expected them to act like they did on the show, and an awkward look was shared between the four of them. How to gently let this guy down… Seriously, they didn't need a vigilante deciding reality equals fiction -- IGNORING THE EVENTS OF LAST NIGHT.

"Thanks but no thanks, my plan is to go home, pass out, and forget this ever happened." Answer, you just don't, it's a grown man for quack's sake. Mike drops the cape corner he was inspecting and waltzes out the door, his hat jingling behind him.

It didn't take much for everyone else to follow after.

"Pretty much." "Ditto." "I'm still not certain it wasn't an overly elaborate dream."

Not taking a hint, Darkwing Duck follows after them, waving as they all squeeze into Toni's little car. "Good thinking, guys! Just remember, if there's trouble --"

"You call DW!" Alright, he could have that one freebie on the house, Jack decided, even if everyone else in the car stink eyed him for indulging the masked weirdo. "What, it is a catchy tune!"

The car wasn't the only thing grumbling as it drove off.

#dt17 #darkwing duck #drake mallard #quackerjack #megavolt #bushroot #liquidator #fanfics.#i would post else where but im lazy #maybe later #washed up four

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thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness · 4 years

Text

Toshiya Interview 「PHY」Vol.17 Translation 1/2

He talks about the negative parts in human beings that the world has no choice but to look straight at. Also, he talks about his own melancholy. “The places, the time, and the people I cherish are not eternal, rather, they can be destroyed in an instant…. that resignation…no…I wonder if there is an awakening about that”

Note before reading: This is the first part of Toshiya’s interview in 「PHY」Vol.17 released last 19th. This part covers half of the interview. You can already read the second part here. You can get the magazine at Cdjapan if you live out of Japan. Please buy and support it if you can. Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing parts. Links or credits to this post when the content is reposted or captured in other SNS is appreciated :) ----- It was the kind of interview that made me believe in them forever. DIR EN GREY's first digital single, 'Ochita koto no aru sora ', it’s a song like a warning bell that appeals to live without looking away from this restraining reality, as well as the desire to bet on a band of five members. Of course, there,the feelings of how each member feels about Corona are included there. In this solo interview with Toshiya (Bass), he talked about the melancholic feelings he is having facing the current situation of the world. In his own words, he feels sometimes hesitant to say his own thoughts, the conflict, the indecision, but at the same time, he revealed the reason why a strongly man like him felt the necessity to be in this band. Text by: Higuchi Yasuyuki Photos by: Sasahara Kiyoaki Hair&Make-up : Yamaguchi Atsushi “Putting their problems aside, we have lived mediocrely. Then, facing this situation, we are unable to compete. But that's the negative part that we have been facing for a long time” -The other day, I was allowed to hold an event at a certain place. T: Thank you. You were really helpful. -It's been a while since I witnessed the scene of the 5 of you reunited together. Your presence in the dressing room at that time, felt like a person who was really at home. T: What do you mean? (laughs) Well, I haven’t been meeting people. -It’s a time that it’s stimulating (meeting people)… T: It’s scary, isn’t it? If you get infected, you will affect those around you, moreover, if you get someone else infected…..you think about those things after all. -Staying all time at home made you feel depressed? T: Not really. Basically, because in the first place, my life is the same as when we are doing our underground activities. -The other members believed the same (laughs) T: So, it wasn’t depressing. These activities were rather normal or even plain. Well, if I had to say something that was different than usual…. thanks to having more time than usual (the single), it was completed very smoothly. -It seems like that. T: Originally, we were planning to record while touring but the postponement of the tour gave me some time and it was very smooth. -Are you always on a tough schedule? T: It’s already rough. And at the very end I always feel like I’m compressing everything so in that sense, it was every easy to do (the single) this time. -If you had made it between tours as planned, wouldn't the single have a different style?

T: There is a possibility. However, I don't think it would be completely different…. I don’t really know. -That's right. Personally, when I listened to this song, I thought about how you would perceive the current situation as a band that can’t see what lies ahead. It’s a song with a lot of power and energy, are you worried about the future of the band? T: I see. About what your personal thoughts…. I think this band will be fine as long as the members are living, like, the band will continue on as long as the members are alive. It might be an extreme reasoning but that's what I think myself. Regardless of the Corona and what will happen after it. -Because you don’t think that just because of this situation…. T: Yes. Because I think Dir en grey is consisted by these 5 people. Well, until now, I used to say it with words in interviews and so, but maybe recently I really came to think that. -It could be. T: In the past, being honest….when I was thinking about the band….of course I know I'm a person that would be in a band but I thought that there was no reason why it had to be these five people. -That way of thinking its not only limited to you, that’s a thing you think when you are young. T: It’s not only related to bands but also to human relationships. For example, let’s say that you insult someone on the internet. Of course, there might be a reason behind why that person got insulted but rather than insulting them, don’t say anything. You accumulate those things inside (the attacks/insults) and eventually that person will….like….* *He is is making a subtle reference to the recent news of Hana Kimura’s suicide after being harassed online. -There was this sad incident…. T: The places, the time, and the people I cherish are not eternal. A word that has no meaning at that time, the words of someone who doesn't understand the true meaning of what they are saying. With a single word that dances around with collective complicity, important things can be broken in a instant. That resignation…no… if you don’t have that awakening, that you don’t need to insult someone or do just as you please…. -Do you think you are the type of person that lets those things accumulate in yourself? T: How should it be? But I want to cherish where I am, I know that this position is only possible with these five people, so I sometimes I don’t express my thoughts, but it’s like that for all human beings, right? - When you started the band, you were more self-assertive but you had to change that in order to be able to continue in this band. T: That's right. After all, I'm basically a very selfish person (laughs), so I feel like I'm going to destroy the place I'm in if I'm a selfish person like I was in the past. Isn’t that scary? - You have that kind of trait rooted in yourself. T: When I was a kid, I was always selfish and selfish, for example, even if I played soccer with my friends, if I had the ball, I would go to the score goal myself. I didn’t pass it to anyone (laughs) -But team playing is an important thing in sports…. T: I had no spirit of cooperation. I was often told that by my parents. Like “As you are not cooperative, you’re better off doing things alone than doing it with others”. -And such a person has been in the same band for over 20 years (laughs) T: That's right. That's why I feel that the band has given me spirit of cooperation with others. If not, I would still be running to the score the goal with the ball (laughs). -But that kind of person is doing the bass in a band called Dir en grey, so I think it’s a perfect balance. T: Is that so? - The members in charge of bass and drums tend to be less self-assertive and more cooperative than vocals and guitars. I think that's probably because rhythm is related to the fundamental base of music and it’s created by the instrument that play it. T: In the past, that was the impression, right? About the bass. Like being a step back from everyone and playing silently. -But you are not that type of bassist. In the first place, each of you asserts themselves on stage. T: I agree. I mean, I've never though that "because I was the bassist I had to take a step back" (laughs) -That’s what DIR EN GREY is. I thought that it must be hard for the band to have a bassist with such a strong presence when I saw the current shooting. T: What it’s hard? -I meant that the individuality of each one of you collides violently. You can’t take pictures like these with 5 people, right? T: That's right. In a good way, it's also the band's mood. That's why I've been playing in this band with a mysterious sense of balance. I'm not going to take a step back, and while I have a desire to go forward, I'm also conscious of not going too far. “I feel that the band has given me spirit of cooperation with others. If not, I would still be running to the score the goal with the ball (laughs).” - You said that you have acquired that kind of balance in this band. T: That’s what I think. And that doesn’t apply just to me, but also to the other four members. Like, everyone is looking properly at others, not only themselves. It’s the same at lives, and of course what you want them to see it’s your playing but what I really want them to see the most is the sight of these five people standing there. That’s what the image of a cool band might be and on top of that, each of us can shine in their own way. - As I said earlier, I think you are really a strong person. And I think that's something that all the members of this band have in common. T: That might be true. - So, your personalities collide violently, and that friction is what creates your sound. However, on the other hand, there are some moments in which you have negative thoughts, or you are not confident in yourself. T: That's right. After all, I don't have self-confidence. - Especially in your case, I feel that you often make statements like that in interviews. T: Is that so?......mmmm…..I wonder why….but it’s like... I think that saying that kind of things doesn’t matter in some cases?.... -What do you mean with “it doesn’t matter”? T: Well, like they ask “are you confident?” and you are, but saying those things openly/loudly isn’t something that is bothering? I think it's only me who knows in what I am confident and in what aspects I am not. But then, do you know yourself well? If you ask me, I don’t know the answer at all. In short, you probably shouldn’t believe the words you are told. -You don’t believe in those words? T: Yes. Everything is a lie or a false image. Words, including lies and truths are mysterious. After all I believe it’s like that. Also, I think of myself as just a shallow/miserable person. Next part

#dir en grey #toshiya #phy vol 17 #phy magazine #translation #toshiyatranslations

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mymadmedleyw · 3 years

Text

Death

(ao3), belongs under Certain Moment of Time, could be read independently, just as each for the days will be shorts, but all together forming a whole picture

(As this is the last chapter within the 'Going Angst Week 2021', a little reminder about the right order in reading the chapters chronologically (I suggest CMOT link): 4, 6, 2, 5, 3, and 7, 1)

tw: miscarriage

---

Blood. One could say after seeing it many times, sensing its rusty, salty odour within the air might have lost the sensibility to it after a while. But it never ceased on the weight if it was about loss, about death.

Then it always changed to the horrible, suffocating disinfectant scent with the white surrounding and the sound of silent sobs. Just as this time. They didn't even dare to count for how many occasions they ended up here, broken and devastated.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" mumbled for like the thousand times the hollow voice. "It's all my fault, I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have-" the sentence trailed off by another chuckling, squeezing hard on his hand that was holding hers, never letting it go.

Every attempt, every hopeful try led back here and- and it just twisted his heart, seeing, again and again, the slightly greyishly paled skin that years ago was beaming. Years ago…

Suddenly the picture of the small child in her arms came back, like that could have been a mirage. Sadly, he was well aware it wasn't, that happened, but- what he had done wrong?

Vlad pressed his forehead on her, taking the same question that he was asking from himself during the past few years. Why he hadn't told her? It was the same damn question, but with a different meaning this time. Time… yes, that it was.

He clearly could remember the day in the hospital bed, staring at the black and white photograph, bringing for them good news again… and then he couldn't tell what had happened, but he had woken up with years of memories in his mind and- and then as he had sat up, holding his throbbing head someone put a hand on his shoulder, asking with the greatest concern if he was okay.

It had needed hours to understand it wasn't a dream, and by lunch – made by the most amazing woman on the Earth – his mind settled too.

As much weird it was, but this was the truth. Madeline Masters. His wife. Also aware of his state – that they, according to his new-old memories, together tried to keep at bay. He knew he lied to her about its seriousness. That she only was informed about the simply side-effects: floating, invisibility and intangibility, sometimes glowing hands – but she had no conscious about the rest, about the other form… (which learning from a memory surprised Vlad too).

He kept then on with that lie, just as with the other one too, that somehow, he remembered a time when everything was different.

It worked for years. To tell the truth, Vlad forgot everything after their first positive test, even after the second, or the third, but-

Then he didn't dare to count. He couldn't recall anymore the days when she was happy – except in that other life. He slowly was destroying her, breaking the sweet image of his love… He tried to tell her several times to give up, but as much as stubborn she was, like feeling she should have been a mother, she never listened.

Then he eventually had run some tests (surprisingly facing with the result wasn't even his worst day, because his worst day was now…). The accident in the lab, five years ago ruined his biology. It was his fault. Vlad had been on to tell her, several times really, that they- that they wouldn't ever have a child, but- but he had been afraid. He still was afraid. He was a coward, fearing to lose her, so then he never told her, but now…

"Daniel…" a hollow, weak breath was formed into a name. "I thought- I chose- I really thought this time…"

"It's okay…" Vlad whispered, fighting against the suffocating guilt.

Daniel… he almost could imagine a view of a boy with her kindness, smartness and maybe with his steel bright eyes, and-

A soft sniffling broke the silence in the room, he knew it would take days and weeks to calm her down (or months, especially that this time she really had hoped…). But then she would return to her obsessed determines, again, not giving up until she would be able to fight for it…

But Vlad couldn't watch it, not again. This time, it had endangered her life too. He just couldn't let it happen, not anymore… especially as the date slipped into his mind. It was the same as on the letter, containing the black and white picture of their second child… she would have been expecting her second and-

He bit his lips as hard as it drew blood, rusty, salty and sinner. The sound of the woman, the so loved Maddie died away in a faint snuffling, undoubtedly dreaming about a great life he couldn't give her… Even though Vlad was conscious of their reality, he still wished to fulfil her dreams…

Wish… suddenly his eyes snapped open, remembering word-to-word to his half-mumbled sentence before everything had changed and he had woken up in this dream (nightmare…).

Would it be that easy? –Vlad wondered, sceptical about such childish way, but then he grabbed on it, tight, as ridiculous it sounded, and he'd have literally killed to make her happy. So then, he opened his mouth, already putting together what he wanted to say, and then-

"Won't work." stopped him an abrupt voice, then the owner cleared it. "I set the rules with Desiree. She is not allowed to grant any timeline-altering wishes, unless I allow it." Vlad blinked at the sudden presence of someone else, searching with his eyes immediately to catch the person, but there was no sign of anyone, just a quiet ticking sound was telling someone was definitely there.

A moment passed in silence, making Vlad wondering about if he hallucinated the voice, but then it spoke again. "Clockwork, by the way, Master of Time – though it's rather a given title than a name. Theatrical, isn't it?" Vlad scoffed at the unmistakable enjoying waving of the words, whoever this ghost was – because, based on the invisibility it was undoubtedly an unearthly creature from the other realm –, he clearly was amused by this scenario.

"What do you-?" Vlad started, frustrated by the spectre's presence and mocking.

"Want?" was Vlad interrupted. "From you? Nothing… albeit your stubborn wish created a glitch that didn't suppose to exist. A knot, that tangled the flow of events, blinding me. In short," the ghost took a break. "you scarred the time." well, that definitely sounded like a lecture… but then, the title slipped into his mind, along with the accounting for: Master of Time.

"You can make it back…" Vlad pieced together. "You can change on the time, change on this all." he couldn't tell if it scared him or filled with him hope, but definitely that drew out a way – more like an alternative – after the wish-one. For a short time, the ticking skipped a beat, like the ghost would have been stuck on a thought, but then talked again.

"Yes, I can change on this all." was Vlad's sentence, almost exactly repeated. He didn't have to be a genius, to feel it wasn't an admitting. "But I won't." was it added, not even a second later. "I might be responsible to watch over the timelines, and every single outcome, but on this, I am afraid, I can't do anything. You created it, it's your duty to fix it, and decide." Vlad stunned. Decide what exactly? This or- that? It wasn't an actual question, he could give the answer easily, but-

Suddenly he averted his gaze from the space where he suspected the ghost was floating invisibly – getting on his nerves by that – then he looked back to the woman, gazing at his wife, and gently got out a long curly lock of hair that fell into her face. She seemed so calm, pale, yes, shattered by the tired wrinkles under her closed eyes, and…

"I see you already made your decision." Vlad heard the cursed voice again. He didn't have to guess to know his eyes were burning red, clenching his jaw and fighting inside to not lash out at the ghost, transforming to his other outlook and end the ghost, it that was even possible in case of a timeless existence. Was it really counted as entertainment for him? This?!

"It's not a decision." Vlad spitted.

"No, it really isn't." said the ghost sternly, accompanied by a sound that gave an impression like an old clock would have been adjusted, bored by the current discussion as if it had been something obvious, or expected. "But I am seeing no future over this certain moment, neither in this time or your original one. Just imagine, how it could be to be blind after millennia. Curious, I was for centuries to learn what it caused. Well, it turned out it was just a desperate hybrid's wish, fighting against his true nature, cornering himself to endless suffering than accepting the new him… comical, isn't it?"

It felt harder and harder to hold back and stay unmoved listen to the words, but as much as he loathed hearing it, if this Clockwork could mean the solution from this, then-

"Besides, what happens now, how you decide, is beyond me, I can't see through it, until it happens." defined the being, at the same time out of nowhere a swirling green-ness formed in the air. It was similar to the Proto-Portal, which Vlad had seen many years ago, but this was enough big for anyone to walk through it. "It's either this time or the other one, the knot you created still makes the connection available. But it has to end. Only one could remain."

Vlad swallowed, lost in the neon colour, like an unescapable doom that followed him everywhere. He remembered his time, his muscles still could recall the seizures, the endless days in that hospital room, and reading about his friends' perfect life against his… the ghost was right, he had been desperate, now he could control his other side, but it could be only thanked to Maddie, this Maddie… in that other world, he was nothing but- he was literally nothing… here, now, on the other hand, he had the love of his life, but still-

Suddenly, he put together no matter how he'd choose, what path he'd take, it would turn his heart a stone, destroying by the ghost's words the other time. But then, he took a glimpse at the resting woman, at his Maddie, silently sleeping unaware of another being's presence in the room, only lost in a dream-world her mind created. For a moment, he wondered about the possibilities, about the alternatives, but then, hard, Vlad realised it was out of the question.

He never felt his limbs as heavy as he stood up from the chair, earlier placed beside the hospital bed, to mean support Maddie after the loss... And he never felt more hatred towards anyone – even towards Jack – that now took over his entire body about the ghost.

"I really hope, you are able to see your so cherished future now." Vlad cursed, the sourness and hurt suffocated him from inside as he took a step towards the greenness.

"I do." acknowledged the Master of Time, but not spilling anything else, what it would mean or how things would turn out. But Vlad knew even if the ghost was aware of some outcome, he wouldn't be informed about those. As Vlad disappeared behind the gate between the two realities, he took himself a promise, to somehow, when everything had settled, whatever it would take, he would find Clockwork and claim justice.

#going angst week 2021 #going angst week #danny phantom #vlad masters #clockwork

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razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

Late (Final Rose)

Yang said nothing as Ruby stumbled off to the side and emptied her stomach. Weiss staggered off to do the same, and Yang glanced at Blake. The Faunus nodded back and went off to hold the heiress’s hair, so she wouldn’t make too big a mess of herself. Yang, meanwhile, went to Ruby.

“Ruby...” Yang murmured. “Get up. We have to secure the area.”

Ruby shuddered, and Yang tried not to wince as her sister’s stomach convulsed again despite already being empty. Finally, Ruby got to her feet. Wordlessly, Yang handed her a bottle of water to wash her mouth out. Scrubbing furiously at her cheeks, Ruby pointedly looked at the ground.

“Yeah... yeah, I guess we do.”

“We also need to search for survivors.” Yang kept her voice gentle. Ruby was... well, not as experienced as her when it came to things like this. Before attending the Senior Academy, Yang had gone on quite a few missions with Averia, Claire, and some of the others in their age group. They weren’t always in the right place at the right time. “As well as secure a perimeter.”

Ruby swallowed thickly. “Yeah. You’re right.” She finally looked up, silver gaze wandering over the utter devastation around them. “What happened? This was supposed to be a weeding mission. There weren’t supposed to be any strong Grimm here.”

“Some Grimm are smarter than others,” Yang said. Bodies littered the area around them. They’d bury them if it was safe. Otherwise, they’d just have to retreat and wait until reinforcements arrived before seeing to the bodies. “Sometimes, what look like attacks by small groups of random Grimm are actually just probing moves by something stronger.” She nodded at the massive hole in the settlement’s walls. “I’m guessing that’s what happened here.”

Ruby sniffled. “Can... can you call it in? And... maybe... maybe we can have Blake use some of her clones to look around and stuff. I don’t think we should separate until we know what’s going on.”

“That’s a good plan.” Yang squeezed Ruby’s shoulder. “Chin up, sis. This is horrible, but we’ve got to stay sharp.”

“Right.” Ruby looked around. “I... I guess I can set up in that burnt out building over there. It still looks pretty sturdy, and it’s got a good view of everything. If anything tries to sneak up on us, I should be able to spot it.”

X X X

“First time seeing a ruined settlement?” Blake asked as she helped Weiss sit on the edge of the ruined fountain in the middle of the settlement. She’d seen far too many such settlements in her time with the White Fang. Life on the frontier was harsh, especially in the most recently settled areas where battles with Grimm were a constant fixture of life.

Weiss shivered. “Yes. Well, I mean, I’ve seen pictures and footage, but...”

“Seeing it... smelling it... yourself is different.” Blake shook her head. “I still remember the first time I saw one.”

“Oh?”

Blake’s lips twitched. “It was a little smaller than this, maybe forty or fifty people. We got there, and... well... there wasn’t anyone left alive. There might have been if we’d gotten there half an hour earlier, though.” It had been a Faunus settlement, just people trying to make a living away from the people who’d persecuted them. It was one of the only times she’d ever seen Adam cry. He might have been a bastard in many ways, but she’d cried right there next to him. Seeing the bodies all laid out like that - the children, especially - would have made anyone with a heart cry. “I still wonder if maybe we could have gotten there fast enough if we hadn’t stopped to deal with Grimm along the way.”

It was a logical move. Leaving Grimm at their rear was just begging to be ambushed. Besides, they hadn’t known anything was wrong. They’d simply been dropping by to see how the Faunus were doing. It was likely they’d been overrun before they could even call for help.

“What... what did you do after that?” Weiss asked.

“Killed every last Grimm I could find,” Blake said bluntly. “It didn’t make me feel any better, though.”

“Oh.”

Blake helped Weiss stand. “Come on. Ruby wants me to use clones to scout around, see if there are any survivors or Grimm.” She pointed. “She’ll be setting up in the building over there, so it would be good if you could use your Glyphs and lay down some traps, just in case we’re not alone here.”

X X X

“Well, shit.” Fang pursed her lips. Yang had called in bad news. “Scout the area, make sure that it’s safe and then sit tight. If whatever led the attack is out there, I don’t want you guys picking a fight on its turf. I know it’s going to be rough, but the settlement should still be safer than the forest.”

“Understood.” Yang took a deep breath. “Any idea of what we’re up against?”

Fang studied the footage Yang had sent her. “I’m going to guess it’s probably a hydra-type. See the damage on the walls? The edges of the hole are mostly smooth. That suggests something corroded the wall rather than just breaking through it. There are similar marks on some of the remaining buildings too, not to mention the damaged weapons Blake found.”

Blake had sent through images of weapons that appeared to be half-melted. Fang had fought enough hydra-types to distinguish between fire damage and the effect their acid, venom, or blood could have.

“How big?” Yang was calm, which was good. She was the most experienced member of the team when it came to fighting Grimm.

“Based on the footage...? I’d say maybe thirty feet.”

“Thirty feet?” Yang grimaced. “That’ll be tough, especially if it’s got friends.”

“Which is why you four are going to hole up in the settlement until reinforcements arrive. I’ve already contact a profession team. They’re about half a day out from your position. Do not engage unless you have to. Wait for them to get there. In the meantime, fortify your location.”

“Already doing it,” Yang said. “Weiss has laid down multiple traps, and we’ve rigged up some more traps using more Dust and the munitions we were able to salvage from the settlement. If the Grimm come back, we’ll be ready.”

“Remember, hydra-types are regenerators. Don’t waste your time with little stuff. You’re going to have to hit it hard enough to either keep it occupied with regeneration, or so hard that it stays down.”

“Yeah. I know.” Yang ran one hand through her hair. “Ruby and Weiss have been working on their combination attacks. Do you think a fire Dust augmented round amplified by some of Weiss’s Glyphs could do enough damage?”

“What sort of augmentation?” Fang asked.

“Multiple augmentations. Basically, Weiss triples the speed of the round and magnifies the effect of the Dust about three times over too. Ruby put together some special rounds too, armour piercing but with a impact-triggered detonation function, so they explode inside the target after piercing through the outside of it.”

“Payload?”

“Fire Dust, enough to slag a tank before you factor in what Weiss does.” Yang smiled faintly. “Ruby was so proud about getting the rounds to work since they were really finicky to make. She’s only got half dozen, but they pack a punch.”

“Hmm...” Fang did a quick mental calculation in her head. “Tell Ruby to put those rounds centre mass, and it will probably work. I doubt the first shot will kill it, but it should slow it down enough for Ruby to hit it with a few more. Put the rest of the shots in the same place. If you can burn out the torso badly enough, it won’t matter if it’s still got its heads. It’ll be so focused on regeneration that it won’t be able to fight back. Once you’ve got it slowed down, burn it or crush it. That’s the easiest way.”

“Will do.” Yang bit her lip. “Can you maybe talk to Ruby when we get back?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her, and I’ll let your parents know too, so they can call her later.”

“Thanks.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Unfortunately, hunters don’t always get there in time. One of the other reasons that Yang suspects it’s a big Grimm is because the Grimm aren’t still there. The weaker, lesser Grimm tend to be a bit stupider than the older and stronger ones. The smarter ones have learned that hanging around afterward is pointless unless you’ve got something else in mind. Instead, it’s better to obliterate a settlement and then retreat. It makes it easier to ambush potential rescuers, and it makes it harder for the military or hunters to retaliate. Sadly, though, this is an experience that most students will go through.

Fortifying is also Team RWBY’s best bet. It is entirely possible that they will be ambushed if they try to leave. It’s better to secure their position and wait for reinforcements than to go wandering around in an area than Grimm know better than they do.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

#final rose #fanfiction #ruby rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #team rwby #oerba yun fang

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silence-burns · 3 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 43

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

"You know what? This could actually be worse."

Loki tore one eye open, just to check if your surroundings had changed during the short nap he’d taken against the wall.

The cold, humid cell deep under the palace was still bare and just as uninviting as before. The roughly carved stone reminded Loki of the insides of a beast's belly, the edges rounded, the corridors meandering, and that unnerving smell of dampness and mold hanging thick in the air. The only evidence of the dungeons ever being touched by civilized hands were the metal bars set deep in the stone, quite solidly locking you in.

"Are you sure?" Loki asked. "We are being tried for murder, and not even ones we actually committed."

"That part sucks, I’ll concede, but I mean - at least they don't know about Peter. I don't see him in any of these cells."

That was some small relief. Loki stroked your head, currently laid in his lap. He closed his eyes again. There was no rush.

It was difficult to judge the passage of time under the mountain of stone overhead and with no light from the outside. The only sources of it were the strange colonies of small mushrooms, glowing softly in the otherwise complete darkness. Their hats were no larger than the nail of a thumb, and swayed slowly, as if struggling against phantom winds.

The air felt stale in your lungs - to the point where you wondered if the only way to feel a whisper of a breeze again required consuming the luminescent mushrooms if only to catch the barest hint of the breeze that perpetually swayed them side to side.

"Are those toxic?"

"I have no idea."

"Haven't you read about the dungeons?"

"I've never even heard a whisper of them, but to be honest, I never prepared my studies of the Edge with imprisonment in mind."

"You should've known better."

"My bad."

You tapped your foot against the stone, hoping to relieve at least some of the energy buzzing in your veins. The sounds were quickly swallowed by the foggish air, enclosing you once again in the unnerving silence.

No more than a few hours could've passed since you were thrown in there to wait for the trial. You had no idea how much longer it'd take, but if they thought you'd peacefully rot down there for however long they wished, the lords would be in for a surprise.

"Loki, can I cut the bars now?"

Loki sighed. It was the third time you’d asked. "No."

"But I'll just make a tiny little chip to see if the sword would even work on them."

"We literally have nowhere to run to. I have no way of getting us off the Edge, and Heimdall is unlikely to work against his orders again for us."

That posed a problem.

"But I want out."

"You just don't want to pee in the bucket."

"Of course I don't, I still have some basic human decency. Have you even looked at that thing? I wish I could throw it out of our cell… I have no idea why you're laughing, but I'm warning you - if my bladder decides it's had enough, I'm out."

"Don't worry, it won't be long now."

Crossing your arms, you hid your hands from the cold. Your patience was wearing thin, but Loki's calm was a reassuring presence behind your back.

"You've been on trial before?"

"Yes."

"What happens now?"

Loki didn't dwell on the memories that resurfaced in his mind. His last trial had taken place on Asgard, under a vastly different regime. The mark of the traitor had been plastered to his back before he even set foot before his king - and father.

There would be none of that in this trial, for better or worse - Loki hadn't yet decided.

"They'll soon take us before whoever is to make the verdict. The delay is likely caused by the powers weighing in the palace. The High Prince has every right to rule over us, but the Queen won't allow herself to be pushed away, even now."

"I don't think she'll even notice us."

"If there's any conscience left in her from the old days, she will."

That caught your attention. It sounded like a story, and even poor, short stories were better than the miserable wait in the tiny, damp cell with only the mushrooms and a reeking bucket to keep you company.

"I told you that I've been to the Edge before, with my court on official visits. I was never allowed to dwell around this place as freely as I'd wish for, but even I had met the Queen. It was long ago, for beings like us are not confined to the mortal passage of time. She was fading already back then, but her descent had only just begun and the power within her was still thrumming deep, making her grip on the court and its people like iron. There were whispers that with the almost depthless power like hers, her fading would take millenia, and assure the Edge's prosperity throughout that time. The sacrifice she must make would never be forgotten." Loki swallowed. He still remembered the cold, icy touch of her magic. "She's likely clinging to every shred of it."

"She seems like a ghost." You shivered, remembering the brief meeting with what was left of her.

"I wouldn't put it above her to make her final stand a moment to spit Asgard in the face before she completely fades. I'm a prince, after all, even if Asgard cut ties with me. The wars ravaged this land, and the memories are still fresh in some minds."

"Will they sentence us to die?"

"Most likely. The Rifts will surely enjoy drinking our essence."

The images that flashed before your eyes were far from enjoyable.

"So, we stick to our usual plan?" you asked after a moment of silence. Even silence felt sticky in that place.

"I don't recall ever having one?"

"What about being assholes to everyone long enough for some lucky turn of events to save our asses - in our current case, Peter finding the murderer?"

"I love that plan."

The plan was not loved by even one other person, but that was no surprise. Those who had to deal with you once the time had finally come to put you in shackles and drag you out of the cell, were far from happy when a series of unfortunate events halted their preparations.

And those were truly unfortunate, one had to admit. Who would've thought that the shackles on Loki's hands never seemed to fit? They constantly slipped off, much to his own surprise. But Loki was a forgiving god, so he braced through it all with a calm smile and patience of a saint. It only faltered when another set of cuffs was placed over his wrists, weaved from thick, silvery material that seemed to block the source of the struggle, and his magic with it. It was not unlike the bracelet his memory was still adamant to forget, that had complicated his life in the past.

But as saddening as that was, your problems were on a completely different level. It was not everyday that one's legs completely refused to work, no matter how much you willed them to.

A tragedy, that's what it was.

A nuisance, that's what one of the guards said before hauling you over his shoulder.

You wished you could wipe Loki's smirk off his smug face, as he walked behind you.

"I didn't have time to think of anything better," you hissed through clenched teeth.

"Silence!" the order came sharp and loud in the echoing confines of the narrow staircase.

The guards were careful handling you. Their swords were at the ready and you had little doubt they'd be used if necessary. Loki shook his head slightly. You had to wait for a better chance.

The enormous hall you'd been taken to had to lay in the heart of the palace. Rows of galleries overlooked the vast space, separated by thin, winding columns covered in ivy, orange, and red leaves tightly woven. Behind them loomed the river, its wild current sending a cold breeze through the hall. The water murmured a song of endless wrath as it hit the rocks and the shore, ferocious in trying to free itself from its course.

It was the only alive thing in the hall, you quickly noticed as the guard plopped you onto the ground with no ceremony. He stalked back, joining the other guards, their armor unblemished, and swords pointed at you. In front of you, standing on the raised dais at the head of the hall, awaited the Prince and the fading Queen, just as Loki predicted. Pooled around them were the other residents of the palace you could see for the first time. They stood tall and proud in their ashen regalia and shimmering jewelry. Horns bode the air, sharp as knives. Clawed hands clenched, as if imagining the way your necks would feel underneath them. The enemies' necks.

A miracle occurred when your legs suddenly worked again. You moved a little closer to Loki, looking around. But the walls were far and carefully guarded. The only way out was the river, into its thrashing current that dug its way through the mountain and the palace, unstoppable in its rage.

A shadow of the same rage crossed the eyes of the Prince as he beheld you, seeing precisely what all the unexplained events led him to believe. It was a wonder why he bothered with a trial at all. You were sure the river would welcome two more corpses, just as the Rifts would claim your lives.

You couldn't wait for the part where you could at least say you had nothing to do with any murders. There was little you could do to prove it, but it still felt like the only highlight worth waiting for.

Loki understood your concern well. There was absolutely nothing pleasant about murder accusations, true or not.

"How low Asgard has fallen," the High Prince finally broke the silence.

"You have no idea," Loki admitted. "But still not low enough to have anything to do with what we're being accused of right now. We spent the day out in the woods, learning about the Rifts and looking for more clues."

Half-truths were an interesting sort of truth. While they maintained some of their original meaning, part of them always had to be diluted enough to fit into what others wanted to hear. Despite the hurtful claims against him, Loki loved the truth. Truth was his favorite thing more often than not - so much, in fact, that he often preferred to keep a part of it for himself.

"Have you found any?" The question was polite, but there was no interest in the Prince's voice.

That was a slippery ground, especially since all your potential suspects had gathered in that very hall.

Your eyes met with the female guard you recognized. It was the scarred warrior following the Queen. Her short hair stood like a porcupine's spikes, covering part of the thick, winding scar. The woman had a nasty smile on her disfigured face.

Her place was by the Queen's side, her hand on her sword. She looked ready to strike on the Queen's slightest indication - it was lucky then, that the Queen herself appeared as disinterested in her surroundings as always. The pale gown she wore reminded you of old, crumpling papyrus, withered as if held too close to the flame. She stood too far for it to be possible, but you could've sworn the smell of burnt-out candles drifted to you.

Loki wore an easy, pleasant smile - a mask befitting this place. "We managed to secure an object that'll lead us straight to the culprit of the unsuccessful attack in the gardens a few days ago. Much remains to be explained, but I'm sure that'll be a great place to start."

"You stand before me, accused of murdering the wild dwellers of the Edge, and yet you speak as if you still have time." The Prince shook his head.

Looking at his horns, you couldn't get the image of them cutting through your head. The Prince was the first of your suspects. If he wanted you dead, why weren't you already?

"We cannot even be certain that you didn’t stage that attack," the Prince mused. "Where do you have this object you speak of?"

Loki swallowed. "It is currently tracking the source of the spells," he said carefully.

Time was indeed running out, and it gnawed at your bones. There was only so much you could do to delay the inevitable.

Your hands shook, but you put them together. You wouldn't show any of those deadly silent, uninterested lords how hard it was to remain still. How hard it was to breathe.

A splash of color, so unlike anything in the pale, withering hall caught your eye. Making sure not to move your head much, you cast a careful, quick gaze upwards, toward the empty galleries overhead. A youthful face peeked from one of the balconies. Peter.

Loki's words drifted away from you as you focused on the boy, showing you the stone he still held, the mission you entrusted him with. And you frowned as he pointed toward the dais, to the two figures standing there.

The true murderer was there. It had to be one of them.

The Queen remained poised still as a statue while the Prince derided Loki's words. Which one was it?

Peter kept showing you the horns with one of his hands, which could've helped you more in a situation where you didn't stand among lords, jewels shining on all of their many horns, sharp and dull, long and short, but all deadly.

"Where is it then?" the Prince lost his patience at last, the steel toning in his voice. "How can you prove anything of what you claim?"

"It is the stone of Atica," Loki finally said. "I borrowed a part of the spider that attacked us and let the stone find the spellcaster behind it."

Faint whispers erupted among the lords. The Queen's gown rustled like dried leaves, but she remained silent. But there was fury in the Prince's eyes as he shouted "Then where is the stone? How much longer will you make a fool of me?"

"It is here," you said, your voice clear and ringing in the hall as you stepped forward.

Never had you felt so small and irrelevant as in the moment when all the attention focused on you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of color, moving from the gallery onto the high ceiling above you, cautious and slow as to not alarm anyone. You took another step, hoping everyone would monitor your movement instead, so close to the dais now that you could count the silver fairies and animals sculpted onto its side in lifelike detail.

So close that the hatred emitting off Faroq, captain of the guard, was close to burning your skin. You had no doubt that if you took one step closer to the Prince, the needle-like sword hanging by his hip would pierce your heart.

"We only hope that you and your people alike will accept the truth," you said and held your hand to the side.

As a stone dropped right into it, a murmur ran through the crowd again. It began glowing, dragging all eyes to it - no one dared look away as you raised it to show everyone the culprit.

But it did not glow toward the Prince, who you stood no more than a few feet away from you.

The stone of Atica held a steady glow toward the left, to the Queen and her guards.

The female guard took a step closer, the expression wild on her scarred face, and for a moment you thought she might spill the Queen's blood.

But you watched the wrong person.

The Queen, merely a decorative part of the palace grounds through all the time you spent there, finally raised her face, her only horn pointing toward the far ceiling.

To Peter, who had gestured with only one hand. Who tried to make you understand.

"Long may I live," the Queen said, her voice ashen and steady.

The power she unleashed was far from faded - that was the single thought you managed to scramble as it hit you hard, sending your body flying like a mere insect.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki mavel #loki #loki mcu #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #marvel #mcu #loki marvel #loki fanfiction #I Love Loki

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