#I think angry people who lose poker might try to beat him up but he fights back

[doctorsiren]

more textures ft. Beanix getting into spats 😁

#doctorsiren #ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #wrightworth #beanix #ace attorney fanart #blood tw #<- just in case #digital art #my art #procreate #the last thing miles says is something Lily said about Phoenix when I sent one of the other drawings HAHA #you guys think he scares people bc he Cannot Die #god’s most unkillable warrior #I think angry people who lose poker might try to beat him up but he fights back #BUT HE ONLY DOES DEFENSE 😭😁😁😁😁😁😁 GET IT #he goes on an emo arc where he tries to get into fights bc he’s just angry with the world and with himself #until Trucy and Miles snap him out of it #😁😭😭 IM SO NORMALLLL!!

[vitzi9]

Pretty gifts

Joker X GN!Reader

TW/CW: reader is androgynous, murders, talking about kys, work in catering (it needs its own warning), reader curses a lot, mention of vomit, stalker, reader throws up, racism, Gotham is hell and fuck capitalism, blood, violence

tbh i'm a little sad bc nobody ever give their opinion on my works. I put another divider (like the red heart below) in the middle of the story, not really to separate as it's following directly but bc some people find my stories too long so it's like a checkpoint. So when you leave, you know where you were. (It's really long)

also the end is a little weird bc I have no idea if this fandom is still alive so, yeah :) if people are reading, I might continue it. Thing is some ppl find this Joker ugly so...

I hope you'll enjoy this. (19/02/2024) (17k)

You weren't weird by any mean, okay ? Life in Gotham is just really hard. You got harassed, robbed and assaulted more times than you can count. And each time by a new profile type ! Old, young or teen, it doesn't matter, everyone is desperate.

Some of your colleagues at work are prostituting themselves and you for sure considerate selling feet pictures.

That's how life is in Gotham.

But weird ? You stare at the angry man before you, unimpressed. You can't believe he called you weird as well as an incestuous result. You're neither of these. Fuck, how is weird and incestuous his first thought when insulting someone ? Like, he could've called you a fucker, a bitch... Anything !

Your aggressor, if you can even call him that after this, shows you his middle finger while walking background. Quickly though, he loses his balance and fall on the ground. Well, at least he didn't beat you up !

You already got assaulted for your money, which you don't even have, you got two jobs and barely reach the minimal wage. But at the end of the day they, well, stole the few you have, you know ? When you think about it, he strongly smelled like alcohol. That's probably why he failed his attempt.

Even stealing is death here. You never know who you're facing. Hell, just yesterday a guy was killed because he tried to assault some big chief of a mob. Someone with a clown face. TV says the man's limbs were still not all found.

Shit, getting killed by a clown must be mad humiliating too.

You sigh, trying to ease your tired traits by passing your hand on your face. At least the day is over, right ? Another day closer to death. You drag your suddenly much more heavier body on some few meters/yards more, silently praying that no one else will bother you.

Thankfully, your cries were heard. Pushing the old creaking door of the building, you rush to the mailbox. Never have you been comfortable staying long here. The door is only behind you and you don't know if someone is able to enter with bad intention.

Speaking of the devil...

No mail except for this weird card yet again. It's cardboard displaying a drawing of a joker, withdrawn from a poker package. It's certainly not the first time someone pull this kind of joke on you. Though, you have no idea who this is and it creeps you out a little. You turn the card to see if a message was left and sadly, (or not) you were right.

You've been trying to understand who this was for a long time now but in a big city like yours, with god knows who or what ? It's just impossible.

As always, you hate to think this because you don't want this creepy card to become part of your habit, a messy handwriting greets you in black ink.

"I'm everywhere in this city, no one can touch me yet some are fond of me."

You stopped school kind of early so your IQ is probably not high enough for you to understand that. Plus, you don't fucking want to.

You grab the card with you in order to throw it once at home and rush to the stairs (some says someone got killed in the elevator plus it's not working since months so you're not taking it anymore). Finally home. Your hallway still smells like piss and a deadly cold reign here (Nobody knows why). Two of the four bulb of the ceiling has burnt out and a faint static noise is resonating in the whole property.

This building is not even in a neighborhood that bad. But in Gotham, not that bad is still bad. Because bad is sleeping to the sound of gunshot and broken windows. While here, there's still these but not as often as in bad neighborhood. But you can add the moans hearable in the night in it as well.

Your building is really old though, which explains (partially) the bad state it's in.

Taking out the key off your pocket, you start to unlock the door. Unconsciously, your mind goes back to the card of the day. "I'm everywhere"... What's everywhere? There's air. But they specified 'in this city' so air might be too simple.

No one can touch me yet some are fond of me.

You can't touch air and you're not sure people are fond of it particularly. Like, air's fine. It's cool as fuck but are you fond of it ? No. Then what is it ?

You didn't even realize you were looking at the card again, your door wide open while standing in the middle of the hallway ridiculously. Slapping yourself mentally for being so careless, you enter and close the door and all your locks shut.

Some are fond of me, huh ?

In Gotham, what are people even fond of ? Misfortune you'd say. These fuckers love to see others suffer and even make sure they do by engaging in others people life.

But you don't know if that's really the answer. Damn, can't they just give you simple question? Or even better: stop giving you any ?

You drop your bag on the floor, slouching your shoulders and throwing yourself on the couch. Fuck, you hate your life. Why are you even here? You don't deserve this life. Nobody does !

Haphazardly moving your hand, you end up successfully grabbing the remote. You need to empty your mind, or have a background noise at least.

The screen lights up displaying you the newest information girl. The last man disappeared after he made the mistake of letting show his politic side. It's obvious everyone is corrupted here but the mystery in this story is ; who erased him ? It could be mob, politics themselves, everyone.

This city is lost.

The woman is talking about the incessant inflation and how numerous factories and business saw themselves forced to close for good. You just hope your business won't shut down, you need money. What if it does close, though ? You were already sweating trying to live with two jobs, but what if you end up jobless ?

It'll be impossible for you to pay anything. To keep your apartment. To eat. What are you supposed to do if this happens ? You already thought about that and all of your long reflection session always end up on one conclusion: kill yourself.

Because there's no way you're living without job in Gotham while being in the streets. You would have left the city if you had money or even family out there but it's not the case. So yeah, killing yourself that is.

Sure it looks a little extreme but isn't earth overpopulated anyway ?

It's better than being killed. At least, you choose your death ! But you're gonna hope this still won't happen. Up to now, your job is yours so taking such drastic measures won't be necessary. And you hope it'll stay this way.

Damn, you're depressed again. You drown out your worries by hiding your face in your couch's pillow. Man, what capitalism is doing to one.

You switch the channel without looking where your fingers pressed, this time a man is talking. He's saying something about a criminal and quoting every one of his crime. It was going crescendo, at first robbery, assault and burglary but just next to all of that was terrorism and mass murder.

You want to turn your head and watch the profile of this man but are too weak to move. So you simply listen closely to the man voice to get answers.

"Yes, he's a dangerous criminal and he's in town. He already break free from Arkham asylum twice now. If one of you see this man; do not engage, hide and call the police immediately. He is incredibly unstable and may not be alone. If you think you can win against him, you're wrong. He's a manipulative man and a mastermind. If you're seen by him, you better start to pray. Ends the man on a serious tone. Man, this guy knows how to reassure people...

-Indeed, a true monster. But please do not scare our audience. Batman was able to capture him twice, we'll be fine. The man chuckles but does not sound really honest. To answer all the questions you've been a lot to send us, we'll have the pleasure of meeting mister Harvey Dent here, chief of the police department to answer your worries. Harvey Dent ?"

And the voice switched to the other man. You like Harvey Dent. You like to think he's the only man in Gotham who's not corrupted. He's helping the citizens. Unlike that Wayne man. This guy could single-handedly resolve the poverty problem, but does he do it ? Of course not. He's rich after all, why should he care for bum like you ?

Harvey Dent is talking but you're not listening. All you know is that he's trying to ease the population. The men on TV are always saying the same things: empty promises. How the police is already taking care of the problem, that it'll be better soon. Like the police isn't already too fucking busy harassing the wrong people.

Harvey Dent is your last hope. The only man who can change things.

You deeply hope his promises aren't as empty as the other man before him. You turn off the TV and relax in the silence of your flat for a moment, breathing in the perfume impregnated in your couch.

There's screams outside. You can't tell if it's the neighbors or someone outside. Either way, you stand up feeling your eyelids getting heavier by each passing second.

But before leaving to your room, you stop in front of your window and stare outside for a moment. It's nighttime now. The city won't go to sleep, oh no, it's just waking up. The police can already be heard in the distance with its loud sirens. This city really is chaotic. It's just everywhere, you can't escape it. Touching it isn't even possible, you can't grasp it, nor resolve it completely; it's in the air. You can't fight against it. Nobody fights against it.

Fuck, it's like they're fond of it, here.

Chaos, it's scary when you think about it. Because you can't guess what's going to happen. There was a time when you thought that anarchists could be right but if anarchy looks like this, you don't want it anymore. You just want some peace and respect. But it seems too much to ask for Gotham.

You fucking hate chaos.

The next morning, your limbs were so sore you almost didn't make it on time to work. Your boss reprimanded you about your delay, pressuring you by recalling you the time one of your colleagues got fired for it. You were only late of something like one or two minutes but it didn't matter to him.

He only wanted to feel superior. He didn't even need real reasons to yell at you.

The restaurant wasn't packed. Only the usual rich families wanting to spend a pleasant day. They were here to eat breakfast. You try not to think too much about the fact that one single of their jewelry is equal to your salary.

The streets were alive; people running, cars honking. Your colleague hitting your shoulder to bring you back to earth, everything is normal.

"You think you can ask Mike to make another one ? she asks you with a sweet voice. The kid threw a tantrum. It's not salted enough and he hates sausages.

You lift up your eyes towards the crying kid in the back. Cold eyes stuck to his face. You're sure he specifically asked for sausage. You're the one who wrote down his order. And the salt ? Can't he just fucking put some himself?

-Don't question it. They're regulars. Plus, I don't think having beef with a kid is good for our reputation." Tells you your friend after seeing the death look you were giving him.

So you take the plate that looked absolutely perfect and delectable to bring it to Mike. Mike is an old man once passionate about cooking. Now he's forty three and stuck cooking eggs and toast to some crying kids.

"No fucking sausage and more salt please. you say, throwing the plate on the counter in a loud clatter. The man laughs at your anger and don't even need to ask to understand. 'Got it boss !' is your answer.

You lay your weight on the counter, back meeting the freezing temperature of it. Different smells invade your senses; fresh bread, warm oil and eggs. Well, lot of different smells were here as well but they're the one that really stuck out to you.

"You were late this morning right ? Did the client touched their plate ? You can eat it otherwise, it looks fine.

-Because it is, it was made by the best cook of Gotham after all.

The man laughs, mimicking someone blushing by putting his hands on his cheeks. He tells you that you're lying and that you're saying that to flatter him only. Mike had buzzed his hair a few months ago but they were back already; small rough curls mocking him.

You sigh and look back at the plate, it did look really fine. The kid hadn't even touched it ! The eggs and the bread were intact, left in the same state it was neatly put in earlier.

You spend your sweet time talking with Mike before your boss comes in infuriated, ordering you to come back at the front. And you're forced to do so. Grabbing a water jug on your way and putting on a fake smile, you walk towards a new family sitting so straight your back hurts just looking at them.

All of them laid down their menu and are waiting. You arrive, apologizing for the wait. 'Have you decided ?' you ask while putting the water on the table. The man takes the menu and start listing his orders without a smile nor even a look in your direction. The woman is busy keeping her children calm and asking them to calm down. The other tables are side-eyeing her while the husband doesn't even acknowledge his wife.

"Noted, you smile and turn your head to stare at the woman for her to start ordering.

She smiles awkwardly, and tells you her kids orders before ordering for herself. You thank them, "I'll be right back." and you leave to the kitchen. You sigh, scotch the orders on the wall, grabs the plate left for you to take and head back to the crying kid from earlier. The demon who ordered fucking sausage before saying he hated them.

But as soon as you place the plate before him with a smile, the kid slams his fists on the table resulting in his glass of water to splash on you and break on the floor. The mother gasps while the dad gives a slap in his son's head without even you registering the whole situation. Your clothes are completely soaked, you want to say something but his mother is sending daggers at you with her eyes and you know not to mess with this stupid fucking family.

Did he did it on purpose ? Yes. Are you gonna say something ? No.

"It's okay, I love children." you don't.

And you leave. Deeply humiliated. But you can't do anything. Because you're no one compared to them, they're gonna win. Always. Your friend asks if you're okay, you shrug. She's unable to question you further as she has to continue working. You head to the back in search of a broom.

The small closet is all the way behind the kitchen and you're already tired just thinking about it. Once you're in, you frenetically search for your item only for a shelf to fall apart behind you and destroy itself on the ground. You bite your lower lip with all your strength to retain you from crying and cursing the whole world.

It's okay, it's just a shelf. It's okay, you try to think but it's hard when it's not even noon and too much shit already happened to you.

You crouch down and start gathering everything you can when your eyes falls upon another one of these poker card. You frown and take it in your hands, examining it deeply. Uh, wow, okay. It's a little weird. You just happen to receive these daily in your mailbox and suddenly there's one here. Okay, totally normal.

You stand up, looking around you for an answer, trying to see if a camera is here somewhere. But nothing. So you turn the card to read the new message: You need one to live, I often rip it apart and yours is mine to steal. A heart ? you immediately think. You definitely need one to live and the sentence 'steal your heart' is kinda famous. But rip it apart ? Is it, like, a metaphor ? Glancing back quickly, you notice a small note left in the bottom right corner of the card. It reads: what a shitty shelf.

You laugh nervously, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What the actual fuck ? it's not even funny, what the hell ? Sorry for the fucking shelf ? They knew this was going to happen ? You definitely have to talk to someone.

You pass your hand on your face, rubbing it strongly as if to wake you up from a bad dream. Then you take the broom and head back.

Rushing to the kitchen, you accidentally pushes someone in your haste. You see Mike from afar and don't even need to approach him that you yell your question for everyone to hear:

"Mike, do you happen to play poker ?" the man faces you, his confused expression told it all, he didn't. And from the other's cook faces, they probably all thought that you were crazy. None of them looking guilty. But you'll investigate that later.

Not wasting any seconds, you almost run to the main room to find your friend. Luckily for you, she's cleaning glasses at the bar.

"Hey, is it yours ?" you're a little out of breath when showing her the joker card. Your friend simply shakes her head. When you asked her if she knew if one of your colleagues was playing poker, she shrugged and told you she didn't know with an apologetic smile.

"Why ? she asks.

-It's complicated." you say.

It can't be from the same person, right ? If it is anyway, that probably means one of your colleagues is the one putting these at your place. Which is a terrifying idea because you sure never gave your address to anyone here. Trying to see the bright side of it all, that means that you may know your 'joker'. And if that's the case, there's a way for you to stop them. It's better than the cards coming from a total stranger, because you can't act against them. You'll probably leave some clues at work to see and trap your joker.

The rest of the day was terribly hard. You were dying from the inside. Your tummy was growling like a beast; you did not have the time to eat. As you're juggling between two jobs, your boss thought that he had to exploit you as much as he could before you left. Because you're joining the bar, your second working place, at two pm.

"You're gonna leave in the middle of the day, when most people are coming. I'm losing money here, you see ?" he had said to you that day. Yeah, he does not give you any breaks because to him, you don't need one as you leave earlier. Of course you tried to negotiate and he was agreeing with you, on the condition that he pays you less.

"Mike, I'm leaving. you tell him, taking off your apron. Have a nice day, say hi to your kids for me." he smiles warmly to you, wave and you're out of the room in a quarter of seconds. You already bid goodbye to your friend so all you had to do now was to leave.

Putting on your jacket, your thoughts can't stop but think back about this other card you found. Yours is mine to steal. In what sense ? You could've thought it was some creepy flirting but it's just too much. You found these at home, at work. Everywhere. Are they going to rip your heart apart, too ? Are these threats ?

Hopping in the bus, you try to stay away from Gotham's crackhead as much as possible but it's hard when they're drunk and staring at you like they want to beat the shit out of you.

Fortunately, your stop arrives and you hurry to get out. It's 2:36 PM (14:36), the bar is not open yet but cleaning and organizing everything is part of your contract.

It's at five pm (17h) that you open the bar, standing behind your counter and waiting patiently for clients to arrive. You're happy Sean is here. He's a big man of 2m3 (~6'8), practices combat sport and knows how to handle different weapons. In a neighborhood like this, you're more than grateful to have him.

He's also the son of the owner. So it's really just the two of you here. The first persons starts entering the place and it quickly fills up entirely. It's quite a famous area, cops never comes here as mobs are doing their own laws. Sean puts on some background music you can't even hear anymore over the loud voices of the men laughing cavernously.

You're busy serving people's drinks. Moving as fast as you could but it being hard when your thoughts are plagued by cards and your mind is not here. Who's this joker man ?

The street lamp are all finally on, meaning it was past seven already. You didn't even see time pass, the incessant flirting and bickering of the men here enough to keep you from being alone with your thoughts.

"Thanks baby." says a young man when you give him his beer. He has a really bad scar going from his forehead to his lower lip. It's no surprise, you saw men with less limbs, other talking unknowns languages, some with sight or hearing completely lost. Sometimes normal people like you would come, women even but more rarely as the men here were true animals.

You wonder what type of people there is with you tonight. You're not naive enough to think all of them are innocent, in fact, you're sure 85% of your client here are criminals. This bar is situated apart from the city, in a corner more secluded with abandoned looking buildings and scary dark alleys you certainly don't want to visit at night, or even at day for that matter.

This place sucks.

Honestly, with your cards problem, you even considered engaging a spy to see who put these creepy notes in your mailbox. But two things prevented you to do so; first, you do not want to do business with criminals, second; there was a chance that your joker was one of your client.

Some of your clients here probably have mental illness as well, worsening their state. And maybe someone fixated on you and decided to follow you home. It'd be really awkward to engage a man to scare your joker away, only for him to be the same person you're trying to avoid.

But now this idea starts to disappear. You found a card at work after all, your boss is not stupid enough to let anyone break in. So the criminal track wasn't the one. It's one of your colleagues. There's just no way one of the bar's client could have followed you home and at the restaurant.

But on the other hand, it's difficult to see one of your colleagues following you home too. Because after working at the restaurant, you're not heading home right away. You're working here. Is it possible they waited outside until you finished ?

"A whisky for me." is what tears you away from your misery.

You do not look up, instead turning your back to him and reaching the shelves to search for the bottle. You grab a glass, throwing ice cubes in it and pouring the harsh liquid in. You then slide it to him, he nods and drink a first long gulp.

You follow his arm to his face before blocking on it. It's a man with a skin so pale it's getting worrying. His eye bag are terribly dark that you thought he had put black eye-shadow on them. And for a second, you truly thought it was the case. He had really bad scars going from each corner of his lips up to his cheeks, like a badly drawn smile. In the small crevices of his scarred skin, there was faint white and red paint, or make-up that did not left during shower. Is he like, a mime or a clown ? He looks like he haven't showered for a while, no judgements or anything, but his green hair are greasy.

He continues to savor his drink quietly while you're here, astonished by such weird scars. You saw scars, a lot of them. But they all looked accidental, caused by self defense or anything. But his clearly looked volunteer. You could clearly see that the goal was to create some sick form of smile, whether it is successful or not. What the hell happened to this guy ? Has he been tortured ? Did he make these to himself ?

'You got some nasty scars' you want to say. But the wicked grin he gives you is enough to make you gulp and smile awkwardly. Of course he saw you looking at him, you did not move an inch/millimeters. And he does not look like the type of guy to be nice.

"D'you like them ?

-Sorry ? you blinked.

-My scars. Do you like them ?

-Uh, yeah, yeah.

Fucking creepy. What the hell ? What did he do to have those ? Why is he even asking you this ? Why is he looking at you like that ?

-Do you want to know how I got them ?

-No." you answer at the mere second he ended his question, by pure fear he was going to destroy you. Or try to recreate those scars on you. Hey, you never know.

The man grins and chuckles at the quickness of your answer and stops talking for a while. Did you just escape death ? You think so.

He stopped drinking, though. You try to look busy but you're just organizing and disorganizing things on loop. Sean is having the time of his life chatting with the clients towards the tables area. But you, you're stuck behind the counter. You can't even count the times you got your ass slapped or got whistled. Plus, some of these guys often try to threaten you with knifes to make you give them free drinks.

It could've work if Sean wasn't here.

But it's comical in a sense. The morning, you're busy being the little dog, the little slave of these stuck rich people crying when their plate arrives one minute late, with prices on the menu so high it's clearly a scam for some eggs and bacon. With a ground so perfectly clean you could lick it.

And at night, you're here. Surrounded by criminals, drunkards and God knows who. With bad music taste rumbling in the background and place so dirty you could throw up and not even see it through the trash lingering on the ground. Well, in your defense, because you're the one cleaning, it was clean before. But everyone arrives with their disgusting shoes or bleeding and then they spill their drinks, and they fight and, yeah. At the end of the day, this place is a mess.

Your back is still facing the mime guy but you know he's staring at you. You know it because you can't stop shuddering. Your works are sure keeping you in touch with reality at least, you've seen both extreme.

"What's your name ?" You face him, afraid to offend this weirdo.

Telling him your name out of all the people ? Never. Smiling the best you can, you tell him your coworker name from the restaurant. He grins like a Cheshire cat, his smile accentuated by his prominent scars, nodding. You know better than to ask him back his name, he's probably, surely, a criminal. You don't have a death wish at the moment. You usually don't like to lie but this job at the bar taught you better.

-You know, he starts again and you pray he does not start to harass you with questions, he licks his lower lip before continuing. There's one thing I truly hate in this world. He pauses. You wanna know what ?

-Tell me. You say reluctantly, not wanting to anger him.

He lays one of his elbows on the counter, raising a brow and looking around him as if going to tell you a secret he wants no one else but you to know. Then, he looks at you again, a mysterious glint in his eyes.

-Liars.

Oh.

-They're such... he squints his eyes, moving his hand in the air to the flow of his thoughts. Vicious, little bitch, you know ? If we want to change things, he licks his lips, they're the first people that have to go. Don't you think ?

-Yes, I'm with you on that. you hurry to answer, nodding frenetically, feeling your blood run cold and a sweat cross your spine. Myself I really can't stand lying, you know ? Liars are really bad, they're manipulative and all. you were just trying to save your ass at this point. You received a lot of threats in your life, but this man right here ? There was something deeply wrong with him. He was fucking traumatizing you. You did not want to mess with him.

The only thing plaguing your thoughts is; does he know ? Does he know you lied about your name ? Because he specifically asked this question right after you presented yourself. Does he know ? No, no he doesn't. How is he supposed to know you ? You don't even have any name tag on.

The man chuckles deeply before you, licking very briefly his lips again; is that a tic ?

-What's his name ? he asks, looking straight to Sean, as if judging his soul. Does he have to stare at people like he wants to kill them all the time ?

Now you understand. He scared the shit out of you to ensure you wouldn't be lying to him. And now he's testing you. Why, you don't know. But you answer honestly this time. He smiles mischievously. Maybe that wasn't even his plan, maybe he's just deeply weird and unsettling. Maybe he doesn't even know you ever lied to him. Maybe you see things where there's none.

If there's one thing Gotham has taught you, it's to be wary of everyone.

-Are you fucking him ? he asks again, still looking at Sean laughing with the others.

-Why ? this thought never even crossed your mind before. Why would you fuck Sean ? He's nice, he's good looking but, you don't know, you wouldn't fuck him. You just, don't want to ? He's a friend.

-He's quite the tall guy. Are you fucking him ? he insists, ignoring completely your question.

Wow, that is getting incredibly uncomfortable and personal. You know you're supposed to entertain them and all but damn, this guy is killing you. You throw a glance in Sean's direction, hoping to catch his attention so he could help you but he's busy laughing with other clients.

-Why're looking at him ? I'm the one talking.

-I don't think this is appropriate, Sir. It's quite the personal questions you're asking me here. you laugh nervously, hoping to relax the mood but the man before you doesn't even react. Can I maybe offer you another drink ? It'll help...

-You got something to hide ? he licks his lips.

What. The. Fuck.

-I have to stay mysterious in order for you to come back, right ? you do not want this weirdo to come back, but that's the default sentence you usually say to avoid answering intimate questions.

But the make-up man does not insist, he gives you a cheeky grin.

-You want me to come back ? How flattering.

Most of the time, what you implies when saying this is that you want them to come back to consume more, so you have more money because you're kinda the bartender of this place. But this guy just plainly wants to fuck you up. Where's Sean when you need him the most ?

It's like no one around you is seeing you. They're all drinking their sadness, trauma, day away, not caring that a creepy guy is keeping you in his weird conversation you clearly do not want to participate in.

-Do you want to play a game with me ?

-I'm... Quite busy, actually. So...

But he knows you, now. He knows you're a bad little liar. Listening to you is now optional to him; he clearly doesn't care. The man stands up and you start to get scared. What is he going to do ? Is he going to hurt you ? Your hand is holding firmly the bat under the counter, fingers shaking with adrenaline. You never used a weapon before, less against someone. You never hurt someone, intentionally at least.

Sean, move your ass over here, now.

The man grins, eyes trailing your arms. He knows you're hiding something under this counter, but can he blame you ? You're surrounded by criminals, he's one himself ! It's impossible to know what to expect. Honestly, you're ready to scream to get attention and get helped. Even if there's high possibilities for a general fighting to start resulting in this poor bar to be destroyed.

But the man does not try to hurt you, he smiles, put his hands in his pocket and you now realize how well he's dressed for someone like him. A nice and well maintained purple suit.

"It makes me live and follow you at dark, keeps me up at night and makes you fall apart."

No...

-Who am I ?" He ends slowly, torturing you.

Your shoulders slouched down, tension leaving your hand on the bat. Your body become a big, useless puddle. Eyes as big as owl ones.

"I-I don't want to play. Your stutter had gave away your uneasy feeling, you step back, eyeing this man from head to toe.

You've come to despise those damn riddles. You don't want to hear more of them.

-But this one's so simple sweetheart. He mocks you. It starts with a pretty little O and ends with a N. I'm sure you'll find out.

You shake your head slowly; no, it's not simple, no, you don't want to find out, no, you don't fucking want to listen to him. But he simply chuckles, relatively amused by such a big reaction. Well, with that kind of huge revelation, you can't quite control yourself.

He's rummaging through his pocket, heart almost leaving you. What is he searching for ? A weapon ? What is he thinking ? But against all odds, the joker man takes out something so small you can't even see it behind his palm. You know he's doing it on purpose, hiding it from you to destroy you more, to see the look of surprise, fear or shock, or... Whatever, on your face.

-That's my business card, as a little... Reminder." You deeply doubt someone like him own any business, less business card. So what is he going to give you ?

He lays gently his hand on the counter right before you, not letting you see what he was hiding until he removed completely his hand, confirming your theory of him hiding it on purpose. You'd recognize them anytime. Your heart is beating faster, so fast you're scared it might explode. Nothing is written on the side you're staring at, you grab the cardboard, praying that it's just a crazy coincidence even if the drawing of the joker smiling stupidly on the card is taunting you.

But when you turn the card, the answer is given to you. For the first time since you've started to receive these.

-Obsession." you sigh, breath getting stuck in your throat. You were petrified. "You're... You're the joker man." you say in a shaky voice. Was it finally him ? Answers, you needed answers. But when you looked up, the man had disappeared. Leaving you with nothing but deep fear.

Silent tears slide on your cheeks, you bring your hand to your mouth in order to hide your muffles. Looking back at the card, you feel your legs give up under you when your real name is written in bold black letters in a bottom corner. Bile is rushing to your throat.

It's him. He's the one sending you these.

But you don't know him. You don't fucking know this man. And he's a criminal. You're fucked. Smiling like a madman, you start to laugh nervously, not realizing the situation. It's a joke, right ? You cough, progressively choking on your saliva. You bite your lower lip so hard it starts bleeding. You pray, you pray so hard this man isn't your stalker but you're lying to yourself. It's literally the worst case scenario that could happen.

You've never seen this man in your entire fucking life. Where does he even come from ? Why you ? Why him ? With his fucking creepy scars and fucking riddles. He knows your address ! Your name ! What else does he know ?

"You okay there ?" You nod without even looking at the person talking to you. You choke out a quick answer before rushing to the back towards the private toilet.

Immediately collapsing to the ground, you throw up everything you had in you, which wasn't a lot to begin with. You barely even ate anything. But you can't stop. You empty yourself, only vomiting water.

Sean finally comes get you, he rubs your back and help you get up. "What happened ?" He asks you.

"I don't fucking know." Is the only thing you can muster.

What you do know however, is that you're scared to go home.

"Are you heading home tonight ?" You ask him, voice hoarse. "Well, yeah" is his answer. So you asked him, begged him to come with you. Because you were horrified by the mere idea of going home alone. Maybe he would be here.

"You can come to mine if ya want." he offers. And you think that the guy from yesterday probably was right, you were weird. Why aren't you going to the cops, after all ? Probably because they'll think you're lying, that you're insane. A joker ? Harassing you with riddles ? You'll end up in a asylum in no time.

But wouldn't you be safer in a asylum ?

When Sean and you closed the bar, it was already well past one am. You didn't had the strength to redo this all over again tomorrow. But Sean was of good company, cheering you up and trying to ease your mind. Multiples times he tried to ask what was wrong, but he guessed it alone. "Was it that weird customer in purple ? The one with the suit ? I saw him lingering a really long time at the counter." You shrugged when he said that, completely worn out. What could he even do against him anyway ? The Joker man wasn't known to any of you. It was a lost cause.

Chatting with your friends wasn't even crossing your mind, you were terrified. The long walk to his apartment was as quiet as a church. What the fuck were you going to do now ? You were dead, yes, you were just dead at this point. What can you even do against some psycho following you around ? Fight back ? Yeah, if you have a death wish. You have to get out of this city, there's no other plan. But how ? And to go where ?

"We're here." says Sean. You've never been to his apartment's before, and to be honest, you would have preferred for it to happen in other circumstances. Trying to escape a criminal wasn't in this year plan.

Before you stood a tumbledown grey building, not much different from yours in reality. After all, Sean's not that rich, he's payed like you and live with his dad's payment. Though, you're pleasantly surprised to see the coziness of his place.

Warm lights were turned on, his sofa looked quite mellow and the general smell of the apartment was lovely. Not that you're judging him, but you wouldn't have thought he was such a clean guy. Because he's like, well, some kind of mafia man. So, yeah, he often smells like sweat and dirt himself, it's a surprise his place is so neat. Sure, it's damaged by humidity then and there, there's cracks in the walls but so do yours. The paint is peeling in some areas as well, you're used to it enough to not notice it. You take off your shoes, but keep your jacket. Probably in search of a safe feeling, maybe by fear of being vulnerable.

"You can sit on the couch, I'll order something.

You don't even have the will to eat right now, the ugly feeling everything entering your body might be threw back out instantly bothering you too much. However, you did sit on the couch. It smelt like him; you hated it. You were violating his property, his intimacy. You shouldn't be here.

But do you really have a choice ?

Sean is talking in the background, on the phone, yet, not a single word is understood by you. It's like he's speaking a whole new language. The red flowers on his TV stand keeps reminding you of the joker's card and his damn hat.

He hung up, that you heard, and left for another room. You hate to bother him, he probably only wanted to go home and sleep after a hard day but you messed up his plans. Grabbing the remote, you turn on the TV to empty your mind. You search for series, documentary or cartoons, only to be disappointed at the sight of obnoxious ads.

You end up watching the news, it being the sole channel not drowned in ads. A woman is speaking in a professional neutral voice, wearing a white shirt. She talks about the inflation killing our country before going onto her next subject; the outgrowing insecurity. The two preoccupation of the government, or at least, what they want you all to think about.

From what she says, a hold-up happened in a bank yesterday, in plain sight. (Why do they talk about it now, you don't now.) The building stank laughing gas. Only one man declares having seen the main suspect. Her chair slides to the side, leaving space for the video to appear and for the victim to testify; "Green disgusting hair and some fucked up clown make-up. That's the only thing I saw. He has no value, I'm telling you, criminals used to believe in things ! He has no respect for anyone, he killed his own team ! He's gonna come back for me, I'm sure of..." and he's erased from the screen at his outburst, for everyone to forget his trauma.

Did he say clown ?

"Indeed, the woman vigorously resumes, a faint smile on, was she laughing at the victim ? green hair and clown make-up is on brand today as everyone only talks about this mysterious criminal. After disappearing for months, the troublemaker is back in town and seems unstoppable. But has he truly ever gone away ?

It's not the same man, right ? No, no of course not. If he's a famous criminal, he has better things to do than harass insignificant useless civilians like you with stupid riddles. He robbed a bank ! Why would he even look in your direction? Fuck, what if he thinks you have some kind information? What if he think you're related to a criminal ? What if you are ?

-He calls himself Joker, always wears his clown make up and has a habit of wandering at night." The woman straightens her posture and clasps her hands together. "After yesterday's fiasco, the famous criminal already perpetrated his next attack. Earlier, at noon, the biggest hospital of the city was targeted. Cops were able to evacuate everyone urgently. Gotham is in shamble, people are afraid and angry. The police is trying to calm the crowds, in vain." Images are shown behind her of people running, yelling, stretchers evacuating and flashing cops car during her speech.

She continues talking but you stopped listening when finally a picture of the Joker was displayed on the screen, his face horrifyingly reminding you something. Too many information are going to your brain in so little time. You try to rationalize everything but it's hard when your mind is too tired to cooperate.

He's called the Joker. And you happen to receive joker cards. He wears make up. The man at the bar looked like he did. Hyperventilating is the only thing seemingly still possible from your body. You stand up, inking, sinking, learning, engraving his face to memory.

Two big scars, both going from each corner of his mouth to his cheeks.

Like a badly drawn smile.

"Sean !" you call. Your friend runs out of the bathroom, disheveled, shirt loose and no pants, only in underwear. He rushed out, scared something had happened. Your shaking pointer aim at the TV screen, at the face of the man on it. "It's him. He was at the bar."

When Sean looks at the man, a chill runs down his spine. He understands what might have happened earlier. He could see the purple suit the man had on on the picture, which was the exact same one he saw at the bar. Fuck, it is the same man. He knows the Joker, hell, everyone knows him here.

And that's bad news.

He's everywhere in everyone business. He has no sense of loyalty whatsoever, killing even his best allies and no one has the slightest clue what he wants. At the bar, he probably scared the shit out of you, he probably threatened you, too. Why, it's impossible to know. He's quite the unpredictable.

-Don't worry, he says, he probably forgot about you already. He's a scary man, likes to shock people a little. He always attack for a reason and you're not a criminal, so you're good."

But you couldn't believe it. He does not have all the information. He doesn't know about the tons of cards you received until now. Eyes completely stuck to the screen, you observe the face before you, knowing you probably wouldn't be able to escape him.

Somehow, this emission confirmed to you that he was real, that you weren't dreaming. And that you really were in it deeply.

Sean insists you shower to relax a little bit, you're holding onto the remote for dear life, nails digging in your palm. When in the bathroom, your eyes automatically gravitates towards the mirror, discovering your new face scarred by sleepless nights and cries. You're almost scared of your reflection. Sighing, your hands find themselves in your pockets alone but you're startled by the coldness they are greeted with. What have you in your pocket that is freezing like that ?

Your unease comes back in a rush when you take out another one of these cards from your jacket. Are you for real going crazy ? What is going on ? When did this get here ? How did it get here ? It's your damn jacket ! You had it in the work closet all day !

You're tired and doing this little fucked up game is not doing any good. A greasy almost wiped red is the first thing you see, his lips, you guess. He wears some kind of paint as lip stick, he fucking kissed the card, creepy bastard.

Turning the stiff paper, your eyes meet once again one of these painful riddle.

"I'm everywhere, you can't escape me and I'm coming for you. Who am I ?" tears slide quietly on your cheeks, the only sane reaction your emotionless state can give. You're not even moving, eyes staying fixated on the card; the tears are just physical. Body exhausted from it all. What is this now ? You know he's not talking about an object anymore, he's talking about himself. It's not riddles, it's threats. He's coming for you, what is he going to do ? Kill you ? Torture you, or worse ?

The shower did nothing to ease your nerves, you've never been so tensed in your life. What could you even do against this man ?

When Sean called you to eat, you let him know you weren't feeling the slightest hunger. He said nothing, simply keeping a plate for you on the kitchen counter.

You did not even blink an eye that night, paranoid at the slightest noise, a knife slept cautiously under your cushion. The windows and doors were completely shut and you would have loved to do the very same thing to your brain. You fell asleep, eventually, when you should have been up.

Sean was still asleep when you awoke the next day. You were late, and terribly so, the clicking clock on the wall warning you. It was already way past nine. You don't like to leave his house without even thanking him for his hospitality once again. But you'll see him tonight, at the bar. You'll probably have to quit, though. Not yet, as you have to secure another job. You can't risk being here without money, after all. Joker knows where you work at, no way you're staying more than necessary. But... he has to know about your restaurant job too, somehow.

You had a card in the closet, with his stupid shelf trap, after all.

You're safer there, maybe. It's quite the chic area. There's camera, people. Socialites are here, nobody attacks socialites. Usually, at least. Doubts subsists, the journalist on the TV affirmed the Joker attacked in the middle of the day, in plain sight. Would he attack the rich ? They're untouchable, their lawyer always know what to do and they know everyone. You can't kill a famous advocate, right ? It's like attacking the mayor. Remembering his face, you keep the unsettling impression he could kill anyone.

Fuck.

You take a piece of paper, write a few words on it, scotch it on the fridge and leave, dashing outside to not worsen your lateness. You were dead, oh you were so dead. Late couldn't even describe your situation by now. You boss was going to kill you, de-materialize you and send you in another world.

You ran until your legs couldn't support you anymore, people were side-eyeing you in the streets. Certainly thinking of you as some kind of thief or at the very least a criminal of some sort.

Jumping in the nearest bus, your legs being too weak to support you anymore, you finally arrive at your workplace ten minutes later. It was quarter to ten.

You're breathless, rushing once again to the rear of the restaurant. You push the back door open but to your surprise, it won't budge. What ? The guys never lock the door that early in the morning, they know you'll arrive, eventually. You knock a few times, knowing you had the key anyway but if someone was passing by inside, it would be quicker.

You don't have to wait that long as your boss himself is the one opening it for you, as if waiting beside it until your entry. He probably was. He crosses his arms on his chest, eyes glaring holes in you. Damn, you'll have to fight with him, again. You promised him you wouldn't be late anymore, he will never trust you again.

Well, it's not like he trusted you much before to begin with.

"Listen, I'm terribly sorry I'm late but... he scoffs.

-As If that was the only problem ! The man tightens his jaw, talking between his teeth. He approaches his head to yours, almost colliding your forehead together; he talks lowly, scared to be heard. You know damn well what's wrong.

Wow, okay. You were not expecting his reaction to be that dramatic. You're just (incredibly) late. It's not new. What's gotten into him ? You squint your eyes, at a loss of words.

-I was just... You start, ready to recite him once again your preposterous apologies.

-I don't give a fuck about you being late, he cracks, get out of here now ! You are not to put a single of your foot in this restaurant anymore ! You're gonna scare my customers ! In the process, a postilion left its house to attack your cheek. You cringe, immediately wiping it with your sleeve, shuddering in disgust.

-What ?

-What, what, he mimics you with a grimace and a weird voice, Get out of here ! He articulates each words slowly as if you were a foreigner, except his tone was harsh and firm. Haven't you seen the news ? If they hear a criminal is working here, I'm screwed.

-A criminal ? But I'm not... I'm, what the hell ? I'm not a criminal Tony.

-Yeah, yeah, and I'm rich ! Get the fuck out of here or at least, do me a favor and let me turn you in to the police." his face changes to disdain, suddenly thoroughly repelled by your being. "Man, you have to be some dirty criminal to have 600 000$ put on your face. What kind of shit have you done, huh ?

Six fucking what ?

-Uh, listen, I think there's some kind of misunderstanding here. I'm no criminal and I'm definitely not worth that much money.

Hell, in all your life, you did not even earn that much money !

-Hey, his tone changed to deviously adopt one sweeter. I don't want any problems okay ? With you, the cops or whoever is fucking wanting you dead. I'm an honest citizen.

What a hypocrite, he was literally yelling at you seconds ago.

You frown, trying to even understand what he's implying. You scratch your cheek, eyeing him from head to toe. He's in a tux, like always. He never do shit here, settling for bossing everyone around while trying to make you believe he's an irreplaceable element in the team.

Judging by his eyes, he is not kidding.

Is he for real firing you ? Just like that ? For some imaginary story he just made up ? Jobless, you will be jobless. He is firing you. A nervous chuckles escapes you, earning you a raise of the brow from Tony. No, oh no no ! You have this job, you did nothing wrong ! Life is already more shitty than it ever been ! Stalker, debts, fucking serial killer wanting your ass and now you lost your main job ? No, that won't do.

You were already planning to leave the bar, how are you supposed to find back two jobs ? One already was an ordeal.

-Honest citizen ? Are you blind ? You were more so than him at the moment. You don't even have an ounce of honesty in your fucking body ! Are you even aware of everything I did for this shitty place ? You can't fire me and you won't because no one else want to be your fucking slave ! Your job is slavery ! I don't want to be some kind of toy you throw away after you've had enough fun with it !

Tony was outraged you could talk to him like that. He was similar to a bourgeois in the eighteenth century, acting shocked after being the most gruesome person alive, putting his hand displayed on his chest and playing innocent.

-Me ? You should be honored to even be working ! You never understand, do you ? You are wanted, that's it ! There's nothing more, nothing less. You are fired. I am not hiring trash.

You hope the worst criminal of this town gets you, right here, for his fucking ugly disgusting restaurant to be destroyed to the very last crumbs. You'll use his body as a human shield while you're at it, after all, what else can he be useful for ?

Your body is boiling like lava. Hitting, jumping, crying, you don't know what you want, need, to do to externalize all of these toxic feelings. Never in your life have you felt more used, humiliated.

You knew he was an asshole, of course. Everyone does, but hell he fired you ! After years of being his toy !

You understand why people in Gotham are crazy. You understand why they suddenly breakdown and fall into crime. Their life, just like yours, was wasted by some self centered prick like him. Some self centered prick who are not even much richer than you, but think they will be when disrespecting you.

Your face isn't even warm, it's seething.

Your life is flashing before you, old friend, family, home, Mike. You won't even be able to pay your rent ! Of course chaos would be loved in a city where trash rules. Why the manifestation are so violent, why insecurity and banditry are prominent ? Because everyone is tired but nobody is listening. Because nobody wants to talk, they think they're at the top of the food chain.

And he won't change his mind. You're fired, that's all. Nothing can alters his decision. It's too late. He probably just created some poor excuses to get you out, you know it. Because you're not a criminal, and no one is giving away 600 000$ for your ass; he's lying. It's too farfetched.

You muster the calmest voice you can get while in such a boiling state, and God knows how hard it is. Wasting more time here is useless, he'll pay but not now, and not by you. You have a new problem: you need to find a job.

-Why don't you kill yourself, Tony ? Right now ? your eyes were empty against his outraged ones. That's why your wife left you, by the way. That's why she left you and took your damn kids. You don't even deserve to live, really, kill yourself, jump, it'll be better for everyone."

You shrug and turn away to never come back. You really hope he disappears forever.

And without anything else to do with your day, you went back home, body functioning by its own. With no diploma and no driving license, how were you supposed to find a job ? You had little experience, mostly having worked in little jobs everywhere. Cashiers, cleaner, babysitting, gardener (you really just cut bushes and mowed the lawn), security guard, fuck, you did it all. Plus, you have a second job and companies hate to arrange their schedules according to yours, in their point of view, you're the desperate one, you should manage your life.

It was safer to wander in Gotham now, the sun was bright in the sky. It was a clear day, really pretty. A shame you couldn't enjoy it.

You open the always creaking door of the building, feeling the freezing temperature inside. Truly a mystery, though a benediction in the hottest summer. A night out and it's like you already don't know this place anymore. You stand in the middle of the hall, staring at each crack in the walls, each suspicious stains, inhaling the disgusting smell emanating from it all.

Yeah, you hate this place.

Sighing and rubbing your tensed shoulders, you approach your mailbox. Opening it, you're pleasantly surprised when no cards is in sight. Maybe he finally got bored ? Your reaction back at the bar probably wasn't what he expected, not satisfying enough so he gave up. You hope so.

What's inside however is a A4 white sheet folded in two. Thinking a neighbor might have wanted to contact you, you open the paper. Yet, on it, the photo of your identity card in huge format, above it, your whole legal name with just below a price, written 'wanted' for treason. A chill run down your spine.

Okay, that is not funny. What the hell ? Did Tony did that ? If yes, how and why ? You pass your hand on your face, harshly rubbing your eyelids to wake you up. This is a joke, everything's a joke.

An echo brings you back on earth when someone goes down the stairs, upon seeing you, your neighbor halts. You offer him a tight lip smile out of pure politeness, which is a an act he does not even try to imitates as he eyes you as if seeing an animal. Do you look that bad ?

Awkwardly, you shift your weight on your feet to ease the tension growing in you. Why is he still looking at you ? The man, even though you were already well far away from him, distances himself and instead of going straight to the door to leave, bothers to make a detour in order to skirt you completely, without daring to approach a millimeter. Does he think you're going to bite, or what ? You two have talked in the past, briefly sure, but still. Fuck, his behaviour does not comfort you one bit.

When the door shut, you're left standing alone once again.

Things are definitely going in a direction you don't appreciate, you may need to hurry up before something really bad happens. Your hand fetches your phone in your back pocket, calling Sean. When he answers, he does not even bother to greet you.

"You okay? You left really early. You're at work ?

-I got fired, long story. I really need your help, again. I'm truly sorry I myself don't quite understand what's going on and... you stop your ranting, breathless and a lump in throat.

-It's okay, really. I don't mind. Tell me everything, how did you get fired ? Why ?

You called him for several reasons. The first being that he's kind of the only friend you have. The second being that Sean's family know people. They're all criminal at different degrees, whether it is gang leader, small thief or hitman. He's the only one actively trying to live an honest life.

-It's complicated and I'm still pissed about it. you tell him seriously, walking in circles in the hall. I have a question and I really need your answer.

-Not stressing at all. He tries to ease the mood, in vain.

-Am I wanted ?

Sean doesn't answer for twenty seconds too much. His silence is starting to worry you, why isn't he saying anything ? Is he confused ? Does he know ? Please, may he not hide something from you. Wanting to distract yourself, you take the stairs to join your flat. Your fingers were creasing the paper sheet in your hand so hard you could have ripped it.

-In like, he finally starts with a strained voice, a personality kind of way ? Relationship ? He chuckles awkwardly while you frown. Well, no offense but uh, I don't think I am attracted to you, I like you but I wouldn't say I want you, you know ? But you shouldn't be insecure, you're a really great person you know, and I mean, you're not ugly so...

-Sean, what the fuck ? You finally cut him when it hit you that he wasn't answering. You were on the floor just below yours, wanting to walk and not quite go home for the moment.

-I'm sorry, was that mean ? That was definitely mean. He clears his throat. Listen, what I meant was...

-No Sean I'm not insecure, everything's fine. I did not mean... Argh ! You're in this kind of environment, you should know !

-What environment ...?

You want to pull at his hair and shake his head back and forth to punish him for being so stupid. Or maybe you were just not being clear, it was surely that. You were incredibly stressed. Traveling between the different floors or the building to stretch your legs.

-Like, criminals, mafia, I don't know. It's... You sigh, your anger dissipating when you realized you were being a little harsh to him. Weird things keep happening to me and I think I'm going crazy for thinking I may have a price on my head.

-Oh, wanted wanted. No because I thought... He coughs. Never mind. I can definitely tell you that. But honestly, odds are low. No offense but you have nothing to give to anyone. You don't have a lot of money. So I don't think anyone wants you.

Damn.

-Why do you think that anyway ? he asks.

Very briefly, you explain to him why Tony had fired you, still using the stairs and floors as a distraction. Of course, you then told him about the paper you found in your mailbox and the weird encounter with your neighbor.

-I'm just really fucking lost, Sean. I'm sorry, you've been nothing but nice to me and I keep snapping at you, I-I don't know what's going on.

-You're freaked out, it's normal. I don't blame you. I'll help you, send me the wanted poster you got. Maybe it's fake."

Of course, you tell him. You'd do pretty much anything to get out of this situation. You want it to be fake, but there's just an accumulation of bad things that tend to make you believe it's true. Looking around you, you notice to be on the last floor of the building. Flattening the paper sheet back, trying to erase all the creases, you lay it on the dirty floor of the hallways. You tear your phone away from your ear for a simple moment to take the picture. You press send.

You wait impatiently for him to say something, anything. But his reaction is clearly not the one you were waiting for:

-Oh fuck.

-What ? you panic, feeling your heart rises in your throat. What do you mean 'oh fuck' ? Sean ?" But the nauseating ringing of the call being cut short echoes in your ear.

He hung up.

You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as hard as you can. Your fingers find your closed lid, pressing on it as if calming an upcoming headache. What the fuck is going on exactly ? Why did he hang up ? Did you say something ? Did he see something ? You can't keep doing that, nobody answered any of your questions since this morning. You are tired.

You give up. You'll go back home, sleep a little. Research a job in the newspaper and hope for things to get better. Sighing, you walk the stairs once again, only this time to really move on.

Has everyone given up on you ? It feels like it, no one seems akin to want to help you. You never did any wrong to anyone. You always hold the door open to people, you give the few you have to homeless people in the streets. You payed what an old woman lacked in money for her groceries. You work everyday of the damn week, with no holidays.

What have you done ?

Sure, you're starting to break down, you told Tony to kill himself, you yelled at Sean. What the hell ? Never would you have done that in your life. What's happening ? It's getting scary out there, yet, no one's here for you to confide in.

You never should have left your hometown, you punished yourself.

The first thing you do once inside your home is falling head first on the couch. Feeling tears filling up your eyes. You don't fight them, letting them slide freely along your cheeks. After all, it's the good part of having a place to yourself, you get to cry alone in the safety of it.

You'll have to give it up, though. Without necessary money, you'll eventually need to move. Probably find a roommate and live in a red light district.

You spent the next hours trying to read classified ads, key word being 'trying' as your watery eyes didn't allow you to see much. And you ended up watching TV, like you always do. You couldn't fathom the idea of being that alone. When did it all go wrong ? Are you a horrible person ?

The news-woman kept talking and talking without stopping, saying the same things as yesterday and probably tomorrow as well. Inflation, criminality, inflation, criminality. Where were you in all of this ? What about the population ? Where were the solutions ? Is this city really stuck in a loop of chaos ?

The screen now displays a cop in a police station, sharing his feeling and impression about the improvement of the city. You don't listen to him, more struck by what's behind him: a poster on a cork board. Yours. It's your face, with the price, 'treason' shit and everything. The exact same poster you had in your mailbox. The situation is that bad, huh ? Your wanted poster is right next to The Joker one. Is there a link ? Are they hoping to find him after finding you ? They're wrong, then.

You wait, impatiently trying to decipher whether the policeman will talk about you or not. But he does not, so you lay back down on the couch. How does wanted people live freely ? You've been researched for a few hours and you're already going crazy with the feeling everyone's watching you.

Do you even know a criminal in this town ? Well, the only one you do know is Sean. You briefly meet them at the bar, as part of your job. Befriending them is not for you though, so you have no useful information to give the Joker. Then what does he want ?

The doorbell rings through the flat, screaming at you to get up and do something with your life. A chill run through your body, breath stopping for a second out of fear to be heard. For a while, you don't move. Who could it be anyway ? Surely bad news. Now that you're wanted, it could be anyone. But the rings echoes again, forcing you to get up. Slowly and as quietly as possible, you slide to the door. Eye staring through the peephole, you're surprised to discover Sean standing anxiously outside.

How did he get your address ?

Opening the different locks on your door, you however keep the small chain closing it. It wasn't much of a protection to be honest, but you needed to lie to yourself a little bit.

"You hung up on me. Is the only thing you say when your eyes meet.

-I know, I'm really sorry. Are you okay ?

-How did you get my address ? It's weird.

He explains to you how your information are given on your work file. You stand inside, judging him from head to toe. He welcomed you at his place, you have to be polite or you'll really look like an opportunistic. But it's hard when you don't know his exact thoughts.

-Why did you hang up ?

-I talked to my uncle, he has a bar in the center of Gotham. Every criminal goes there, he knows everything.

-And ?

-You're safe, it's false. You're not wanted. He... He didn't see your poster. So it was a bad joke. Silence, you don't believe him. I promise. You're not in danger.

Then why is your face plastered in all Gotham ? Is he completely sure about that information ? You hate to act this way but, it's too late for him to tell you that anyway. False or not, the poster of your head is everywhere. People will try to find you. The veracity of it all doesn't matter anymore.

Though you can't shake that uneasy feeling inside you alerting you of his lie. You saw your face on TV, in a police station. It's not nothing !

-How are you so sure ?

-I told you, you have nothing that could interest such a dangerous man as the Joker.

He's right, on the other hand, something's definitely wrong.

-What do we do, now ?

-You could let me in ? I want to help you but we can't talk if I stay outside.

Halfheartedly, you let him in. He thanks you, admires a few seconds his surroundings before plopping down on the couch. You stay standing even after closing the door shut, crossing your arms on your chest and awaiting his arguments.

Should you tell him you saw your face in a police station ? No, you need to know what he's going to tell you. He's lying, you know it now. But why ?

You thought he could be a friend, turn out you can't trust him that much. Or are you losing it ? Policemen are quite dumb here, they are completely capable of believing everything they see and considering they're desperate to catch the Joker; they could have took your poster as a track.

-What's your plan ? you ask.

-It depends on what you want.

Well, you want a lot of different things. Money, happiness, freedom, family, equality, peace. Right now though, one will be enough.

-I need a job, I can't pay my rent this month otherwise.

-That one's easy. He crosses his arms on his chest, sinking into the sofa cushions. Try ask your bank, they'll lend you some.

-No they won't Sean, I'm indebted. Seriously, did he really think life was this easy ? Did he really think you haven't thought of doing just that ?

He sighs and shrug, crossing his legs, he put his feet on the table. Your eyes are enough to tell him to put them back on the ground. He's a little bit too comfortable for your liking.

-It's these immigrants my friend. We lack money because of them.

What ?

-No, it's just poor distribution of resources. With the ongoing inflation and such, it has literally nothing to do with immigration. You frown, confusion lacing your tone, answering him as if asking a question, because what ? That was so out of pocket ? It's stupid to think like that, it's too easy to accuse others. They're as fucked as we are, you know ? Don't say that.

That's what Gotham thinks ? That each one of their problem is caused by others ? Industries, Government, Politics, they're the one causing all of this. How does someone get to this conclusion ? You thought Sean was good, hell, his family was poor. They survived thanks to drugs and banditry. He's bold to think immigrants are the problem: His family literally embezzles money.

-Jeez, calm down.

Well, it's difficult to be calm towards this kind of stupidity. But at least it keeps you in check, you know who he's voting for. Never trust anyone. It's true you don't know him that well, after all.

-You want my help or not ?

It's harder to see him in the same light as before after this, but if he's the only one willing to help, you can't waste this chance.

-Yeah. You sigh, ashamed with yourself. I need people to forget about me.

-Good, meet me at the back of the bar at the end of our shift. He's not waiting for an answer as he gets up to leave.

-Wow. No ?

He stops in his tracks as you block his way.

-What do you mean, 'no' ?

Is he serious ? With everything you risk ? Criminals at the bar know you, hell, some of them see you every night. No, you are not joining him in the dark in a creepy alley late at night when people want you dead. Also, you need to think a little before jumping straight back to work, it's dangerous.

-Because I don't want to die ?" You need to tell him. "Okay, Sean, I may not understand everything but I know you're lying to me. Am I wanted or not ?

He already lost every ounce of respect you had for him. First with the lying, then with the whole immigrants things.

-You don't believe me ? Is he trying to make you feel guilty ?

-I saw my fucking head on the TV. I believe that's enough proof for me. You cut the conversation straight, not wanting him to keep lengthening things uselessly.

Sean doesn't answer, seemingly hesitating. What is he thinking ? He has to respond. He's constantly trying to avoid the subject and it's getting frustrating.

-That means I'm in danger, right ?

-Yes." he finally answers. Thank God, you think, God why, you also think. "But not because of the Joker. He's not responsible for what's happening to you. All the cards and riddles are from him, yes, but someone saw you two talking at the bar and thought they could get to him by killing you.

You entirely stopped trusting him after he mentioned the cards and the riddles. Because never, in all your discussions, have you mentioned receiving these. He knows too much.

You don't bring it up, of course.

-Explain.

Who could have told him about the riddles, if not you ? The one sending them ? Yes, but Sean's terrified of him. Plus, he couldn't talk to him, even if he had the courage to. It's the Joker, from what you understand, you don't approach him easily. He's not the small local criminal. He's something more.

-The Joker's well known. Everyone wants to defy him. And someone saw you.

-Who ? you ask, finally getting some well deserved qualitative answers.

-His name was, uh, Korej I believe.

-Ko...Rej... you repeat, unimpressed, frowning.

Is it you or does it sound vaguely similar to Joker, but with the letters all mixed up ?

-It's his pseudonym." He hastily answers. "But his real name is John, he lives in the richest part of Gotham. He's a mob leader. He fucking despises the Joker, that's why his name is Kojer.

-Korej, you corrected.

-Yeah, it's difficult to remember. It's quite the shitty name.

He really think you're dumb, right ? You clasp your hands together, catching his drifting attention.

-Okay, well, thank you for everything Sean. It was a pleasure, truly. But now I'm gonna ask you to leave.

-You don't believe me ?

No, no you don't. Everything he ever said to you since he first came here was either weird or false. And sometimes weirdly false.

-Please, leave my house.

You'll go to the nearest police station, ask for help. And if nobody helps you, you'll find a way out of here. This city is dead anyway, there's nothing for you anymore. It's too late.

-Don't you want to talk about it ? he asks hurriedly, displaying his open hands in the air as if ready to grab your shoulders.

-If you want us to talk, okay, you yield. But choose somewhere safe, with a lot of people. I am not joining you at the back of the bar at night where everyone could kill me.

You're going crazy. Why are you even accepting this ? It's not a dream, nor a joke, you really are wanted. People want to kill you. There is money on your head. Sean is deep in thoughts before getting the enlightenment he needed, suddenly vigorously saying:

-Shopping center.

-What ?

-Let's meet at the shopping center, in two hours. I have things to prepare, people to call. You have my number, I'll call you. Is it good for you ?

His behaviour is screaming danger, on the other hand, a rendez-vous in a crowded shopping center at 3PM is not as risky as the bar. And if things turn bad, you still have a chance to run away, hidden in the mass. You hope the things he'll prepare will help you, and not worsen everything.

"Okay. You yield, once again.

-Thank you so much, he exclaimed." Why is he thanking you ? "You're a real sweetheart. It will be worth it."

And with these last words, he left.

You won't go. Of course you won't go damn, you don't want to die. He's so suspicious ! Why so much relief ? He's the one supposed to help you, you're not doing anything for him. You absolutely changed your mind. Yesterday, he was that nice man who saved your life, welcoming you home warmly. Today, he's, well, you don't know who he is anymore. You want to understand, discover what's wrong, but at the same time, it's not yours to do.

Fuck, you need to empty your mind. It's tiring, to be suspicious of everyone, to always have to thoroughly think about everything you do. You plop down on your couch, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. There's a cartoon going on. Tom and Jerry, a cat chasing, or at least trying to, a mouse. But the mouse's well smarter than the cat. 

Each time he thinks he'll catch it, the mouse finds a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Because in fact, the cat will never win. He has the illusion of strength because of his height, when the mouse is vicious, malign. 

Also, if the cat caught the mouse, well, the show wouldn't have any interest anymore. 

On the screen, the mouse finds a way to slam the door in the cat face, who's dizzy. To illustrate it, stars and birds are rotating around his head.

You don't know why the mouse does all this, maybe to survive. The small animal found the comfort of a warm house with good cheese and doesn't want to leave. The cat, however, is forced to chase it all day. As his owners force him to. It's his role, as the house guard, to chase rodents. Otherwise, he'll be replaced. 

You have to be really damn fucked for you to start analyzing a stupid cartoon. 

Jeez, it's a cat chasing a mouse, it's silly, it's fun to watch. You don't think, just turn off your brain and have fun. Why can't you do just that ?

Sighing, you change channel, trying to find something worth watching. You end up watching the news, it keeping you grounded. It helps you think you're not the worst case, that there's always worse somewhere. It's deeply selfish, but hey, you can't do much about it. Your life is pretty much ruined at the moment. 

What's today's problem? Well this time, the subject is centered around climate change and its catastrophes.

"Global warming. Today, in Spain, alarming news. The national temperature has increased considerably by 46°F (5°C) since last year. The Spanish are revolted, the world is encountering a record in warmth. Their main claim, she reads her notes, "It's summer's weather when we're in autumn." She briefly gulps her saliva. "Indeed, the local heat reached 86°F (30°C) while 73°F (23°C) at night. IPCC's report is alarming, something has to change. Is the world government going to act ?" She quits her serious tone and changes the subject. "Local news; what's happening in Gotham today ?"

Ah, here you go. You turn up the volume. 

"Earlier in the main avenue today, several store signs were vandalized by a group of masked men, it is thought to be perpetrated by an illegal organization. It's a real raid that happened, terrorizing the passers-by and owners. The identity of the delinquent stays unfounded. We know that the police department is currently working on..."

You mute the TV. Vandalizing stores, now ? They didn't even steal anything, who does that ? On the screen, a replay of surveillance cameras showing masked men running, pushing people and only stopping to draw weird shapes on a few of the stores. It's bad, but not quite as bad as your case. Putting the sound back, you're perfectly timed with the conclusion of the event. 

"Where is Batman ? Has the vigilante abandoned our city ? We hope for his prompt return in time for him to apprehend the Joker." 

Batman, right. You forgot that man was even existing. While some wonder who is hiding behind the mask, you're left questioning yourself on which side is he. If he's with the cops, is he a good or bad man ? Police is part of the problem, certainly. But Batman sometimes helps people, although you never encountered him yourself. But is he really with the police ? 

Who is he working with ? And why is he what he is ?

"Whatever... You rub your eyes."

Why do you even keep thinking about that, it's not your problem anymore. You're leaving. Gotham has nothing left for you. Batman can do whatever he wants, for all you care. He doesn't know about your insignificant existence, why waste it thinking of him ? 

But are you really leaving this place, though ? 

Are you really about to leave your life and flee like a coward ? Yes, is the obvious answer. You could think about it, is the less obvious answer. 

Yes, your life is at stake. On the other hand, Sean could really be useful as you're still in danger as long as you stay in Gotham, he's a considerable ally in this story. And not only Sean but his family as well could help you. 

You know about his aunt. That woman is quite well known. A powerful gang chief. You could pay her to get escorted outside of Gotham. You're already indebted anyway, you have nothing to lose anymore. Moreover, nothing guarantees your safety once outside of Gotham. If the Joker is as feared as shown in the media, changing city won't be enough. Which is why you need to clear the problem directly from the root. 

Okay, you won't lose anything in going, right ? Maybe your life, but it's worth a try. You'll join Sean. Yes, you'll join him. 

When the time arrived, you couldn't shake that uneasy feeling taunting you all while preparing yourself. What if someone chases after you ? What if you get kidnapped ? You won't, of course you won't. Sean will be there when you arrive. He's dissuading enough. He's a big man. 

You found yourself before the gigantic mall before even being able to process it. It was crowded, people entering and getting out every second. For a moment, your eyes search for Sean in the rabble only to find no one. He's probably inside, it's safer. 

Tightly holding the hood stuck on your head, you stare intensely at whoever crosses your path, trying to gain enough courage to finally enter the building. 

It's scary to be wanted, the displeasing impression everyone's looking at you is suffocating. You could get killed, right now. Abducted, even. 

When the automated doors open, you're greeted by the cold air conditioning. It's autumn, why the hell would someone want to freeze to death ? 

Checking your phone, there's still no sign of Sean. He couldn't possibly stand you up, right ? He's the one who insisted for you to come. It wouldn't be logical. He's just late.

You can't really afford to be waiting in your situation, every second matters. You don't know what will happen. And, yeah, you're kind of starting to freak out. You don’t know where your wanted poster ended up. Maybe you’re already dead, and, shit, you're alone in such a vulnerable position. Fuck, why did you come ?

You’re trying to stay rational, thinking of every possibility as to why he’s not here. You nod your head to yourself, trying to ease your nerves. He'll come. You just need a little patience. He said he needed to prepare things beforehand, that's why he's late. He's late because he'll help you. 

You miss the mall, it's been long since you last came here, too preoccupied with your two jobs. You used to like watching people but quickly stopped. First, you once or twice made an awkwardly long eye contact with a man who then wanted to beat you up for provoking him, "like a pussy". Then, the second reason is that people are just... Mean. You'd look at a pretty woman only for her to spit on the ground. In the street is already disgusting enough, but the mall ! You'll look at a man hugging a woman, just to realize that they both don't know each other and that he's drunk out of his mind. 

Maybe you do need to get out of here, actually. 

Your phone still hasn't buzzed, you need to do something with your body or you’ll go crazy. It’s obvious staring daggers at your device every second won’t help. He's not here yet, you need to accept it and wait. You'll walk a little to not get noticed, your tensed and motionless body language is screaming suspicious and people are starting to side eye you. 

It’s only natural of your legs to start bringing you to the places you used to go to, only to realize that one of your favorite stores closed permanently. Of course, with the crisis. It’s not surprising. 

"Fucking morons..." Mutters a man to your left. Upon looking in his direction, you meet the owner of the voice standing on a stepladder, trying to energetically scrub with a sponge his store's sign. Key word being 'trying' as it's not successful. 

Right, earlier's vandals. 

He's cursing to himself, scrubbing progressively more aggressively the almost intact big black 'O' tagged on the sign mocking him. 

"Can I know who did that? asked your curiosity. 

-Fucking assholes, he answers without even looking your way, that's who did that. 

-What do they looked like ?

-No idea, he grumbles. They all had that stupid mask on. All white with some blue and red. No idea what that was supposed to be. Ask the other owners if you're so interested, but you're late. Journalists already left. 

Oh, right. He thinks you’re a journalist. 

-Thank you, have a nice day sir.

-Yeah yeah…”

You heard several stores were vandalized, where are the others ? Letting your legs wander, you get your answer a few meters/feet away. A sign is hanging by an electric thread. 

It’s a shoe store, but its signboard was now displaying a big black 'O'. You lift a brow, confused about its meaning. Usually, tag either insults or convey a message. Anyhow, there's a sense. Now though, you can't quite pinpoint it. O, what starts with an O. Optimism, oppression, obedient omelette ? It can be anything. Maybe it's not a letter, but a signature? 

Two stores away (you see it out of the corner of your eye) another of these is vandalized, this time, a bold 'B' was written. What word could this correspond to? B for Batman ? It's not a word, mostly a name. Baby, maybe. Bomb, bag, anything. Hell, it could even be badminton for all you know. 

Next letter is directly after the previous one, a 'S' hiding the dress logo the sign was exhibiting prior. The paint is dripping a little and one or two drops can be seen on the ground. 

"Those damn scum." a man grumbles, who you think might be the owner of the poor store. He crosses his arms on his chest, looking up disapprovingly. 

You ignore him, now thrilled by all of this. You want to discover all the tags. It's not like you have much better to do anyway. Sean still hasn't answered you. You know what to do to wait: find words for each letter. S makes you think of sabotage, skull and soup. 

You see the next letter from afar, this time, an "E" welcomes you. Though, this one was partially erased. You guess the owner found the right product. It's now possible to read the sign and enjoy the sweet sight of what seems to be a sex shop sign. Is it even legal ? There's kids coming into this mall. Anyway, a lot of words start with E; Electric, Ebola, education, eagle. 

You don't find the next letter right away, needing to walk a little to find it. But when you do, you're weirdly excited. It's just a bunch of words on some signboards, yet, it's fun. Like an orienteering race. But mostly because you don't get to have much fun today, and this being out of your quotidian, it's easy to be ecstatic.  

Further away, it's not one but two letters that greets you; two "S", entwined like snakes. Shit, is it a nazi kind of tag ? It looks like the police's symbol there was back then. If that’s the case, you don’t find this as exciting as before. Not a good thing to write. There's already so much chaos here, you pray nazis are not going to be added to it. You think of the word 'Swiss' for this letter.

Next letter is an 'I'. Investigation, investment, ice. A woman bypasses you, hitting your shoulder with her. You squeal out of surprise, the woman doesn't even notice you. What a shitty town. You check your phone again, making sure Sean didn't try to contact you. No reply. 

Walking ahead, the next vandalized store needs you to turn to the left to be seen, it's an 'O', again. But you don’t have the time to think of words that you already see the next letter. It’s a ‘N’. Night, Nemo (as in the movie) and nuisance. You already found words starting with ‘O’ anyway. It seems to be the last one as you walk and turn but no others appear. Disappointment lingers, sad it ended so soon. 

What is it, does it form a word at the end ? Like street art ? Maybe, a shame you already forgot all the previous letters. It was fun, though. You'd do it again, it's entertaining. Like a track game where you follow a path. Vibrations are bringing you back to reality, rushing to take it, you rotate to leave the place in order to find somewhere calmer. In your haste, you bump straight into someone. You freeze for a second, phone in hand.

They’re wearing a mask, a clown mask on their black hair. And a really ugly one. It’s shiny, like plastic and it surely is. Their eyes are the only thing you see through the holes. Whoever that is is staring right into your damn soul. Their eyes are empty, so empty you might think they’re on some kind of drug. The big red nose in the middle of their face is mocking you, laughing at you to be scared of something so ridiculous. Two small tufts of green hair are standing on each side of his head, the false bloody teeth drawn on the mask is the final touch that tells you to leave.

“Sorry.” you mumble, avoiding eye contact.

Your hands are holding your phone so tightly that fear strikes you that you could actually break the screen. The clown does not move when you walk past him, and you realize right then and there that they were well too close to you for it to be normal. You hate clowns, you hate them so much. All of this because of that stupid Joker. That person probably wasn’t even related to him, maybe he was one of the vandals. You don’t know, you don’t want to.

When you pick up Sean’s call, he apologizes for being late and plans an area for you to meet. You’re before the sex shope tagged by the “E” by the time Sean joins you. You’re not as convinced as before to destroy the problem from its root after the clown encounter. You’re not a hero, not a criminal. You’re nothing, you don’t have anything to prove to anybody. You should leave.

“You okay ? You look like you saw a ghost ? He laughs, but he’s not your friend so you don’t.

-So ? Got out much more coldly than you intended it to be.

-Jeez, you’re impatient. I’ll help you, I told you I would, right ?

You did, doesn’t mean you really will. You cross your arms on your chest, approaching him for him to hear you more clearly.

-Do you have any information ? Ways to get me out of here ? To resolve this ? Anything ?

He sighs, stepping back as if you’re the plague and looking elsewhere in the crowd. He seems conflicted, forehead creased by his worry.

-I can’t tell you now, walls have ears.

-Then why the fuck would you tell me to join you here ? If you’re so scared to be spied on, we could have continued this discussion at my place.

Your tension is building up. It’s fucking frustrating to talk with him. He starts teasing you with interesting information, then, he retreats and acts as if nothing happened and you’re just impatient. He told you to come here, he told you he’d help you.

-At least answer my questions, you plead, I don’t even know who… Who is the Joker ? Who is he exactly ? He physically tensed, his shoulders literally hunched forwards. What the hell ?

-Well, uh, it's complicated.

Damn, even that couldn’t be answered. Why are you still here ?

-What do you mean it's complicated ? Is he a terrorist ? A thief ? A gang leader ? A serial killer ? It's a simple question.

-He's a little bit of everything, truly.

Why does he always seem so nervous talking about him ?

-Sean for the love of God, he’s not here ! people are starting to look in your direction, but you couldn’t care less. You can calm down, he won’t kill you ! You gotta breathe a little, man. Aren’t you the one who literally told me he wasn’t after me ? It’s not the first time you’re lying to me and I’m starting to lose it. Why am I here ? Tell me, why are we fucking here if you’re not gonna help me ! Who is this man and what does he want ? Why does he want to kill me ! It’s…” a gunshot whistles in the air, cutting you in your sentence straight away, screams erupting from all sides.

Your body acts before you can think, throwing yourself on the ground. It’s hard to understand what’s going on, but in a way, you don’t try to. You get up quickly and lose yourself in the running and yelling crowd. Your paranoia is not helping, was this gunshot aimed at you ? Sean is somewhere in the mall, but it’s too late. You gave him a chance, he wasted it.

Another gunshot echoes, followed closely by the sound of a glass breaking. Your senses are overwhelmed; names, insults, orders are being yelled. Is the Joker here ? You need to get out of here, now. Bodies are pushed against yours, your clothes are being tugged on. But when you were about to reach the exit, someone harshly grabs you out of the crowd, pulling you aside. It’s panic in your head, survival instinct kicking in. You yank your arm out of the person’s hold but freeze upon seeing Sean threaten you with a gun.

“Sean, you start with a shaky voice, what the fuck ? his eyes are cold, you don’t recognize him. He looks at you as if you're nothing, as if you're no one.

-He’s here, he states, looking paranoidly to the sides. He’s… He’s going to kill me if I don’t bring you to him.

-Bring me to who, Sean ? But you fear you might already know.

-The Joker.

Of course he’d betray you. Who are you kidding ? You knew, you knew he would trap you. Your eyes can’t leave the sight of the gun barrel, following each of its movements. He’s shaking, you realize. Is he scared, hesitating ? Or motivated by a hatred so pure he can’t even control his own feelings ?

-Sean, you try nonetheless, he’ll kill you either way okay ? He’s a sadist, we can… you gulp, throat suddenly burning dry. We can leave together, we’ll leave the city and…

-You don’t understand, do you ? He’ll track you, he’ll track us down. And then, he’ll slaughter us like pigs. You hear me ? He’ll slaught…

-I get it ! I get it ! you scream, shutting your eyes in order to erase those images from your head.

How can you even change his mind ? You doubt he’d fold with some speech about your friendship. It’s not like you two were that close to be honest. Sure, you liked him but that changed since the beginning of the Joker catastrophe.

-He promised me money, he explained himself. As if you’d forgive him after hearing his justification. A lot of money. You can’t understand what it’s like to… when you see him lower his weapon, you interrupt him, drived by your anger.

-How can you be so stupid ? He was, he truly was an idiot for believing the Joker. You haven’t known that beast for long, but each time someone defined him, it was always along the lines of wicked, treacherous, vicious and ruthless. So yeah, he was stupid. Was your life worth something as insignificant as money ? Has he ever liked you ?

-Shut up ! I’m done living like a fucking tramp !

Tramp is a big word coming from him, daddy pays him everything ! You’re tired of his tantrums, he is a grown man, ten or fifteen years older than you and he’s acting like a child. Suffering is your quotidian as well, but you would’ve never betrayed him. In fact, that is your problem. You’re not a scumbag like him, that’s why you can’t stand him. You have no value similar to his, if he even has some. By what right does he think he can use you to get, what, a few dirty money ?

If you're going to die, at least you'll die telling him every resentment you had towards him.

-You think I am happy ?! Your life’s better than mine ! Fuck you Sean, you’re an asshole ! You’re a fucking asshole ! You’re the one that should die !

-Shut the fuck up you whore !

A burning pain sliced through you along a sharp sound, legs losing all strength and making you fall on the ground. Your ears are ringing and your breath is cut for a few long seconds. What happened ? Is the first question popping in your head, but the atrocious pain coursing through your leg answers you. Your hand touches your hurting limb, but retreats it instantly at the pain. So you look down.

Blood, there’s blood everywhere.

It’s yours. It’s… It’s your damn blood, you’re bleeding. You have a hole in your leg and it’s gushing out blood. He shot you. Fuck, oh God, oh God, you’re bleeding. You’re fucking bleeding and it hurt like hell. It hurt so damn bad, why, why did he do that ? Your eyes are stinging and soon, tears fall down your cheeks. Are you going to die ? Here ? With nothing accomplished ? Alone ? Shot by the only man you thought was your friend ?

-I believe alive was written on the contract.

You recognize that voice, you hear it in your nightmares.

-Joker ! I… She tried to run away, I had to immobilize her !

It’s weird, your body is exhausted, yet, the pain is keeping you well awake. Your head is heavy when you lay it on the dirty ground of the mall. Eyes trailing slowly to the two men talking. Finally, he’s here before you. He’s shown himself. Even if it’s only the second time you see him, you talked and heard about him so much these past hours it feels like you’ve been with him for months. And maybe you were, in a way. Sean walks past you, not glancing towards your drained body on the ground. He’s scared of him. He plays the big man with you, but he’s a little bitch.

How is Sean, a man built like a fridge, so terrified of someone so ridiculous as the Joker ?

Who is he ?

The pain in your leg makes it feel numb and at the same as alive as it never been. The Joker sighs exaggeratedly, he tilts his head to the side to look at you. Shivers shake your whole body. Is that it ? This is the man who’ll abduct you ? You’d rather get killed instantly.

-And right on Valentine’s day...” mumbles the Joker.

It’s not, it’s autumn. Valentine’s day is in February, in winter. From your position, police sirens are heard and red and blue lights are flashing, reflecting on the windows. The Joker takes out a gun out of his long purple jacket and aims it towards Sean.

“Please ! He yells. I-I did what you wanted ! She’s here, please don’t kill me ! I’m a hitman, I’ll work for you !

Is he, now ? He's barely a barman.

-Do I look like I'm searching for employees ? He asks, opening his arms and bending his hands for his palms to face the ceiling before looking around him for confirmation. Because I’m not.”

You're torn between relief and horror at the sight of Sean falling to the ground after another gunshot, bathing in his own blood. He did betray you, he brought you here, he brought this upon you, upon himself. But he’s dead. You wished him to, but now that he is you’re horrified.

It’s then that you realize that The Joker is surrounded by his masked goons. Probably the one who vandalized the store, now that you think about it. You walked right into his trap.

“Well ? What are you waiting for ? he asks almost comically. Bring the package to the car !

When several men surrounds you, you're left yelling and fighting to get out of their holds, in vain, of course. The blood gushing out of your hurting limb isn't helping much, anyway. You feel your strength slowly evaporate from you.

Shotguns echoes, but your ringing ears prevent you to precisely locate it. Soon, they throw you in the back of a car and close the door, leaving you in the dark.

Gotham killed you.  

#heath ledger joker #Joker #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #heath ledger joker x reader #the dark knight #vitzi9writings #i am losing it

[lollie2479]

Falling for the enemy - Part 1

Reggie Kray x reader

Summary : You were with the Richardsons but you fell for Reggie Kray. You need to chose between your family or the handsome gangster that has your heart. 

Warning : Swearing, violence and mention of blood.

A/n : I recently watched Legend and I love Reggie so much. It wasn’t supposed to be in different parts but I had too much to write so I decided to create a longer story divided in different parts. I already started writing the second part. Hope you like it! 

I’ve been absent lately being too busy with school, work and everything but I missed writing so here I am. I might start writing more often so send requests.

Part 2 Part 3

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Your father was a member of the Richardsons so ever since you were a child, these men were your family. When your father died, Charlie took you under his wing and raised you like you were his own daughter. He taught you how to fight and how to shoot. He needed to make sure that you were able to defend yourself in any situation. Pretty soon, you became the best and nobody could beat you. 

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I won’t hurt you.’’ The blonde man said chuckling while his eyes kept staring at your breasts. You walked slowly towards him, a grin on your face. His eyes locked with yours and before he could say anything else, your fist collided with his jaw sending him to the floor. You smiled and got down on one knee next to him. Your mouth was close to his ear and you whispered to him. “Don’t ever call me pretty girl again.’’ You heard clapping coming from behind you which made you turn around. Charlie was standing there with admiration in his eyes. You were his secret weapon, nobody knew about your existence. You were his best one and he made sure to keep you for himself. “Look at you, he smiled coming closer to you, you are still unbeatable.’’ Before you could respond, one of the members of the gang barged into the room with a bloody face. ‘‘Who did this?’’ Charlie asked already knowing the answer to his question. The man spat the blood he had in his mouth. He only said one word : Kray. 

The next morning, Charlie called a meeting to talk about what they should to about the twin brothers. They were a gang on the other side of the river and since the beginning of time, the Richardsons and the Krays fought each other to get London all to themselves. You never met them but you heard a lot of things about them from the other members. You knew that they ruled the East End where they owned many clubs and that you didn’t want to be on their bad side because they were violent. “We need to do something boss.’’ A man said out loud which brought your attention back to the meeting. Another one spoke up. “Yeah, we need to go to their club and get revenge.’’ You were standing in the corner listening to everything that was happening in front of you. “Maybe it’s time that Y/n gets involve and shows them who the Richardsons are.’’ Charlie immediately turned around, his eyes landing on you. You gave him a small smile and nodded your head. He knew you were ready but he didn’t want to use his best asset just yet because if it didn’t work, he would have revealed you for nothing and you were his best chance at winning against the Krays. He took a puff of his cigarette before throwing it onto the floor and stepping on it. You could read in his face that he didn’t know what to do so you decided not to say anything and to let him decide of your fate. He chose not to send you yet and instead he sent his men which was a bad choice because everyday of the following week they would come back all beaten and bloody. “Don’t you think it’s time? They won’t survive if you keep sending them and soon enough, we’re going to lose.’’ He brought his cigarette close to his mouth. “Don’t you think that I fucking know that Y/n’’ he said while taking a long puff. You stood up angry. You were never going to win if he kept you hidden behind these walls. “Then why don’t you let me take care of it. You always say that you are keeping me as a last resort, well right now, I don’t think that you have any other choice.’’ He took another puff of his cigarette before letting out a small “Fine’’ under his breath. 

You spent the next three days working on a plan. You knew how to get close to the twins since they had no idea that you even existed but you had to find a place where you could meet them without being suspicious. You had your men following them so you could get as much informations about where they would be and what they were doing. You learned that they would be at their casino, Esmeralda’s Barn, on Friday night so you decided that it was your best option. It would be easier for you to blend in and get as close as possible to the Krays. 

It was finally the night of the casino and you were excited to go out even if it was only for business. You put on a red dress that showed some cleavage and that hugged your curves in all the right places. It had a slit on the left that ended in the middle of your thigh making your leg and your shoes visible. You wore red heels that matched your dress and the lipstick you applied to your lips. You tied your hair into a low bun and put on some earrings. You were proud of your appearance. You made sure that everything was in place before going downstairs where everybody was waiting for you. When you got there, you could hear whistling coming from the back. They all had their eyes glued on your figure. Charlie approached you and placed his hand on your back. “You look ravishing Y/n. Now, go on and make us proud.’’ You kissed his cheek and took the arm of the gangster that was driving you to the event.

 When you arrived, he opened your door and gave you a hand to help you step out of the vehicle. You locked your arm around his and made your way inside. “Where are they?’’ The man accompanying you locked his eyes on Reggie Kray and you followed his glare. Your eyes fell on the handsome man that was sitting at a poker table. You had seen pictures of Reg before but they were bad ones that didn’t show his beauty. He was playing with the coins he had in front of him while his other hand went to his slick hair trying to smooth it out perfectly. He was wearing a black suit, a bow tie and a white shirt that was tucked in his pants. His attire fitted his muscular body perfectly. “So, what’s the plan?’’ You turned rapidly towards the man that held your arm close to his. “I,hum, think that,hum,I’’, you lost your words completely when your eyes found Reggie once again. You turned around so you could stop staring at him and focus on the plan. “I’m gonna get close to Reggie and try to gain his trust. During that time, try to find Ron.’’ He nodded and the both of you went into separate directions. He was heading for the bar while you were making your ways towards Reggie Kray. You walked slowly so that he would notice you and he did. His blue eyes fell on you and you could feel your heart beating faster as they watched every move your body made while you were walking. He watched the way your hips swayed at every step you took and how the dress hugged your curves. How the slit would open making your leg apparent. How the hair falling from your bun would bounce and so would your breast. He watched every single detail of you and his eyes kept following you until you were sitting across from him at the table. Even then, Reggie didn’t look away. His stare created a fire inside your chest and you wanted throw yourself at him but you couldn’t. “Don’t think we had the pleasure to meet, right?’’ He lifted his brow trying to figure out if he had seen you somewhere before but he knew that he wouldn’t forget someone as beautiful as you. You smiled flirtatiously at him “Y/n’’. He smirked ‘’Reggie.’’ Your eyes dropped to the coins in front of you but you could still feel his eyes on you. When you lifted your head up, he gave you a wink which gave you goosebumps. You stayed and played until you knew that he would follow you if you went anywhere else. “It was nice playing with you all.’’ You smiled while locking eyes with Reggie and stood up. You turned around and started walking towards another table when you felt someone behind you. You turned around quickly which caused Reggie to bump into you. You lost your balance and were ready to fall on the ground but he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him and preventing your fall. You tried to get yourself steady by placing one hand on his chest and the other one on the shoulder of the arm he still had wrapped around you. He took his free hand and removed the strand of hair that was falling from your bun into your face, gently placing it behind your ear. Your eyes were locked with his and everything around you disappeared. His face was getting closer to yours and it started to be harder to breathe. His nose was now touching yours and before you two could kiss, someone called out for Reggie. His head dropped and a growl escaped his beautiful lips. He turned around facing the man that was standing behind him. “Don’t you fucking see that I’m entertaining the lady.’’ The unknown man looked embarrassed but he had to let the boss know about something important. “It better be fast mate. I have other things to take care of’’ he said looking at you. Reggie turned around, placing his hand on your hips. “Don’t go far because I intend to finish what we started, alright?’’ You lifted yourself on your toes and kissed his cheek. “Promise, I’ll stay close.’’ He chuckled softly before turning around and leaving you alone. 

You tried to find your accomplice in the packed room but there were too many people blocking your view so you decided to walk towards the bar, hoping he was still there. You didn’t find him but instead you found the other half to your handsome twin, Ronnie, staring at you. He looked like Reggie but you could still see the difference between them. Ronnie wore glasses and the way his suit fell on his body wasn’t the same as his brother. His face seemed larger and harder. You knew by looking at him that you shouldn’t get on his bad side because it could get ugly real fast. You sat next to him on a stool and waved at the bartender to bring you a beer. When he laid the cold beverage in front of you, you heard chuckles coming from the man sitting next to you. “How does a pretty lady right like yourself right takes such a manly drink.’’ You rolled your eyes at his comment before taking a sip. The liquid went down you throat and you smiled. You were raised by men around boys only so you often found yourself liking manly things one of them being beer. “I just love it what can I say.’’ You shrugged raising your shoulders before taking another sip. The corner of his lips raised a little in what appeared to be a smile but his face turned hard once again. “What’s your name?’’ he asked scanning your face, trying to find if he had seen you somewhere before but like his twin, he couldn’t find anything. You took another sip. “Don’t think we met, I’m Y/n’’ you told him slightly smiling. “Ronnie.’’ He brought his cigar close to his lips before taking a long breath and slowly releasing the smoke he held in his mouth. “What brings you here?’’ he asked his eyes not leaving your sight. You took yet another sip of your delicious drink. “I heard a lot about this place and thought I shall try it and see for myself.’’ He nodded at your answer. “What to do you think so far?’’ You smiled. “I love it.’’ He raised his glass in front of you and you slightly knocked the two glasses with each other. He liked the answers you had for him. 

Before he could ask you anything else, the door opened violently and Charlie's men barged in. You froze and tried avoiding eye contact with any one of them not wanting your identity to be revealed. You were just starting to get close to the Kray brothers and you had a lot more digging to do before going back to your gang. Ronnie grabbed your wrist with his large hand that swallowed it completely and pulled you close to him bringing you back to reality. Normally, he didn’t like woman and he hated them even more if they were after his brother but something was different with you and he couldn’t figure out why but he liked you. He approached his lips to your ear. “You see the door back there yeah?’’ You looked around trying to find it in all the chaos. When your eyes landed on it, you brought your head close to Ronnie once again and nodded. “It leads to the kitchen and the backstore. On your right, you’ll find another door. You take it yeah and you’re outside. Understood?’’ You nodded once again. “Thank you.’’ He released your wrist and you started making your way towards the door, avoiding anyone that was in your way. You pushed it and sneaked your body into the kitchen. You went to the right as quick as possible so that nobody could see you leaving. You pushed the other door and you were met with the cold air of the night. You brought your arms close to you so that you could try to get yourself warm. Your eyes were searching for a familiar face outside and they landed on Charlie. You ran to him. “What is your fucking problem!? I was handling it!’’ You slapped his cheek in anger. He sent you a death glare. “Yeah, by wanting to fuck them? That’s what you call handling it, Y/n, yeah, that’s not really it.’’ You gasped. What had he heard? You had to pretend that it was for the mission and not because your heart was screaming Reggie’s name. “If i want to get as close as possible to them, I have to do it that way. Otherwise, they won’t trust me and I won’t learn anything to bring them down.’’ He sighed, believing you. “Get into the car, I’m driving you home.’’ You opened the door and sat in the back. The ride was silent which was nice because you didn’t feel like talking. Reggie made his way in your thoughts and you couldn’t think about anything else. You couldn’t let yourself fall for the enemy, you had to fight the urge to be close to him but even with your best efforts, you couldn’t get yourself to forget about him. What the fuck were you going to do...?            

#reggie kray #kray twins #reggie kray imagine #reggie kray x reader #Tom Hardy #tom hardy imagine

[doorsclosingslowly]

Do You Remember the First Time?

A Dregs member with a grudge, a cruel ambush—but to Kaz’ luck, a boy named Jesper Fahey has just joined the gang and he happened to tag along.

3.1k | pre-Six of Crows | warning for attempted rape, violence, ableism

By the time the door closes, it’s too late. Kaz is curled belly-down on the floor just past the entrance in a room with Beertjie and his mates Kert, Frans and Sonna, and Beertjie—well, he’s a much better actor than Kaz gave him credit for. Or Kaz is still more naïve than he believed—it’s probably both—but before two seconds ago when the truncheon hit his head, he never expected Per Haskell’s old enforcer to pull this off. The man’s neither creative nor ambitious enough. He’s been with the Dregs for longer than Kaz has been alive, and he’s still occasionally pulling bouncer duty when Haskell doesn’t need a brawler to second for him: Kaz, meanwhile, in less than three short years, has worked his way up to doing the accounting for all the Dregs’ gambling halls. He’s working on building up Fifth Harbour. Kaz has plans.

If this trap isn’t Beertjie’s own idea, though—then whose? Kaz has watched him, and he doesn’t have any contacts outside the Dregs. Outside his three accomplices, really, and a couple of bar men. It could’ve come from the boss, but Haskell’s at least clever enough to know that he needs Kaz.

So what—

“Nothing to say now, you little brat, eh?”

“I’m trying to understand how even you could be stupid enough to attack Per Haskell’s favourite second.” Kaz uses the lowest rasp his teenage voice will go to. “Give me some time. It’s an enormous amount of stupidity to tally.”

When in doubt, rile up. Kaz isn’t holding any cards at all right now—he doesn’t know who ordered the hit, he’s outnumbered and outmuscled, Frans over in the corner has his foot on Kaz’ cane and his hand on a gun, the three new Dregs who accompanied them—who lulled him into a false sense of security—they’re on the other side of the locked door, plus they might be in on the attack anyway, and when Kaz blacked out from the truncheon for a second someone locked his hands behind his back in some iron contraption, not Grisha thank the Saints but unfamiliar enough that he’ll need a few seconds to unlock it.

When all their attention is on him—and by his position, his back— they’ll notice if he fumbles a lockpick from his coat, but if they get angry enough… well, angry men make mistakes.

Unfortunately, angry men with truncheons also hit him in the head again.

“Is that your only trick?” Kaz smirks through the pounding blur in his eyes, not that they can see it when he’s face-down in the dirt. Beertjie’s not worth straining his neck to look up. Still, it doesn’t hurt to keep the acting impeccable. “No wonder you never got further than bouncer.”

“Thieving little bitch. Just ‘cause you suck Per’s cock just right doesn’t make you a big man,” and Beertjie’s genial ruddy cheeks are stained crimson with hatred now. “Stick to your books, cripple.”

So that’s what this is about: jealousy.

“If you’re worse at your job than a fifteen-year-old with a bum leg, I’m sorry to say, that reflects more on you than it does—”

Another blow, this time to the back. It glances off, no real damage done, and Beertjie’s even terrible at his actual job. He’s losing his cool.

So is Kaz, unfortunately, although he has enough sense to conceal his growing unease. No matter how subtly he wriggles his hands, the shackles are ratcheted too tight to slip out, so tight he’s starting to lose circulation. It might not even suffice to dislocate a thumb. He’s trapped. New plan. So if he’s going to stay prone and tied up and unarmed and anger’s only making Beertjie hit him more, that does not rob him of all his weapons. He’s talked his way into and out of far more dangerous situations before. Threats? No, Beertjie doesn’t have any connections outside the Dregs. No spouse, no family. Extortion? He doesn’t have any secrets either, save the insecurity he just revealed. He does jobs for Haskell with his buddies, he drinks in Haskell’s bars with his buddies, he plays poker in Haskell’s bars with his buddies. He’s a profoundly boring man. Maybe that’s why Haskell has kept him for so long: boring men provide no leverage, much to Kaz’ current detriment.

The next strike is to Kaz’ bad leg. Another, same location. Then the healthy one. Not enough force to break bone, but still, it hurts enough that he has to bite his lip to stifle a moan, and worse yet is the way Beertjie’s bending over him in order to aim. The bouncer’s got enough core strength that he doesn’t need to prop himself up, doesn’t need to touch Kaz with anything but the truncheon, but—every rush of air from the body above him makes his heart jackhammer. He screws his eyes shut. It’s hard to think of a plan, now; hard to even have the presence of mind to be grateful his humiliating position is hiding even more humiliating panic. Another strike. Another close movement. He’ll lose another leg. Another—

“Everything alright? We heard scuffling.”

The screech of the door as it opens wider—the pain as it hits Kaz’ bad leg—Beertjie cursing as he hurries out of the way, and then three pairs of footsteps. The new Dregs. Kaz swings his throbbing aching good leg until he’s turned on his side—the wrong one, he still can’t see any faces—but though that would’ve been useful, he doesn’t strictly need it. He knows the new Dregs. He recruited all three of them, and that interruption was Jesper Fahey’s voice. Jesper is the newest, and the one with the most potential.

Their presence makes the whole unfortunate situation slightly more embarrassing. However, any mix-up also presents new opportunities, and Kaz just has to think…

“Hey. I’m talking to you.” Jesper, again. Insufferably confident for a teenage dropout gambling addict with debts in the thousands of kruge watching the person who recruited him a month ago get roughed up by a washed-up old guy.

So confident it even catches Beertjie on the back foot. The man opts for nonchalance. “Fine,” he says. “Just teaching a little rat some respect.”

The constant references to his height are starting to grate uncomfortably against Kaz’ skin. Sure, he’s almost fifteen and still hoping for another growth spurt, and the malnutrition of a Barrel kid probably didn’t do him any favours if he was ever meant to grow up tall, but in Beertjie’s wide mouth, the word takes on a more dangerous hue. Something predatory.

“Well, I was. Seems like he needs something a little bigger than a truncheon to teach him some respect. Something to replacethat stick in his ass.”

The implication alone is enough to leave Kaz’ reputation in tatters. If this gets out—if the young Dregs leave, and he wants them to leave now, but he can’t—none of this can leave this room, ever. Kaz can’t see the obscene leer on Beertjie’s face, but he doesn’t need much skill to imagine it. He can feel the movement of his vicious greedy eyes deep in his bones, can feel them travelling through his layers into his skin, and he’s wriggling in his fetters with more and more urgency. He’s managed to pull a tiny lockpick from his shirt cuff during the beating, and with just a little time he might be able to…

“Got any room for one more?”

It shouldn’t feel like a betrayal. There is no honour among thieves, and the Bastard of the Barrel’s only friend is his vengeance, but still. The new Dregs were supposed to be his. Jesper was supposed to be his. After all, it was Kaz who saw the potential in the Zemeni gambler in the first place. His quick, easy charm, his steel under pressure, his skill with a gun.

And Jesper is not as subtle as he probably likes to think, when his eyes keep flickering down to Kaz’ mouth—yeah, Kaz knows about the crush, even had vague notions on how to put it to use, but somehow, he’s never expected the other boy to just want to take what he’s been denied. Stupid, stupid.

Kaz led him to the Dregs. He had great plans for the boy. Had. Jesper’s going to die bloody. What a waste.

Something about his loathing must have bled through in Kaz’ posture, because Beertjie chuckles.

“Brekker makes his enemies quick, eh?”

Jesper laughs, too. It’s a grating sound, somehow: Kaz has heard him laugh often at the gambling tables, doing trick shots, making friends, and that’s what helps him pick out the new nuances. This laugh is breathy, high, almost hysterical. He sounds like it’s slowly sinking in what he’s planning to do. He sounds terrified. Good.

“They’ll remember your death in Ketterdam for decades,” Kaz vows. It’s all he can do, because the lock still won’t give in. “Centuries. It’ll be so gory and painful they’ll use it to terrify their children into submission. If you wanted your name to become immortal—well, congratulations, Jesper Fahey.”

“I’d like to shut his smart mouth,” Jesper says, his voice still wrong and shrill. “Stuff it, if you catch my drift.”

And then, Jesper’s on his knees next to Kaz, heaving him up. Kaz refuses to be of help, until one of the hands holding up his clothed upper arms moves down to the knee of his bad leg to bend it. Heavy boots move closer as if to offer help, either Beertjie or Sonna or young Peer, and that’s—it’s too much, not when Kaz still hasn’t found a way out of his handcuffs, not when he knows what’s going to… thank the Saints he’s still clothed and he won’t get torn bare this soon, won’t have to endure as much skin touch anywhere except his head and that’s bad enough, though at least it will thoroughly spoil their fun when he spews vomit all over…

He bites his lip bloody to halt his thoughts. There’s still time to escape. Maybe on his knees, picking the lock will be easier. Maybe—it’s Peer who came up pull him into position, Kaz can see the boy now, and that’s too much, too many people around him when Jesper’s bad enough, and so he gets onto his knees of his own accord. Peer stays.

Jesper’s hands fondle Kaz’ wrists for a second. Even through the gloves and the shirt cuffs and the jacket and the steel shackles, the trembling touch makes Kaz sick.

The fucking traitor rises to his feet, and then he’s standing right in front of Kaz, so close Kaz can smell leather and gunpower and sour sweat, his groin right in front of Kaz’ face. His still-clothed dick, as far as Kaz can tell, is soft. Good. At least he isn’t enjoying this as much as he expected. At least this won’t even be worth it for him. For a fraction of a second, Kaz steels himself by imagining biting his way through that soft rat bastard belly and tearing out Jesper’s liver with his teeth. The blood. The screams.

Jesper, though, has other concerns.

“I guess you’ll be a biter,” he says softly, as if to himself. Kaz can see his eyes flick over to Beertjie, though: he’s playing to an audience, though for what— “I happen to prefer my dick attached,” and he pulls out a gun. Uses it to caress Kaz’ temple with a parody of tenderness. “You know what’ll happen if I feel a tooth. You can touch your stick now, boss,” even more quietly, and—

As if Kaz was gonna get off from this. Is if he’s going to let Jesper pretend it’s consensual, as if his arms aren’t cuffed behind him, as if—Jesper’s grey eyes are staring down past Kaz’ face even though his chin’s still raised, and despite himself, Kaz follows his glance.

Next to his knee, there’s the bottom end of his cane. It must’ve rolled over, and before he can bury the child straining to hold onto any security that drowned in the harbour years ago he’s reaching for it, and—his hand moves.

The cuffs are open.

They clatter to the floor before his hands locks around the cane, and Jesper spins around and shoots Frans right in the head.

Kert and Sonna are next, before they even manage to take a step closer; and Peer stumbles when Kaz’ cane meets his foot and dies when the cane meets his neck. Another couple of bullets for Beertjie. Screams. Otto the other new recruit desperately rattling the handle of the locked door and Jesper glances at Kaz and Kaz shakes his head and then the boy’s brain paints the door.

And Beertjie’s still screaming.

“I’m out of bullets now, boss. Only brought the one gun.” Jesper looks almost shy now, standing in the blood splattered room. It’s strangely at odds with the ruthless fighter he was a second ago; the eager rapist he—pretended to be, with admirable quickness of mind and acting acumen, for a few minutes. Now, he’s only meeting Kaz’ eyes for a fraction of a second and then glances away again, as if it was him who was humiliated here. As if—

“He’s yours, boss.”

As if he’s an eager cat who fetched Kaz his revenge and is hoping it’ll please him. Because Jesper shot Beertjie in both knees, Kaz realises. Deliberately. He shot him in the knees and left him for Kaz to kill, and it’s almost—almost—enough to paint over the terror and humiliation of the past few minutes. He was right. Jesper will be useful.

So he stands on his aching bad leg and his throbbing bruised good one and ignores his trembling as he works his way up, breaking bones, from the thighs to the arms and ribs and, finally, the face. The shaking’s just adrenaline, pleasure, leaving early. He’s fine.

Jesper is proving his mettle even more by studiously ignoring the way he can barely stand, can barely limp over to the door.

The door. That’s what he almost missed. The unlocked door that was locked when Otto tried to escape, and unlocked when Jesper got in, and locked before that. Just like the shackles were locked until they weren’t.

Jesper’s going to be very, very useful indeed.

+

It's been six days since The Event, and Jesper’s in the Crow Club, losing badly at poker. This time, he knew he was going to lose even before he sat down at the table, but his head’s spinning, and there’s something about the familiar banter and shuffle and the weight of the cards in his hands, the practiced movements, that often helps him think. That might help him now not lose himself in bouncing questions and worries left over from The Event, even if it’ll lose him a hundred kruge.

The Event. That’s how Jesper has taken to referring to what happened, even in the sanctity of his own head: because despite what happened in the leadup to The Event, he’s not entirely convinced that Kaz Brekker isn’t a mindreader Grisha, and if Brekker’s gonna murder him for—for pretending to go along with raping him, oh Saints—if Kaz is gonna kill Jesper as the last witness, well, not provoking him needlessly will maybe buy Jesper time to write a last letter or two to his Da.

So he’s waiting on hot coals, and drinking, and losing at poker, and not thinking about What Happened. Or What Didn’t Happen, because whenever it comes up Jesper’s been going along with Kaz’ version of events: that creepy old guy was a traitor who’d turned all the other guys to his side too, and Kaz confronted and eliminated him, with minor assistance from Jesper himself. If underplaying his own initiative, quick planning, superb acting skills and cool under pressure—not to mention his perfect kill shots, but then Kaz did go back and set the house on fire to get rid of the corpse evidence—if letting Kaz rest on what should rightfully be Jesper’s laurels is what gets him another lease on life, so be it. He’ll have more chances to prove himself. Unless Kaz murders him.

He doesn’t regret the impulse that made him save Kaz. It was wrong, what that creep planned, regardless even of the fact Jesper’s maybe a little only here with the Dregs in the first place because Kaz asked him and even that first time, he liked Kaz. Maybe Kaz would stop planning to murder him if he explained—but on the off-chance that Kaz hasn’t realized he’s Grisha yet, and Kaz hasn’t brought it up so there’s at least a possibility… He was close to picking the shackles himself, after all. On the off-chance he doesn’t know, it would be pretty stupid to tell him—case in point, Jesper’s still fifty-fifty on whether Kaz will murder him—but the only explanation for why he went along with the rape pretence in the first place is that he needed to get close enough to those shackles. Maybe Kaz will just calm down on his own. Fifty percent non-murder are still good odds, after all. Better than Jesper winning today at poker.

More worrying—and just plain unfortunate, because even if he’s fucked his chances now Jesper really does like the guy—is that Kaz hasn’t exchanged a single word in private with him. They’ve barely been in the same room, and when Jesper clapped him on the back two days ago the guy actually jumped. If it wasn’t for the fact that this is Kaz, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel, who did torture a man to death a week ago even if that guy deserved it and Jesper did help him, so he really can’t claim any white vest there—if this wasn’t Kaz, Jesper would almost think he’s afraid of him now.

So he’s going to get murdered by his crush who’s also scared of him. And he’s just lost another two hundred kruge. Life is great.

But when he’s waving to the dealer to signal he’s up for another round—it’s Tom today, who’s always nice to Jesper and kind of pretty but he’s definitely no Kaz, so maybe later once Jesper’s nursed his sore heart… But the dealer’s not even paying attention to him. He’s staring straight behind Jesper. Not even a chance of a rebound tonight, then. Saints, Jesper’s luck just sucks.

A hand raps on the table next to him. Slim fingers, black gloves.

“Fahey, with me,” Kaz rasps from behind him, closer than he’s been in a week. “Geels wants a talk. I need someone reliable at my back.”

Or, just maybe, Jesper is the luckiest man in Ketterdam.

#kaz brekker #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #dimtraces makes things #teenage gangsters and fake betrayal

[transhawks]

Dabi vs Hawks: Or what 191 told us

Given there seems to be a little confusion as to what Hawks and Dabi’s current canon relationship is, and what their capabilities are, I’ve decided to give a bit of an analysis as a refresher.

1. Dabi treats Hawks like a Hero

One of the most noticeable changes in how Dabi acts with the league vs with heroes is how his tone changes. Take for example the way he talks to his teammates.

This is how he talks to allies. He’s utterly dismissive, he’s uninterested. Not even picturing the introduction scene where he had an interview with Shigaraki and insulted him before even giving his name.  And, yet, how he talks to heroes is so different.

His whole demeanor changes. He’s dismissive and outright rude to his allies in the League, or ruthlessly uncaring to villains he sees and kills, but to heroes? Suddenly, he smiles. He jeers, he taunts, and he talks far more than he generally does to allies; and whereas he’s very brusque with his topics with allies, with heroes he doesn’t hesitate to chat about goals like destabilizing hero society. 

He looks like he’s having fun. And this is generally only with pro-heroes, with the exception of Shouto.

So, what does this look like?

Again, Dabi is smiling here, and having fun. This is the behavior he only displays with heroes. It’s different from how serious he is.

2. Hawks has his own way of keeping cool - unless it’s with Dabi

So, one of the first things we learn about Hawks is he appears to be the type to take things easily, though even the announcer acknowledges that’s not the case, at all. He’s incredibly hard-working, and does his work with diligence. It’s just there’s a carefreeness to his personality - maybe a projected one. When Enji lifts him by his shirt post-Billboard, he laughs and smiles and jokes, so generally he’s either laughing shit off or being very calm in stressful situations (as seen below). He even makes a joke when Endeavor dices down the building ‘Hood-Chan’ destroyed.

Even when Endeavor’s down, he’s not panicking.

We see him within minute assess the situation and give Enji his feathers. There’s little panic about how beaten Endeavor is. He’s collected. He’s doesn’t get bothered unless....

This is the first time in that fight Hawks showed anything fierce. There was an expression of concern earlier on, but the moment Dabi showed up, suddenly he was angry.

It’s the first time we see Hawks angry. And as shown above, he kept that anger meeting with Dabi after the fight.

Hawks loses his cool here. He’s visibly angry, he’s not laughing it off, he’s unsettled and upset with Dabi. He’s on the defensive too, because right after accusing Dabi of lying, Dabi turns it around on him and suddenly Hawks is defending himself. In a sense, Hawks know he’s not doing well and is trying to do damage control. That’s why he goes from demanding why Dabi lied to defending why he let people live and has to continue to.

Compared to the sneers and smirks Dabi’s giving him, Hawks is clearly the party here with less handle on his emotions and the situation itself. He isn’t like this with anyone else; and its because Dabi got to him. Because this is the only interaction we see between them, it’s not certain if he’s like this with Dabi generally, but either way, Dabi accomplished making him lose his cool.

3. For now, Dabi holds the cards (but Hawks can turn that around)

As shown, at the moment, it’s Dabi’s who is running the show here. 

I think it’s absolutely right that on a purely physical basis, Hawks can probably overwhelm Dabi. Not an easy fight whatsover, but Hawks is quicker and more adaptable. But just because Hawks is an extremely talented fighter and hero doesn’t mean anything in a game of wits, so what they can do in battle is besides the point.

Dabi and Hawks’s stand off has less to do with their quirks or physical conditions and more verbal and mental warfare. 

So, what does Hawks have for that? Well, one of the reasons he’s able to keep cool or laugh things in the first place is because of how damn smart and resourceful he is. He’s good at manipulating outcomes based on assessing people’s character.

He’s adept at playing a bit of a fool that you don’t know if you should take seriously because that’s how he gets away with it. But with a few sentences he set up the entire Hero Billboard to bolster Endeavor; even admitted it. Hawks’s introduction was basically him manipulating an entire room, even if they didn’t even realize it.

He felt that what the heroes were saying was upholding the same status quo that got them there, and there needed to be an appeal to the public. He broke the mood of the event by interrupting it and set it up that there was no way that Endeavor could follow up with a pre-rehearsed speech. But he also knows (as a fan and an observer) that Enji does NOT give interviews or deal with the press much, and lacks charisma (unlike All Might or himself). Basically, he counted on him being his gruff, stubborn self and that gamble won out. 

That’s how Hawks’s smarts work - he’s an information leech and takes everything he can in before using it. He reads people.

This isn’t the only time he’s been shown to know things (see knowing about Shouto’s exam failure), and he’s been showing digging for information before with taking Tokoyami on as an intern. This is how Hawks works; he’s incredibly observant and because of that, able to think quickly.

That is, until he’s the one thrown for a loop.

Dabi got under his skin because he didn’t predict ‘Hood-chan’. No one did, this is the first High End Noumu they have ever seen and it is far more powerful than anything they’ve seen. Hawks had the foresight to bring along Endeavor, but they had an extremely tough time beating it. Why does this matter? It means Hawks can’t read Dabi when reading and knowing things about Dabi is exactly what he needs to get into the League. Dabi’s his ticket to the League, but Hawks has nothing over him. Dabi is the one dictating the terms of the meetings (he’s the one who said he’ll contact Hawks next time, meaning its up to him), and Hawks’s usual method of knowing and using aren’t working with him.

So, how does Hawks work with that?

Provided he doesn’t lose his cool again, Hawks can put his skills to use. Until he can ‘figure’ out Dabi, he’ll be stuck not being able to predict what Dabi does next. But Dabi’s ‘chatty’ with heroes, far more willing to taunt them. Very few people have perfect poker faces - Dabi’s yelling of ‘Enji Todoroki’ is something to be marked down as suspicious. Continued exposure ensures that Hawks will come upon something he can use.

Until then, Dabi is the one person capable of making Hawks lose his nerve.

#dabi #hawks #bnha dabi #bnha hawks #meta #long post #im sorry for how long this is #bnha meta #dabihawks

[whentommymetalfie]

Breathe again -chapter four

-Tired of hunching in the wind-

Prologue//Chapter one//Chapter two//Chapter three// 

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy

Chapter summary: Alfie deals with the aftermath of what happened on the beach. There might finally be a moment of peace. 

Warnings: suicidal ideation 

Wordcount: 3800

Nothing serves to piss a man off like dragging someone through a storm. Especially when that someone has put themselves into this situation entirely by their own volition and rudely interrupted said man’s sleep. It would make the calmest, most patient of people fucking lose it. And Alfie is neither calm nor patient. He asked for fucking none of this. (He very carefully avoids to think about the fact that he was the one who took Tommy in, no one else. Why should he be held responsible for his past stupid ideas? Preposterous.)

Needless to say, he’s pretty fucking fed up when he finally pulls Tommy up the last few steps to the house.  

He drags him over the threshold into the living room, unceremoniously drops his nearly dead weight onto the sofa and goes to slam the glass doors shut against the howling wind. This time, he locks them.

“Get those wet clothes off,” he says and gestures vaguely to Tommy entire body. “Alright? I’m not doing it for you. And be quick about it-” He’s about to add something along the lines of ‘before you catch your fucking death’, but catches himself at the last moment, wiping away saltwater from his beard and trying to calm his near frantic breaths instead.

Tommy is just looking at the floor, again with that glazed look in his eyes. The one that makes Alfie’s blood boil. But which more worryingly awakens a strange urge to wrap his arms around him and hold him so tightly that all the broken pieces stick back together.

Either way it makes his fingers fucking itch.

He snaps them in front of Tommy without getting any reaction what so ever.

“Oi, are you going to be cooperating here, Tommy? You’ve got fuckin’… sand all over. Thought we’d clean some of that off you before bed. And you’re absolutely freezing on top of that.”  

Tommy doesn’t even look up and the anger sparks hotly inside his head.

Fuck, he’s going to end up beating Tommy absolutely senseless if he doesn’t get a hold of himself.

With his teeth clenched tightly together and nails digging into his palms, he takes a slow breath in through his nose and  then grabs onto Tommy’s upper arms. Not hard, just hard enough. The touch finally makes Tommy look at him.  

“Tommy, you listening?”

Tommy nods slowly.

“Good. That’s good. So, you just focus on getting undressed and I’ll go get some water. Clean that-“ he gestures to the sand that’s sticking to the side of Tommy’s face. “All that off. Alright? Because I don’t really feel like a bath is the right… the right thing for you at this precise moment.”

Tommy nods again and, much to his surprise, starts unbuttoning his trousers with shaking fingers.

Alfie clears his throat and makes for the door. “I’ll just be a minute, alright? Just have to get out of these wet clothes first. You can wrap yourself up in some of those blankets…

He’s already out in the hallway when he says that last part and he tries very hard to ignore that he more or less fled the room in a very undignified and obviously flustered way.

On his way to the bedroom, he considers waking Esther up. But truth be told he’s not in the mood to explain this to her. He can already hear the ‘I told you so’ in his head. And she’ll most likely find out tomorrow either way. Might as well postpone the judgements until then.

After quickly getting himself out of his wet underclothes and into a dry set -with the addition of trousers this time, which feels crucial- he makes his way towards the kitchen, pausing just outside the living room to have a quick look. Make sure Tommy hasn’t decided to run off again. He should knock, but this is his fucking house and there’s a limit to the curtesy he will extend to this not entirely welcomed guest.

Tommy hasn’t run off. He’s in the armchair. The plush, soft one he was sat in earlier. And he’s pulled the thickest blanket tightly around himself, curled into a protective ball and hidden everything but his eyes and hair under it. He’s trembling.

And fuck, Alfie’s heart has decided to be entirely against him in this whole thing because it wrenches painfully in his chest. Fucking… twists and clenches as if his ribs are squeezing around it too tightly. Which is just bloody unacceptable and he reminds himself that he is in fact angry at Tommy for a myriad of different reasons.

Shaking his head, he tries to focus on what he was doing. He should light a fire, first of all. If he’s freezing that’s nothing compared to how Tommy must be feeling. Which is what he mutters when he enters the living room, frustrated with himself for feeling like he has to offer up some explanation to his being there.

Ridiculous. It’s his fucking house.

Tommy once again only answers the statement with a nod.  

Alfie occupies himself with lighting a fire, doing his very best not to glance back to check up on him. He may succeed in the odd feat of building a fire in the most aggressive way possible, throwing the logs and muttering curses under his breath when the first match won’t take and when he bumps into the fire poker, making it clatter to the floor. He can somehow feel Tommy watching him the entire time, which is a sensation that is as unnerving as it is irritating.

He just barely bites back some seething comment when he turns around and finds that Tommy is indeed looking at him with wide eyes above the edge of the blanket. He doesn’t particularly care for being scrutinized in his own fucking home, even when it’s by someone who isn’t all there in the head and just a few hours ago was talking to a fucking stuffed bird, and therefore is entirely unable to make any kind of judgement…

“Stay put,” he grunts at Tommy and stomps off to the kitchen, where he uses the leftover water from the kettle and fills a basin with warm water. He slings two washcloths over his shoulder and carries the water back to the living room, incredibly frustrated that he now has to move with some amount of care in order to not spill the water. Which somehow feels like a personal fucking offence.

At least Tommy has stayed in his armchair. And he even turns to look when Alfie enters.

Alfie places the washbasin down in front of the chair, cursing when some of the water splashes down onto the floor.

He pulls up a footstool and sits down.

“Go on, feet,” he says, gesturing vaguely towards the washbasin. “Let’s start with those.”

All he gets is a blink, and he reaches out and taps lightly at Tommy’s leg. Very hesitantly, Tommy stretches his legs out from their curled position. Alfie grabs onto his ankles and shoves his feet into the washbasin, making him flinch.

Some deeply buried, terrible part of him finds it oddly satisfying.

When he picks up one of the feet to dry it, he pauses.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters and stares down at the scratches and bruises covering the entire sole. “Fuck, Tommy, did you get all these now?”  

“No.” Tommy shakes his head, and adds after a bit: “Some are from before.”

Alfie furrows his brow. “Before? From the walk here, eh?”

He gets a small nod in return.

“Right. But you can’t have walked all the way, that’s not fucking possible even with your ungodly level of determination and stupidity.”

“Not all the way,” Tommy says and furrows his brow, as if searching his memory. But apparently that’s all that resurfaces. Alfie adds ‘search for possible car wreck’ to his to-do list. Then he puts Tommy’s foot back into the warm water and dips the washcloth into it. He washes away the worst of the sand from the cuts, before holding one of the feet up to further inspect the damage. Needs antiseptics too, clearly. Would be just perfect if one of the cuts got infected…

When he returns from the kitchen with the first aid kit, he finds Tommy staring towards the doorway as if awaiting his return. He chooses not to comment on that, goes to sit in front of him and pulls his right foot out of the water again.

“It’s gonna sting a bit, this,” he warns him and then goes about cleaning all the scratches with iodine. If it does hurt, Tommy doesn’t let it show.  

Alfie finds himself being more gentle than he’d like. As if he’s some fucking nurse all of a sudden… Which is not to say that’s not a noble and important profession and all, but it’s certainly not something he’s suited to be. And especially not for the present company.

Some of the scratches start bleeding again once they’re clean, but thankfully none of them look too deep. Not in need of stitches or a doctor, anyway. Or a real nurse.

Small mercies.

Tommy doesn’t move or even flinch through the entire ordeal.

“There we go. Now if we can just avoid more of these little barefoot escapades, I bet those will heal up just fine,” he says once he’s finally wrapped both feet in gauze and Tommy has pulled them back in under the blanket.

After yet another trip to the kitchen to fill the basin with clean water, Alfie dips a fresh cloth into it and mutters, more to himself than Tommy, “Now let’s just get some of that sand off, alright? Start off with the hands, maybe?”

The hands feel safer than having to deal with his face.

Tommy hesitantly sticks out one of his arm, using the other hand to hold the blanket up around himself. Perhaps Alfie should’ve offered him some clothes? He reminds himself to find something for tomorrow, and imagining Tommy in his clothes does make the corner of his mouth twitch. At least that’s something to look forward to.

When both his hands and forearms are clean and free of the fine, prickly sand, Alfie can’t postpone the inevitable and moves on to Tommy’s face. He instinctively moves a bit closer, and holds up the towel to clue him in on his plan.

Without a word of protest, Tommy leans his head a tiny bit to the side to give him better access. Alfie starts to wipe away the sand sticking to cheek. There’s already a dark bruise forming there from his hand.

He’ll have to stare at that and be reminded just how close he got to-

He shakes his head to clear it of the thought.

For a while all that’s heard is the wind whistling outside and the crackling from the fire. The silence and the odd sense of calm filling the room gives Alfie more time to think than he’d prefer.

It’s not the first time he’s this close to Tommy. No, there was that unfortunate incident in the warehouse, wasn’t there? Years ago. That whole thing with the priest, and Tommy’s missing kid. Then they were stood inches apart while Alfie yelled in Tommy’s face. But it’s the first time he’s so close for a such an intimate reason, for lack of a better word -and mind you Alfie has spent a good long while trying to come up with one. It does feel intimate. He's suddenly just very aware that Tommy is wearing nothing underneath that blanket. The thought stirs something hot and pulsing in the pit of his stomach. For some reason he fucking chokes on his breath and a stupid sort of rattling noise escapes him. Tommy glances up at him through his lashes.

“Nothing,” Alfie waves the cloth dismissively, desperately hoping it could be passed of as a strange chuckle. “ ‘s just… It’s been a strange day, alright, wouldn’t you say?”

Tommy nods slowly.

Alfie dips the cloth into the water, rinsing the sand off. Then, he wipes along the sharp line of Tommy’s jaw, continuing under his eyes. Tommy closes them. There’s something about that, something about the way he clearly trusts him. At least in that fragile little moment. As if its shielded from all the things from the past.

Right at that moment, it seems like Tommy would let Alfie do anything to him.

There’s a slow shift in the air. Tension building like the string of a bow being pulled back…

A bit of sand is clinging to the skin right next to Tommy’s mouth. Alfie hesitates for a long moment, before bringing the cloth there. Tommy parts his lips just slightly, drawing a slow shuddering breath, lashes fluttering but eyes remaining closed. Alfie finds himself intently focused on it all.

The string is pulled further back.

Tommy barely seems to be breathing, sitting there so quiet and still, save for the tremors wracking him. If Alfie wanted to, he could reach out, run a finger down the side of his perfectly chiselled jaw. Just… wrap a hand around that slender neck and squeeze until he couldn’t breathe. Hold that grip and see his skin shift into blue and feel his pulse race. Tommy would probably let him.

And it’s a bad, bad thing, innit? Tommy just sitting there, quiet and fragile and trusting. He should know better. Alfie did threaten to shoot him not an hour ago, and that’s just the latest in a row of questionable actions. But Tommy doesn’t have the sense to not trust him right now, that much is clear.

Sitting this close to him, so focused on his face also makes him discover other things which will no doubt lead to only trouble…

Like how Tommy’s lips still look soft and full, despite the rest of him being hollowed out.

How his hair wants to curl softly at the ends now when it’s grown a bit longer.

How even when his skin is translucently pale, he’s got light freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheekbones.

Soft firelight does all kinds of strange things to the mind, doesn’t it?

Alfie clears his throat and drops the cloth down into the basin.

“There we go. Think that’s most of it ,” he grunts and gets to his feet, putting adequate distance between himself and Tommy. Tommy blinks up at him. “And now, you’re going to do such a strange and human thing as sleep for a few hours, alright? In a bed.”

He’s not about to take no for an answer, which he tries to make perfectly clear to Tommy by crossing his arms over his chest and staring him down. Tommy doesn’t seem too keen on the idea. Then again, he doesn’t really seem keen on much of anything, now, does he?

“You’re at least going to lie in the bed. Can’t force you to sleep or anything, but it’s a start,” he says. “Better than sitting here and staring blankly at some  fucking corner, I reckon. And most of all it’d give me at least a short moment of peace.”  

He tries to think of Esther -calm, steady, but gentle. Which shouldn’t be completely impossible he tries hard enough. He thoroughly avoids thinking about how he acted down at the beach. But in his defence, Tommy did fucking piss him off. More than piss him off, really, he deeply wounded and fucking offended Alfie-

He ends up calmly, steadily and gently manhandling Tommy out of the armchair

And with Alfie’s hand firmly planted on his back, Tommy lets himself be lead through the house to one of the guest bedrooms, limping ever so slightly.

“Right, there we are,” Alfie says and opens the door, waiting for him to go inside on his own.  

Tommy hesitantly does, looking around the room with big eyes and clutching the blanket under his chin. Alfie reminds himself to have Esther put out clothes for him tomorrow. Or, well, today. At a more reasonable hour.

“There’s a bathroom over there-“ he gestures towards the door. “And books. If you’d fancy reading something. In my own quite educated experience, that’s a good thing to occupy one’s mind with-“

Tommy is looking at the fireplace.

Alfie asks, in spite of himself, “Would you like me to light that for you?”

Tommy twists his hands into the blanket and only continues looking. Alfie inhales to sigh irritably but stops himself in the last second, silently counts to five and says, “It’s no trouble. Not at all. Will be done in just a minute, if you want it. Reckon you’re still cold?”  

“Yes,” Tommy says, voice barely more than a whisper.

And so Alfie goes to light this fireplace too.

Tommy is seated on the bed when he’s finished. On the edge of it, but it’s a step in the right direction. His eyes are fastened on a stuffed pheasant in one of the bookcases. Alfie picks it off the shelf without a word. Then he heads for the door.

“Alright then,” he says on the threshold. He doesn’t know how to holdthe fucking bird suddenly and settles for gripping the little platform it’s displayed on and letting it hang by his side. “Got everything you need then? Bit of warmth. A good bed. Why don’t you try to lie down for a while?”  

Tommy’s eyes look oddly bright even in the darkness of the room. Feels like they could pierce through his skin…

Alfie’s fingers drum against the pedestal holding the bird.

“Well, goodnight then. Do try to at least close your fucking eyes. Bet it’d do you  a world of good.”

Tommy is still sitting on the bed when he closes the door.

He shouldn’t fucking leave him alone. He’s well aware. The thing is that he’s not completely unable to see what the right option in this situation would be, it’s just that he’s unwilling to actually… choose it. Fuck, he’s already spent a good portion of the night on a blustery beach, for some unknown reason trying to save Tommy from himself. He’s not about to spend the rest of it watching over him. He needs at least a few hours of solid sleep in order to stay somewhat sane. Yeah. It’s the only logical option.

And with that decided, Alfie heads to bed.

However, as past instances have shown, simply deciding to go to bed is not enough to actually fall asleep. This time he’d like to blame the cold, however. Because he’s still fucking freezing. But it doesn’t really matter why he’s awake, the point is that he is. And lying awake leads to certain thoughts,which of course have very little to do with reality, or to do with anything at all, really, but it’s not a good idea to lie awake and let those thoughts take up too much time.

Which is why he quickly gives up on sleeping and sets about solving the issue with the cold.

After getting out of bed with a displeased grunt, Alfie rummages around in a drawer until he finds the hot-water bottle he puts on his back when it’s giving him trouble. That should do the trick.

But when he stands there in the kitchen with the warm, newly filled bottle in his hands, another thought intercepts him. And he knows that logically he should pay no attention to it, because he’s certainly done enough today already. But apparently ‘logic’ is a thing he pays very little attention to these days, because instead of going straight back to his own room, he stops outside the guestroom and knocks on the door.

There’s no answer of course, but he quietly goes inside anyway.

There’s a small lump on the bed, and he goes around to the other side in an attempt to find some opening in the mound of blankets.

Tommy’s eyes are just barely visible, but he can see them glinting in the firelight. Not asleep, then.

He clears his throat, and Tommy’s gaze shifts to him.

“Thought you might still be cold,” he says and holds the bottle out. Tommy blinks at it. He’s still wrapped in that blanket from the living room, underneath all the others. It’s peaking up under his nose.  

“Go on, it’ll heat you back up a little,” he says, trying his damned hardest to sound encouraging. “See, it’s of course impossible to sleep when you’re cold. Heard that the best thing for it is a good pair of socks, but that only works if you’ve got some sort of body heat to begin with.”

He holds the bottle a bit closer. Tommy still doesn’t reach out. Alfie resists the urge to just say fuck it and leave again. Instead he places the bottle down onto the mattress, right next to him.  

After a long moment of hesitation, a pale, still quivering hand reaches out from under the blankets and pulls in the bottle in. There’s some shifting as Tommy seems to curl himself around it and then he lets out a little sigh. It’s the first sign that he’s even remotely enjoyed anything at all since he showed up at Alfie’s door. And it’s… it’s nice. Surprisingly nice actually.

At least he’s managed to do one thing right tonight.

“Right,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “So… Try to get some sleep, alright? It’s no wonder your brain decides to start acting up what with the way you treat it. Try counting sheep or something. Fuck knows if it helps but it could be worth a try-“

Tommy looks up at him.

“Why are you helping me?”

Alfie clears his throat.

“Well, not like you left me much of a choice,” he says. “What with showing up unannounced on my bloody steps. Couldn’t exactly leave you there, could I? Or just let you drown right in my backyard. Or, well, front yard depending on how you see it. I don’t fancy sitting in my armchair looking down at the sea and the beautiful scenery and think about how you fucking drowned yourself there. Bet you’d be one of those restless spirits too…”

He trails off, because for once he just runs out of words.

Tommy says nothing. Just pulls the blanket closer and drops his gaze back to the wall.

But when Alfie has left Tommy’s room and is back in his own, once again lying awake in bed, the question rattles around in his brain.

And the thing is, he doesn’t have a real answer.

Why are you helping me?

Because he’s fucking bored, alright? Seemed like a fun and impossible project to put his energy into.

Because he’s curious about how exactly Tommy got himself into this utterly fucked up state.  

Because it’s the right thing to do.

Not that he’s ever cared about that before.

But maybe old age has turned him soft.

Maybe.

#alfie x tommy #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders season 5 #tw: suicide #blankets are back

[enterprisetrampstamp]

The Martinstown WIP Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

This is Part 3 of what is likely to be a nice, long t’pura fic once I’ve banged it out. It’s a bizarre length and actual amount of plot by my standards, so I’m in want of comments and breaking my usual rules to post sections of it before it’s fully complete. Please, holler at your ambiguously gendered author with any #thoughts you have!

This one goes out in particular to the one lovely anon who cares about this fic as much as I do.

***

Vulcans do not dream. But- on occasion- a lack of focus during their nightly meditation can lead a Vulcan to ruminate so deeply upon past events that they relive them, in a strange and filtered way. "Through the looking glass," a human may describe it.

T'Pring does not know why her mind lingers this night on a day long past--one where the heat of Vulcan's sun beats heavily on her shoulders, and her robes are filled with fruit they have foraged. She is accompanied by Spock. They sit huddled on a rock, deep in the craggy valleys of the desolate mountains, with only I'Chaya as supervision.

They speak of everything and nothing, in the way of children. They become sticky as they eat, and their skin grows hot and flushed with the sallow yellow-green of sunburn, for they have not heeded the words of their mothers.

"No," she insists, as he demonstrates a hand gesture, a tiny furrow of focus between his slanted brows. "That is too close to the regular word."

"We should not wish to forget our symbols," Spock argues, "or we will lose our ability to communicate in secret."

"I will not forget." She peels the skin from her fruit, sniffing. "Are you saying you would?"

He bristles immediately. "I would not."

"Then why would I? I am smarter than you."

"You are not!"

"This argument is illogical."

"You are illogical."

It is her turn to bristle. "I am not!"

"You are always angry. Anger is illogical. Therefore, you are illogical!"

T'Pring remembers how this is meant to go--she should consider her fruit for a long second, the colors red and orange and juicy in her palm. "If you wish to see angry," she should scoff, and then reach over to shove the fruit in his face.

But this time she is older, in her thirties and sitting next to a Spock so small she could easily hold him aloft with one hand. Her fingers are still sticky; she can still feel the heat of her planet's sun against her shoulders--now bare, in the modern style of the rebellious Vulcan woman. A flyaway of hair is caught in the breeze. She stares at the fruit in her palms, feels the roughness of the rocks against her ankles, and something inside of her is screaming. It has been for a very long time now.

"Yes," she says. "I am often angry. I think perhaps that is why our minds were found compatible. You have always struggled to maintain a Vulcan lifestyle, and I have always struggled to accept one. That has not--gotten easier.” She breathes out into the air of a dead planet. “Since this.”

"I do not understand," Spock says.

He is so small. It is illogical to doubt her own memories and more illogical still to question the realities of biological aging processes, and yet still she finds herself questioning how it is possible that either of them were ever so small as he is sitting next to her.

"You would not," she says. "We had not lost this, yet. The innocence of childhood. Our people and our planet. Each other." T'Pring does not look at him in pity, because he does not need it--not as a child, trying to find a place on a world which could not accept him, and not as an adult who has found his place on a starship far away. "There is nothing so illogical as grief, Spock; not even anger, for all that they so often go hand in hand. You have not learned that yet. I regret that one day you must."

"You should not say such things," he tells her, looking worried. In time, he will grow better at hiding these feelings, but she will only grow angrier. "T'Pring, you are being emotional."

"Yes," she says. "But no one is around to know. You do not exist outside of my mind, tiny Spockling." She reaches out to ruffle his hair, and he squawks much the way he had once upon a Vulcan afternoon, with his face covered in fruit.

"I find your behavior illogical and unsatisfactory," he says, all harsh and small. It is adorable. "This will be the first thing I say to you when we complete our private code."

"That is exactly so," she tells him, fond. "Although I think you have secretly always enjoyed seeing another Vulcan behave in this way, no matter how you raise your little eyebrows."

She grows quiet, pensive, and then says quietly, "I miss you, illogically. I was the one who ended this easy camaraderie, fearful that the scrutiny our classmates placed on you for being half-human would reflect back on me to reveal my own struggles. It was the logical move to protect myself, I believed. Now I must wonder if I did not hurt us both instead; we were never on the path to romance, but there was a time when I regarded you as a friend."

There is no one here but yourself, she chides. You need not twist your words to obscure the truth.

"That time continues now," she admits, begrudgingly. "I maintain sentiment towards you, despite our divorce. After all, though it was I who initially suggested our severance, you held nothing but support for my decision despite the future peril in which it places you, should you enter pon farr without our bond to fall back on."

(It had not been her motivation behind the divorce, but she is grateful in a desperate and primitive way that she has been spared from the decision to either kill him by inaction or be forced to cure his fever herself--she is grateful because she knows what she would have chosen, and his agreement to divorce her has denied her conscience the weight of his death.)

"Is this what your meditation seeks to have you acknowledge?" Spock asks in that young voice, but with all the perception of his older self. Or her own, perhaps, since there is no one in her mind but her. "That your path of solitude is a choice you have made on your own?"

T'Pring peels the rest of her fruit, and feels the heat of a sun that she will never again encounter outside of memory. "If that is the case," she says, "I struggle to see the logic in regretting what has already come to pass. My family has perished in the genocide of our people, my friendship with you has long since wilted, and I cannot bear to set foot on our supposed new homeworld. I am alone, but for the humans among whom I live."

"You like these humans," the Spocklet says. He has a handful of freckles along the bridge of his nose. “But you find it difficult to trust them.”

T’Pring does not see a point in answering, even within the meditative construct of a conversation.

The crew of the Martinstown is a self-described family, and that T’Pring finds difficulty with such a concept should be self-evident. They are also of a largely psi null race; to obtain mental intimacy with them would require a deliberate conscious undertaking, and to trust without knowing the inside of another's mind… The very concept is unnerving.

There is a role she plays for her crew, much as there was a role she played for her family on the lost sands Vulcan. Unlike the silence and stoicism of the past, she enjoys the teasing and bluntness of her new persona--but it is a persona nonetheless. 

"You like me," her diminutive companion says, thoughtfully. "Do you trust me?"

She slants a sharp, sideways look at him. "I might," she says begrudgingly. "Though I do not prefer to say so, even within the privacy of my meditation. Must you force me to admit these things?"

"The only one here is you," he reminds her. "You are, as you always are, alone."

"I prefer it that way," she says. "Isn't that what we decided a moment ago?"

"No." Spock stares up at her, his thin arms wrapped about his knobbled knees, and his too-human eyes are small, and dark, and troubled. "We decided that it is what you have chosen; not that it is what you prefer."

T'Pring's heartbeat is quick and loud in her ears. "I see," she says. "I shall need to meditate on this properly at a later date. And there is no logic in telling you goodbye, as you do not exist."

"Very well," he agrees.

She opens her eyes.

The smoky haze of incense fills the air of her quarters- barely large enough for her to stretch her arms to either side and not brush the wall with both fingertips- and her ankles chafe not on Vulcanic rock but on the fibrous fabric of her meditative mat. That this particular hour is classified as “morning” is, of course, arbitrary, but she can smell coffee percolating and hear the distant sounds of movement as the Martinstown’s other habitants likewise stir.

Upon waking after a poker game, the crew is often quiet by their usual standards; Cristobal and Elina will sit in the kitchen among the detritus of the festivities, sharing their dark, bitter coffee as they skim their PADDs for the news, and Pinga and the Captain (whose camaraderie stretches back the longest) can often be found sharing a peaceful silence- and occasionally a stiff drink- on the ship's modest bridge.

(No matter the circumstances, the Leiman siblings independently and uniquely refuse to arise before the theoretical sun. "Artists," Pinga says, as if this word explains everything.)

T’Pring rises from her meditation, first dousing the last smouldering heat of her incense before bending loosely at the waist to roll the mat into a neat cylinder and tuck it beneath the austere desk which takes up nearly a third of the room.

(She uses the surface and the wall behind it to meticulously track not only the Martinstown crew's path through the stars, but also their adventures within them. T'Pring had been hired on, originally, as a record keeper; it has proven a difficult habit to break, even now that her position aboard this ship has little to do with a need for employment.)

T'Pring moves about her routine without haste, but neither does she linger in reflection as she brushes her teeth and hair and sheds the simple robe- of a silken, Terran style- which she had chosen for her meditation.

The revelations of the hallucinatory Spock-child are undoubtedly worth considering--but at a later date, in the darkness and stillness of her quarters, among the smoky haze of the alien scents she has adopted as a meditative focus. (Not only have many Vulcanic spices been lost among the rubble of her planet, but those that remain are difficult to obtain this far away from major Federation outposts.)

She thinks of other things, instead, such as how the braid of her hair is not entirely unlike the elaborate hairstyles of her youth--though less cumbersome, not being piled high atop her head. It is left hanging loosely down between her shoulder blades, tracing the straight slope of her spine.

So too does her manner of dress evoke a reminder of Vulcan without mimicking it; there is the freedom of movement of a traditional robe, combined with the metallic sheen of formal dress. T'Pring typically clothes herself in a simple, lightweight, sleeveless jumpsuit which cinches at her ankles but flows loose about her legs, as well as a stiff, tight vest in a heavy fabric which cuts a sharp line at her shoulders and reaches high up her throat. Both are a deep purple in color- matching her gloves- though the vest is slightly darker and shimmers with the play of light across its surface.

T'Pring has found this combination of garments to be comfortable, casual, and in keeping with the common fashion trends across the galaxy, thereby rendering it inconspicuous.

For economy of space aboard their small ship, the crew have few items of clothing and opt instead to clean them frequently; their choices in attire must therefore be well-suited to a variety of tasks. The combination of sleevelessness and drapery allows her a wide range of motion, while the stiff vest provides additional protection to her torso--a flawlessly logical combination, given the life she leads.

Flawlessly logical. She would roll her eyes if she were human. As if logic is something more than a tool--as if it is the beginning and end of the argument, when incomplete or incorrect data can result in a perfectly logical decision which is nonetheless wrong.

Such scandalous thoughts. T'Pring wishes she could blame the humans for them.

#a tramp stamp original #t'pring #t'pura #femslash #spock #re-reading this after having not been messing with it for a while tells me it needs some remixing #it's still a bit choppy here at the end #and I know the conceit of this scene is......... a bit odd? but it introduces some important concepts #and I really like most of it #I actually adapted it from one of the four or five false starts I took at writing a t'pura fic before I hit on this concept #because I liked it so much #I also spend a weird amount of time (for me) describing fashion in this fic #because I'm really trying to imbue it with that bright funky TOS vibe despite it being an AOS fic #the reboot spends too much time trying to make everyone look modern day stylish. where's the glitter. #me putting everyone in jewel tones and coveralls: it's not wish fulfillment I promise

[ellanainthetardis]

You could write something about haymitch loving Effie's ass and be pretty vocal about it and Effie love to tease him. Could be some stories in different years!! I love ur fanfics ❤️

Here you go! [x}

5 Times Haymitch Appreciated Effie’s BacksideAnd One Time She Did

1.

There was something almost sadistic to watchinghis new escort realize they had lost.

Haymitch sat there on the penthouse’s couch,nursing a glass of whiskey, making the ice click when he brought it to hismouth, listening to the long agonizing beep of the tributes monitors on thecoffee table.

She had been a pain in the ass from day one. Effie Trinket.  A ridiculous name for a ridiculous woman who actually believed Twelve had a realshot. She had tried to force his hand, to get him involved in the mentoring,every time he had snapped she had simply smiled harder and ignored him… This,though, he had seen coming. He had even tried to warn her, out of the goodnessof his dead heart, just because he had noticed she had gotten attached and that… Well, that was never good.

She had been hard on the kids too. Beratingthem about manners and what not – and they had fought about that because whocared if they knew which fork to use for salad and for fish. But at least…Well, at least she had tried to coach them when it had become clear he wouldn’t. She had tried to get him towork with her. That was more than any escort had bothered to do in some years.So, yeah. He had seen her getting attached and in a rare moment of compassionfor a stupid woman with a ridiculous pink wig, he had warned her.

She had refused to listen.

She had brushed him off, scoffed at him, toldhim to watch and learn because now that Twelve had proper management they couldnot lose…

And there they were now, the bloodbath not evenover, six minutes in and already tribute-less.

It would have been funny if it hadn’t been sosad.

She was still standing behind the armchair, herlips slightly parted in shock, her eyes comically wide…

Slowly, he leaned in and turned the monitor offso that strident beep that signaled their tributes’ death would stop. He triednot to notice everything else on the coffee table. She had prepared herself fordays of work at the very least. There were countless notes on sponsors thatseemed to be color-coded, the phone, bottles of water, little sandwiches, alist of everything available to send through sponsor shipment and itscorresponding prices, a list of people she thought might be swayed intosupporting Twelve… Stupid. Genuinelystupid.

He wasn’t sure if he didn’t like the carelessescorts better. The girls who came in at the Reaping and who he hardly ever sawagain because they were too busy going from party to party, being seen. Heended up fucking them more often than not – it was easier to get them to quitthat way.  Those ones never looked crushed when their kids died or, if theydid, it was simply because of how humiliatingit was to represent Twelve.

“Well.” Trinket said at last, battling hereyelashes hard. Haymitch dearly hopedshe wasn’t going to start bawling because he wasn’t going to offer comfort to astuck-up Capitol. He just wasn’t. “Wewill have better luck next year.”

He snorted. Typical. It wasn’t the kids she wassad about then. Just the fact they had lost.

“You believe that, you’re even more of an idiotthan you look.” he spat, taking another sip of whiskey.

“I will thank you not to call me name.” she hissed, glaring at him.

Her anger was out of proportions, he thought.He had been pulling her leg for more than two weeks now and she was usuallyvery good at either ignoring him or retorting something witty that usuallythrew him for a couple of seconds. The only times she had lost her temper hadbeen in regard of his complete lack of interest when it came to mentoring.Every time he had made it about her she had just… let it slide.

Maybe it wasn’t just about losing then.

“I call it as I see it.” he shrugged anyway.“You’re an ugly stupid clown.”

“Youare a disgusting pathetic little man.” she scowled and then stormed out of the room.

How she could move so fast or so swiftly onthose heels, he wasn’t sure, but she certainly made it look easy. He watchedher go because, he had already noticed, watching her storm out wasn’t a bad view. Fuck, but those dresses of hers weretight. He couldn’t vouch for the face caked with make-up as it was and hehated those wigs but it was impossible to ignore her long legs or the shape ofher ass.

“Ain’t nothing little about me, Trinket!” he called after her, unwilling to lether have the last word. “Just ask around!”

A slamming door further down in the penthousewas the only answer he got.

2.

“That woman’s a nuisance but she’s got an assto damn a saint.” Chaff snorted in his glass, his eyes riveted on the dancefloor over Haymitch’s shoulder where Trinket was dancing – if that sensualswaying she was doing could be called that– to the slow beat of the music. “I don’t get why you haven’t fucked her yet, buddy.”

Haymitch scoffed, not even glancing in herdirection. He didn’t have to. The mirror behind the bar was enough for him tokeep an eye on her. “Not interested.”

Chaff’s gaze darted to him, eyebrows lifted, anamused expression on his face. “Like hell. She’s just your type.”

“She’s a clown.” he grumbled.

“They’re allclowns.” his friend shrugged. “Never stopped you before. You know what I say…Turn off the light, you don’t have to look at their painted face while you fuck them.”

“Turning off the light won’t make her stoptalking though.” he pointed out, taking a long swing of whiskey. “Nothing makes her stop talking.”

Two years of listening to her prattle aboutfashion or manners had taught him that. The painful way.

“Keep her mouth busy, then.” Chaff joked andHaymitch rolled his eyes, his lips stretching into a smirk despite himself.

He switched topics though, bringing theconversation back on that year’s Games and what they should expect. They keptthe whiskey flowing too.

So much so that by the end of the night hewouldn’t have been able to give his whole name without stuttering. He wasvaguely aware that Chaff handed him over to someone far more smaller and farless strong than he was but it took him a good ten minutes to realized theperson supporting his weight in the elevator was Trinket.

“You know…” he slurred. “I hate you…”

“A sentiment I share, I assure you.” shegrumbled, adjusting her grip on him because he couldn’t really stand straight.Her arms were so strained they were trembling so he decided to help her bywrapping his around her. She huffed and wrinkled her nose, trying to keep herhead away from him. “You stink! Whenwas the last time you showered? You reek of alcohol and sweat, Haymitch! It is disgusting.”

He didn’t bother trying to make sense of thattirade through his alcohol soaked brain.

“I hate you…” he insisted, the words takingweird shapes in his fuzzy mouth. “But you’ve got the greatest ass I’ve everseen…” And to prove it, he seized half of it in one hand and gave it a generoussqueeze that made her gasp and whack his arm. He sighed contently beforeletting go, nodding to himself. “Great ass…”

She stuttered a rebuke but she was crimson underher make-up and he couldn’t really tell if she was really angry or not.

3.

Fingers clicked right in front of Haymitch’sface, making him startle. He blinked in time to see Chaff rolled his eyes andgesture at him with his stump to decide what he wanted to do. Haymitch glancedat the cards in his hand – cards he hadn’t really been paying attention to, tobegin with – and wisely decided to fold.

Seven’s floor’s dining-room was a littleclouded from the cigars Chaff, Blight and Beetee were sharing. Haymitch hadtaken one but it had mostly consumed itself, forgotten in his hand. He had beendistracted during the entire poker game.

“What are you thinking about that’s so damn riveting?” Chaff complained. “Youhaven’t said a word all night.”

“Nothing.” he denied while Beetee gathered thechips he had won in that round.

“Like hell.” Blight laughed. “I know that face.You’ve got a new lady, ‘Mitch?”

Haymitch hated being called Mitch and only suffered it becauseSeven’s heavy accent made it sound more like an actual word than a nickname.

“No.” he lied, grabbing the deck of cards todeal out more. He strongly suspected Beetee had been cheating every time it hadbeen his turn to deal the cards.

Well. It wasn’t really a lie.

So what if he had fucked Effie Trinket against a wall a couple of times? Tempers hadflown high. It had gotten to the point it was either fuck or murder and itwasn’t like they had planned it…Accidents happened. Sometimes you slipped. Against the wall. Against the baywindow. In the elevator.

That had been last year though. Quick and roughand probably not that good for her because he had just thrust into her a fewtimes to chase after his selfish release. He had fully expected it to neverhappened again when he had boarded the train back to Twelve. Truth be told, hehad fully expected to never see her again either because most people tried toavoid awkward situations like the plague.

Not Effie Trinket though.

Never Effie Trinket.

She had showed up for the Reaping prim andproper, had invaded his house and orderedhim to get presentable, all the while pretending nothing had ever happened…He had followed her lead on that front, thinking it had been for the best.

And then, merely five hours later – perhaps arecord for them – they had started arguing again. And he had pushed her on oneof the train’s couches. And she had parted her legs for him as if that had beenall she had been after from the start. And maybethat time he had tried to make it alittle better for her…

And then…

They weren’ta thing. They never talked about it again.

They fought and they fucked and then they righted their clothes and went on withbusiness.

They had never even made it to the completelynaked stage. Hell, they had never even made it to a bed.

But now he knew what her breasts tasted like,what she sounded like when she came, and the previous day he had caught aglimpse of tantalizing creamy round flesh when she had pushed her dress backdown and…

He had been obsessed with her ass ever since.

He wanted her bent over.

He wanted her bent over the couch and he wantedto stand behind her and…

“You’re gone again.” Chaff sighed. “Look,buddy, if you’re not gonna play…”

“I’m playing. Fuck off.” he snapped, tossing two more chips on the pile in themiddle of the table.

The thing was… How to get her to agree to fucking her from behind. They never discussed sex. It happened. And itusually happened fast and brutally. She was demanding and she had no problemshowing him what she wanted while they were doing it or going after it herselfbut there was a difference between having someone against a wall and forcingher to bend over a couch.

He got lost in the fantasy for a second and hispants were definitely too tight the next time Blight reminded him, with alaugh, that it was his turn.

He grumbled about his friends being assholesthat night when he added more chips but he was too distracted to really pushthe point home.

He wanted to do things to her he had never donewith anyone else. Would she let him spank her while he fucked her? It was so hard to say with her… She acted like aperfect lady but he had quickly discovered that when it came to sex… She was atiger. She was… The idea of leaving a reddish mark on her pale skin…

He gulped down the glass of whiskey he still hadn’ttouched, trying to drown those thoughts away.

At the end of the night, he was veryfrustrated, very horny and much poorer.

Which was why he let Chaff convince him theyshould head to the bar and why he let a Capitol woman buy him a drink. That one,he already knew, was so desperate to hook up with a victor she would probablyagree to anything.

4.

He should really get out of her bed now,Haymitch thought.

This had been happening more and more lately.The post-sex lingering, the cuddling, sometimes on rare occasions even somenapping… But he couldn’t really get himself to move, not when Trinket was lyingon his chest, all spent and sweaty, and he was warm and comfortable. One of hishands was playing with her hair, the other one was distractedly following thecurve of her ass…

She suddenly chuckled, for no obvious reasonthat he could see.

“What?” he muttered, tugging on a lock of blondhair just to irritate her. It always took far too negotiating to get her to getrid of those ugly wigs. That, too, was a recent development, her reluctantwillingness to let him see her bare from make-up and synthetic hairstyles.

“You are obsessed with my hair and my ass.” sheaccused, propping her chin on his chest so she could look at him. Her blue eyeswere twinkling with mischief, an impudent grin stretched her lips, and he felthimself smirk in response.

“Wouldn’t say obsessed.” he denied. Although… He did have something for her hair. And he did love staring at her bare butt.

And he knew she knew.

She certainly took advantage of it when itsuited her.

“They’re your favorite things about me.” shecountered.

He contemplated that for a second, his fingersleaving the curve of her bottom to brush against every bump of her spine. Heprobably should be alarmed at the casualness with which she proclaimed he had favorite things at all but… Well…Sex was such a common occurrence between them nowadays… They had been at it forwell over five years now. If he hadn’t been attracted, he wouldn’t keep comingback for more.

“I like your legs too.” he shrugged. “And yourtits. Can’t forget about the tits…”

He also liked her slender neck. And her eyes.And her mouth. And her bellybutton. And what lied between her legs.

It was something of a shock to realize therewas nothing he didn’t like about herbody. Sure, he usually went for brunettes and she was very blond but there werereddish hues under certain lights he couldn’t help but be fascinated with. Andit was so impossibly curly that…

“Well, I amextremely attractive.” she hummed.

“You’re full of yourself.” he scoffed, lettinghimself get distracted by her usual arrogance instead of panicking. “That’swhat you are.”

“I would rather be full of you.” she purred inthat distinctive tone.

She was a minx. A fiery minx.

“Ain’t you already?” he taunted, reachingaround her to brush his fingers between her legs, causing her to press hardagainst his hips. Her thighs fell open and his smirk only deepened when he feltthe sticky mess they had made. They hadn’t stopped using condoms so long agothat the novelty had worn off yet. He had never done it without protectionbefore her and he had to admit he liked the change. It was… arousing in aprimitive way.

She licked her lips, her hips rocking slowpurposeful circles against his groin. “Don’t pretend you do not want me again.”

Oh, he did.It wasn’t even funny how quickly she could get him up with the right word orthe right move… And when she behaved like this… So sexy and bossy…

He rolled them over but moved away before shecould trap him by wrapping her legs around his waist. He turned her on herstomach and straddled her, gripping her wrists high over her head. She gave atoken resistance because she never relinquished control easily but soon stilledunder him, straining her neck to toss him an impatient look over her shoulder.

“Sometimes today, Haymitch.” she demanded.

She was too haughty for his taste and hedecided he was going to take his time.

He started by nibbling at her nape and thenbiting a steady path down her spine, leaving red marks in the wake of his mouththat she would probably rage over later on. For now, though, her breathing wasshort and heavy and by the time he reached the small of her back, she waswriggling, trying to rub herself against the mattress.

“You keep those hands up there, sweetheart.” heordered, finally letting go of her wrists to move further down. He spread herthighs, like always a bit surprised by how flexible she was, and placed himselfbetween them. By game or frustration, she immediately tried to sneak her handbetween her  legs. He slapped her rightcheek, not hard enough to bruise but with enough strength that it would sting.“What did I say?”

“I am not in the mood for games.” she growled.“Just fuck me already.”

Vulgarity, in her mouth, was always an instantturn on and he couldn’t help himself. He thrust into her hard, making her cryout in pleasure. She wanted him to fuckher, he could oblige. He drove home hard, again and again, spurred on by thenoises she was making. Eventually, he shifted positions and just lied down ontop of her. The angle wasn’t deep enough and she growled in protest but hesimply smirked against her shoulder, licking and biting in turns.

“Haymitch.” she warned.

“I do like your ass.” he confessed, brushingher hair to the side so he could bump his nose against her cheek.

“If you want to be allowed to see it again, Iwould advise you to stop teasing.”she hissed.

He chuckled.

He loved it when she was like that. All riledup and desperate to climax. He loved making her lose that composure of hers. Heloved it when she begged.

“Say please.” he teased.

“Go to hell.” she retorted.

“Sure.” he snorted. “But after I come all overyour ass, yeah?”

He was close now so he simply slipped out ofher to sit up and he would probably have done just that if she hadn’t managedto somehow make him lose his balance. He blamed those self-defense classes shekept bragging about. He ended up flat on his back and she lost no time instraddling him and guiding him inside her again.

He very rarely allowed her to be on top likethat, with him sprawled on his back. She didn’t care though, she rode him withabandon, her eyes closed, her own hands kneading her breasts…

She was a vision.

And it was his undoing.

She kept rocking her hips after he was spent,seeking her own pleasure. He felt a bit shaky but he reached between her legs,stroking her and watching her move up and down…

She came with a sharp mewl, her head thrownback, and then she slumped on his chest again and they were right back wherethey had started.

Except he was very sleepy now.

He fell asleep clutching her ass.

There were worse way to do that.

5.

“This is simply atrocious.” Effie sighed.

Haymitch tuned her out, too used by now to herrants about Thirteen uniforms. He focused on the reports in front him, glancingat Command’s door for the tenth time in as many minutes. He wasn’t sure if hewas anxious for the briefing to start or happy the others weren’t there yet.Coin was already grating on his every last nerves and Plutarch’s attempts atconvincing him to roll with her plans for now weren’t helping.

His priority was to keep Katniss out of troubleand to convince Thirteen to launch a rescue mission for the captured victors,though, and that required Coin not to hate him too much.

“I simply look fat.” his escort insisted, twisting left and right to betterglimpse her vague reflection on one of the turned off screens in the room.

Haymitch dropped the report in his hand tostudy her, unable to claim she was wrong there. Those second-hand frayedjumpsuits didn’t fit anyone and she wasn’t the exception to the rule. Itactually looked even worse on her because she was so thin the fabric was baggyall over. It was shapeless.

And he stillfound her beautiful, which was probably telling about his own feelings.

“On the bright side, I don’t have to watchpeople ogle your ass all day long anymore.” he shrugged.

She whirled around with a bright smile and fartoo much amusement dancing in her eyes. “Why, Haymitch… Does it bother you whenother people eye me?”

She always delighted on potential displays onjealousy.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Bigger fishes tofry right now, yeah?”

She sauntered to the chair next to his and satdown, far too smug for his liking. He faked reading the reports again.

“Plutarch is still ogling me even with thejumpsuits, you know.” she hummed casually.

“Noticed.” he mumbled. Because he had. And itirritated him. A lot. “Also noticed you encourage him.”

“Well. A girl likes to be admired now, doesn’tshe?” she retorted.

“A girlshould know better than playing recklessly.”he commented, not glancing away from the papers in front of him. “Look, I ain’tsaying it ain’t smart for you to be friendly with Plutarch…” Because that waswhat it was all about, he figured. Cozying up with people in power who couldkeep her safe from the rebels who weren’t too happy with her presence in theirDistrict. He didn’t think she particularly likedHeavensbee, the Head Gamemaker kept treating her like an assistant. “But turnit down a notch, yeah? The next thing you know, he’s gonna think he’s got areal shot.”

“Perhaps he does.” she teased.

He let his hand fall from the table on herthigh, grateful that the room was empty.

“Your ass is mine, Princess.” he claimed.

“I am not limited to my ass, you know.” she sighedwith amusement. “And must you alwaysbe so crass?”

“I know you’re not.” he replied. She wascleverer than most but she was very good at pretending to be nothing else thana pretty face. “Ain’t sure he does.”

“You are jealous.” she chuckled.

He squeezed her thigh and took his hand away.“Of Plutarch Heavensbee? Hardly.”

“Good.” she grinned, tilting her head to theside. She looked him up and down in that provocative way that usually led themto shed their clothes. “There really is noreason to be.”

6.

Effie finished loosely knotting the belt of hersilk dressing gown as she walked into the kitchen, her lips immediatelystretching into a smile when she spotted Haymitch getting busy at the stove.Quiet mornings in Twelve might be her favorite things nowadays. The fainthonking of the geese outside, the familiar humming of the old fridge, theplumbing that sometimes clang when they opened a tap…

And Haymitch cooking, of course.

“I suppose I should be happy you remembered toput on an apron.” she teased, trying her best to contain her laughter.

To her discharge, it was hard to remainimpassible faced with Haymitch Abernathy wearing a kiss the cook apron and nothing else.

With him taking care of their eggs and her backto her, she had a very nice view of his backside and she sat down at the tableto better admire it.

“You made it clear you didn’t want my junkdamaged so…” he shrugged, winking at her over his shoulder.

She had insisted on them buying an apron if hewas to go on cooking without clothes on because, yes, she was concerned hewould burn himself in areas she liked intact. He had been the one to choose theridiculously corny kiss the cook design– so she had no choice but to kiss him every time he wore it, or so he claimed.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, is it my fault if you insist on always walkingaround naked?”

“It’s myown fucking house. Can walk aroundnaked in my own fucking house.” hegrumbled.

It was a touchy subject. Mostly because thechildren kept barging in without warning and Haymitch wasn’t always the onlyone naked.

After a few minutes, he placed the eggs on twoplates and she stood up to pour them both some coffee. They danced around eachother in the kitchen as they grabbed everything they needed for breakfast in awell-rehearsed ballet. She couldn’t help but stare at what the apron wasn’t hidingthough.

“Like what you see?” he mocked with a smirkbefore dropping on a chair.

And there wassomething to be said about him sitting naked on furniture but it was a fightshe had long accepted to lose.

“There are worse sights.” she grinned, leaningdown to steal a kiss because they had yet to properly greet each other thatmorning.

They were so domestic those days…

But she wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

There reallywere worse things than having to stare at Haymitch’s naked ass everymorning.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #games time #mj time #post mj #movie!verse #flighting hayffie #coconuts #cuddles #fluff #d13 #not established #coconuts friends #established

[arlingtonpark]

SNK 110 Review

#cultoferen4life edition

You know what’s a face you don’t want to find yourself making during a high stakes poker game? Confusion and surprise.

The fact that the EFC has the upper hand in this game of political cat-and-mouse is becoming more obvious by the chapter - no, by the page.

In this one chapter the Eldian Freedom Caucus has: 

Infiltrated the military. 

Killed Paradis’ leader. 

Busted Eren out of jail. 

And turned the people against the government.

Let me be clear here: this is it. It’s game time. Zero hour. The EFC is making its move, and as for our heroes?

“What’s going on right now?”

They’ve been caught with their pants around their ankles!

And so the trend continues. The EFC acts, the moderates react. They leak information to the public, Paradis reacts by jailing them. They secretly meet with Eren, Paradis reacts by jailing the volunteers. And the one time Paradis tries to take the initiative, by labeling Zeke DOA and feeding him to Historia, is foiled, presumably by Zeke’s machinations. The extremists are always five steps ahead, meanwhile the moderates are struggling just to keep up. The bad guys are winning, here.

Words cannot describe how fucked they all are right now.

But on the plus side- things I predicted that have been confirmed by this chapter: 

The presence of a right-wing nationalist faction among the population.

That these people look to Eren for leadership.

That they do it because he’s a war hero and has the Founding Titan.

Bow before me for I am your new King!

It’s not surprising at all that Eren is in league with the nationalists. Yeah, Eren cares a lot about his friends and about the Eldian people in general. That’s not a bad thing. That’s also not the point.

I cannot stress this enough.

It’s beside the point that Eren is (presumably) doing this because he wants to protect what’s important to him. Eren is a bad person because he thinks in a bad way. He thinks like a nationalist. And it’s not just him.

Floch, Louise, and reaching into our world for examples, Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin, these people and Eren are all cut from the same cloth. They all think the same way. That is what binds them.

The thing that’s important to understand about these people is that dominance plays a huge role in how they assess the world. People like Eren have a very brutalistic worldview. They think there are only two kinds of people in this world: strong people and weak people, with the strong naturally dominating the weak.

That Eren sees things this way is made clear in the very first chapter of the series. In fact, it’s the very first thing he says:

“That day, the human race was reminded of the terror of being dominated by them and the shame of being held in a bird cage.”

The narrator is obviously supposed to be Eren and that’s been clear since chapter 1. The tell is when Eren describes humanity as being in a bird cage, which is exactly how the narrator described humanity’s state of affairs in the opening.

(As an aside, if Eren is the one telling the story of SNK to us and he’s still caught up in his right-wing nationalist mindset, then that basically tells you everything you need to know about how the story ends.)

The titans keep humanity from going out beyond the walls and Eren frames this as humanity being dominated. Furthermore, and tellingly, Eren describes this situation as being shameful.

Think about that.

How would you describe humanity’s situation?

Dire? Untenable? Awful? Besieged?

Now look at how Eren describes it.

Shameful.

Humanity has been forced to live on a limited tract of land with limited resources and the only thing Eren can think about is the indignity of it.

Like a nationalist would. The indignity of injustice being visited upon a tribe is a common trope amongst nationalists. It’s what fuels the sense of grievance they use to propel themselves to power.

Eren hated the titans even before they attacked Shighanshina. The reason why was expounded upon in chapter 73. It’s because they prevent him from experiencing the world outside the walls. This fact makes Eren feel an unnatural amount of anger towards the titans, even though the titans aren’t sapient and thus are unworthy of that anger.

The titans are not intelligent beings, they are, as far as the walldians know, a force of nature; being Eren levels of angry at them before the Grim Reminder is like being angry at the laws of physics for preventing us from exploring the universe.

“And that’s when I knew I wasn’t free. I realized I had been living in a birdcage all that time. And that gravity had taken my freedom. The universe was so big, but it’d forced me into a tiny cage. And when I realized that I knew I could never forgive it.”

The irrational animosity Eren displays against the titans reveals a certain kind of egomania on his part. Eren is pissed at the titans because he thinks they’ve taken something that belongs to him. He thinks he has a birthright to the world. We know he does because he flat out says so in chapter 14.

“Why did you ever want to go to the outside world?”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s because I was born into this world!!”

That’s ridiculous.

Eren, and everyone else for that matter, has no birthright to the outside world. As a person, Eren has the right to live as he chooses and that includes the right to live where you choose. But a couple things:

First, rights are not absolute. They can be justly limited, and there are exceptions to them. You have a right to freedom of speech, but you cannot slander others. You have a right to freedom of movement, but your right can be limited in the form of being required to fill out paper work and have a passport to travel. You have a right to life, but, under some circumstances, someone can kill you and not be in the wrong. Self-defense is the go-to example of this.

Second, rights cannot be violated by non-persons. Titans are not people; they are incapable of intelligent thought. Because they are not people, they are also not moral agents. Being a moral agent means you are capable of being held morally responsible for your actions. Because of that, titans are exempt from moral judgement. They cannot take your freedom any more so than a tornado can. To make such a claim would be completely irrational.

Yes, the titans physically limit Eren. Because of them he cannot go where he wishes to go. In that sense they have taken away his freedom. But it is important to distinguish between freedom as it pertains to getting what you want and freedom as it pertains to enjoying certain rights you are entitled to.

When it comes to Eren, the object of what drives him is the former, but he thinks of it in terms of the latter. In other words, he thinks he has a birthright to something by virtue of the fact that he wants it. He believes he has a right to see the outside world in the same way one may think they have a right to fuck a really hot person. Because “I was born.”

Seeing the world? That is a luxury. Especially in a world where 90% of the population lives in poverty.

Eren wanted to see the outside world but was prevented from doing so, and he hated the source of that prevention, the titans. He hated them because they dominated him, because they had power over his life. The fact that they had this power over him was not unfair. Concepts like fair/unfair, just/unjust, right/wrong cannot be applied to non-persons, as I just said. He hated them anyway because of the position of powerlessness it placed him in.

This is indicative of his dominance-centric mindset.

Implicit in Eren’s dominance-mindset is zero-sum thinking. Zero-sum thinking is a way of thinking about the world. People who think this way believe that if you win, someone else necessarily loses. There are only two kinds of people in this world: winners and losers. The strong and the weak. The dominators and the dominated.

Prediction time! I’m sure some people were floored when I pegged Eren as a right-wing nationalist as early as chapter 105. Now I’m back with an even wilder prediction: I think Eren might be a racist.

Seriously. His dominance-centric worldview. His zero-sum thinking. The underlying fundamentals of racist thought are there. Add in the fact he rejects the notion that the races can coexist and it’s hard to not speculate.

Racism here refers to the belief that there are fundamental differences between the races and that because of this the only way they can coexist is in a society where one dominates the other.  

Eren’s focus on dominance leads him to obsess over strength and being strong. If you think we live in a world where the strong dominate the weak, you naturally want to be strong. You want to be the dominator. Eren’s obsession with being strong is a through line for his character.

When Hannes is killed, Eren wails about how he’s still too weak to protect anything he cares about.

As they’re making preparations for the Battle of Orvud, Eren flashes back to his mother’s death. She died because he was weak. That’s what Hannes told him, though in a more tactful way. As recently as the end of the Uprising Arc, that’s how he thought of it. He punches himself, trying to beat a “useless, pathetic brat” out of him. Implicitly, he’s pledging to be strong and make a meaningful contribution.

Because they see the world in terms of dominance, Nationalists naturally are also obsessed with strength and shows of strength. Chest-thumping bluster is a common hallmark.

These two facets of Eren’s thinking, dominance and strength, come together in the moment he vows revenge on the titans.

“Mom’s gone!! I’m never going to see her again. Why is this happening to us? Is it because humans are weak? Is crying the only thing the weak can do?! I’m going to destroy them!! Every last one of those animals that’s on this Earth!!”

Revenge is another common nationalist trope. In a nationalist context, the term for it is revanchism. Revanchism, the word, is derived from the French term for “revenge.” After losing a war with Germany in the 1870s, part of France’s territory was subsumed by Germany. French nationalists vowed revenge. The Germans had taken their land from them. They were trespassing on land that belonged to the French people. Not the French government, but the people of France.

In more modern times, people like Donald Trump speak in revanchist terms. They speak of taking back what was theirs and punishing the ones who took it from them. Eren thinks the same way. Taking back America and punishing Obama and his followers. Taking back Wall Maria and punishing Reiner and Bertolt. Revanchism is the common denominator.

That moment in this chapter when Eren takes the proffered Hoodie of Douchebaggery and assumes the role as EFC leader has been a long time coming. It is a culmination. Eren has matured. What he has matured into is monstrous.

The titans may have been eradicated, but Paradis is still crawling with mindless monsters. They congregate near government buildings where their calls can be heard for miles.

“Slaughter the Marleyans!”

“Eren Yeager will deliver us unto the Promised Land!”

“Eren is soo hot!”

You know at least one person in that crowd was thinking that.

So you’ve got this guy. He’s an outlaw, but not just any outlaw. He’s an outlaw because he speaks the truth. He’s an outlaw because he stands up for the little guy and fights the corrupt, incompetent establishment. As far as the people of Paradis is concerned, that’s basically Eren, right? We can all agree on that, right?

Yes? Okay, good, in that case I’m probably going to have to skip the next chapter because if this is what Eren is to the people then you know what’s coming.

Eren Yeager: Folk hero.

God have mercy on us.

This is all Eren’s fault.

What did Eren spend the whole first half of this series calling for? He spent it calling for the people to see themselves as part of a singular group whose survival was at stake and to fight back. His plea was basically a nationalist one.

(Nationalism is, arguably, not inherently bad. If you are a genuinely oppressed group, some degree of nationalism could be a good thing.)

Well, Eren got what he wanted. He won. The people see themselves as a singular group under threat and are prepared to fight. Now they’re calling for genocide.

Killing all titans makes sense. Giant, non-intelligent animals that are a threat to you? Yeah, knock yourself out. But human beings? No, God no.

Eren has always called for the walldians to fight the titans. Implicit in that is the fact that this would be a fight to the death. Only one side was going to make it out of here alive. Either the titans kill all humans or humans kill all titans.

Eren’s plea, implicitly, was for the walldians to kill all titans.

That is what he was calling for and he got what he wanted. By the start of the Return to Shighanshina Arc, the people were cheering the Survey Corps on.

But titans aren’t the enemy anymore. The enemy is other human beings and you just can’t call for killing all humans because that’s fucked up. And yet here we are!

“Slaughter the Marleyans!”

The situation has changed but the kill all titans mentality Eren strove to cultivate in the minds of the people has carried over. The Eren’s plea for more walldian nationalism has well and truly backfired, though that’s assuming Eren himself sees this development as unfortunate.

Which he may well not.

And yes, if the walldians lose they will all be killed. But just because the Marleyans are swimming in the gutter doesn’t mean the walldians have to join them. This doesn’t have to be a “loser dies” type of situation. It only becomes that if both sides are committed to genociding the other in the event of victory.  

What Paradis needs, what all sides to this conflict need, are more people like Armin. People who are willing to be compassionate and forgiving even to their mortal enemy. People who are willing to de-escalate the situation and turn away from the brink.

The same is true for Marley. If some Armin-type character were to gain power in Marley then the chances of peace would shoot up dramatically. That’s how situations like this usually end up with a peaceful conclusion. Both sides are willing to make a good-faith effort at peace.

But that doesn’t seem to be coming. On Marley, no one in a position to do so is calling for peace. That’s not surprising given the attack they suffered. On Paradis, people like Armin are in greater supply, but they feel, accurately, that they have to fight to survive.

We are moving, inexorably, towards disaster and the brakes aren’t working. Even if the titan powers were to excised from the Eldian people there would still be war. There’s just too much bad blood at this point.

You know, sometimes I can’t believe my luck. When I first started covering this series my biggest worry, aside from my poor grammar, was that I would struggle to find material with which to write about. I suck at character analysis; I just don’t have the attention to detail for it.

But wouldn’t you know it? I have a deep interest in politics and it seems I’ve jumped aboard just when politics is starting to dominate the narrative.

This recent batch of chapters have been very political in their content, and, it turns out, in a way mirrors American politics. The scene where Zackley gets boehnered by the Eldian Freedom Caucus is hilarious. And who can forget Jean grimly wondering what Eren and Zeke discussed, especially in light of the former’s inexplicable pro-Zeke attitude? I can’t believe that moment actually exists!

It’s actually hilarious how much the situation on Paradis parallels the Republican Party. Seriously, just think about it:

Floch and his team – The House Freedom Caucus, a group of right-wing extremists who’re a constant thorn in the side of the more moderate Party leadership even though both factions actually agree on what they want. Among all Republican politicians, they are the most obsequious to Trump.

Zeke Yeager – Russian dictator Vladimir Putin, a clear threat who seems to exercise some sort of control over Donald Trump.

Eren Yeager – President Donald Trump, the shithead President of the United States who inexplicably acts as though he’s under Putin’s control.

The denizens of Paradis – The Trumpistas, the faction of Republican Party voters who support Trump to an almost cult-like extent. Unfortunately for the party leadership, which is seriously put off by Trump, these people are actually the majority of the party’s membership. This forces leadership to be accommodative towards Trump for fear of a popular uprising that will destroy them.

Paradis’ leadership – The Republican Party leadership, the leaders of the party who fight hard for what they believe in but find themselves surrounded by fucking stupid people. Ostensibly, they’re on the same side as the Freedom Caucus, but in practice they’re actually at odds with each other because the HFC thinks they aren’t extreme enough in their methods. Even though they’re the leaders, the majority of party members don’t actually like them, but those same members fucking love Trump, so leadership is forced to live with the threat of a popular uprising unless they kowtow to this fucking twerp even though his impulsive actions are counterproductive. Leadership is seriously put off by Trump, mostly because of his coziness with Putin. They deal with this situation by trying to be “the adults in the room.” They try to mitigate Trump’s worse impulses and stand ready to pull the plug on him entirely if things get too hairy.

Needless to say, this all amuses me to no end.

#snk 110 #snk chapter 110 #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #spoilers #eren jeager

[z-nyx]

Didn’t See it Before - Chp 4

Chapter 4 is here! My promise to release a chapter each week is becoming kinda difficult with the workload I’ve got but I’m trying my best :) I’ll try and make the chapters have more content in the future chapter and fanfics to come - that I can promise. 

A/N: I’m not sure about genres if you haven’t noticed, but I think this is might be more of angst than anything. Please correct me if I’m wrong.

~ Nyx-bx is out! ✌🏾

Introduction to Nyx-bx

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Ft. Taehyung) 

Genre: Angst(??), University/College au!

Word Count: 1570

Chapter: 4

Other Chapters: 1 2 3

Next Chapters: 5 6

Summery: Just when you thought you had life figured out. Just when you thought everything was working out in your favour. You had to fall for him. Everyone around you could see you were falling for this guy…literally. You didn’t want want to admit it. You felt if you admitted it, then it was true.

~

*Beep* 

*Beep*

*Beep*

It was now six o’clock in the evening and your alarm started to ring. The three hour nap didn’t suffice. You were drained.

As you groaned, forcing yourself to sit up, you cursed at yourself for picking another three years of education. You leaned over to grab your phone from your nightstand, and saw a number of messages.

Brooke 2 messages

14:30 Brooke: Hey Y/n :))

14:31 Brooke: Is everything okay? Earlier today on campus, you seemed a little…out of it. Just want to make sure you’re alright x

Brooke was so kind to you. And you could tell she was a genuine, caring person. She just wanted to make sure your were okay. You couldn’t blame her because she doesn’t know about Jungkook’s feelings for her, nor did she have any idea about your feelings.

18:03 You: Hey Brooke

18:03 You: I’m just tired, you know? With midterms coming up, I’ve just been a little stressed. I’m fine really :)) x

You had to lie. You didn’t want any other people involved which could make situations more difficult to handle than it already is.

18:06 Brooke: Right…well I’m here for you if you need anything or anyone to talk to :) x

Tae - 3 messages

15:24 Tae: Yo Y/n, I hope you can still make it for the study session later with moi and you know who ;)

15:24 Tae: I’ll make sure to bring a load of snacks and munchies!!

15:30 Tae: Btw, have you seen Jungkook? He wasn’t in our dorm when I got back and he still isn’t here.

Seeing that last message only reminded you of the conversation you heard few hours ago. Maybe Brooke left with him after all…

18:10 You: The last time I saw him was when I was coming back to my dorm.

18:10 You: Actually, I didn’t see him, I heard him. He was talking to Brooke :/

Not long after sending the message, Tae replied with a string of messages. 

18:11 Tae: Wait, what? Why was he with Brooke? Don’t take it the wrong way Y/n, okay? He doesn’t even like her in that way...

18:11 Tae: And what do you mean by ‘you didn’t see him but heard him’?? Are you avoiding him or something??

‘Once again this boy and his damn questions!’ you muttered to yourself, getting frustrated.

But you weren’t getting angry at him, you were angry because your emotions were now getting out of hand. if Tae was able to notice, then surely Jungkook can read you like an open book.

You were surprised by what Tae just said. ‘He doesn’t even like her like that Y/n’…How would he know Jungkook’s feelings? Jungkook personally told you that he liked her, so where would Tae get that idea from?

18:12 You: Jungkook told me himself that he likes her. He practically drools whenever he sees her. I’m his wingman after all, I would know! XD

You laughed a little knowing how he would respond.

18:12 Tae: WHAT?!?! He asked you to be his wingman and not me?! I can’t believe this’

You laughed out loud at how accurate your guess was. 

18:13 Tae: Speak of the devil. Jungkook just got back. I’m about to give him a piece of my mind. He dare he pick you when I am an actual man!

You laugh died quickly died as your eyes widened, your fingers quickly typing.

18:13 You: Don’t. Mention. Anything to him Tae!

You were anxious because Tae is unpredictable but you knew he wouldn’t do anything you were not comfortable with. 

You waited a few minutes but Tae didn’t reply. He was probably lecturing Jungkook about how he was a second choice. With that, you placed your phone on the charger and got ready. Since it was just going to be Tae and Jungkook, you didn’t bother getting all dressed up. Besides, it was only a study session after all so you kept it simple - a hoodie, a black pair of jeans and slides. As you were finishing off your hair, you heard your phone ‘ping’ as notification come through. 

it was a message from Jungkook.

18:30 Jungkook: I just got a lecture from Tae about how I didn’t choose him to be my wingman lol. And he wonders why I didn’t pick him XD

18:30 Jungkook: Anyways, how are you? You haven’t popped up today :/

A mix of emotions took over. You felt upset. Every time he crossed your mind, all you could think about was him and Brooke being together, and him being happy with her. But…you were also happy. Extremely happy for that matter. You felt happy knowing that he still cared about you as hi friend - one of the reasons you fell for him-

You shook you head hard, trying to remove the thought. ‘What am I thinking?…’ You felt like it was wrong to think of him as more than a friend, because his feelings were for someone else. Little did you know…

*Ping*

Another message from Jungkook

18:33 Jungkook: Y/n are you okay??…why are you ignoring me :( I can see you’ve read my messages.

18:37 Jungkook: Y/n-ah, did I do something wrong??…

You didn’t want him to think anything was wrong so you felt forced to reply.

18:38 You: Hey Jungkook! Yeah, I’m totally fine!  Nothing’s wrong! I’m a happy bunny! XD

Just by the way you texted him, he could tell you something was not okay. And you knew he knew. He knows you too well.

18:39 Jungkook: Y/n…

18:39 Jungkook: Never-mind. I’ll see you at our study session.

Now you were the one who could tell that Jungkook was keeping something from you. This is not how you planned the last couple of months of second year to go.

About twenty minutes later, you started to head over to Tae’s and Jungkook’s shared dorm for the study session. You gathered your course books, notebooks and stationary, that you knew you weren’t going to use, and shoved them into your backpack. Your study sessions never really lasted longer than half an hour. They just lead to you guys getting off track and playing games…basically anything but revision.

Although that was the way previous study sessions were, you were not quite sure about this one. The chances of doing productivity would actually increase, given all the awkward tension that will be filled in the air. For a second, you thought about not going and coming up with a dumb excuse, but doing that would have only raised Jungkook’s suspicions. You had to play it cool so he wouldn’t catch on.

~ 15 minutes later ~

You mentally prepared yourself to see him as you knocked on the dorm room. Thankfully, it was Tae who opened the door. He embraced you in his warm hug. “Y/n, come come. Sit sit. Make yourself at home” You smiled at his usual character, sat on his bed and made yourself comfortable, realizing there was no sign of Jungkook. You parted you lips to ask Tae his whereabouts when he beat you to it. “Jungkook went to get some drinks from the campus shop. We ran out” he confessed, giving you a slight grin. “Thank God” you muttered sigh of relief, and Tae couldn’t help but chuckle. 

After about ten minutes, there was a knock at the door. You and Tae looked at each other with confused expressions. “Jungkook wouldn’t need to knock. He has a key” Tae said, not expecting anyone. You just shrugged your shoulders in response. As Tae got closer to the door. he could hear two voices. One was familiar, but the other…not so much. He opened the door and to his surprise, there stood Jungkook. “Why did you knock, do you not have your key?” Tae questioned him. “No, I left it inside” he said lightly smiling at himself with embarrassment. “By the way, this is Brooke. I’m pretty sure you’ve seen her around Y/n’s hall of residents right?” Jungkook pointed over to Brooke who stood behind him.  She waved as she greeted him as Tae did the same. Tae was more surprised to see Brooke and knew this was going to be one interesting night.

You wondered what was keeping him so you got up from the bed and made your way to the hallway. “Tae, what’s taking so lon-” you raised your voice a little, but you stopped abruptly when you saw Jungkook and Brooke standing before him.

There was an awkward silence until Brooke walked towards you, lifting her arms  to give you a hug. Jungkook just stared at you from where he stood with a poker face. “Hi Y/n” Brooke said giving you a hug and you gave her one back. “Hi” you replied in a soft whisper. After giving Brooke a hug, Jungkook walked passed giving you simple smile and directed Brooke to the shared bedroom. You stood a little surprised, looking at Tae with a look that looked almost kinda lost and confused. Tae just gave you a look of sympathy.

You thoughts about Jungkook’s feelings for Brooke were only being confirmed at this point. And you were losing hope.

You and Tae followed in the direction and sat down on Tae’s bed, whilst Brooke and Jungkook sat on Jungkook’s. 

‘Lord help me’ you thought to yourself.

You were about to encounter the most uncomfortable study session yet.

#bts #bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook reactions #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts fake text #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook/reader #reader x jungkook #reader/jungkook #bts/reader #taehyung #tae #taehyung reactions #taehyung au #jungkook au #bts au #fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts taehyung #bts stories #bts jk #jk #jungkookie

[let-the-bands-take-c0ntrol]

New Man (Part 18)

Previous Parts & New Man on Wattpad

A/N: I’m back! Sorry for the long wait. I finished all my exams and it’s now officially winter break for me! So I will be posting a ton of stuff that I needed to get out. I really hope people still read this fic. Please don’t let it die!

You weren’t able to get a word in and before you could even blink, Luke had stood up and left. The front door slamming loud behind him and soon the sounds of his car leaving the driveway. You sat in your spot stunned. No longer knowing what to do, or how to think.  

     Luke stared at the shot glass. His tongue poking out to lick at his lips and his ears pounding as the music in the bar seemed to grow louder. There was a loud cheer coming from the other side of the bar and his gaze tore away from the hard liquor and towards the sound. It was reaching midnight and Luke had been in the bar since the early morning hours. It was a wonder that he hadn’t passed out from the drinking. This of course was thanks to the bartender. With every drink Luke ordered, the bartender had managed to slip water in between each drink. Luke was currently in a blackout. Everything he was doing was to stop the pain that you had caused. There was a group of men playing a game of pool. The guy that was cheering the loudest was a big man with a beard similar to a lumberjack. He was counting money and giddy from the win. Luke’s eyes narrowed and he swiped the shot glass from off the table and drowned his drink. His face scrunched up as the liquid burned his throat going down. “Hey!” Luke shouted towards the men’s direction. The clamor ceased and all eyes were now on Luke. “Wanna play?” Luke slurred, lazily pointing towards the guy that had won. It was clear from his stance that Luke was drunk out of his mind and the men could clearly see that. 

“Nah man, you look too out of it to play,” the bearded guy responded. Luke scoffed at his words and yanked a pool stick away from one of the other men. His hand dug deep into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of a hundred bills. Luke pulled two of the bills from the bundle and slapped it down on the pool table.

“How about now?” Luke questioned. The man stared at Luke for a good minute. He was contemplating on if he should gamble against this drunken mess of a guy. “Let’s make it three hundred,” Luke waged, pulling out another hundred out of the roll and slapping it down.

“You sure you want to do this? You’re not in the right head space, man,” the guy replied. Luke rolled his eyes then pulled out yet another hundred. 

“Four hundred dollars. . .just you and me big man,” Luke finally said. There was no way the other guy would say no to a price like that. Luke knew that for sure. The man shrugged and began to place the cash he had earned that night down next to Luke’s pile. 

“Alright that’s three fifty,” he said. “A total of seven hundred and fifty bucks. You and me, one game. That’s all.” Luke smirked at the response he had received and held out his hand for the guy to shake. 

“Alright that’s what I’m talking about! Let’s play!”

     Three days, nine hours, 4 minutes, and 22 21 seconds. That’s how long Luke had been gone. No one has seen or heard from him since the night he walked out. Luke had done this act once before. It was when the two of you had broken up and he had gone down a dark path: drinking, fighting, and going out to party non-stop. Luke had almost tried drugs, but you had threatened to take full custody of Raine if he didn’t get his act together. You didn’t want to see him fall down that hole again. You stared at your phone in anticipation, fingers pressed against your lips as you resisted the urge to bite your nails. You wanted to call Luke, but it would have been the 30th time and just like the other calls, Luke would send you to voicemail. You had to focus. Everything going around seemed unreal without Luke there and you weren’t sure why you haven’t gone out that door to find him yet. Someone’s hand had landed on your shoulder and lightly squeezed it. The feeling had made you tear your gaze away from your phone. It was Ashton. He was looking down at you with worry in his eyes. “You need to rest Y/N, it’s not healthy for you or the baby to be up all the time,” he said, slipping a bowl of broccoli and cheddar soup onto the table in front of you. “Calum went to pick up Raine from daycare,” he told you. 

That’s why you haven’t gone out to find Luke. You had Raine to take care of. Raine and your unborn child. You couldn’t think of yourself because you had two people to take care of. “Thanks,” you mumbled out, poking the soup with your spoon. Ashton gave you a look and his mouth opened to say something, but then he closed it. “Hey Ash?” you said, “Who was that woman Luke was talking to during Raine’s birthday?” Ashton’s eyebrows knitted as he thought of who you were talking about. You could see his eyes widen for a second before it went back to a poker face.

“I can’t answer that,” he said, swallowing hard. Your face pinched up into a frown at his words. “Is the baby really Scott’s?” Ashton finally questioned. It wasn’t like you, Luke, and Scott were having a quiet discussion that day. Everyone who was in Luke’s house heard everything. To Ashton it sounded like you had just told a lie in order to get back at Luke.  

“I can’t answer that,” you said, using Ashton’s own words against him. Ashton smirked at your response and then shook his head.

“Touché,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he left you to yourself. Everyone was becoming secretive and it wasn’t doing anyone any good.

     The bearded man was losing in pool against Luke, was somehow completely drunk yet still had the ability to hit every ball and score. It was clear to see the other guy was getting angry as Luke made yet another shot. Luke didn’t seem to be fumbling like he had at the start of the game. A proud smile embraced his lips and he looked at his opponent with a twinkle in his eye. The expression on the bearded man’s face mimicked the Grinch. There was no happiness at the fact that he had just lost. “Well I think that’s the end of the game,” Luke said, swiping the money he had won off the pool table.

“Let’s do another,” the guy quickly suggested, reaching out to grab Luke’s wrist. Luke’s smile fell and his eyes darkened. 

“You said one game and one game only. Now get your hands off of me,” Luke said in a cold voice. Yanking his arm away from the guy. His voice hadn’t slurred this time and it made the guy think he had just been played. 

“I could have sworn you were drunk,” the guy said, narrowing his eyes at Luke. There was no doubt that he was drunk, but Luke was the type of drunk that knew exactly what he was doing. At least in this stage of his blackout he was fully aware of his actions. Fully aware that he had just played this guy and won some easy cash. 

“Maybe I was. . .maybe I wasn’t,” Luke smirked as he counted the cash. He had started to walk away only to have his path blocked by the man’s friends. “Come on now, let’s not do something we all will regret,” Luke sighed, trying to sidestep the men only to have them block his path again. 

“I think you owe our friend there another game. Either that or you give him his cut back,” one of the men said, “It’s that or get your ass kicked.” Luke thought on the guys words and rubbed at his chin for a second. He tried to side step them once more, but was shoved pretty hard back against the pool table. Luke grunted as the edge of the table dug into his back and he let out a low chuckle. Luke was already pissed off. The child you were carrying wasn’t his, the sight of Scott angered him in general, he had alcohol in his system, and right now these guys were pushing his buttons. Luke was not at all happy. 

“I’m gonna beat your ass,” Luke said, his grip on the pool stick tightening. The three guys surrounding him laughed. There was no way one guy could take on four. They of course underestimated what Luke was capable of in this moment. He had adrenaline rushing through him and before any of the guys could blink Luke had swung the pool stick and hit one of the guys in the shoulder with it. The hit was hard enough to break the pool stick and a piece of it went flying somewhere. That’s when the fight broke out. The guy to Luke’s right threw the first punch, hitting Luke right in the jaw. Luke’s mouth opened and he stretched out his mouth before giving the guy a death glare. Fist started flying and shouting came from everyone in the bar. Luke was trying to block the blows being thrown at him and it was like he was a rag doll being tossed around. “NO FIGHTING IN MY BAR!” someone had shouted towards the group. Luke wasn’t listening and he continued to kick and punch at the men that had managed to knock him off his feet. Luke spat out blood and before he could even get up one of the guys kicked him in the ribs making him groan out in pain. It didn’t take long for the people that worked in the bar to break the fight up. Luke was pulled up from off the ground.

“You’re lucky they pulled you guys away I was just getting started!” Luke shouted in the men’s direction. All five of them were being pushed out of the bar and being told they were banned. Luke stumbled outside and he sucked in some of the crisp night air. He let out a deep sigh and pulled out his phone to see the time. It was reaching one in the morning and Luke had a shit ton of missed calls from you. Forty missed calls, eight voicemails, and three text messages. Luke wiped blood off the side of his mouth and he clicked on the most recent voicemail you had left.

Hey Luke. You sent me to voice mail. . . .again. Please come home I’m really worried about you and I’m scared you might go down a dark path. I want you to know that I still love you and nothing’s going to change that-come back to us. I-I love you.

Luke scoffed at the message and turned his phone off before placing it back in his pocket. The last thing he wanted to do was see you. He needed a break from it all. You had toyed with his feelings for far too long and yeah for now you were saying you loved him, but what was going to happen in a year. . .or a month. Right now you were unpredictable and so was he. Luke scratched at his head and he looked out down the street to see the guys from the bar. “HEY ASSHOLES!” Luke shouted in their direction, catching their attention. “HOW ABOUT A SECOND ROUND OF GETTING YOUR ASS KICKED!” he taunted, limping his way over to them. Luke’s night wasn’t over yet and the bar was just the first stop on his list. 

     The loud ringing coming from your phone made you jump out of your sleep in fright. You felt Raine stir next to you and you reached out to find your phone before it woke her up. It seemed like the noise was increasing and you let out a small whimper as a headache seemed to hit you. Finally your hand touched the medium yet small electronic and you squinted as the bright light flashed in your face. It was a number you didn’t recognize and you weren’t quite sure why someone was calling you at four in the morning. “Hello,” you sleepily hummed into the phone.

“Y/N,” someone said in a hoarse voice. A voice that belonged to Luke. You seemed to be more alert now, eyes shooting wide open as you sat up more and turned on the bedside lamp. 

“Luke? Luke what happened? Where are you? Are you okay?” you fired off, not allowing him to get a word in. 

“Y/N I need you t-I need you to calm down and listen to me,” Luke instructed. You began to suck in a few deep breaths. 

“Are you okay?” you questioned in a tiny voice. There was silence for a few seconds and you could hear Luke sniffle.

“Don’t freak out okay, but um I need you. . .I need you to come to bail me out of jail,” Luke voice filled the line.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer imagines #Luke Hemmings #Luke Hemmings imagines #5sos blurbs #5 seconds of summer blrubs #Luke Hemmings blurbs #5sos au #5 seconds of summer au #Luke Hemmings au #5sos writings #Luke Hemmings writings #Daddy!Luke Hemmings #5sos rec #Luke Hemmings rec #enjoy the feels #5sosimagines

[skele-bones]

Cupid’s Message

This is the sixteenth chapter of Everyday Heroes.

If you like what I do and want to support me, why not buy me a coffee?

When Hanzo woke up that morning, he expected to see his husband sleeping peacefully next to him. Though an arrow with a suction cup attached to his forehead wasn’t exactly part of that scenario. A note was tied around the shaft and Hanzo carefully undid it, trying not to disturb Jesse’s slumber. The raucous snoring coming from the cowboy was enough to deafen an entire theatre but it did little to disrupt Hanzo’s reading.

The note had childish handwriting on it and he knew that sort of script anywhere. Gabriel’s handwriting with it’s quick loops and close letters filled line after line, stopping at the bottom with a drawing.

Hanzo’s eyes widened and he reached over to shake Jesse’s shoulders “Anata,” he called. “Jesse, wake up.”

His husband burst into action, arm flinging out to grab Peacekeeper from underneath his pillow and point it at an invisible enemy. Jesse’s body was silhouetted in a golden aura, his eyes glinting red until it registered that there was no threat. Just his husband staring at him patiently with a hint of amusement and an empty room.

“Surely if there was someone within our quarters, I would have dealt with them,” Hanzo patiently explained, failing to hide his smirk.

Jesse rolled his eyes and slowly sat up, pausing when he registered the arrow stuck to his forehead.

“What in tarnation,” he muttered, pulling it free with a loud smack, rubbing the reddened skin. “Who the hell did this?”

Hanzo waved the note. “The same person who wrote this,” he replied, looking curiously at their room door. “But how did they manage to get in without us noticing?”

Jesse took the note and glanced it over. “You think this was a two man job?”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Hanzo shook his head, taking the arrow and twirling it around in his hand. “Shingen wouldn’t allow Gabriel to attempt a stealth mission on his own.”

In fact, he wouldn’t allow his little brother to dive into danger alone at all. His protectiveness as a big brother helped to keep Gabriel out of a multitude of situations. However, Hanzo was more worried about his skills being rusty if their children could sneak up on them.

“Might’ve been a four man job,” Jesse interjected, knocking him from his thoughts. “There’s only three people I know who can sneak without leaving a trace, and only two of them live here.”

The dragons writhed underneath Hanzo’s skin as if proud that they were acknowledged for their mischief. He rolled his eyes in response. Of course they would help the boys, those two were the dragons’ absolute favorite people in the world even potentially outranking Hanzo himself.

“Well, we should read it and see what the damage is.”

Jesse flicked on the bedside lamp and grabbed his reading glasses, slipping them on in one fluid motion. Or at least it would have been if he hadn’t poked himself in the eye before putting them on. Hanzo chuckled, kissing his husband’s cheek and extending his arm so Jesse could press himself close to his side.

Wrapping his arm around Jesse’s shoulders, Hanzo shifted so the gunslinger could rest his head against his chest.

“Comfy?” Hanzo asked.

Jesse shifted his legs a bit then tucked an arm around Hanzo’s waist.

“Yep.”

Hanzo looked the note over, slightly impressed with how much Gabriel had written.

In a few days it’ll be Valentines and I wanted to tell you that I love you. It’s kind of hard for me to show how much I love you everyday because there’s not a lot of time. And Athena says Time is important and it shouldn’t be wasted. She also said something about time management. She helped me spell that word. Said it has something to do with keeping track of time. But I thought that’s what clocks are for.

“Athena,” Hanzo called out, shooting Jesse a half-hearted glare at his wheezing laughter.

“Yes, Agent Hanzo?”

“Thank you for telling Gabriel what time management is.”

“It is my pleasure, Agent Hanzo. Though he did have a sound argument.”

Hanzo shook his head, smiling exasperatedly in Jesse’s direction as he wiped away fake tears.

“I am sure he did,” Hanzo replied, looking down and continuing to read.

Anyway, I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I still don’t know and I’m probably going on and on in loops and circles. But I do love you. Even when you scold me if I do something wrong or when you’re sad or when you’re gone. I love you even though I have to share you with everyone else in the world. I don’t feel lonely then either. I have Shingen and Kai and Mariam and Theo and Olivia to keep me company. And when you come back, or even when you’re far away, I’ll still love you.

Because I have the best dads ever. And you’re the coolest and bestest heroes ever. I know you are. Dad is the strongest archer ever and he never loses his cool. He’s always 100% honest even if it hurts your feelings, And Papa is the best sharpshooter in the West (or at least that’s what he told me), nobody could ever beat him. He’s always smiling and he makes time for us even when Tito keeps him busy.

You don’t argue like most parents. Well, you argue a little but it’s not like mad arguing. When you argue, you’re smiling and look happy. Not angry and mean. Uncle Genji said you guys arguing is a typical thing. Like you do it for fun. And sometimes I argue with Shingen for fun.

He’s hard to win against but I’ll get it someday.

You guys are the best together, saving the world and everything.

Pa, do you remember when you told me the world was changing?

So when you come back, nothing will change. I’ll still mess up sometimes and you can scold me. And Papa will sing his songs and tell funny jokes or stories. Dad will play video games with us and help us dress up for pretend. And give us kisses goodnight or when we get hurt or when we’re sad.

We’ll go on trips with Tito and Grampa. Granny will bake cookies and Opa will be loud as ever. Aunt Zarya and Mei will take us to see snow. Aunt Hana will demolish us at Starcraft. Uncle Lúcio will make awesome songs and Uncle Genji will show us how to climb stuff. Uncle Zenyatta and Kai will meditate like always and the Junkers might take us to blow stuff up.

Uncle Winston will show us his inventions. Athena will tell us facts about them. Aunt Moira will show us her experiments and Aunt Angela will keep an eye on her. Tía Sombra will show us how to hack into stuff. Orisa And Efi will come around and we’ll have horseback rides (Shingen said she’s a centaur but that’s a horse, right?)

We’ll make portals with Aunt Satya, practice dancing with Aunt Amelie, and race Theo and Aunt Lena. But we might lose sometimes so Aunt Emily will be there to pick us up.

Most of all, Shingen and I will get older and we’ll still love you.

No matter how big I am, how old I am, I’ll always love you.

So I’ll write you a letter every Valentines day from now until forever to tell you how much I love you.

There were smudges and erases on the paper. Small splotches where water had dried and Hanzo ran his thumb over them.

“Gabe was crying,” Jesse said. “That kid of ours…”

His words trailed off but there was a waver in his voice and a break as he took in a shaky breath. Hanzo looked down at his husband and saw brown eyes glazed with tears. Jesse’s lips twitching, downturned, eyebrows knitted together and eyes shutting tight. A tear rolled down his cheek and before Hanzo could hug him tighter, Jesse slipped out of his grip and climbed out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

Jesse smiled broadly over his shoulder. “To hug our kids, what else?” He replied.

No more words were needed as both men got out of bed and went about their tasks; attaching their prosthetics and heading out to peer into their children’s room. Their beds were made and everything was in order but neither boy was in sight. Jesse and Hanzo shared a look of confusion before the tell-tale sound of a door swooping open turned their attention to their quarter’s entrance.

Staying in the shadows, they peered around to see who was coming in.

Gabriel was the first to run in. His hair pulled back in a ponytail, cheeks dusted with red from the cold, and a silly grin plastered on his face. He was dressed in a red, gold and white sweater that resembled Jesse’s serape. His brown pants and boots wet from the rain puddles. Slung across his back was an empty quiver, a crossbow in his right hand, the other holding Shingen’s.

Hanzo almost laughed as Shingen appeared around the corner, the picture of not wanting to be awake. His hair was down, falling in his face and didn’t look as if it had been brushed at all. Black pea coat buttoned up, blue pants and boots a darker shade. Gabriel was talking his ear off about something or another as he trudged inside, taking off his shoes and reminding his brother with a pointed look to do the same.

And as Gabriel sat down to take off his own shoes, Shingen’s head lifted and he looked around, spotting Jesse and Hanzo in the hall. Just like his fathers’ he had a way of knowing when someone was looking at him. But unlike Hanzo, he hadn’t completely mastered a poker face and his eyes widened by a fraction.

“Gabe,” he said. “We have company.”

Gabriel lifted his head then looked over his shoulder, staring for awhile.

“So, where did you two get off to?” Jesse asked.

Gabriel and Shingen looked at one another then back to their parents.

“We… were playing Cupid.”

Hanzo chuckled. That explained the arrows and the message then. Shaking his head, he shouldered past Jesse and went to draw both of them in a hug. Shingen stiffened up but soon melted into the embrace, patting Hanzo’s back. Gabriel wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging close. Their clothes were bitterly cold from the outside temperature but he wouldn’t let go of them for the world. Eventually, Jesse joined the embrace and they sat there in the walkway hugging one another.

“We love you too,” Jesse muttered.

#mchanzo #fanfiction #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #mchanzo kid #overwatch

[withickmire]

with you, i am home

Fandom: Deltora Quest Characters: Anna, Jarred, Sharn, Endon Pairing: Anna/Jarred Summary: After Jarred runs to Endon’s aid, Anna is left in the forge with only her thoughts and fears for company.

Anna sat on her bed, her trembling hands folded neatly in her lap, and counted minutes in her head. Despite her best efforts, she could not really tell how long it had been since Jarred had dressed, kissed her sweetly, and sprinted towards the palace. Her thoughts were chaos in her head, and she kept losing track of her count and starting over. Jarred might have been gone for twenty minutes or two hours, but it felt like a lifetime to her.

“How foolish I must look,” she muttered after a while, and rose to her feet. She shed her nightclothes quickly, and dressed in a loose tunic and skirt. Jarred had run to the palace hoping to find the king, and he might very well bring his friend home, alive or dead. She lit a fire and tied her hair back. It felt good to be in control, even of little things.

She had no idea of what her husband was doing. She did not know if he had reached the palace, or found the king. She did not know if he was even alive.

The window was still ajar, from when she had propped it open before she had seen the Ak-Baba. She could hear someone shouting, and the sound of breaking glass. Hesitantly, she crept to the window, and— hardly breathing— slowly looked out.

The night had not yet given way to morning, but the sun had just begun to rise, and she could see people running in the street, as dark as shadows. Some of them were screaming, clearly running to somewhere they thought to be safer, where ever that might be. Anna gasped as she watched someone heave a rock at a shop window down the street. The glass shattered, and the looter clambered in through the hole. She shut the window and pulled the curtain closed.

As she turned away, an object on the table caught her eye. It was a key. A terrible realization struck her, and her knees went weak. The forge gate was closed, but it did not lock by itself. In his haste to leave, Jarred had left his key behind, meaning the gate would push open for anyone who tested it. She picked it up, and looked toward the door. With a deep breath she summoned up the courage to do what needed to be done.

She rushed back to the hearth and pulled a poker from beside the flames, gripping it as firmly as she could in her sweaty palm. She threw open the front door and hurried through the forge and into the front yard. Outside, the voices were louder, the sound of boots on the street seemed like thunder. Anna ignored the chaos, and strode through the yard in her bare feet. She was careful, even in her distress, not to disturb the herb garden she had treasured since childhood. She finally reached the gate, and was forced to set the poker down, although it made her feel vulnerable. She tried to fit the key into the lock, and swore fiercely when it did not take. On the second try, the key slid home, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the lock fell into the latch. She pulled the key out and shoved it into her pocket.

A screech from above made her flinch. It was a terrible cry: evil and inhuman. She looked to the palace, where the Ak-Baba still swarmed. One tore away from the rest, quickly flying to the east. Anna had heard tales of all the terrible monsters that roamed the land, but she had never witnessed such a horrible sight. She picked up the poker, knowing it would be useless against such a creature. Still, it felt good to hold a weapon in her hand.

The gate began to rattle and Anna took a step back. It began again, and she pressed her hand to her mouth. Someone was trying to get in. The gate was old and meant more for privacy than fortification. If someone really wanted to get in, they would.

“Leave here,” she shouted, in a voice that was as loud and strong as she could manage. “There are many of us, and all carry weapons. It would be unwise to enter!”

“Dear heart,” a beloved and muffled voice carried over the wall. “Everything is fine! Please, open the gate.”

Anna gasped and pulled the key back out. She unlocked the gate quickly, and Jarred rushed in, followed by two well-dressed and shaking figures. She stepped back to allow them entry, and locked the gate behind them. Jarred did not say another word, but drew her quickly into his arms. She forgot her fear for a moment, and let the poker drop to the ground with a clatter, embracing him. He smelled of sweat and he was covered in dirt, but she buried her face in his chest.

“I was so worried,” she told him.

He kissed her hair. “I feared for you.”

She pulled away, suddenly very conscious of the two strangers in her yard. There was no question as to who they were.The king was white under his makeup, the queen’s lovely hands trembled against her pregnant belly. Anna’s grandfather had spoken against the royal family all her life. But Jarred had told her stories of Endon’s friendship and kind heart. Now the king and queen stood in her home, beautifully adorned, and so very frightened. She had no idea how to greet them. But she stepped forward and spread out her arms. “You are very welcome here,” she told them.

The queen gave her a shaky smile, filled with gratitude. “My name is Sharn. We are in your debt for providing us with sanctuary.”

Anna felt it was easy to return the other woman’s smile. The absurdity of it all was astounding. “I am Anna. I am very glad to see you all safe.”

The king, who had been looking around the forge as if he did not quite know how he had arrived there, looked towards her. “Yes. My name is Endon. Jarred has saved our lives, as have you for sheltering us.”

“Let us go inside,” Jarred said hurriedly. “We have much to discuss, and little time to do so. You must be hidden. If my plan is to be carried out, it needs to be done before the sun fully rises, I fear.”

Anna looked at him, unsure of what he meant, but took his hand. He hissed and pulled away, and it was then that she saw the angry welt on his palm.

“What happened?” She cried, horrified.

Jarred clenched his jaw. “I will tell you in a moment. But it is alright, I swear it.”

She shook her head. “Let me see to it, at least.”

He looked at her then, his face full of love and a terror that astounded and frightened her. She knew then that the night was far from over.

They led Endon and Sharn inside and Anna set them by the fire. She fetched them a bowl of water, and a cloth. “If you are to hide, you must look like you belong. Your makeup and hair set you apart from the rest of the city.”

Sharn took the bowl with a word of thanks. She looked as if she might cry, but instead she buried her face in the cloth, as if to hide it. Anna went to the kitchen, and pulled chamomile and turmeric from her herb drawer. She mashed them in a bowl, and mixed it with water until it formed a thin paste. The work felt good. She was talented at healing, and knowing she could do something to help in such a terrible circumstance helped to calm her beating heart. She cut a line of cloth bandage from a roll, and took it all to Jarred. He had been speaking with Endon, their heads bent just as they must have done as boys, but he rose and turned to her now. “I must speak to you, alone.”

She nodded, and followed him to the bedroom. Although she had dozens of questions, she let him tell her everything that had happened since he left the forge, until his return. As he spoke, his injured hand was in her lap, while she smeared her poultice across it and bandaged the wound with practised fingers. When he finished, Anna was silent for a long moment as she thought of all that she had been told.

“I do not understand,” she finally said. “Endon protected the Belt, did he not? How could this happen?”

Jarred looked away. “He only ever wore it once, the day he became king.”

Anna stood up in shock. “What?”

“No Deltoran king or queen has worn the Belt more than once for a very long time.”

Anna continued to stare at him. He had never lied to her before; how could he have kept this secret for seven years? Jarred looked back up at her, his eyes clouded with shame.

“You knew,” she said slowly. “You knew all this time, and you let me believe that we were safe.”

“There are very few people in this city who still hold sparks of hope in their hearts,” his voice was desperate, pleading. “I did not want to kill yours.”

Anna sat back down beside him, shaking her head. What could possibly be said of all this madness?

“I knew Endon might call on me one day,” Jarred went on. “But I swear I never thought it would be like this.”

“You should not have kept this from me,” she drew in a short breath and ran her hands through her dark curls, pulling them from her binding. It was not the time to argue, although she wanted to. But she knew her husband, and she knew why he did things the way he did.

“Be careful, my love,” she sighed and pressed a hand to his cheek. “One day you will tear yourself apart, trying to protect the people you care for.”

Jarred laughed without humour, and bowed his head. “I am sorry, dear heart.”

“I know. Later, then. What is this plan you speak of? Have you told them where you think they should go?”

He looked at her, his face twisted by an agony that she had not seen since the day he had stumbled into her life. He covered her hands with his uninjured one. “I hope I have not lost your trust, for I need it now, more than ever.”

There were many things that Anna was unsure of, but that was not one of them. “You could never lose my trust.”

He sighed, and she could feel his hand shaking against hers. She held him tighter. “I think… if they left, it would be even more dangerous than it needs to be. I think that they should stay here… and we should leave in their place. They are not prepared, Anna. They do not know what it is like to struggle to survive.”

For some reason that she would later never be able to explain, Anna felt very calm. “We would be their decoys.”

“Yes. We would leave, and they would take our places. On the way here, Endon spoke of fleeing to Tora. I think we should go there. I have read that Tora is a city of great beauty. We could be happy there, and so could our child. It would be a dangerous road for us, but whatever happens, they must live, Anna. Our future— Deltora’s future, depends on that.”

He looked so anxious and afraid, and she felt as if her heart might break.

“I have not told them my plan, because I wanted you to hear it first,” he went on. “This was your home before it was also mine. This is your life, too. I cannot make this decision on my own.”

Anna looked around the bedroom. She had been born there, tearing her way violently into the world, killing her mother. She had grown up in that home; learned to forge sheets of metal into tools that could aid people, to grow plants that could heal them. She had laughed in that home, she had cried there. She had pressed bandages to her father side, pleading him to stay alive after he had staggered home late one night. She had held her grandfather’s hand as he died. She had held her husband in their bed. She had always imagined all of her children playing in the garden. This was the only home she had ever known; she did not want to leave.

But she would. Hers was not the only family in danger, and she knew she had always been meant to heal. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he relaxed into her.

“We have much to discuss, love,” she whispered. “But for now, know this: I am afraid. I am so very afraid. But we will have each other. As long as we are together, I know my fears will go unfound.”

He held her for a long moment before he spoke. “I am so lucky to have you. We will speak of everything else, I promise. But for now, we must tell Endon and Sharn of what we will do, and gather what we need. This will not be a farewell to our home. We will return, I swear on my life.”

Although his words seemed impossible, they also felt true. She had always done what needed to be done, and how was this any different? She would help those who needed it, as she always had.

They rose hand-in-hand, and returned to Sharn and Endon, who were huddled by the fire with bare-faces and loose hair. And there, in that small room, was where it truly began.

---

Note: This was meant to be a scene in another Anna piece that I’m working on, and then it got too long, so I decided to take it out and finish it on its own. I haven’t written Anna in so long and I missed her!

#deltora quest #i finished my first wave of midterms today so i finally got to finish one of my many drafts #i really love writing anna and i'm pleased with how this one turned out! #also i thought it was interesting that jarred didn't tell anna and crian about the belt #anna #jarred #sharn #endon #jarred x anna #my writing

[itshaejinju]

In Her Sister’s Shadow | Fairy Tail | Chapter 6 |

@stunninglyignis @neko-otaku13

“I'm going to strangle you Mirajane.” I growled as she combed my hair playing with it as I sat backstage.

       “I don't know what you are talking about! I am glad that you are joining the contest this year – this is the first time ever to have you in it.”

       “Well if I didn't lose that bet to Gajeel I wouldn't be here.” I grumbled.

       I ended up having to enter the Miss Fairy Tail contest because I lost at a game of poker against Gajeel. It became a spectacle of a game – I never lost a game before I should have been suspicious when he challenged me to the game. Since he had been stalking Cana lately – I'm pretty sure he learned a few cheating tricks from her. He had me winning for a while leading me into a false sense of security – then the betting came on.

       “So if I win you enter in the contest.”

       “Hah – the way you are loosing right now I think I'm doing okay. When I win how about you enter?” I said with a daring smirk.

       “Oh I will if you win. If you do lose you will wear this too.” He taunted placing a bag on the table – a very skimpy bikini was in the bag.

       “I will not wear that!”

       “Oh you will if you lose!”

       “Well I am not losing I'm in the lead so far!” I said determined.

       Then as the stakes were made final – the tides turned. I lost royally and had to enter the contest wearing a skimpy bikini.

       “So will you show us the outfit?” Cana asked as she stared at the bathrobe I was wearing.

       “It's embarrassing! I swear I move too much I'll fall right out of this!” I said angrily wrapping the robe around me tightly.

       “Oh come on it can't be that bad.” Cana said reaching forward grabbing at the robe trying to untie it.

       “Cana stop you drunk perv!” I shouted as I jumped to my feet, trying to get away from her.

       I collided with Lucy who just appeared in the back stage area. We stumbled down the steps in a huge pile. There was a loose nail hanging off a piece of the stairs – it dug into my right leg blood spraying everywhere.

       “Damn!” I shouted in pain as the three inch nail stuck out of my leg.

       “Oh man I am so sorry Dez! I forgot I was entering in the contest and just rushed over here – I really need that rent money.” Lucy cried out as she got to her feet – unscathed.

       “This is what I get for joining you cheerleaders.” I grumbled angrily, resetting the robes over me covering myself up feeling really exposed.

       “Hey let's get you to the bathroom to clean this up.” Erza said helping me to my feet.

       “I'll get Ken-San!” Lucy said heading towards the medics office.

       “Don't bother him there is a small medic kit in the bathroom – he'll be busy.” I said not wanting to bother with the very laid back nurse.

       Limping to the bathroom I went to open the door to the room – thankfully it was empty. Propping my leg up on the side of the toilet I looked at the wound. The thin nail stuck out of my leg, it was about a inch deep in there was a about a half inch gash following below it where I dragged my leg on the step. There was a instant bruise around it looking a bit rough, so much for just shaving my legs this morning with expensive shaving cream and everything to make them look good. I figured might as well try some to get in a high ranking in the contest – sure I could beat Lucy, Levy and Bisca but that would be it. That if this outfit wasn't deemed plain out right indecent.

       “Gajeel will probably like to eat this. . .specially since it was stuck in me.” I said with a sarcastic laugh.

       I grabbed the kit and started to clean the wound. The cleaner burning at the open wound, causing me to let out a angry hiss in pain. I heard the excited shouting of the crowd outside the contest had started. Luckily I was last though could I go out like this? Well if I bandage it up enough it shouldn't bleed through and look too bad I won't do too much with it, should be fine. I don't want to hear the others say I chickened out because of the cut or anything. I cleaned off the nail and pocketed it as I opened the door I heard a lot of yelling – frightened sounds.

       Upon hearing the voice of Evergreen call out I knew that the Thunder Legion was around – which meant Laxus. What trouble was he bringing? He had been acting strange lately when he did show up to the guild he was very mysterious and talking about the future of the guild. Sneaking up to the back stage, things could get out of hand really quick. I heard a bolt of thunder crack down – Laxus was around now, my hair frizzed up some as I moved around the corner. All the girls were turned to stone – well minus Evergreen of course. Her magic allowed her to turn the person she was looking at into stone and within several hours they would turn to dust if not returned to their normal state.

       “Erza!” I shouted instinctively, seeing my sister frozen in place with the others. “Oomph.”

       “Shush, doll-face.” A large hand clamped over my mouth pulling me back several feet, Gajeel pulled me against his body hiding us from view from Laxus and the Thunder Legion.

       “Let me go.” I squirmed in his grasp.

       “Stop she'll attack you too – I'm not letting you get turned into stone.”

       “As usual the black sheep of the group is safe from all this – I wonder where the lame Pale Shadow is?” I heard Evergreen hum, as she peered at the girls in the line-up not seeing me.

       “Who cares about her? She's pretty pathetic.” Freed said examining the look of shock on Erza's face.

       “I'm the only one that can call her pathetic.” Laxus said in a angry tone turning to Freed giving him a stare down.

       I struggled to get free of Gajeel's arms, sneaking out of the robes just revealing myself in the skimpy outfit I lunged forward to the stage. A rush of cold air hit me as the strings that secured the mini bikini I was wearing to my top came undone, I heard a evil cackle coming from Gajeel as he held the small amount of fabric in his hands.

       “Stay put.” He said evilly as he tossed the article of clothing back to me, staring at me as I released my arms from my chest to catch the top. “Nice.”

       “Damn you!” I growled as I rushed around the corner to cover myself again. “Give me that robe!”

       “Nope, I like this bathing suit a whole lot.” He said giving me a broad smile as he stared at my back as I redid the ties.

       “Now they are gone. . .” I said looking up to the empty stage with the girls as statues – I would have been like that if it wasn't for that nail in my leg.

   “Dezerea you are okay!” Master Makarov shouted rushing up the stage to Gajeel and I staring at the bandage on my leg.

       “I was in the bathroom tending to this wound when this all happened.”

       “That is a lot of skin – oui.” Reedus said as he stared at me from behind a pillar, he was extremely afraid of Laxus and the Thunder Legion, like most people.

       “Ugh this is embarrassing – please the robe Gajeel.”

       “NO.” Both Master Makarov and Gajeel said as the Metal Dragon Slayer hid the robe behind himself.

       “Is there anything you can do to fix them – aye?” Happy asked me flying around Lucy, thinking she was a lot better this way, quiet.

       “Yeah use your Jack of All Trades magic on them, free up Erza!” Natsu said happily.

       “No statues can leave and anyone over the age of 80. . .and some how Natsu.”

       “Since when did you get older than me?” I questioned the Fire Dragon Slayer.

       “I'm not that old!” Natsu said pouting looking out the front door wanting to go after Laxus.

       “Use your mimicry, Dezerea.” Master Makarov said to me then pointing at the statues. “Mimic Evergreen's magic.”

       “I have never seen her magic in use so I can't. I have to see their magic to be able to mimic it.” I said feeling immediately like crap, shoulders slumped I walked over to Erza.

       “What you didn't see Evergreen do this to them, you were around here weren't you?” Natsu said energetically, flapping his arms around looking crazed.

       “No I was dealing with the bikini top thief over here!” I shouted at Natsu feeling upset quickly, as I looked at the stone face of my sister, I couldn't help her at all.

       “He likes you, aye~!” Happy shouted out loud flying over our heads pointing at Gajeel.

       “Shut up you stupid cat.” Gajeel shouted at Happy.

       “Don't tell Happy to shut up!” Natsu shouted at Gajeel.

   They started to argue over how to talk to Happy, about stealing clothes off women and how it was rude and it just went to a huge shouting match. I walked over to the entrance, I wasn't a statue or anywhere near the age of 80 so I should be able to make past this. I walked right through the doorway turning back I noticed the runes there. There was two hours and a half hours left before the statues became dust and killed the girls. I noticed the count of the people raise up by one as it factored me in, Dezerea Scarlet enters the fray.

       “Hey you can make it through!” Natsu said.

       “Well I'm going with you.” Gajeel said as he stomped on over to the entrance, smacking right against the invisible barrier.

       “What are you saying you are 80 too?” Natsu shouted at Gajeel.

       “Do I look 80 to you?” He shouted at him getting in his face.

       “Dezerea you are the only one that can stop Laxus and the Thunder Legion.” Master Makarov said looking up at me.

       “Let me get something – need a weapon.”

       “You don't use weapons aye~.” Happy said as I walked back in the room, reaching for the bag that was sitting on the table nearby, it carrying some of my personal belongings.

       “It's a specialist item.” I said plucking out the mp3 player. “I'll get Evergreen to reverse this – I'll go after her and learn how to mimic her magic and I will return and free the others.”

       “Please don't get hurt.” Master Makarov said taking my right hand holding it tight as he warned me kindly.

       “Don't worry Master, I won't let her turn me to stone. Give me the robe Gajeel.” I said walking over to the tall man, who was currently sniffing the robe.

       “Here only because I don't want the others to see you look that good.” He said tossing the robe at me.

       “Whatever.” I said rolling my eyes, even though the bikini top just barely covered my ample breast and the bottoms was a few centimeters shy of being a g-string Erza looked a whole lot better in Gothic-Loli outfit than I did showing off a bunch of skin.

       Wrapping the robe around me I walked through the entrance again, placing the ear buds in I turned on the mp3 player. Fully charged perfect, I gave them the peace sign as I walked down the path, thumbing through the play list I searched for the perfect song.

       “Music Magic find Evergreen. - No matter where you go, ~~ I will find you. ~~ If it takes a long long time, no matter where you go ~~ I will find you. ~~If it takes a thousand years~.” I sung out a bit under my breath.

       “She sounds like a bird.” Gajeel said quietly after hearing the singing.

       “She's a person not a bird – aye!” Happy shouted at Gajeel, resting on top of his head pulling on his long black hair.

       “Hmm she must have picked that up in Helios – they are close to Edolas after all.” Master Makarov said he couldn't hear the singing as he didn't have as incredible hearing as Gajeel and Natsu had being Dragon Slayers and all.

       “What is she doing singing?” Natsu asked, confused as he noticed small musical notes floating in front of Dezerea.

       “That music player she has activates music magic it's a tool she got when she went to Helios. If used correctly it can be very powerful and dangerous – but she has to listen to the music the whole time to get it to work properly.” Master Makarov explained knowing a little about that type of magic.

       “She doesn't like to show off her magic much does she?” Natsu asked, a bit curious as he never had an actual fight with the mage himself as she always refused him at all costs.

       “Dezerea is embarrassed by her magic so she avoids using it at all costs – though it is very strong. I put her as a S-Class mage for a reason.”

       “Music Magic – I can see clearly now that the rain is gone ~ I can see all obstacles in my way.~ Freed I can see all of your Runes running through the town, I don't know how to break them though I haven't seen your magic before.”

       Though now I could easily see all the Runes he had placed throughout the town and move around them so I wouldn't have to be subject to their rules. It required me to walk a bit slower but it was for the best I couldn't get caught in the Runes and in a battle not against Evergreen. I needed to learn how to reverse her magic so I could free the girls that would ruin a lot of Laxus' hold over the guild. That would stop everyone's fighting knowing that the girls are safe. Following the musical notes that were searching for Evergreen for me, music magic was fantastic I wish I was born with this and didn't need this tool but alas I was born with lame magic that was a mockery to the magical world. Even using it to save the others it would still be a insult to the magical world since I can't use it unless I've seen the person's magic before. Even if you described it to me really well I couldn't use my magic with it, I had to see it.

       “Erza!” I heard a person shout at me. “Oh wait it's Dezerea. . .where is Erza?”

       “She's a busy right now. . .don't worry I am taking care of this.” I said looking at the shop owner who stopped me looking at me curious.

       “What?” A young child asked confused.

       “It's nothing to worry about okay? This is just apart of the whole festival okay?” I said trying to cover over the slight fear rising to their faces, I wasn't comforting enough to ease their troubles, Erza could easily though.

       “Please have them clean up the mess afterward, okay?” One asked of me, noticing the debris around from a recent fight.

       “Of course.” I said stiffly feeling a bit like I had been smacked, is that all that concerned them?

       I guess Fairy Tail does leave a lot of damage around specially with Natsu and Grey being involved. Why was Laxus doing this? Did he want to take over the guild by force? Was this the only way he could think of ruling over the guild by pitting everyone against each other? He betrayed the trust of all of us for this foolishness. Where would he be hiding? It's not like we ever got along so I didn't know of any spot he would be other than the top level of the guild waiting to prey on me with rude comments. The times of him being a sweet child was gone by the time I arrived in the guild.

   “Hah there is the Pale Shadow – we thought you were out of town – normally you are when the festival occurs.” Came the voice of Evergreen appearing out of the shadows of a alley way.

       “Well I lost a bet and had to enter the contest but I was tending to a wound while you and the Thunder Legion went to betray the guild.” I said as Evergreen walked in front of me, as long as her glasses were on she couldn't harm me with her magic.

       “Come here to mimic my magic? So you can free your sister?” She taunted. “I already have taken down Elfman.”

       “I promise I won't be so easy.”

       “Well I have two types of magic so I don't need to use my magic eyes on you to stop you – so you won't be able to mimic it.” She said with a laugh, clapping the closed fan against her thin hands.

       “I have two types as well.”

       “Yes the Jack of All Trades. Such a boorish name.” She taunted.

       “Music Magic - Even if my breathe stops, ~ you’re so close, that I like it. Instant heart attack. ~” I sung racing towards Evergreen in a flash she went to jump away but the musical notes smacked against her, she grasped at her chest as her heart started to beat erratically as if having a heart attack.

       “What did you do!?” She shouted while gasping for air.

       I took her glasses off she shut her eyes not wanting me to mimic her magic and free the others. Pinning her down knees on either side of her body keeping her arms in spot she was stuck underneath struggling against me as she was starting to loose her breathing as the music magic was still working on her. I pried open her eyes, I never cared for Evergreen and her arrogant attitude so harming her in anyway wasn't bothering me too much.

       “Mimicry!” My brown eyes flashed a bright purple as they locked onto Evergreen's brown eyes her eyes turned the green shade they did when they activated the stone magic.

       My eyes turned the same shade of green Evergreen's did then back to the chocolate color they normally are.

       “Music Magic – I got to sleep ~ and imagine that you are there with me ~.” I sung putting Evergreen to sleep, she falling asleep instantly.

       “Laxus.” She muttered in her sleep.

       “Dezzy!” I heard a female shout. . .Erza.

       “Don't look in my eyes!” I shouted at her covering my eyes. “I have Evergreen's magic right now.”

       “The others are still of stone please go free them Dezzy, I'll go after Laxus.” Erza said patting my shoulder.

       “I will – be safe sister.”

       “You too.”

       I raced around the runes that would activate the spells placed on the ground making my way back to the guild to the others. I kept my eyes on the ground the whole way making sure not to look up at anyone so I wouldn't turn them to stone. The more times I used it the more it would wear out and become useless as it's not as strong as the original it would not be as effective. Making my way up the steps I could see Gajeel and Natsu were arguing over something again, then Master Makarov was pacing the front entrance.

       “She's back – aye!” Happy shouted looking up from a pile of fish he had been eating.

       “Don't look in her eyes.” Master Makarov answered as I looked at the floor on my way up the stairs.

       “Let me help you up the stairs.” Gajeel said grabbing a hold of my left arm ushering me up the stairs. “Knew you could do it.”

       “I didn't think she would find Evergreen so easy – that music stuff is pretty cool!” Natsu said happily as he walked around Lucy staring at her.

       “Okay, let's do this.” I said looking up facing Cana my eyes glowed purple for a second then green a bunch of stone flecked off.

       “What the hell?” Cana shouted as she returned back to normal.

       “Yeah Erza did it, aye!” Happy shouted out my sister's name.

       “It's Dezerea!” Gajeel shouted at the small blue Exceed, taking a swipe at the creature.

       I went down the line releasing everyone from the spell returning them back to their normal forms.

#in her sister's shadow #fairy tail #oc #chapther 6

[sailorgreywolf-legacy]

Legacy- Chapter 3

A few years passed, although Mexica aged much faster. As soon as he started accepting Spain's education he started to age very quickly. He went from physically being 5 to being 14, and then he started aging slower again. Spain somewhat lamented that New Spain aged so fast "I can't hold you on my lap anymore, I have to tutor you the normal way".

But New Spain was happy about it; people stopped treating him like a child. It also gave him the chance to learn to ride, something that Spain had objected to him doing for a long time for fear that he would fall and hurt himself. He also learned to read in Spanish, English and Latin. Even Spain commented on how clever New Spain was, and he, although he would never say it in front of Spain, thanked his father for his intelligence.

"Are you ever going to go to sleep? How many more times can you read that book?" Cuba grumbled as he turned in his bed to glare at New Spain. Spain had decided to put them in the same room to keep each other company. New Spain glanced over at his roommate "It's the bible; I can't read it too many times. Have you ever actually read it?" Cuba shook his head sleepily "I don't read Latin, Antonio has told me what I need to know about it". New Spain replied "But there is so much more here to read and understand. There is this figure that Spain almost completely ignores, The Virgin Mary. Why should we pray to the son and not to the Madonna?"

Cuba groaned and rolled over "Can't we debate theology tomorrow, after I have gotten some sleep?" New Spain ignored him "And these stories, Spain won't tell you half of these. This is so open to interpretation!" Cuba groaned again "If you don't shut up, I am going to come over there and put out that lamp myself!" New Spain ignored him again, more to spite him than anything "You really should read this sometime, or maybe I will read it to you".

Cuba pushed himself off of his bed and gracelessly lunged over the gap between their beds. He tackled New Spain, sending the book flying. New Spain retaliated by hitting Cuba over the head with a pillow. Within a few seconds the pair of them were wrestling and making a ruckus. "Ay! Can you two restrain your sexual tension for one night! The rest of us are trying to sleep!" New Spain turned to see Peru glaring at them.

Then another voice spoke behind them "Or maybe since we are all up anyway, we can have some fun with it". Peru made a disapproving noise in his throat, but Colombia just smiled. Chile, Peru's brother, appeared at his elbow. Columbia held up a glass bottle "Look what I snitched from Spain's cellar". Cuba gasped "You can't have that! Spain has forbidden us from drinking". Colombia smiled slyly "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. We deserve to have some fun now and again". Bolivia, the third of the Inca born brothers, appeared from behind Cuba and tackled him "Don't worry so much".

The three Inca brothers were almost identical, although they differed in age. They were all three thin and lanky with sharp angular features. Chile was the youngest and Peru was the oldest. As for Colombia, no one asked who his parents were. He was good looking, but in the kind of way that made him look mischievous. He almost always smirked. No one was really surprised that he was the one to steal Spain's wine. Colombia conjured a glass out of midair "Here's the deal, we will have some contests, and each time someone loses, they drink".

Bolivia smirked "I'll play that game". Chile simply nodded; Peru smirked more wickedly than Colombia had "I will play if my holy lord Mexica will". New Spain glared at him "I might be wrong, but I think you are mocking me. In which case, I will punish you by beating you in all these challenges". Cuba looked at the two of them pleadingly "Both of you know that this is forbidden". There existed a rivalry between Peru and New Spain that everyone was aware of. Both of them bid to outdo each other in everything, and Cuba already knew that he wouldn't get either of them to see reason.

Colombia looked at Cuba expectantly "Are you too good to play our games?" Cuba glanced around at the others before saying "Fine! Have it your way". Colombia produced a deck of cards from somewhere and started shuffling "You know I always do. Shall we play poker first?" Chile, always the silent one, dragged a table in-between the two beds and the boys arranged themselves around it. The way it turned out, The Inca brothers were on one side and Mexico, Cuba, and Colombia were on the other.

Colombia started dealing "Here is the way it is going to work, when you fold, you drink, when you lose, you drink. The only way to not drink is to win". He dealt quickly, distributing 2 cards to each person "Also, I have a little gold we can play for. Of course, I don't expect to lose any of it to the likes of you". New Spain flashed a smile at him "We will see about that, dear brother". Colombia placed a large pile of gold coins on the table then distributed them between the six of them. New Spain counted his coins quickly then glanced at his cards. He placed 10 coins, a fifth of his pile, in the center of the table. The others eyed him suspiciously, he glared back unfazed.

Cuba glanced down at his cards and then threw the 2 and 3 in the middle of the table "I fold. Pass that wine". Colombia smirked, poured a glass, and handed it to Cuba. Cuba took a tentative drink, obviously hesitant to go against Spain's rules. They all watched him drink and then laughed at the look of surprise on Cuba's face. Peru matched New Spain's bet. Bolivia did the same. Chile silently folded and took a drink of wine. Colombia matched the bet and added 2 more coins before placing one card face up on the middle of the table.

New Spain looked at the card and then back at his own cards, and then he added 5 more coins to the pile. Peru matched him without even glancing at his cards. Bolivia took a long look at his cards before folding. Bolivia took a small drink from the glass. Peru glared at New Spain "You are going to fold next, I guarantee it." New Spain smirked "You are wrong, you will fold next". Colombia smirked at the two of them "We shall see"; he turned over the next card. New Spain glanced at it and then smiled at Peru "It looks like you are wrong" and he threw in another 5 coins. Peru glared at him "I do not intend to lose to you"; he matched New Spain's coins.

Colombia looked at his cards and then sighed "Damn it all, I fold". He took the cup and emptied it then he filled it again. New Spain's eyes were fixed on Peru's, daring him to continue. New Spain pushed his whole pile of coins into the middle. Peru looked doubtfully down at his cards and then decided to give up. He folded "Alright, Mexica, let's see what you have". New Spain threw down his cards with a smirk. Peru looked at them for a moment, his jaw dropping, and then looked back at New Spain "You didn't have shit!" New Spain broke into gales of laughter "I was bluffing!" Peru swore under his breath as New Spain pulled the pile of coins towards him.

Colombia looked at New Spain and half-purred "That was reckless of you." Cuba scoffed "More like very stupid". New Spain laughed again "If you ask me, there is no point in betting if you aren't willing to bet it all. And if you aren't prepared to lose it all". Peru glared daggers at New Spain "We should try something else, unless we all want to lose our money to Mexica. How about a simple game of truth or dare? If you refuse to do a dare or tell a truth, you drink". Colombia smirked "To make the deal a little sweeter, when someone does complete a dare, the person who asks them must drink."

Chile shrugged; again he was the silent one. Colombia's eyes glittered mischievously "Alright, Carlos first. I dare you to make no more objections tonight about our games". Cuba grudgingly said "Fine". Colombia took another drink from the glass. Peru spoke "I have one for Enrique". Colombia shrugged "Go ahead, I will take whatever dare you propose". Peru smirked and leaned over to whisper in Colombia's ear. Colombia looked utterly shocked for a minute "You have got to be kidding me". Peru shrugged "Well, if you aren't willing to do it..." Colombia looked undecided for a second, but his pride took over "Of course I am going to do it". For once Colombia was not smirking, and then the smirk returned.

New Spain, who was sitting next to him, looked over at him curiously. Then without any warning, Colombia forced his lips against New Spain's. New Spain attempted to push Colombia away, but to no avail. Colombia gently held New Spain's face as he kissed him. New Spain stopped trying to struggle; despite himself he was enjoying this. He started kissing Colombia back and he could taste the wine on his lips. It was so good, and something about this was so right. He suddenly needed more; if this was to be his first kiss he wanted it to be amazing. He gasped as Colombia forced his lips open and pushed his own tongue into New Spain's mouth.

All the others were staring and gasping, Cuba looked hurt. New Spain began to dominate Colombia. Peru finally broke the moment "What the Hell!" They broke apart, New Spain breathing heavily. He stared at Colombia, both puzzled and enthralled. Colombia licked his lips fiercely, as though he could not get enough of the taste. Peru was still livid "What the Hell were you doing?" Columbia looked away from New Spain to Peru "I did exactly what you dared me to do". New Spain couldn't stand everyone looking at him like that. His heart was racing more than ever now. He felt Cuba's eyes on him, and he felt ashamed.

Suddenly he was angry and he wasn't sure why "You bastard! That was uncalled for! You should have turned it down". Colombia looked genuinely hurt "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to go that far. I couldn't help it…" New Spain made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat "Let's just move on"

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Alfred's arms tightened around Mexico's torso protectively "I am going to have to talk to Enrique about this incident". Mexico sighed exasperatedly "Alfred, I think you would have noticed if I still had any feelings for him". America made a very disapproving sound "Still? You mean you had feelings for him then". Mexico turned around and kissed America on the lips, and then he broke it and spoke "You worry too much. He is no threat to you." America kissed Mexico again, more hungrily, speaking as he did so "You…Mmmm…Don't have a good record with…Mmmm…Fidelity".

Mexico broke the kiss and pulled back a little "Who have you been talking to?" America looked slightly taken aback "Well…ummm…Catalina has been trying to advise me about you". Mexico threw his hands up in exasperation "Ay! I swear that woman is out to ruin my love life! Did she tell you I will fuck anything that has two legs and moves?" America looked even more taken aback "Yeah….it was something like that". Mexico sighed again, louder this time "My dear ex-girlfriend thinks so highly of me". America laughed bitterly "Weren't you two engaged at some point?" Mexico nodded "I will get to that eventually if you ever let me finish my story".

America hugged Mexico again "Go ahead, I am listening". Mexico spoke softly in America's ear "You need to promise me you won't get jealous of my past relationships". America kissed the back of Mexico's neck "I can try to do that, but if you describe sex with anyone else, I will have to say something"

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

New Spain lay in bed staring at the wall, his mind reeling. One thought came to him over and over again: Homosexuality is a sin. He knew it was true, but he wished it wasn't with all his heart. Despite himself, he had enjoyed that kiss so much. He needed to confess to a priest to purge this sin. He glanced over at Cuba, who was fast asleep, and then he stood up. He snuck out of the room without making a sound. He was soon out and walking down the hall quickly, there was a chapel adjoined to the house in case anyone needed it.

Then New Spain reached the door and he heard a sound. It sounded like someone speaking; he almost thought it sounded like Colombia. He pressed his ear against the door and heard "God forgive me, I feel lust for another man". Mexico couldn't believe what he was hearing; Colombia actually meant it when he kissed him. A sudden rash, stupid thought occurred to him. His slightly wine infused mind did nothing to stop him.

He threw open the door of the church and walked across the floor. His bare feet didn't make a sound of the flagstones. He saw that Colombia was kneeling in front of the altar praying. Mexico took a deep breath before saying "So you felt it too?" Columbia turned around quickly and stared at New Spain "When did you-". New Spain shrugged "Just now, I heard you". Colombia stood up and his smirk returned, there was something hungry about it "Did you say you felt it?" New Spain's heart quickened at the burning gaze "I felt something. Something that felt like sin. I need to purge myself of it, that's all."

Colombia looked as if he was trying to judge New Spain's resolve "Why should we purge it when we both feel it?" New Spain walked up to Colombia, so that there were only a few inches between them "Nothing happened tonight. We didn't do anything. Forget. About. It.". Colombia looked determined and hungry, very hungry "I can't forget about it. Can you?" Colombia closed the space between them and put his hands on New Spain's waist. New Spain felt hot and strangely savage "Don't do this, don't tempt me".

New Spain seemed to have said something wrong; Colombia's smile widened "You are tempted then. Give in to temptation". Colombia brushed his lips against New Spain's. New Spain couldn't stand it; he pushed Columbia away "This is a sin! I serve God and I will not betray Him like this! Especially not in this holy place". New Spain turned away from Colombia; he couldn't stand to look at him. Colombia wrapped his arms around New Spain from behind and whispered seductively in his ear "Say that one more time in that cute way you do, like you actually believe it. One more time for me, mi amor". New Spain's heart was beating faster than ever now "You….You…" Colombia licked New Spain's ear "I just want you; I have for a long time".

Mexica's Aztec blood ignited and suddenly he needed to dominate. He turned around quickly and kissed Colombia full on the lips. Colombia was taken by surprise and he stepped back "What the?" Mexica felt his blood on fire, a strange smirk curled across his face "I thought you wanted this. You do, don't you?" Colombia looked confused for the first time that night "I do…but something has come over you". Mexica grabbed Colombia around the waist and pulled him close "You don't know me, not the real me. I am of Aztec blood and I will not be dominated, especially not by you".

Colombia looked shell shocked for a second and then said "I understand, I can be whatever you need, as long as I get you". Mexica smashed his lips against Colombia's. Mexica couldn't say he honestly loved Colombia, but he was fascinated by the boy. He wanted to know what love was like, but this wasn't love. His Aztec blood told him that he could play with this eager boy for pleasure then throw him away. Somehow all the morals that he had learned from Spain disappeared. He deepened the kiss and buried one of his hands in Colombia's hair.

Somehow he knew that he had to pull away now if he wanted to keep Colombia's appetite wetted. He pulled away, and allowed Colombia a moment to look over him hungrily before he turned away. Colombia called after him "You can't just leave me like this". Mexica, who had been walking away, turned back around "If you want me, then you are going to have to pursue me, I am not that easy". He turned and walked out. It took a few minutes to realize exactly what he had done. He needed to find some way to correct it.

#aph mexico #aph spain #aph fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #historical hetalia

[tialovestelevision]

Life Serial

Buffy has no money and no job and a flooded basement and all her furniture is broken and her friends ripped her out of Heaven and Spike exists. That’s where we are now!

1. Previously On. It brings up Buffy going to see Angel at the end of the last episode. Then we see her coming home with fried chicken. They already ate. They will eat again. Tara’s the one who comes up with that idea. Willow: “I’m a breast girl, myself… but then again you already knew that.” Wrong company for that line, Will. Buffy is passing out chicken. Dawn asks how her trip was. Giles is getting up from the table. Buffy says it was intense. Buffy doesn’t want to talk about it. Giles comes back and asks what her plans are. Buffy talks about minutiae of money, but Giles asks about her life. She has no idea. She talks a bit about her desire to go back to school. She was thinking about reenrolling, but she was dead when registration happened. Willow suggests auditing classes. She says she guesses she could do that. Giles absently agrees.

2. We see Jonathan talking about the Slayer always knowing what she’s doing. She’s always a step ahead of them. Creepmeister says that’s why they’re throwing tests at her, to find weaknesses. He’s also working on their van. Nine high-res surveillance cameras have been installed, with infrared and auto-iris. Six types of audio monitoring. They’re going to be able to watch Buffy without her noticing… except that when they circle around the van they find Andrew painting the Death Star on the side of it. The second Death Star. Now Jonathan and Andrew are arguing about the design of the Death Star. Creepmeister points out how attention-grabbing the Death Star will be. Andrew offers to paint over the Death Star if Creepmeister wants. Creepmeister tells him to do that, because this time tomorrow, “the games begin.” Opening credits, no Tara.

3. Buffy is going into a class to audit. She’s happy to be there. Willow’s teacher is Mike. Buffy died, and now teachers have first names. Buffy feels dumb. Someone ran into her, and left something on her clothes. It was Creepmeister. It was an inhibitor. They’re doing an omega pulse sequence. The van deploys a totally normal dish. Buffy takes a book from Tara, which is full of religious art for her art history class, then there’s a noise and Tara is sitting on the bench having a totally different conversation. Buffy tries to get a drink of water, there’s another woosh, and Tara is rushing off to class. Buffy got locked out of the class, then immediately Tara comes out and says she missed class. Time jumps forward on her again.. she’s chasing after Tara. And time jumps forward again. She gets knocked around by people moving at super speed relative to her. She crawls under a table for shelter. She recognizes that the noise is something on her. She found the inhibitor. Creepmeister self-destructs the inhibitor, and time goes back to normal. Andrew and Jonathan are scoring Creepmeister’s work. Creepmeister thinks Buffy was more freaked than Andrew does. They’re giving him 220 points total. Andrew says he’ll beat that score.

4. Buffy is at the construction site, doing some menial labor. She prefers this over retail. Xander had to call in favors to get her on the crew. Giles thinks the time-jumping might have been stress related. Buffy thinks it might have been evil lint. She’s going to meet Tony the Foreman. Tony doesn’t shake hands. Tony is ignorant, rude, and hostile. Buffy is on hauling duty. Tony is a misogynistic ass. Buffy can lift steel beams. Easily. Now she’s getting people angry by doing too good a job. Creepmeister and Jonathan are watching her in binoculars. It’s Andrew’s turn. He’s got some pan pipes, which he’s playing a melody on. Buffy stops to get something to drink, but hears the music. Then a demon attacks her and the coworker she was talking to. Three demons. Or more. Oops, there went a wall. She kills one. And it vanishes. The demons attack a couple of other workers; Buffy kills another and it also melts. She’s down to one. She uses a scissor lift to decapitate it. Creepmeister won’t stop hogging the binoculars, and the Trio scuffle for a moment, which sets off the horn, which plays the Star Wars theme. That gets Buffy’s attention. Xander goes over to ask Buffy what happened. The other workers won’t back up her story. And are misogynistic pricks. Xander follows her out. Xander thinks the two attacks are connected. He also has to fire her. He’s going to help her research after work.

5. Magic Box. Buffy is working there. Giles is doing research. Anya is training her. There’s a camera in a skull. Creepmeister is bored. Andrew and Creepmeister have no idea why Buffy is doing all these things. Homophobic joke homophobic joke. Jonathan is chanting and lighting paper on fire and tapping a magic bone. Now the van is filling with smoke. They have to bail out. A woman comes into the shop, Giles is offering her advice. He cleans his glasses and walks away. Anya tells Buffy to sell the woman something. Another customer asks her which candle creates a more romantic atmosphere. She gives him Lemon Seduction, not Essence of Slug. The woman wants a mummy hand. Buffy makes a terrible pun. Then she goes to fetch the mummy hand. Found it. It tries to strangle her. She pulls it off her throat and stabs it. The woman won’t take the hand. Then the woman comes back in and Giles offers her advice. Time loop time. Apparently, she has to satisfy a customer with a task that resists solving. The woman will not take no for an answer. Buffy is going to get the hand again. The Trio are talking about time loop sci-fi episodes. Buffy is stalking the hand. With tongs. She cut the fingers off. They loop again. Anya is worried about Buffy.  Buffy is playing with this now. She’s going to get the mummy hand again. Now it’s killing the customer. Loop. The hand has the tongs. Buffy breaks down crying. Then she has an idea on another loop - she can special order one. For delivery. So she doesn’t have to catch it. Buffy is going to destroy Giles and Anya over this. She quit the job.

6. Buffy is drinking with Spike. “Life is stupid.” She’s kind of on the edge of losing it, it looks like. She says Giles is working on it. Spike says he’d do better than Giles is. Buffy is cutting Spike off. He offers to let her try on his world. Now they’re at a demon bar. Spike kept the bike. They’re drinking and going out back. Buffy is drunk. Spike threw a demon out of the poker game. They’re playing cards. The demons talk while they play. They’re playing for kittens. Spike has no kittens.

7. The Trio is driving. Andrew’s favorite Bond is Dalton. The demons are still playing. Spike won kittens. Buffy won’t fight for him and is setting the kittens free. Buffy is very drunk. Spike was cheating. Buffy is falling apart. The Trio is still having their Bond argument. Spike just followed Buffy out. Buffy sees the van. Buffy is approaching the van, while the Trio argues. Then they see her, and Jonathan summons a big red demon. Buffy kicks it and it runs away. The demon was Jonathan. With no shirt. And no magical invulnerability. So a Buffy-kick hurt a lot. Creepmeister thinks they won today. They’re certain they’re her nemeses. They found porn.

8. Giles is talking to Buffy. He didn’t find the demon, but she says she got lucky. She says she’s really screwing up. He tells her she was being tested by some unknown demon; that’s not screwing up. She says it is. She let the demon set the rules. He says she’s pushing herself too hard. The bill collectors think it’s not hard enough. Giles gives her a check. She tries to refuse it, but she needs it. She says it’s like having her mom back. Giles prefers that over being her shiftless, absentee father, but he’d like to be a rakish uncle. He helps her up. She says she’ll show it to Dawn. “I just wanna tell you that, um, this… makes me feel safe. Knowing that you’ll always be here.” He watches her go, then gets a sad and concerned look. Episode end.

Overall: I didn’t like this one at all. I mean… there was some great comedy in the Groundhog Day bit, but they splattered that against the depressing, hopeless place her life is in by the end of the scene so hard that one feels bad for having laughed at it in the first place. The Trio continues to be entirely underwhelming as a concept for a villain, to the point that them providing a challenge to Buffy simply makes Buffy look worse.

This wasn’t one of the worst episodes of the show, but just how unpleasant this season’s main narrative points are makes it hard to tell a silly fun story. This could have been that, but it wasn’t, because the show was too busy being sad instead.

Plus, we’ve already told the story of “Buffy is overwhelmed by things.” Her mother died, an order of knights invaded her town, and a deity laid siege to her life. This is that again, but with less interesting players involved. I don’t like it.

#buffy the vampire slayer #life serial #buffy season 6 #season 6