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goldenlikedayl1ght · 3 months

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we're in love - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex. word count: 7.1k summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means. pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader now playing: we're in love - boygenius "will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."

Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.

Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.

You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.

It’s how you paid for college.

And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.

Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.

For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.

And then The Doctor found you.

No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.

He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.

You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.

Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.

About a month in, you started growing antlers.

At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.

On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.

At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.

But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.

How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?

Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.

Until The Doctor became cruel.

He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.

One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.

An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.

You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.

The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.

And that was that.

You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.

Which, of course, is where you met Matt.

With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.

And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.

Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.

He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.

One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor. You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.

He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.

When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.

You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—

‘My Best Test Subject,

I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.

-The Doctor’

You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.

This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.

• • •

After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.

But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.

It all happens too fast—

In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.

He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.

He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.

“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.

Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.

• • •

When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.

You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.

You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.

But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.

Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.

“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”

Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.

“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”

“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”

“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”

“You’re going to kidnap more people.”

“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”

“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”

He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.

“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”

You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.

Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.

The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.

“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.

“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.

The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.

“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”

• • •

Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.

For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.

Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.

Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.

And Foggy has the most important job of all.

Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.

It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.

“What? What is it?”

“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”

The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.

“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.

“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”

“Where?” Matt asks.

“Red, just—”

“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.

“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.

“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.

• • •

Daredevil is my enemy.

Matt Murdock hates me.

I hate him.

We were never really in love with each other.

These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.

Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.

Maybe.

You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.

The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.

But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.

It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.

Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.

Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.

“I found you, I’ve got you…”

You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.

Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.

“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?

Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.

“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”

“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.

“Why was she—”

“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.

• • •

If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.

Today is no different.

You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.

You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.

The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.

“How do you know my name?” You ask.

She frowns.

“It—Because we’re good friends.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”

“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”

Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.

There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.

He speaks next.

“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”

“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.

“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.

“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.

“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.

Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.

And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.

Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.

“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.

It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.

“I don’t know you.” You tell him.

Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.

“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”

“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.

“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”

You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.

Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.

“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?

“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.

“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.

“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”

Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.

“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.

It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.

“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.

You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..

Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.

Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.

“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”

He hesitates.

“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”

• • •

Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.

You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.

“You kept them?”

“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.

“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”

He shrugs gently.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

“And in torture and memory alteration.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time in six months, you smile.

Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.

You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.

• • •

Memories are a tricky thing.

You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.

One night, he brings home Thai Food.

“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.

“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.

“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.

“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.

But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.

“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”

“Why did you want to marry me?”

He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.

“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.

“Oh..”

“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”

You smile softly.

“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”

“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.

Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..

Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.

“Yeah..”

“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.

“Can you stay with me?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.

Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.

But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.

“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”

“Real.” He confirms.

“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”

“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”

You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.

“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”

“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.

You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.

• • •

The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.

Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.

It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:

‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’

Five minutes later, you get a response.

‘Real. Yours is sprite.’

You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.

Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.

“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.

“Do you like pesto?”

“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.

“So you do?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”

“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.

“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.

“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.

“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.

“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.

“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.

You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.

As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’

The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.

So you call Frank.

This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.

“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.

“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.

It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.

“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”

“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”

Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.

“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”

Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.

“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.

But he’ll never get that chance.

He hopes Matt does.

• • •

It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"

“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.

“You like them?”

“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.

“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”

Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.

Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.

“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.

“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”

You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.

The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.

“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.

The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.

“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.

“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You tell him.

A comfortable silence fills the air again.

“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.

“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.

You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.

“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.

You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“Real.”

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manicplank · 1 month

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Got any angst about the pt cast?

Of course, I do.

Peppino: He was bullied as a child/teenager and developed horrible social anxiety and depression from it. He also has generalized anxiety disorder. He's not necessarily estranged from his family, but he doesn't communicate with them a lot. This has caused tension to rise as his family began to think he doesn't love them. His failing business only adds to his crippling anxiety. He holds it against himself and is convinced that he's a failure.

Gustavo: I've said it a million times, but he's a divorced dad with minimal custody rights. He feels guilty for it. The divorce was super hard on him and still hurts. He was also very lonely at home before he got Brick. Other than that, he's a pretty jolly guy.

Mr. Stick: He's a lonely guy. His social skills aren't the best, and he's very condescending. His gambling problem has actually caused him great losses in life. He has maybe one friend (Burton). Despite being a con man, he's very gullible.

Pepperman: His narcissistic tendencies have cause many relationships to peril. Family, friends, and even partners had grown tired of his antics. He spends most of his time on his art and forgets to take care of himself. He's quite lonely.

The Vigilante: He doesn't have any family left. His maw and paw died early in his life after they were killed by outlaws. This is what made him decide to become The Vigilante. His peepaw, John E. Cheese, raised him. After he passed, The Vigilante had nobody but the ghost of him. He's become very lonely and is slightly depressed.

The Noise: He has an absent father who he resents for not being there. He grew up as a chaotic AuDHD child with a mother who didn't know how to handle it. He was bullied a lot. He's very paranoid that people will use him for money and fame, which is why he doesn't really have any friends other than Noisette. He's very angry and depressed underneath that silly persona. His social skills aren't great, either.

Noisette: She's incredibly insecure when it comes to criticism. She got bullied a lot in school for her poor social skills. Like Noise, she's also AuDHD, but her parents were educated and raised her well. She holds herself to modern beauty standards and occasionally gets insecure of her appearance.

Fake Peppino: He was met with violence and fear very early in life as he was constantly being hunted down by others in the tower (piggy police, The Vigilante). People were afraid of him, and it made him sad about himself. [Fic spoiler] Bruno was a great friend to him, but now he's gone. Until Peppino arrived, he felt that he was unlovable. Pizzahead is fine but can get too rough when it comes to correcting behavior.

Pizzahead: His poor social skills and onsessive behaviors have caused him to suffer greatly in his social life. He's very lonely and pushes most people away. He snapped at a certain point and went completely insane. He's a psychopathic maniac. He buries himself in work most of the time to avoid his feelings.

Pillar John: [Fic spoilers] John was originally a maintenance man in the tower. He was an incredible fixer and was good friends with Pizzahead. The tower was old and falling apart. Once Pizzahead realized there was no fixing it, he created a crazy contraption and trapped John in the top floor of the tower, causing the pillars in each level to support the tower's stability. Because of this, John developed a horrible depression after having a happy life.

Gerome: Gerome had somewhat of a tough upbringing. His mom and dad got divorced when he was young. His dad wasn't a great person. He was depressed as a kid because he felt the divorce was his fault. When his mom met John's father, things changed drastically, especially when John was born. At first, he didn't like John or his father. Once he saw how happy his mom was, he opened up and became close to John and his dad. Despite this, the depression still haunts Gerome to this day. Gerome even finds himself feeling a bit guilty over the tower situation.

#pizza tower #noise #the noise #headcanon #noisette #pizzahead #peppino #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #pepperman #the vigilante #mr. stick #pillar john #pizza tower gerome #pizza tower gustavo

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boyfridged · 2 months

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I think an really interesting thing about when they have the character's say that Bruce was saving Jason a life of crime or teaching Jason to be good is that it not only isn't true, it directly contradicts other canon.

We have at least two separate alternate time lines (caused specifically by time travel events where the consequences included no Bruce adoption) both of which were Jason was still a moral person. In Flashpoint he is a priest who believes in helping people not matter if they are church goers or not. A world without young justice has AU Jason die trying to do the right thing.

On top of that Jason is at the very least strongly implied to have taken care of his sick mother and the more recent portrayals of him meeting people from his pre-Bruce life also portray him as a caring person.

This adds up to although the writer means for the character to be right, and that Bruce is so noble for helping (failing) this poor child. They are actually being canonically classist towards Jason as what they are saying is an untrue assumption based on his background.

Selina in Gotham War saying he taught Jason to be good is her being classist. Alfred treating Jason like he was just a bad seed Bruce couldn't save is classist. Bruce and his whole reasoning that it is okay for Jason specifically to be endangered because of his background is classist.

Obviously that isn't the intent but when writers who are less classist about Jason write him these classist things aren't be true. It doesn't matter if Zdarsky retcons Jason being such a 'bad kid' when there are a bunch of other writers who didn't do that.

(Zdarsky: Look at this 'bad kid' before Bruce taught him morals. Ignore all the times he was portrayed as a good kid, those aren't canon anymore. Bruce is the source of all his morality. Bruce is actually less classist than Jason. This is definitely not classist writing.)

you summarized it excellently. i think it is also related to bruce projecting both his own trauma and his own worldview on jay and his background. i have written a very long post about this exactly, with receipts too. you can find it here. oh and another one, in which i explain why it would be more interesting to allow bruce to be wrong too.

and as i cited it in the above post – bruce is wrong and that fact is quite evident in-text, at least in the early versions of the story. this is also what i love so much about barr’s detective comics run – because barr calls bullshit and gets leslie to tell bruce his reasoning behind putting jason in field are unbecoming and that he is “doing it for himself.”

of course, post jay’s death that awareness has evaporated and instead we got revised versions of the story that were more than ever deadset on proving that jason did possess some fatal flaw, a violent seed that bruce did not manage to eradicate (like the issues of gotham knights, which again, i have no idea as to why they are so popular, given how malicious they are in the evaluation of jason’s fate). the latest retcons such as zdarsky’s work also fall into the trap of attempting to justify bruce’s decisions irt jason & his role as robin by diminishing jay and rewriting his story to be tainted with inevitability. even a death in the family (2020, the animated movie) provides the audience with plenty alternative endings, all of which are to make a murderer or a villain out of jason.

that is not to say that i think there should not be a sense of inevitability of jay’s tragedy at all – but its source is stubbornly misplaced for bruce’s benefit despite even the actual aditf storyline and barr’s run before placing the responsibility for it in bruce’s inability to compartmentalise his parental and vigilante duties (the chapter of aditf titled choices relates to bruce’s decision to go after the joker instead of jason; it does turn out it did not matter as jason has long been tied up in that family-vs-heroics conflict.)

bringing up the alternative versions of jay is a good way to illustrate it; in the world in which he does not meet bruce, he is not damned to participate in the cycle of abuse forever. i’m not gonna lie, i also wish countdown went in that direction and has given us more glances at realities like that. because i do believe that jason’s resolve to stop at nothing when faced by crime, the sense of obligation to do so that leaves his hands bloody, is something that was cultivated in him primarily by the robin training.

#outbox #the things i go through to answer an ask. i have to save them in drafts first to be able to post them at all??

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psychoblush · 25 days

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A quintessential early-career Robin that fits the tone of The Batman

This post was originally written for Reddit, where folks are much more opposed to having Dick be in The Batman universe than on Tumblr. But still, I thought I would share it here!

Bruce, in trying to be more publicly a part of Gotham’s community, is out in the world again and in one of his public outings, he comes across the orphaned 15 year old Dick Grayson. This could be Haley’s circus but it doesn’t have to be - but Dick’s acrobat and gymnastics past should be retained.

(Another way to modernize it is to have Dick be an Olympic gymnast prodigy - but it’s not the most relevant. Theoretically you could tie this into the Grayson murder plot, but you don’t have to. Anyway…)

Bruce, against Alfred’s advice, wants to foster Dick himself and let him live with them at Wayne Tower. Alfred thinks this is a crazy idea because of Bruce’s nighttime activities as The Batman and because he’s far too young and emotionally-detached to be a father-figure, but Bruce is insistent on it after recognizing the extent to which Dick’s pain mirrors his. Bruce has an opportunity here: to give Dick what he wish he had when he was young and orphaned. Alfred comes around once he sees this too, in a moment mirroring Alfred seeing the footage of the mayor’s son in the first movie. Bruce gets an opportunity to emotionally reach a younger version of himself, and Alfred gets a chance to be more of what he wish he could be, a warmer father figure to both Bruce and Dick. This is a story about second chances. It’s a second chance for Bruce, it’s a second chance for Alfred, and it’s most vitally a second chance for Dick.

Here’s where things get interesting: even though Bruce adopts Dick early-on in the film, for most of it, neither of them are operating as a duo. Bruce and Alfred are keeping The Batman identity away from Dick, *and Dick is secretly hunting down his parents’ killer as a street vigilante inspired by Batman* - using a rudimentary version of the Robin identity. This becomes a major subplot and eventually connects back to the central antagonism of the film - whoever they choose, the killing of the Graysons is banally tied to this similarly to how the killing of the Waynes is ambiguously tied to the Falcone story in the first movie. At the same time, the dual deception between Bruce and Dick on each of their respective nighttime activities is a core obstacle to their relationship deepening. They can’t truly reach each other because they don’t trust each other- and Dick is singlemindedly focused on vengeance. It also gives us a chance to show Dick as a smart kid; he’s able to successfully elude the suspicions of both Bruce and Alfred while living with them and living a double life.

At the end of the second act, Batman comes across this proto-Robin and sees through it, and realizes the extent to which Robin is the same as him. He’s also a young boy who can’t move past his pain and is lashing out at the world and trying to make sense of the horror of it. Bruce does what he’s never done before. He takes off the mask and he lets Dick see him for who he truly is. *This* is when the Dick-Bruce relationship really begins.

Have Dick play a supporting but pivotal role in the third act. He needs to sabotage, distract, inform, scout, something. Give him agency and let him navigate the world, in between his new relationship as Batman’s semi-partner and still grappling with what this means for him. And have it coalesce in a moment where he chooses to accept his pain in a healthier way, to follow Bruce’s example. And the film ends with Bruce choosing to train Dick, to better him as a person and to offer him what Bruce sorely needed when he was his age.

Okay, now that the thematic plotting is out of the way, let’s talk about vibes. Vibes are super important to this universe and a core reason why people seem to have hangups around including Robin in the Reevesverse.

Early vigilante proto-Robin should navigate this world of orphaned street-bound teenagers who are parts of gangs and criminal networks. It should feel kind of like Victorian London’s child street gangs, but it can also be reminiscent of modern organized crime recruiting children. This is the world Robin navigates to get what he wants in the story, and it’s a world that is unfamiliar to Batman until Robin officially becomes his partner. Then it becomes a resource he can use to keep tabs on different goings-on in the city and make Gotham safer. This also echoes how Batman treats children and sex workers in the comics. Because Batman treats the vulnerable and disenfranchised with respect and humanity, it makes him a stronger and more capable hero to protect the communities he operates in.

Proto-Robin operating separately from Bruce should have a similar ad-hoc DIY vibe to The Batman, just lower tech and more discreet. It’s important textually that Robin was also inspired by The Batman without knowing him or coming into contact with him. It parallels Riddler ironically, it shows that the tragedy of Edward’s descent into vengeance and rage has had an effect on Bruce and that’s why he fights so desperately to keep the same fate from happening to Dick. Dick is someone who has had everything taken away from him, he was a brilliant gymnast whose aspirations were dashed when he lost his parents. Bruce can’t let him descend further into that spiral.

Robin isn’t a fighting partner in this film. He’ll become that when he’s older, closer to 16-17 in Part Three, but right now he’s a rogue agent navigating this world on his own, and Bruce has him as a mix between an informant, a spy, and an intel source. We need to sidestep the child soldier allegations, and it also means that Robin can do things Bruce can’t. Robin isn’t famous, Robin isn’t a fully grown adult. He can navigate spaces and places and worlds Bruce can’t, and that makes both of them stronger heroes for it.

In this sense, this version of Dick Grayson is a loose amalgamation of the first three Robins. He has Jason’s rage, brashness, and involvement in the underworld; he has Tim’s shrewdness, detective skills, and sense of loyalty; and he has Dick Grayson’s backstory and sense of optimism. We’re not just watching this boy become Robin, we’re also watching him transform into the version of Dick we know so well - the same way we’re watching Bruce transform into Bruce in this story.

Why I think we fucking need Robin in The Batman Part Two? Because Part One is a film about Bruce realizing that he can’t be vengeance alone, that he must be hope as well. Part Two needs to be a film about Bruce coming to understand what vengeance has done to those who have seen his example, and Dick presents a tangible opportunity to actually instill a better example in someone who went through what he did. They would act as foils to one another, they would be permutations and mirrors of each other, and we would finally get a faithful, beautiful, and compelling version of the Batman-Robin dynamic on the live action big screen.

#the Batman #Robin #Nightwing #dick Grayson #teen titans #the Batman 2022 #batman and robin #batman #dc comics #the Batman part two #the Batman sequel #the Batman part II #the Batman part 2 #the Batman 2 #jason todd #Tim Drake

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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 1 year

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“Freedom of Speech”, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Reith Lecture, 2022

Full transcript, with a link to watch at the end of the post.

“It’s a bit disturbing to have people be forced to clap for me. And I’m sorry. Thank you all for being here. I’m really happy to be here and I’m happy that you’re here.

It is a privilege for me to be here today to join in the distinguished tradition of the BBC Reith Lectures. When I was growing up in the 1980s on the campus of the University of Nigeria in Nsukka, I was a very curious child keen to hear every story, especially those that were no business of mine. And so, as a result, I sharpened very early on in life the skill of eavesdropping, a pastime at which I am still quite adept.

I noticed that each time my parents’ friends visited, they would sit in the living room talking loudly, except for when they criticised the military government. Then, they spoke in whispers. That whispering, apart from testing my eavesdropping capabilities, was striking. Why speak in such hushed tones when in the privacy of our living room, drinking brandy, no less? Well, because they were so attuned to a punitive authoritarian government that they instinctively lowered their voices, saying words they dared not say in public.

We would not expect this whispering in a democracy. Freedom of expression is after all, the bedrock of open societies. But there are many people in Western democracies today who will not speak loudly about issues they care about because they are afraid of what I will call, “social censure,” vicious retaliation, not from the government, but from other citizens.

An American student once accosted me at a book reading. “Why,” she asked angrily, “Had I said something in an interview?” I told her that what I had said was the truth, and she agreed that it was and then asked, “But why should we see it, even if it’s true?” At first, I was astonished at the absurdity of the question, then I realised what she meant. It didn’t matter what I actually believed. I should not have said it because it did not align with my political tribe. I had desecrated the prevailing orthodoxy. It was like being accused of blasphemy in a religion that is not yours. That young woman’s question, “Why should we say it, even if it’s true?” illustrates what the writer Ayad Akhtar has called a moral stridency, “a fierce, perhaps even punitive adherence to the collectively-sanctioned attitudes and behaviours of this era.”

To that, I would add, that this moral stridency is in fact, always punitive. We now live in broad settled ideological tribes. We no longer need to have real discussions because our positions are already assumed, based on our tribal affiliation. Our tribes demand from us a devotion to orthodoxy and they abide not reason, but faith. Many young people are growing up in this cauldron afraid to ask questions for fear of asking the wrong questions. And so, they practise an exquisite kind of self-censorship. Even if they believe something to be true or important, they do not say so because they should not say so.

One cannot help but wonder in this epidemic of self-censorship, what are we losing and what have we lost? We are all familiar with stories of people who have said or written something and then, faced a terrible online backlash. There is a difference between valid criticism, which should be part of free expression, and this kind of backlash, ugly personal insults, putting addresses of homes and children’s schools online, trying to make people lose their jobs.

To anyone who thinks, “Well, some people who have said terrible things, deserve it,” no. Nobody deserves it. It is unconscionable barbarism. It is a virtual vigilante action whose aim is not just to silence the person who has spoken but to create a vengeful atmosphere that deters others from speaking. There is something honest about an authoritarianism that recognises itself to be what it is. Such a system is easier to challenge because the battle lines are clear. But this new social censure demands consensus while being wilfully blind to its own tyranny. I think it portends the death of curiosity, the death of learning and the death of creativity.

No human endeavour requires freedom as much as creativity does. To create, one needs a kind of formless roving of the mind, to go nowhere and anywhere and everywhere. It is from that swell that art emerges. The German writer, Gunter Grass, once reflected on his writing process with these words: “The barriers fell, language surged forward, memory, imagination, the pleasure of invention.” As a writer, I recognised this intimately. As a reader, I have often felt the magic of literature, that sudden internal shiver while reading a novel, that glorious shock of mutuality, a sense of wonder that a stranger’s words could make me feel less alone in the world.

Literature shows us who we are, takes us into history, tells us not just what happened but how it felt and teaches us, as an American Professor once put it, about things that are “not googleable.” Books shape our understanding of the world. We speak of “Dickensian London.” We look to great African writers like Aidoo and Ngugi to understand the continent and we read Balzac for the subtleties of post-Napoleonic France.

Literature deeply matters and I believe literature is in peril because of social censure. If nothing changes, the next generation will read us and wonder, how did they manage to stop being human? How were they so lacking in contradiction and complexity? How did they banish all their shadows?

On a calm morning in New York this August, Salman Rushdie was attacked while just about to speak, ironically, on the freedom of speech. Imagine the brutal, barbaric intimacy of a stranger standing inches from you and forcefully plunging a knife into your face and your neck multiple times, because you wrote a book. I decided to re- read Rushdie’s books, not only as an act of defiant support but as a ritualized reminder that physical violence in response to literature can never, ever be justified.

Rushdie was attacked because in 1989, after his novel, The Satanic Verses was published, the Iranian regime declared it offensive and condemned not just Rushdie but all his publishers, to death. Horrors, of course, then followed: His Italian translator was stabbed, his Norwegian publisher was shot, and his Japanese translator, Hitoshi Igarashi, was murdered in Tokyo. Here is a question I’ve been thinking about: would Rushdie’s novel be published today? Probably not. Would it even be written? Possibly not.

There are writers like Rushdie who want to write novels about sensitive subjects, but are held back by the specter of social censure. Publishers are wary of committing secular blasphemy. Literature is increasingly viewed through ideological rather than artistic lenses. Nothing demonstrates this better than the recent phenomenon of “sensitivity readers” in the world of publishing, people whose job it is to cleanse unpublished manuscripts of potentially offensive words.

This, in my mind, negates the very idea of literature. We cannot tell stories that are only light when life itself is light and darkness. Literature is about how we are great and flawed. It is about what H. G. Wells has called ‘the jolly coarseness of life.’ To that I would add that just coarseness alone will do, it need not be jolly.

While I insist that violence is never an acceptable response to speech, I do not deny the power of words to wound. Words can break the human spirit. Some of the deepest pain I have experienced in my life have come from words that somebody said or wrote, and some of the most beautiful gifts I have received have also been words. It is precisely because of this power of words that freedom of speech matters.

‘Freedom of speech.’ Even the expression itself has sadly taken on a partisan tribal tint. It is often framed, and I will put it crudely, as “say whatever you want” versus, “consider the feelings of others.” This, though, is too stark a dichotomy.

I cannot keep count of all the books that have offended me, infuriated me, disgusted me, but I would never argue that they not be published. When I read something scientifically false, such as that drinking urine cures cancer, or something gratuitously hurtful to human dignity, such as that gay people should be imprisoned for being gay, I desperately long to banish such ideas from the world. Yet I resist advocating censorship. I take this position as much for reasons of principle as for practicality.

I believe deeply in the principle of free expression, and I believe this particularly because I am a writer and a reader, and because literature is my great love and because I have been formed and inspired and consoled by books. Had any of those books been censored, I would perhaps today be lost.

My practical reason, we could also call it my selfish reason, is that I fear the weapon I advocate to be used against someone else might one day be used against me. What today is considered benign could very well become offensive tomorrow, because the suppression of speech is not so much about the speech itself, as it is the person who censors. American high school boards are today engaged in a frenzy of book banning, and the process seems arbitrary. Books that have been used in school curriculums for years with no complaints have suddenly been banned in some states, and I understand that one of my novels is in this august group.

I confess that there are some books I would fantasize about banning. Books that deny the Holocaust or the Armenian genocide, for example, because I detest the denial of history. But what if someone else’s fantasy was to ban a book about the Deir Yassin massacre of Palestinians by Zionists in 1948? Or a book about the Igbo coalminers massacred in Nigeria by the British colonial government in 1949? Above principle and pragmatism, however, is the reality that censorship very often does not achieve its objective. My first instinct, on learning that a book has been banned, is to seek it out and read it.

And so, I would say, do not ban them, answer them. In this age of mounting disinformation all over the world, when it is easy to dress up a lie so nicely that it starts to take on the glow of truth, the solution is not to hide the lie but to expose it, and scrub from it, its false glow. When we censor the purveyors of bad ideas, we risk making them martyrs, and the battle with a martyr can never be won.

I read newspapers from both sides of the political spectrum. I am, by the way, still puzzled that newspapers, ostensible bastions of objectivity, are politically differentiated. And I often say when I am feeling a little sanctimonious, that I am interested in the ideas of people who disagree with me because I believe that it is good to hear different sides of an issue. But the truth is that I am interested in their ideas because I want to understand them properly and therefore be better able to demolish them.

I believe that the answer to bad speech is more speech, and I recognize how simplistic, even flippant, that can sound. This is not to suggest that one should be allowed to say absolutely anything at any time, which to me is a juvenile position, for being fantastical and detached from reality. Free speech absolutism would be appropriate only for a theoretical world inhabited by animated ideas rather than humans.

Some speech restrictions are necessary in a civilized world. After the Second World War, when countries gathered to draft the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, most agreed that “incitement to violence,” should be punished, but the Soviet Bloc wanted to add “incitement to hatred,” citing the Nazis as an example, which on the surface was reasonable. But their opponents suspected, rightly, that “incitement to hatred,” would end up being interpreted so widely as to include any criticism of the government.

This raises the question: who decides just how narrow and how clear restrictions should be? The nineteenth century English philosopher, John Stuart Mill, wrote that all silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility, and with all due respect to the Pope, nobody is infallible. So, who decides what should be silenced?

Mahatma Gandhi, after he was arrested for sedition, wrote: “Affection cannot be manufactured or regulated by law. If one has no affection for a person or system, one should be free to give the fullest expression to his disaffection, so long as he does not contemplate, promote or incite to violence.”

Most people would agree. But what about speech that does not directly incite violence but has nevertheless led to deaths by suicide, as has happened with people is so harangued on social media, so insulted and abused, that they take their own lives? I, by the way, use the word ‘violence,’ assuming that its meaning is self-evident. But is it really? For what is to be said of the idea prevalent today that speech does not merely incite violence – the kind of physical act as suffered by Salman Rushdie – but that speech itself IS violence?

The expression, ‘the answer to bad speech is more speech,’ in its beguiling simplicity, also fails to consider a central motif, which is power. Who has access? Who is in a position to answer bad speech with more speech? In arguing for the freedom of speech, one must consider all the limitations placed by unequal power relations, such as a mainstream press owned by fewer and fewer wealthy people, which naturally excludes multiple voices.

Even the definition of speech can be limiting, such as when the US Supreme Court decided, in the case of Citizens United, that money is speech. All those not wealthy cannot then ‘answer back,’ as it were. Most of all, the Social Media companies, with their mystical algorithms and their lack of transparency, exert enormous control on who can speak and who cannot, by suspending and censoring their users, something that has been called ‘moderation without representation.’

Yes, these companies are private but considering the outsize influence they have in modern society, they really should be treated more like a public utility. There are those who think that, because of these sorts of power limitations, we should robustly censor speech in order to create tolerance. A well-intentioned idea, no doubt. But as the Danish lawyer, Jacob Mchangama, has argued: “To impose silence and call it tolerance does not make it so. Real tolerance requires understanding. Understanding comes from listening. Listening presupposes speech.”

For all the nobility in the idea of censorship for the sake of tolerance, it is also a kind of capitulation, an acceptance that the wounded cannot fight back. When an anti-black poster was once displayed on the campus of Arizona State University, the university chose not to expel the perpetrators. Instead, a forum was organized, the poster discussed, and an overwhelming majority of students expressed their disapproval. One of the black students who organized this said, “When you get a chance to swing at racism, and you do, you feel more confident about doing it the next time.”

A troubling assumption underlying the idea of censorship for the sake of tolerance is that good people don’t need free speech, as they cannot possibly want to say anything hurtful to anyone. Free speech is therefore for the bad people who want it as a cover to say bad things. The culture of social censure today has, at its center, a kind of puritanism that expects us to be free of all flaws, like angels, and angels do not need free speech.

Of course, we all need free speech. Free speech is indeed a tool of the powerful, but it is also crucially the language of the powerless. The courageous protests by Iranian women, the ENDSARS protest in Nigeria, where young people rallied against police brutality, the Arab Spring: all wielded speech. Dissent is impossible without the freedom of speech.

The biggest threat to speech today is not legal or political, but social. This is not a new idea, even if its present manifestation is modern. That famed chronicler of American life, Alexis de Tocqueville, believed that the greatest dangers to liberty were not legal or political, but social. And when John Stuart Mill warned against the “tyranny of the prevailing opinion and feeling,” it reads as though he foresaw the threat that orthodoxy poses today. The solution to this threat can only be collective action. Social censure creates not just a climate of fear but also a reluctance to acknowledge this fear. It is only human to fear a mob, but I would fear less if I knew my neighbor would not stay silent were I to be pilloried. We fear the mob but the mob is us.

I want to make a case today for moral courage, for each of us to stand for freedom of speech, to refuse to participate in unjustified censorship, and to make much wider, the boundaries of what can be said. We must start again to assume good faith. In public discourse today, the assumption of good faith is dead and speech is by default interpreted in the most uncharitable way. Yes, some people are not of good faith which, I suppose, is what that modern word “troll” means, but we cannot, because some people do not act in good faith, then decide that the principle of good faith itself is dead. It is instructive to be reminded of American President James Madison’s words: “some degree of abuse is inseparable from the proper use of everything.”

We must start again to make our case, respectfully and factually. We must agree that neither sanctimonious condescension on the left nor mean-spirited hectoring on the right qualify as political arguments. We must insist not only on truth but also nuance. An argument for any social justice movement, for example, is stronger and more confident when it is nuanced because it does not feel the need to simplify in order to convince.

We must hear every side and not only the loudest side. While social media has re-shaped the traditional power dynamic by giving some access to the powerless, it has also made it easy to mistake the loudest voices for the truest. We must protect the values of disagreement, and agree that there is value in disagreement. And we must support the principle of free expression when it does not appeal to our own agenda, difficult as that may be, and I find it particularly so.

We must wean ourselves of the addiction to comfort. When I first left Nigeria to attend university in the US, I quickly realized that in public conversations about America’s difficult problems – like income inequality and race – the goal was not truth, the goal was to keep everyone comfortable. And so, people pretended not to see what they saw, things were left unsaid, questions unasked, and ignorance festered. This unwillingness to accept the discomfort that honesty can bring is in its own way a suppression of speech. Some Americans argue, for example, that students today should not be taught about the racist Jim Crow laws of the 1950s, because it will make them uncomfortable. And so, they prefer the disservice to young people of making them ignorant of their own history.

We must stop assuming that everyone knows, or should know, everything. I was once struck by how quickly an American journalist was fired from her job for saying something racist. Little was made public about exactly what it was she had said, and this not only gave a certain unearned power to her words, but also darkly suggested that perhaps they contained an element of truth. The public was also cheated of its right to hear, and perhaps, potentially learn. What was said? Why was saying it wrong? What should have been said instead?

We must demand that people behave on social media only as they would in real life, and we must also demand reasonable social media reforms such as the removal of anonymity, or linking advertising only to accounts with real names, which would provide an incentive to promote voices of actual people and not amoral bots.

What if each of us, but particularly those with voices, gatekeepers, opinion shapers, political and cultural leaders, editors, social media influencers, across the political spectrum, were to agree on these ideas as broad rules to follow? A coalition of the reasonable would automatically moderate extreme speech. Is it naïve? Perhaps. But a considered embrace of naivety can be the beginning of change. The internet was after all designed to create a utopia of human connection. A naïve idea if ever there was one, but it still brought about the most significant change in how human beings communicate.

Sometimes it takes a crisis for a naïve idea to become realistic. President Roosevelt’s New Deal itself was based on ideas that went against the prevailing consensus of the time and were generally considered naïve and impossible. But when crisis came in the form of the Great Depression, it suddenly became possible.

Social censure is our crisis today. George Orwell wrote that, “If large numbers of people are interested in freedom of speech, there will be freedom of speech, even if the law forbids it.” To that I would add: We can protect our future. We just need moral courage.

Thank you.”

#too good not to share in its entirely #*entirety #I’ll be posting individual quotes tomorrow I think

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myemuisemo · 2 months

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As "John Ferrier Talks with the Prophet" in Letters from Watson, I'm sucked down the rabbit hole of Mormon Escapee Narratives.

There were several that were wildly popular in the years between the LDS settlement of Utah and the time when Doyle was writing. The one I can find an online copy of is Fanny Stenhouse's memoir, which appears to have had a couple versions under variant titles. The one I've paged through is Tell It All: The Story of a Life's Experience in Mormonism (1879, with foreword by Harriet Beecher Stowe). There's also an 1872 version titled Exposé of Polygamy in Utah: A Lady’s Life among the Mormons.

Fanny Stenhouse's existence is documented, and she went on the lecture circuit in the 1870s as an opponent to polygamy.

Her story matches Doyle's description of conspiracy theories, secret organizations, and atrocities in Salt Lake City so closely that it's likely he got his ideas from Stenhouse or similar materials. Newspaper coverage of happenings in remote Utah would, whether in London or Edinburgh, have been scanty and sensationalist -- although there is one historic event that might have excited interest, and its absence from the story muddles the timeline.

In spring 1857, President Buchanan sent the U.S. Army to the Utah Territory. The LDS residents feared renewed persecution, turned plowshares into swords, and fought a guerilla war of annoyance against the army. In September 1857, a group of Mormon militia slaughtered an entire wagon train of settlers bound for California (the Mountain Meadows Massacre). The wikipedia entry linked is worth a read, as it captures the "what really happened? who lied about what? was this an LDS policy or a group that acted recklessly on its own?" questions that swirl around efforts to make sense of the history of this era.

The "Utah War" wasn't the first incident of violence between LDS and "gentiles." Back in 1838 in Missouri, harassment and violence toward LDS settlers was met with the formation of the Danites (aha! Doyle mentions them!), a vigilante secret society that retaliated violently. The 1838 Mormon War is an appalling read on so many levels.

Whether the Danites were still operating in the 1850s in Utah is a question that historians today dispute. Their reputation in the 1830s was that they were determined to remove dissent within their own people, so the idea that forces within the LDS community would silence a man for disagreeing has some historical basis.

What's seriously missing in Doyle's account is that in 1858, Brigham Young's plan for thwarting U.S. troops was to evacuate Salt Lake City -- so thousands of LDS faithful boarded up their homes, gathered their goods, and marched off into the mountains. (There was talk of burning the city, but that apparently didn't happen.) Obviously, people came back, but that's a big thing for John Ferrier to have lived through without remarking upon. A year of widespread want from culling herds and missing portions of the planting season, combined with military occupation, seems like a big deal.

If we assume none of that had happened yet, then it's early 1857 and only 10 years since Ferrier and Lucy were rescued -- making his twelfth year of wealth in the future, the discovery of silver in Nevada also in the future, and Lucy just fifteen. The latter is still plausible for her being pressured to marry, alas. I think the timeline's just a bit muddled, though -- even with today's online resources, researching 30-year-old events in a far-away place can get messy.

Ferrier's unwelcome visitor is none other than Brigham Young, charismatic leader of the LDS community, and governor of the Utah Territory from 1850 to 1858. He was also a Freemason (remember the Masonic ring, weeks ago?).

Polygamy doesn't come up! What?!? We're in a generic sort of romance plot, where the innocent flower is to be given to a less noble and honest man than her preferred suitor. We know that the Drebber son is going to turn out to be a terrible man, but there's nothing especially indicative of it in Brigham Young's proposal. Since there's no mention of young Drebber or young Stangerson having pre-existing wives, it's likely Lucy is being offered the position of the legally married first wife.

Ferrier's plan is to flee. Since Doyle's readers are in the future, they may have a tingle of fear related to the doctrine of "blood atonement" (which was discussed in Stenhouse's book as well as in newspaper accounts) and the 1866 murder of Dr. Robinson.

#sherlock holmes #letters from watson

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vellaphoria · 3 months

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It's a nice evening to send random asks. We agree that Tim Drake is BAMF, but what random thing in his everyday life would try his patience the most? What could potentially best him and many people don't know about this (go wild with headcanons :>)

Oooooh that's an interesting one <.< This is headcanon heavy and has... lets say dubious basis in canon, at best :D

Broadly, I'm going to say general cleaning. In my mind, Tim is the kind of person whose vigilante-related spaces are immaculate, but his personal, Tim Drake-related spaces are uh. not. Left unchecked, his apartment and safe houses succumb to entropy and are chaotic messes. And yet he still knows where everything is.

One time Tim borrowed (or "borrowed") something from Dick and kept forgetting to give it back. So, after getting fed up with this, Dick eventually pulled a Tim and broke into his apartment to try and look for this. But the place is a mess. He spends an entire night looking and can't find it. Eventually he has to give up and ask Tim where he put it, and Tim moves like two things and pulls it out in less than ten seconds. Dick, who (pre-Bruce) grew up in a very small living space and still chronically keeps things organized so that they're out of the way is like wtf is wrong with you. Tim just shrugs.

(What's wrong with him is that his parents were very strict about everything in their home being neat and organized and that included Tim's room. Young children are not normally the most organized people on the planet, but Tim had to learn to be early unless he wanted to get in trouble. So the chronic entropy of his living spaces is more like him coping than it is him actually being messy).

Thanks for the ask!! It was fun thinking through this one <3

#tim drake #dc #jagn answers

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artofmxmourning · 6 months

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Whelp, this is the post that’s probably gonna get me exiled from the community.

Ah well. Anyways. Simple dynamic chart for how I interpret the cast (at least in the main PT timeline). With tiny explanations for why it is the way it is.

Peppino and Gustavo: Boyfriends. They've been together for an extremely long time, spanning all the way back to their high school years. Gus has always been supportive of Pep, being there for him for some of the toughest moments in his life. Pep honestly doesn't know where he'd be without Gus. That's how much of a positive impact he's had on him. Peppino and Noise: You know the drill. Classic Tom and Jerry esque rivals who can almost never see eye to eye. All of this stemming from the early years of NTV, when Noise decided to go a little too far with one of his pranks. Pep being the unfortunate victim. The public were outraged at Noise's actions, causing NTV to lose funding for a short while. This lead Noise to despise Pep for not being able to take a joke, meanwhile Pep disliked Noise for how much he pushed his buttons. Thus began a rivalry that'll probably last til the end of time. Peppino and Enzo: Given the similar trauma they have regarding their family, Enzo is almost like a son to Pep. He's extremely overprotective of him, and if anyone DARE to even hurt him, they'd probably get yeeted into the fucking sun. Enzo cares for Pep as well, and cannot stand seeing him suffer in debt. Hence why he does all this sketchy work. To make money to help Pep pay off his debt. Pep is completely unaware, although that's probably for the better.

Enzo and Noise: Soooo...these two got an interesting situation going on. While you think Enzo would be picky with what kinda guys he likes given his work, the reality is that all he wants is someone that can make him happy. That can make him laugh. And Noise manages to fit that role perfectly. Although he knows Pep would ABSOLUTELY not have it. And is kinda stuck in a state of pining. Noise on the other hand, has NEVER actually caught feelings for anyone before, so this is a first to him. Now, I know you may be thinking "What about Noisette?" Well.... Noise and Noisette: Ok so, technically. These two are married. BUT, it was a marriage under a contract. Noise never had romantic interest in Noisette. Her father is extremely wealthy, and was the one to reignite NTV after it fell. However, due to his daughter's crush on Noise, he decided that as an extra add on, Noise would have to marry Noisette. Noise, being young, extremely stupid, and not really having anybody he found interest in at the time, agreed. He thought that maybe, eventually, he'd catch something for her. But that never happened. Now, he doesn't HATE her. He just doesn't feel the same way she does. Still, he doesn't want to break her heart. Not only will he hurt her feelings, but her he knows her father might kill him if he does. Not to mention his career will be down the drain again, but that's the least of his worries. Noisette and Vigilante: These two get along extremely well. They'll talk for HOURS on end and not get bored. And While Vigi isn't exactly the biggest fan of Noisette's cooking, he has offered to help her improve. (Vigi may or may not actually be a decent cook in my HC). He eventually caught feelings for her. Still has them, but since she's married to Noise, he feels that it's somewhat of a lost cause. (Spolier alert: It's not.)

Well that's that. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go confront the angry mob that's appeared on my doorstep. Bye.~

#pizza tower #peppino #peppino spaghetti #gustavo #oc #enzo #enzo romano #the noise #noisette #the vigilante #pepstavo #oc x canon #cheesecake #IDFK what to tag enzo and noise as lol

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itsscromp · 8 months

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Jason Todd/Red Hood x reader platonic.

Hey again everyone, The blue beetle content has blown up and I'm in love with the love that it's sharing with the passionate community. so expect more soon, but for now, let's tap into another one of my favourite DC heroes, Now please bare with me as it's been a while since I beat the game so I'm a bit rusty. Also the opening has been inspired by charcter.ai and I'll count this as my prequel, to the game, and with that out of the way. Please enjoy :) word count:1.5K

Jason was still coming to terms with being brought back to life from the Lazarus pit, His memories were wiped and had to start over again. Before re-joining Bruce and the others, He was a lone vigilante saving Gotham City through whatever means necessary. Including killing people. But when he re-joined, he had to change his ways. Tim equipped him with non-lethal rounds for his weapons of choice, but he still felt lost and alone. Like he didn't have a purpose, but tonight things would look differently. As he was looking out over Gotham city, Patrolling the city for whatever crime, he heard footsteps, walking close to him.

"Your Red hood right ??" this young person spoke to him.

"Yeah, what's your deal ??" he said without even looking at you, still looking over the city.

"Oh good, well I'm y/n, or *superhero name* if you will. Bruce put me with you to partner up"

Jason finally turned to you, looking at your suit. It was like Alfred made it himself.

"Bruce ?? Partnering me with anyone ??, This outta be wild" He smirked under his mask and extended his hand out to you, shaking Jason's in return.

"So are you an official robin or something ??" he joked

"You could say that"

"So were gonna be fighting crime together now huh ??" Jason checked his pistols.

"I mean Bruce has put us together so.."

"Do you have any skills that help, Ya know, tech, fighting skills?"

You showed him your utility belt that you and Alfred went over, filled with necessary gadgets. You then pulled out your weapon of choice, two kali sticks.

Jason couldn't help but let out a whistle seeing the sticks "Where'd you get these ??" He asked eyeing the sticks.

"Custom made dude"

"Well damn, custom you say ??"

"Yeah it wasn't easy but I pulled it off in the end."

"I wouldn't doubt a single bit of that. you got skills kiddo- wait you are a kid right ??"

"22 turning 23 this Wednesday" (Nudge nudge wink wink)

"Well, I guess happy early birthday then." He chuckled

You chuckled and playfully nudged him, Him gently doing it back, he was starting to warm up to you.

"I'm gonna like working with you dude." Jason smirked again under the mask.

"Same here"

But as you said that, the two heard glass smashing, it sounded like it came from further up the streets.

"What the hell ??" Jason immediately pulled out his pistols ready for action.

"It came from further up come on" Y/n then pulled their grapple gun out and swung to where the sound was. Jason following suit.

Landing in the shadows, the two then found a group of armed thieves robbing a jewellery store. Jason smirked under the mask and cracked his neck.

"Get their attention, see if you can cause some noise while I sneak in and disarm them." He whispered not to alert the thieves.

"Got it" You then rushed out, pulling out your kali sticks and whacked one thief across the face, alerting the others "Hey dumb bimbos !!!"

Before they could even aim their guns at you, Jason came into the crowd of thieves soon after and disarmed then.

"Crap It's Red Hood!!!" One thief said before getting knocked out by Jason's non-lethal rounds.

Y/n and Jason fought all the thieves quickly, like a well-oiled machine, He was really impressed with your fighting skills. The thieves losing the fight, Jason and y/n tied them up as Gotham PD came in and arrested them, thanking the two before going.

"Well done y/n, this was a breeze with you by my side." Jason smiled slightly under his mask.

"Yeah, they didn't even stand a chance." You smiled under your mask as well.

Jason smirked and held out his fist for a fist bump "We'll make a great team, no doubt about it." For the first time since everything, Jason didn't feel alone. You then eagerly returned his fist bump.

"Come on, Let's head back to the cave and see what batman has for us"

The two then headed back to the Batcave, Y/n took off their mask revealing their face for the first time, and Jason also did, revealing the scar across his face and the white patch on his hair as an effect from the Lazarus pit. "Oh I haven't told you my real name, it's Jason."

The two then met Batman as he was looking through the Batcomputer to see any detections of villains around Gotham.

"Hey Bruce" Y/n spoke up, Bruce turned around and smiled slightly at the two.

"Welcome back y/n, I'm sure Jason hasn't been too much trouble ??"

Jason rolled his eyes but smirked.

"No, he hasn't, he's really cool actually, We were so badass taking down this group of thieves."

The two smiled as you recreated the scene.

"Ok, I have a mission for you two, It will be dangerous but I believe you two can pull it off."

"What do you got boss ??" Jason said as the two went over to the table and looked over some evidence that Bruce was looking over.

"Waylon jones, Killer Croc escaped Arkham Asylum a few hours ago, He's been wreaking havoc amongst the citizens, and from these traffic camera photos, it looks like he's taken refuge in the sewers of downtown Gotham."

"Gross... we gotta walk through shit."

"I understand this will suck, but this is only once. and Alfred will deep clean your suits after."

Y/n took a deep breath and went to the lab and prepared a tranquilizer for the metahuman.

"He's right Jason, just this once and then never again. Besides we can do this, we stopped a group of thieves."

"Your right y/n... we can do this"

Once the tranquillizer was finished, the two got on their batcycles and rode the way to downtown Gotham, finding the sewer lid he escaped into. taking a deep breath and opening the lid. the two jumped down and landed in knee-deep water. Y/n had almost gagged from how bad the smell was.

"Oh god it reeks in here, It's like the worst smell ever"

"Funny that, cause its literal shitwater"

The two then sucked it up and went on their way to find Killer Croc. As they ventured further, they heard the water trickle and were on high alert, pulling out their weapons.

"You heard it too ??"

"Yeah... Be ready"

You turned on your flashlight and investigated the surface of the murky water. Then a hulking figure rose from the water. Tall and very muscular. Razer sharp teeth and had literal crocodile scales.

"So... Chewy" Killer Croc grinned and licked his teeth.

"Yeah we are not on your dinner plans tonight"

Killer Croc charged at y/n before they quickly dodged his attack and were standing behind him. But a big mistake as Killer Croc swung his tail hard at y/n, and they flew to the wall and fell into the water. Yep, that was gonna hurt in the morning.

"*Superhero name !!*"

Jason then distracted Killer Croc by firing a few non-lethal rounds, But it didn't deter the monster. Roaring he charged at Jason. Quickly dodging it He landed a few punches before Killer Croc felt a sharp pain on his jaw, with y/n recovering and hitting him with his kali stick.

"You... are my first meal..."

"I'd like to see you try" You smirked under your mask.

The two then continued to fight Killer Croc, tiring him out enough before Jason pulled out his grapple gun, making Killer Croc trip and jumped on him, Getting him in a chokehold to keep his jaw from biting him.

"NOW !!"

You pulled out the tranquilizer and injected it into his neck, Killer Croc stopped lashing and slowly passed out from the effects.

"We did it..."

"Yeah... You ok, you took a beating from the tail swing."

"I'll be fine, It'll just bruise"

"Come on let's get this big boy out and we'll call it a night."

The two struggled to get him up, by god he was ever so heavy. By the end, you both managed to get him up where Arkham officers met you two. Waiting to take Killer Croc back, Putting him in a straight jacket and muzzle in case he comes too, they then drove off with killer croc in tow.

"That was intense huh Jason ??"

"It was, but we did it as a team. You and I aren't so bad bud" Jason smiled softly under his mask.

"Yeah me too, I can't wait to know what our next mission is tomorrow"

"Definitely, but for now. showers are in order"

"Yeah you stink" you smirked and nudged him

"So do you" He ruffled the top of your head as the two went back to the batcave.

Jason didn't feel alone, not anymore. He had y/n, alongside Tim, Barbara and Dick. He felt almost whole again. But nothing could prepare you all for the events that would unfold.

Taglist: @callofdudes A/n: I find Gotham Knights an underrated title.

#platonic #jason todd #red hood #gotham knights #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #Jason todd gotham knights

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bizbat · 1 year

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Keeps Me Warm

~ Bruce Wayne or Selina Kyle x Black!Fem!Reader

~ The love interest can be read as either Bruce or Selina.

~ Reader is described as having brown skin, and plump lips but appearance is otherwise not mentioned

~ Reader can be read as plus size

~ Mature content alluded to, but nothing explicit

~ Reader wears a bonnet

~ Wc : 660

~ You can find more of my works here

~ In which your lover forgets to close the window.

There was only one thing on the mind of a young woman, early Saturday morning;

She spent way too much money on her heating bill for it to be this damn cold.

Well she didn't really pay her own bills anymore, she didn't have to. But still. There was no earthly reason for it to be so cold in her luxury penthouse apartment, no reason for the cold to sharply cut through her plush comforter, to nip at her skin and pull her from what had been some of the best sleep of her life. And yet, here she was being woken up by a cruel drop in temperature.

She curled up on her side, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to keep the freezing cold at bay. She pulled the comforter up over her shoulders, hoping to retain any warmth that still clung to the thick, expensive material. As her hands slowly rubbed up and down her bare arms, her thoughts drifted to the night prior. Skilled and calloused hands had softly stroked plush brown skin, burning hot but still sending chills up and down her spine.

She allowed a small smile to rise to her plump lips, the way they had been kissed drifting to the front of her mind. Passionate, but careful. She sighed, content and ready to go back to sleep, perfectly warmed by her thoughts and hands, still brushing her arms gently.

Or at least she was, before a sudden blast of frigid cold slapped her wide awake. She honestly thought Mr. Freeze himself might've snuck into her home to torment her personally. Wouldn't be the craziest thing to ever happen in Gotham City. She decided if she had to be awake, then she could at least be comfortable.

She sat up, pulling the soft comforter around her shoulders, and slid her legs off the side of her bed. Her feet hit the cozy rug that surrounded the perimeter of her bed, feeling around for her favorite pair of slippers, more thankful than ever that the rug was there in the first place.

She rose to her feet, now wide awake, searching for the source of her woes. Her eyes roamed around the room before landing on the apparent offender; an open window. A quiet scoff slipped past her lips. Of course. She supposed sardonically, that when one was a busy vigilante working amongst the shadows to protect a broken city, that making sure a window was shut all the way might not have been the most important thing in the world.

But she was certainly no vigilante and so it certainly was important.

She quietly glided across the floor of her bedroom, careful not to disrupt the quiet ambiance. It was rare for Gotham to be so still, usually there was constant traffic and crime, but for today, at least for the time being the entire city seemed to still be asleep, and she couldn't say she was displeased.

She came to a stop in front of the open window, the cold air gently caressing her face. She reached to the side and gently wrapped her fingers around the frame, before pulling the window shut, making sure it was fully closed and ensuring that she would no longer be harassed by the icy winds.

Once it was shut she trudged away, slipping her silk bonnet off her head and slowly massaging her shoulders. She took off into her bathroom after making a mental note to bring up such an act of neglect in the future. Despite her annoyance towards such a misdeed she couldn’t stop the smile that gently spread across her face.

She tried to stay at least a little bit mad, but when she thought about those bright eyes, that gorgeous face with sculpted features, those powerful, warm arms littered in scars, she couldn’t help but let some of her anger float away on that cold morning breeze.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #selina kyle #selina kyle x reader #selina kyle x black!reader #batman #batman x black!reader #batman fluff #bruce wayne fluff #catwoman #catwoman x reader #dc #bizbat #smut

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blade-liger-4ever · 1 year

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Jayrae thoughts (trigger warning: mentions of drugs, neglectful parents, demon parents (?), death, gangs, hope this is good enough for warnings)

Okay, @wickedhexedwitch has gotten me onto the Jayrae (Jason Todd/Red Hood x Rachel Roth/Raven) ship pretty hard, despite my poor, limited knowledge of Teen Titans - and, to a slightly lesser extent, DC Comics as a whole.

But now, I can’t help but think about how awesome their dynamic would be. Just imagine with me for a moment.

You have Raven, a young girl who was raised to be her demon father’s ultimate weapon/avatar. She went through a horrible childhood, eventually managing to escape and suppress her emotions to keep dear old dad away. Because of this, she is more reserved and closed off than her teammates, who are more or less physical embodiments of chaos. Naturally, Raven has to keep her empathetic tendencies in control, which means she doesn’t turn out as wild as the others.

Then take Jason. The boy’s had the worst childhood out of any of the Robins (I’m not counting Damian because, on account of Bruce’s life, he was pulled into the Wayne family drama): Jason’s mother was an addict, his father either went to jail or took off, and Jason thereby suffered from emotional, mental and spiritual neglect. And then, after getting killed by Joker, Jason is forcefully brought back to life by Ra’s a’Ghul, with an equally messed up head now that he’d shared the Lazarus Pit with Ra’s.

After coming to terms with Bruce and getting off his need for lone wolf vigilantism, Jason comes back to running some missions with his adopted family. On one of these missions, they wind up teaming up with the Titans for Raven’s medical expertise and to hunt down Deathstroke.

And Raven’s just so...quiet.

Jason’s irked by her lack of emotion, but also amazed at her control. No matter what he says, what he does, or any other antic his siblings or the other Titans get up to, Raven remains impassive and collected. In spite of how aggravating he finds it, Jason finds her quiet control a soothing balm. Soon enough, he begins talking with her about books, starting with the classics that Jason, up until this point, has not spoken about with anyone. Eventually, they spend more time discussing everything from Shakespeare to C.S. Lewis. And then, Jason finds out that Raven’s not a particularly good physical fighter. Offended on her behalf, he insists/drags Raven to the training room to teach her how to defend herself should she be depowered.

And Raven’s just astounded by this man. He’s a smart-mouth, a belligerent fighter, and just all around loose cannon. But now, she’s learned that Jason’s mind is a sharp as his sword, and that underneath his cocky attitude, he cares. No one else on the team has given thought to teaching her to fight without her powers. Despite what he’d have others believe, he has a kind heart. A heart that, dare she say it, is kinder than any Raven’s come across.

And so they’re partnered up on missions. With Raven’s vast magical/supernatural powers and Jason’s exceptional combat and weapon skills, the two make an incredible team. During this time, they find that their partnership is almost seamless, with few misunderstandings between them. Growing comfortable around each other, Raven breaks the ice first by admitting to her heritage and upbringing, something that still upsets her. At first she’s nervous, thinking he might reject her for her early life.

But she’s surprised when Jason gets quiet, slowly taking off his mask as she finishes her tale. After a moment, he tells her that his mother had never shown such care for him. She was always looking for the next drug to make her forget the world, forget him. His father never bothered to be in the picture, forcing Jason to carve out his own life. He tells her the times he went hungry, the times he stole, the first time he killed in self-defense. And Raven realizes that he’s trusting her with his past, just like she did with him. She gives him a smile - a small one, but so genuine that Jason decides it’s the best gesture that’s ever graced his life - and thanks him for it.

They clearly have eyes for each other by now, but Raven’s still not sure about how to express her positive emotions. And Jason, for all his bravado, is unwilling to make a move without knowing for sure that Raven reciprocates. The night before a mission, Raven goes to Starfire for advice on showing “strong affection”, as she puts it, for another. Starfire encourages her to let her emotions flower, but to keep them rooted in reality. Pondering this, Raven thanks her before heading out.

Unknown to either of the women, Dick discusses the mission with Jason before bringing up Raven. Although initially annoyed by the change in topic, Jason listens when Dick points out the signs of Raven’s feelings for him. When his brother is still unsure, Dick suggests not following his instincts this time, but his heart. Jason naturally punches his arm, but after a laugh and a, “Just try, okay?” from his older brother, Red Hood leaves a bit more thoughtful.

They head out, taking down the gang, but Raven takes a hit. Enraged, Jason kills the remaining gang members before carefully picking up Raven and leaving the scene. He’s quiet, not just because he’s still angry but also scared that Raven will think badly of him because of his deadly skills. However, Raven only asks if he’s alright, and after some more discussion, she picks up on a man following them.

Finding a spot to leave her, Jason goes back to deal with their pursuer. This man’s more formidable than the others, and once at a stalemate, Raven abruptly appears to shield Jason from a second man. Teaming up flawlessly, they take down the men, and Jason is stunned to see that Raven has healed. She admits that she accessed her positive emotions to both sense their enemies and to heal herself, finding that her love for Jason greatly overshadowed her negative ones.

Jason and Raven, each smiling like they haven’t in years, take this opportunity to kiss. Their relationship blooms from here on out, resulting in Rachel becoming the White Raven much sooner, and Jason tempering his wilder fighting style to reflect the calmer man that he’s become.

......wow, these two really came to life just now - and I think they’re gonna stick in my mind for awhile yet. Anyone who stuck around, thank you so much, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

#dc comics #teen titans #jason todd #red hood #rachel roth #raven #teen titans raven #raven teen titans #batfamily #batfam #dc batfam #dc starfire #robin #dc comics robin #jason todd x raven #jason x raven #jayrae #jason todd x rachel roth

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manicplank · 1 month

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hiii love ur headcanons

what’s the ‘canon event’ per say of each characters life. not specifically a super traumatic thing but an event that changed their life/had a big impact on them

That ONE event

(I'm doing angst and you can't stop me)

(they're not all angsty, though)

Peppino: The war. He saw so many people die. Innocent people with families. He almost died, too. It still haunts him. He's still dealing with PTSD. He had to kill people... He never wanted to kill. Everything that happened makes him feel like an awful person.

Gustavo: The divorce. He had such a happy life. He thought he had a good marriage. He thought they were happy. He misses his son. He misses being a dad. If he thinks about it too hard, he begins to wonder if he's unlovable.

Mr. Stick: Being homeless. He grew up poor. As a kid, his family's house was foreclosed. They lived in a motel. Both of his parents worked a lot, and he barely got to see them. It was then he decided he would never be in that situation again.

Pepperman: His parents' passing. His dad died of brown spot. His mom wilted at an early age. He was a teenager when it happened. He lost his passion for art. He felt like an empty vessel. It was just him and Grandpa Pepper. And Grandpa Pepper was just as distraught as he was.

The Vigilante: His parents were gunned down by ruthless criminals when he was just a young boy. He was devastated. His grandpa did his best to console him, but Vigi was too depressed. When his grandpa passed, it only made things worse. He was completely alone.

The Noise: Being discovered and becoming a celebrity completely turned his life around. He figured he'd be living a life of crime on the streets. He was noticed by a TV producer for how outgoing and peculiar he was. He grew up poor, but very quickly, he became rich. He got to be on TV for being a silly goofball. (However, it still has its downsides.)

Noisette: Meeting The Noise changed her life completely. She was dating her celebrity crush. She started a life with him, and suddenly, she didn't feel lonely anymore. She found somebody who she didn't have to wear a mask around. She's convinced that they're soul mates.

Fake Peppino: [Fic spoilers] ********* Bruno was Fakey's only true friend. He would go to the pizzeria every day and eat the scraps. Bruno was so kind to him. He knew nothing but fear and violence in the tower. Once Bruno was gone, his life went downhill immediately. He felt so alone and unloved. The pizzeria was empty, and so was he.

Pizzahead: When he created Pizzaface, he felt like a god. It was his biggest, most successful project yet. He created a pizza bot with mild sentience and incredible power. He no longer had to worry about a rebellion taking place in the tower. With Pizzaface, he was the most powerful being in there.

Pillar John: Being betrayed by Pizzahead and trapped in the tower changed his life for the worst. He suddenly lost all his freedom and was stabbed in the back by someone he thought was his friend.

Gerome: When his parents divorced, his life turned around. He began to deal with extreme emotions as a child. His stoicism began to develop. But then John was born, and he started to feel love again.

#pizza tower #noise #the noise #headcanon #noisette #pizzahead #peppino #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #pepperman #the vigilante #mr. stick #pillar john #pizza tower gerome #pizza tower gustavo

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larrikin-is-a-himbo · 1 year

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Thoughts on rewatch of the Batman 2022

"Ave Maria" faintly playing in the background in the beginning. Hadn't noticed that before.

Gotta look fabulous before going to beat the life out of criminals.

This movie does a perfect job of separating Batman and Bruce Wayne. How different those two people are, despite being the same person.

Another aspect I love is that this is the very beginning stages of Batman's journey. He's not the "perfect, no mistakes, flawless detective work" Batman that most movies portray. He's learning, making mistakes, still needs to improve his skills and craft. And since it's the first years and he hasn't been established as an asset to the Gotham PD yet, the officers, rightfully so, *do not* like him which makes a lot of sense than letting him run amok. (Not that that gets any better with time but you feel the difference in how they take Batman's presence.)

"The city's eating itself. Maybe it's beyond saving. But I have to try." SEE that is how you characterise Bruce, hope and endurance in the face of despair.

The narrative parallel between the death of the mayor and his son finding the body, and young Bruce watching his parents being murdered. Oh, it's so good, I'm gonna eat my hand.

Bruce saying he doesn't care what happens to his family's business and all the work they've done, equating his worth to what he does as a vigilante just goes to show how much the trauma and mental anguish has taken over his life, and now the severe depression, suicidal tendencies, even subconsciously just looking for an excuse to not live hits too close to home.

Robert Pattinson's back 😳 (I am a whore, leave me alone)

Batman fucking up the twins will never not be funny.

You've gotta be honest, our edgelord's entrance into Penguin's lair is nothing short of iconic.

I love this version of Penguin so much, he's the right amount of menacing and goofy.

THE FIRST MEETING OF BATCAT. Love-at-first-sight if I've ever seen it.

I fucking LOVE seeing Catwoman in action.

If I don't meet my S/O with us having a 1v1 and them manhandling me, what even is the point of it all.

Selina and Bruce's socio-economic background play such a big role in their reasons and aspirations to be heroes (or vigilantes). Glad this movie doesn't gloss over that.

Batsy is such a bastard in his early days. Selina should deck him.

He has so much to learn and grow, not just as Batman, but as a person. Yes, this is about him sending Selina as a spy.

Bruce Wayne looking like he's having the worst time of his life when he's in public. I love this socially repulsive man with all my heart.

Bruce seeing his child self in the mayor's son, but now with new responsibility of solving this mystery, just wow. A lot of movies, at least the live-action ones, tend to not prioritise portraying Bruce's childhood or the trauma he experienced with the gruesome murder of his parents, because at his core that's what led him down this path, it's just as, if not more, important, to him being the saviour, the knight of Gotham.

Him getting jealous thinking that's Selina with Falcone. Somebody's in love.

Riddler and his stupid love letters. Get a life.

Batman, you idiot, why would you stand with your face right infront for the bomb.

The police station scene is so funny. Poor Jim is losing it. "Great, now I got you on assaulting an officer." "You got me on assaulting three." Bad bitch energy.

"We gotta get you out of here buddy." "🥺" Gay behaviour.

OOOOOH. THE ESCAPE SCENE. Can't wait to see Batsy hit the ground and eat shit. THERE IT IS.

The fucking chase scene. Hell yeah. Emo Batman has some of the best entrances and chases in this movie. It's actually fun to watch and isn't cringe. What a refreshing change.

"Good cop, batshit cop." Jim shoving the pictures of the mutilated face into Penguin's face. I can't breathe.

Jim and Bats interrogating Penguin. Penguin roasting the fuck out of them. "No habla espanol, fellas?" "Shut up!" FUCKING HILARIOUS. Them leaving his tied up, and him waddling while cursing. THAT'S how you do comedy without breaking the tone of the movie, especially for dark superhero movies.

I know Alfred doesn't die but godsdammit I hate seeing him hurt.

Bruce lashing out because he feels betrayed but also reeling from getting flashbacks to his father's death while seeing Alfred in that bed, my boy was in the worst emotional state. I forgive him for being a little bitch to his dad (Alfred).

The heart to heart between Bruce and Alfred is such a tender and love-full moment. I needed that :,)

Selina should have just killed Kenzie before Bats came around. I support women's rights, but more importantly I support women's right to murder.

Carmine Falcone is such a sleazebag character. He gives me the creeps.

I love Jim Gordon. No particular scene inspired that statement, I just love him.

THE SECOND BEST HALLWAY FIGHT SCENE IN THE WORLD. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I want it injected in my veins.

When Falcone is arrested and Penguin speaks against Carmine, I love that scene because it's a subtle indication to the end of the movie, where we see Penguin will now take over the criminal underworld of Gotham. The mighty Falcon has been taken down, the city is drowned. What better opportunity for a flightless bird to takeover?

Riddler with his dumb ass jokes and reddit lives. What a clown. He's dangerous but I can't take him seriously.

Batman appears and he just [starts screaming] peak teenage boy behaviour. Cringe lord. Be better.

Starting the movie with "I am darkness", contemplating if Gotham can even be saved, and ending it with Batman lighting the way, leading Gotham out of the destruction. GODS. Him coming to the realisation that Gotham, and by extension himself, need hope and change, not clinging to the past, not vengeance. That is so poetic.

In regards to BatCat, the last meeting really signifies their love story. He loves her, he truly does, and maybe in this version of the story they end up together despite all the, but Gotham will always be his priority. She wants him to live, not just exist, but live, but Bruce gave up on that idea long ago.

"The Bat and the Cat, its got a nice ring to it. [Pause] Who am I kidding? You're already spoken for." OK, Mr. Matt Reeves, why don't you just shoot me between the eyes?

#Finally getting to ng 2nd watch #1 month and a year after the movie was released #my*#You don't understand the way BatCat look at each other so tenderly and lovingly #Them slowly building their trust and protecting and saving each other #Jim and Batsy growing better as detective duos #So many good developments happen in the span of 3 hours #I am not gonna talk about the clown because I don't like him. and I think Mr. Reeves should just have him dead in the next movie so that I-#-never have to see him again #There's more than enough villains to choose from STOP CHOOSING THAT CLOWN #If I don't get the boy wonder. the first child. the light of Bruce's world. the ball of anger and revenge in the next movie. I'm killing me #Batman 2022 #Batman #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #The Riddler #The Penguin #Carmine Falcone #Catwoman #Selina Kyle #Jim Gordon #Edit: I had the credits for the bi separation line saved but I can't find it #If anyone knows. can you let me know #Jae rewatches

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weirdo09 · 1 year

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be mine(just for a while i’m afraid)

a byler(bywheelclair) criminal past 90’s au fic

warnings: (slight) drug addiction/abuse, alcohol abuse, character death(one real, another staged), suicide attempts, (mentions of) overdose, depression, self harm(cutting), cigarettes, homophobia and troy walsh(he’s his own warning)(tell me if i missed anything!)

‘crime wasn’t usually high in a city like hawkins, well until these two came along. who are these two you ask? well, one goes by the name ‘mj’. all we know about him is that he stands at about 5’10-11 feet tall, he has jet black hair and pale skin. the other guy goes by no name we’ve heard but many people have called him ‘the lone one’. if you think you’ve saw them, please call your local police.’

will turned off the tv after all. ‘huh, so they are looking for me, too bad they’ll never catch me.’ he thought, smirking. will was considered a criminal in his own right but he’d like to call himself a vigilante. living in a big city like hawkins, most people could get away with small crime and it wasn’t like will exactly chose what he did for a living. it started about a couple years ago, he was fresh out of high school, looking forward to the world ahead him except those dreams would soon be crushed for his mom died months before his graduation.

her will split the money evenly between him and his older brother, jonathan. after that, will didn’t really see the whole point of living. so, he turned to stealing, small things that is. this coping mechanism didn’t exactly help but the rush almost made will forget about his mom’s death. soon, he and his brother’s relationship began to strain, jonathan being too busy with his new life to mind his own brother. that hurt for a while so, will dived deeper into the stealing rabbit hole. now, look at him, considered a criminal and still hurting as much as he did before. though, he’d like to say that he’s better off even with the bounty on his head.

he still had friends, other family and a ‘normal’ life, just not under his name. ‘william jacob byers’ was merely a name of a boy who went missing, surprisingly only four weeks after his mother’s death. will knew his brother was looking for him and if he still had the same spirit he had before his little brother left him, he probably still is. since his ‘disappearance’, will’s changed his name, his life, his whole identity, he was officially someone he couldn’t recognize and i like to think that he liked it that way. will without the tragedies and burdens that had inflicted him so early in life made him smile but also made him cry. he often wonders if his life would’ve been better if he didn’t fake it.

mike had watched his ‘name’ appear on the news, mj short for michael james. he smiled softly, putting out his cigarette. they were trying to catch him but with no avail for he resided on the outskirts of the big city of hawkins, indiana. he had a nice cozy apartment to himself, which was nice but often made him feel like he was missing something, an important piece to his life. mike filled that empty spot with drugs, hoping they’d do their intended job. they haven’t worked so far but he’s hopeful. hopeful, such a funny thing hope is. he was a hopeful child, people said, a child with dreams and ambitions impossible to achieve. ‘guess those assholes were right after all.’ mike thought grimly.

he had grown up in a small town, ironically with the same name as indiana’s second largest city, hawkins. oh, he hated that town, with their same houses, same lawns, same cars, same everything. it irked him like something never before. don’t even get him started on his family, his mother was considered a saint but was nothing of the sort. she settled down young, her ambitions and dreams seemed nonexistent when she settled with ted wheeler, a older rich man. karen wheeler, a pretty woman with an average family in an average suburban neighborhood in an average small town. god, mike hated it, the always pretending to be someone he wasn’t, always hiding parts of himself that he’d love to show, always been his mother’s little doll to dress and control whenever she saw fit.

mike hated that town with his whole being, possibly even more so. those years pretending to be a perfect family, a perfect example of how a good family should be almost crushed his dreams entirely. but then, after high school, it seemed like his world opened up. suddenly, all those dreams, ambitions and aspirations could come a reality. it was sad to look back on now, seeing how naive and gullible he once was. that day changed something inside him forever. june 30th, two three weeks after his high school graduation, he was officially 18 years old and the world was at the palm of his hand until it wasn’t. how mike regretted that day, that day he left his little sister and never came back. he hated himself deeply for leaving her in that house with those strangers.

him, giving into his own selfish desires, left that house as soon as he could. getting the best of him, mike just couldn’t find the strength to leave his precious baby sister but he did eventually. that night, holly had walked into his room to see mike about to crawl out his window. “mikey, where are you going?” she asked sleepy, mike turned to her voice and got up from the window. “oh, holly jolly, i’m just going to leave for a bit.” mike said sweetly, now that he looked back on it, it might as well have been bittersweet. “when are you coming back?” holly asked, tears threatening to come out her eyes. mike sighed before pulling his sister in a hug, “as soon as can, hol, as soon as i can.” he whispered to her, who was now crying softly in his shoulder. “i’ll visit you, ok? we can call and send letters to each other. it’ll be ok, holly, i promise.” mike said with a smile on his face.

‘i promise, about the biggest ounce of bullshit i ever told.’ mike thought, lighting another cigarette. he visited a few times before he couldn’t bear the stares, the questions of when he’d get a girlfriend, a wife or kids, the sickeningly happy atmosphere. it was too much for mike so he stopped visiting and it hurt him more than anything else. to see his sister stuck with those people, those people who made his childhood a living hell. mike cries himself to sleep about it every night, a daily ritual. soon after that, he found a love for stealing, the emptiness in him that couldn’t be fixed with drugs was fixed(temporarily) with the rush of stealing. oh that adrenaline rush seemed to be the only thing keeping him alive, for his dreams were impossible to achieve, too much for little old him so he tucked them away in the back of his mind along with his old identity.

these days, will wasn’t too keen on stealing anything too big. he just wanted the stability of a normal life, the warmth of his mother. both of which he couldn’t have, so he spent the day lying away, thinking about the future that creep straight up behind him. then, an idea struck him. will decided to go on a run, no stealing intended, just something to clear his clear. so he went up out of his apartment, towards the autumn air with a sense of….life? whatever it was, it made him feel like a person for a while. he was content until he was met by a strange figure. the figure seemed taller, about a good four-five inches, had on a sweater, with their jet black hair in a ponytail and light blue jeans. they were sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette. the smell reminded will of his mother, which drew him near.

will, giving into his impulse, sat down next to the stranger. “uh, hi.” he said, the stranger turned to him, put their cigarette in the other hand. “hey.” they said with a half smile. “what’s your name?” will asked, mentally yelling at himself to stop right now. the stranger chuckled, “my name’s mike, but my friends call me mj.” mike replied before returning to his cigarette. ‘mj? where had he heard that name before? never mind that.’ will thought before saying, “nice name, mine’s will.” ‘will, will, will, will’ mike thought, his name was so strange yet so familiar. it wasn’t really strange, just strange considering he knew a boy named will, well loved a boy named will before he went missing and was reported dead. “nice, what are you doing in hawkins?” mike asked, taking another drag of his cigarette. “just..to visit some family, you?” will replied, mike gave him a look.

he could have sworn he had seen him somewhere once before but alas could not remember. mike was thrown out of his train of thought when will bluntly said, “you know, those things are going to kill you.” nodding at the cigarette. mike guffawed and smiled grimly, “gets the job done faster.” he replied and will frowned. “dying won��t solve all your problems, believe me, i’ve tried.” he said before looking down at his hands. sure, he’s tried to kill himself a few times after his mother’s death, as he felt he could never go on without her and if he did, he’d be betraying her. those first few months were like absolute hell, people giving their condolences and their fake vows of sympathy, he just wanted it all to stop, she wasn’t gone, she was still here, inside of him couldn’t they see? she’s still here!

he still remembers the first night without her, he walked into her room and laid there, sobbing. he wondered why they didn’t take him instead, why they had to take away the one person who loved him regardless. so, he slept in her room for a few days then being in there was too hurtful and he went back to his own room. his brother seemed to be the one who was given forgiveness to the most, it was like people almost completely forgot that he lost her too and it hurt him. soon, the suicide attempts started. the first happened two weeks after, he got some pills and popped them, knocking out instantly. he woke up in a hospital bed, sadly alive. that night he sobbed again, wishing he was dead and with his mom, wishing the pain would go away. will had to promise his brother that night that would never do that again, though that promise was very short lived. a week later, he tried to drown himself in the tub. luckily, jonathan got there before he could actually do it. the two brothers sobbed that night, “i can’t live without her, jonny.” will said wetly in jonathan’s shoulder, he just agreed patting his younger brother’s back.

some bad days, will tries to kill himself then panics and chickens out. he hasn’t tried recently and he’s kind of glad. life’s gotten a little bit better since then, her death anniversary still stings but it’s often welcomed with visiting her grave and crying most of the day. mike looked at will with a somber look, “you know, you’re a strange man, will,” he began to say then continued, “i’d say that i kinda like it.” mike finished, will chuckled softly. they talked for a while, what they talked about, i’m not sure but i know it made the both of them really happy.

the day after, mike was still thinking of will. c’mon who’d want to forget him? his chestnut brown hair that peeked out from his hoodie, his hazel green eyes, those eyes that were once on another he knew, just as lively. god, he desperately wanted to cry, as will was a reminder of his childhood sweetheart. will byers, his best friend turned lover, gone just like that and right after his mom died from lung cancer too. mike stared at his pack of cigarettes, how the irony. he stared out his window, wondering what to do today. then, it hit him, nov 6th, the day that will was reported missing and never came back, four weeks after his mom died. jonathan was distraught, having two of his family members gone like that, fours weeks apart.

the older boy left hawkins shortly after that, word spread that he currently resided in california with some friend. mike stopped to wonder if he noticed what today was too, if he was hurting just a much as he was. he knew that it probably wasn’t true for their bond was stronger than him and will’s, and the fact that they weren’t on the best of terms when he went missing. finally, mike cried, he cried and cried until who knows how long. such a funny thing, all he seemed to do now was cry and bitch and moan and smoke.(he only smoked when he was really stressed and now it seemed like that was all the time) after what seemed forever, mike was exhausted, ready to do something stupid that he’d forget tomorrow. so, he decided to drink his problems away then smoke ‘em away again tomorrow.

mike walked into his little kitchen and opened his wine cabinet, pulling out whatever wine was nearest and brought the bottle to his bed. he laid on his desk and then laid down on his bed, remembering he forgot a glass. after he got one, he started pouring glassful after glassful. mike felt tipsy but it was nothing he couldn’t handle, he had to thank his father for the high alcohol tolerance. mike put the bottle away and stared out the window once more. maybe he should’ve died that day instead of will, maybe then will might’ve reciprocated his feelings, maybe just maybe.

november 6th, 1988, the day will byers was reported missing from his home in hawkins, indiana. funny how the night before, he and his best friend parted ways by kissing each other goodbye. they only dated for about two months but it was evident that they loved each other dearly. “bye, mike, see you tomorrow.” will said, climbing on his bike. “bye, will.” mike said, smiling before stealing another kiss from his boyfriend. ‘boyfriend’, such lovely word when you’re in love and oh how in love mike was. will waved goodbye then faded away down the road, something in mike’s gut told him to come back but it was too late for in the morning, he would be gone. a week later, he was pronounced dead, only a few people came to his funeral mike included. he cried during the whole ceremony, jonathan came to check on him. “hey, mike, how are you doing?” he asked, mike stared at him, tears still flowing down his pale, flushed freckle covered cheeks.

“shouldn’t i be asking you that? i mean you just lost your brother.” mike asked, fidgeting with his collar, staring down at will inside his coffin, they decided to do an open casket, mike was disturbed by how peaceful will’s corpse looked. jonathan pulled mike into a hug, “yeah but you just lost your boyfriend.” jonathan said the last part in a whisper, hawkins was full of homophobes. that part only made mike cry harder, “i really loved him, jonathan.” he whispered, jonathan nodded. “he really loved you too, mike.” he whispered back. mike chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes. “ready to put him in the ground?” jonathan asked, mike frowned a bit. “too soon?” mike’s face contorted to a scowl. “yea, a bit.” he replied. the two watched as will was put into the soil, a handful of people who were there crying, mike scowled again. these people didn’t even know will, let alone like him.

mike knew trouble was about to brew when he saw his childhood bully, troy out the corner of his eye. for some reason, he saw him laughing and joking with james. then all of a sudden, troy began to walk towards him. just as he needed jonathan, he went up and left for some reason. once troy approached, mike was still. “hey, wheeler aren’t you happy that that fairy’s finally died? oh wait, aren’t you a fairy too?” troy said tauntingly, mike really resisted the urge to roll his eyes. he sighed, “what do you want, troy?” mike asked, already fed up with his bullshit. “oh nothing, just wanted to make sure that the fag was really died and now look at him! he probably killed by some othe-!” troy began to say but was interrupted by mike’s fist colliding with his cheek. surprisingly, he fell backward, blood was flowing out of his nose.

mike looked down at his fist, some of the fingers were covering in blood. he saw as troy’s mom approached her son. “what is going on here?” she asked then took a look at her son and mike. she stood in terror, giving a scared look at mike then grabbing her son, running away from the ceremony. jonathan came back after that, “hey, mike what happene-.” jonathan began to ask but had already put the puzzle pieces together. the rest of that evening mike spent in the police station, troy and his mom had charged him for assault and for some reason, attempted murder. mike sat there, unresponsive like he wasn’t even there. after that, they determined that the charges should be dropped and mike was discharged. he sure got an earful from his mom though.

“why did you hit that boy, mike?” she asked once they got back home, mike just walked right past her. “michael! look at me when i’m speaking to you!” karen demanded, mike shot her a hateful glare. “do you really want to know or is this just your absolute need for gossip?” mike snapped at her, karen’s face contorted into shock. “well, if you do want to know, i hit that boy, troy, my childhood bully because he kept calling will a fairy and a bunch of other slurs!” mike raised his voice a bit, hoping to get his voice across. karen asked somberly “what happened to my sweet little boy?” mike scoffed, “that ‘sweet’ little boy had to grow up because you just couldn’t handle having kids, could you, karen? you know me and nancy practically raised holly while you were out and about parading around like you were some single woman!” he hissed, karen stood there. “wha-, how did you even-?” she began to ask but mike interrupted, “oh, how do i know? how do i fucking know? because you left your wedding ring on the sink and you didn’t could home til 12 in the morning, karen. should i go on?”

mike asked, all his pent up anger now showing it’s face at his mom. “you know what? go to your room!” karen shouted, mike shouted back, “gladly!” he ran up the steps and slammed his door. karen collapsed on the floor, she was exhausted but not because of tiredness, because her perfect average life was crumbling right under her feet, her perfect little family torn apart all because of her. she pulled herself back up and grabbed a bottle of wine to wash away her pain. thinking back on that, mike was again hit with the sense of irony. here he was, with a bottle of wine hoping to wash his pain away. guess he was more like his mom then he thought, mike scowled at that.

will woke up with a sense that today was special but couldn’t figure out why. then, he realized today was the day that he went ‘missing’. he remember that day bright and clear. well almost clear, he remembered kissing mike and leaving his house then, he rode his bike down the road and everything was fuzzy after that. november 6th, 1988, the day will byers went ‘missing’ and was reported ‘dead.’ here’s what really happened as will ride his bike down the road, he didn’t think that cars would still be out that night and unluckily as he was, he got hit. it wasn’t anything too serious, a mild concussion, a broken left arm and a left kneecap. the stranger was hospitable enough to take him to the hospital, there will would stay for two-three weeks. while everyone in hawkins thought he was died, really will was there in the hospital. he was released sunday, november 20th, exactly two weeks after the incident and a week after his ‘death’.

will unfortunately suffered amnesia and couldn’t remember where he was from so one of the doctors offered to take him in until he fully recovered. this doctor’s name was jim hooper, who lost his youngest daughter a few years back. will found him intimidating at first but he warmed up to him eventually. saturday, november 21st, 1988, he was on his way to hawkins, the big city to live with jim and his other daughter, eleanor ‘el’. to say that el was a strange sort was an understatement, she was unique to say the most. she was louder than most girls will had known.(the few he could remember) she was also strongly influenced by the world and people around her, will thought that he’d get to know her nicely. he then spent two years with the hopper family, his concussion ended months ago, though bits and pieces were still hard to remember but they were happy to let him stay longer til he was back on his feet.

tuesday, november 6th, 1990, will was officially leaving the hopper’s house. he decided that he was ready to go and explore what else this (cruel) world had to offer him. el was the first to cry when the three were sitting outside the driveway in the fall sun. she grabbed will into a massive bear hug, “don’t forget about us, big bro.” el whispered, will began to cry as well. “i won’t, little sis.” he whispered back. he and hopper exchanged looks, unsure to hug or not. surprisingly, will took the initiative for the hug which hopper happily obliged. they hugged for about four minutes until el interrupted. “c’mon dad, before you convince him to stay any longer.” el joked, grabbing onto hopper’s sleeve. hopper wiped a tear from his eye before saying, “ah, ok, el, i’m really going to miss you, kid.” will smirked, “i’ll miss you too, dad.” hopper embraced will once again, el gave him their house number. “call anytime, i’d love to talk about your new adventures.” she said, smiling. will waved the two goodbye and walked towards the bus stop. next stop on the list, seattle, washington.

there was a supposed grunge scene happening there and will didn’t want to miss it. first, he took a bus to indianapolis. then, he bought a car which he would drive for the rest of the way. after roughly 26 hours, will had made it to seattle. the pacific northwest had a different charm than the midwest, to be honest, will kinda liked it. he found himself an apartment a few blocks away from the paramount theatre. there he loaded his stuff and himself in the tiny apartment they would call home. the first night was terrible, the jet lag was finally hitting him aside from this numbing headache that had magically appeared. in the night, it was still there but fuller than before. will decided to go to a nearby record store to clear his head. he grabbed a coat, his keys and headed off. he couldn’t help but smile at his new atmosphere, noting to call el later about his drive to seattle.

once he arrived at the record store, a certain record caught his attention. ‘bleach’ was on the cover and will knew he just had to buy it. so, he walked inside and noticed that there was really no one there except for the clerk at the register and another guy. he went to grab the record when he and the other guy touched hands, “oh, sorry, you can have it!” will exclaimed nervously, the guy laughed which sounded soothing. “oh, no, it’s ok, you go ahead, take it.” the guy said, handing to will. “thank you, uhm what’s your name?” will asked, smiling. “oh, me? my name’s lucas, how bout you?” lucas asked with a grin on his face. “will, have you lived here long?” will asked as the two walked to the register. “oh no, only about two-three years, you?” lucas asked. “just got here yesterday.” will replied, paying for his stuff.

the two of them continued their conversation outside. “ah, fresh meat then, what brings you to seattle?” lucas asked, will chuckled. “uhm, the music scene, i guess.” he replied, lucas nodded in agreement. “yeah, people have been flooding in the masses to here lately. music’s just a plus. where ya from?” lucas asked as they crossed the street. “indiana, you?” will replied, his feet seemed to mysteriously know the area. “same.” lucas said, “wanna check this new hot dog place ‘round the corner?” he asked, will nodded. most of will’s afternoon was spent hanging out with lucas, they exchanged numbers and parted ways at about 4 pm. when will got home, he searched his tons of boxes for the one labeled ‘kid’s record player’. hopper had to have labeled it. once he got it out, he hooked it up and pulled out his nirvana record.

he checked the back of the record, the first song was love buzz. will began to place the record on the player and put the needle at the start. ‘love buzz’ started to play.

‘would you believe me when i tell you’ ‘you are the queen of my heart’ ‘please don’t deceive me when i hurt you’ ‘just ain’t the way it seems’

kurt’s smooth vocals, the constant beat of the drums and the licks of guitar. will couldn’t get enough, he left the living room shortly to call el and hopper back in hawkins. the song still playing softly in the background.

‘can you feel my love buzz?’ ‘can you feel my love buzz?’ ‘can you feel my love buzz?’ ‘can you feel my love buzz?’

will dialed the numbers and waited for them to answer. surprisingly it only took a second. “hey, will! how’s your trip going? did you meet some new people? how’s like wherever you are?” el exclaimed through the phone, will softly winced. “el, slow down, i can’t understand you!” will exclaimed back, tears threatening to fall, he missed his family dearly but el most of all. they were like two peas in a pod the two short years they spent together. they came to each other with everything, el’s a very open person so no secrets could be kept between the two. “oh, ok, hi will, what’s that song in the background?” el asked, holding the phone close to her ear so she could hear everything. “oh it’s love buzz.” will answered, looking over his shoulder. el scrunched her nose “who’s it by?” she asked, “some new band in seattle, nirvana i think.” will answered, el nodded before realizing he couldn’t see her.

“so how’s seattle?” el asked, just barely keeping her excitement to herself. will chuckled, he could feel how excited she was. “it’s nice, i met a guy.” he replied, el could find herself smirking. “is he cute?” she asked, will started to blush. “uh, yeah.” he stammered, el smirked further. “just don’t bring me a niece or nephew too soon!” she joked, will turned raspberry red. “eleanor!” he shouted, el just guffawed. hopper poked into the kitchen, “who’s giving me a grand baby? it better not be you!” hopper said, el chuckled again. “no but will might, he met a guy!” she said, hopper looked at her to know more. “eleanor, pass over the phone, i need to talk with your brother.” hopper said, el whispered into the phone. “good luck, dad heard!” will facepalmed, “i hate you so much, el.” he bemoaned, “i love you too, big bro!” she said before handing the phone to hopper.

“hello, son.” hopper said, will softly grimaced. “hey, dad, how are you?” he asked. “well fine considering your sister just told me you met a guy. what’s his name, what’s he like, do i have to beat his ass?” hopper asked. “oh no no, dad you don’t! he’s great but just a friend and his name’s lucas.” will replied, chuckling softly at his dad’s antics. “oh ok, just don’t send me any grandbabies yet and we’ll be good.” hopper joked, will screeched. “dad, stop! i’ll call you guys later!” will said before hanging up after saying goodbye. he thought about calling lucas until the conversation he had earlier popped into his head.

he blushed hard but called him anyway. the phone ringed and ringed until finally he answered. “sinclair residence.” will heard lucas’ smooth voice and he couldn’t help smiling. “hi, yes i’m looking for lucas, is he there?” will asked, playing along. lucas snorted “why yes, you have him, what’s going on, pretty boy?” lucas asked, will smiled further. “oh nothing, just got off the phone with my family, how about you?” will asked, his eyes closed. “yeah, nothing so far-. erica, put that down!” lucas shouted at someone, will suspected that that was his sister since he remembered lucas mentioning her. “hold on, sorry, pretty boy, i’ll have to call you back later!” lucas said before hanging up. will placed the phone down in its holder and fell out, laughing. seattle was good so far.

days followed into months and months followed into years. will has lived in seattle for 4 years and has dated lucas for 3. funny thing love is, how fleeting and fragile it all is. we met up with will, who was currently making out with lucas. they parted, “i love you, pretty boy.” lucas whispered into will’s ear, his stubble tickling will’s neck. “i love you too, lucas. that day, april 8th, 1994, 3 days after kurt cobain had reported to have killed himself and three weeks before will was to leave seattle to move back to indiana, where he’d bring lucas with him. they turned on the tv and it had been set to the news, where’s the couple would see kurt’s death reported. will stood there in shock, one thing was for sure, his trip here would end soon. lucas looked at him, holding him close, wiping something off will’s face. there were tears, will hadn’t had noticed he had been crying until lucas brought him to his chest, comforting him. there in that tiny apartment, the couple were somber from the new alongside the rest of the grunge world.

friday, april 22nd, 1994, the day that will was scheduled to head back home along with his boyfriend. “i’m really gonna miss this place.” lucas said, looking around the street. they had packed will’s car with the necessities and were about to head on the the road when will started to cry again. lucas frowned, grabbing will’s hand, pulling him close. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asked, will roughly wiped his tears. “it’s nothing, reall-.” will began to say before lucas shot him a look. “oh ok, i guess i’m still sad about leaving.” will admitted sincerely, lucas rubbed his back. “it’s alrigh’, pretty boy. we’ll be ok.” will closed his eyes, reeling into lucas’ warmth. “we’ll be ok.” will repeated to calm his nerves.

crazy to think that was only a few months ago, (back to the november 6th, present day) will and lucas were still going strong. it was just that lucas was away on business and wouldn’t come back until after today. will sighed, he always seemed to slip back into his old habits when lucas wasn’t around. he thought about his mom and that turned into a whole spiral. will walked into the bathroom and grabbed his pocket knife. he cut a small piece of his wrist before making another identical incision. will snapped back to reality and threw the pocket knife back in the drawer, locking it as to never touch it again. he wrapped up his wrist and walked over to the phone. will desperately needed lucas. the phone ringed and ringed before lucas answered.

“hello, lucas sinclair here.” he answered in a groggy voice “uh hey, lucas, it’s will, did i wake you?” will asked, slightly regretting calling him. “oh no, baby, i’ve been up a while. what’s wrong?” lucas asked. will started sniffling, “i was uhm thinking about my mom and i uh cut myself.” he forced out, tears streaming down his face. lucas’ heart softened, “oh ok, did you dress them?” he asked, will hummed. “i need you to hold on for me, ok? i’ll get the next flight there tonight so i can see you, alright?” lucas said, will whined softly. “can you do that? i don’t want to be a bur-.” will began to ask when lucas cut him off. “baby, don’t you dare finish that sentence. i’m don’t give two shits about this damn job, what i care about is you so i’m going to come home tonight. that’s it, you hear me?” lucas asked, will smiled softly and hummed again. “alright, i’ll see you soon, ok? get some sleep and make sure you eat! love you so much, pretty boy.” lucas declared, will smiled harder. “o-o-ok, love you too, lucas.” will said before hanging up.

he then floated to the kitchen, thinking about mike. will knew it was wrong to think romantically about someone else when you’re in a committed relationship. it wasn’t like he didn’t love lucas with all his heart but will also felt a strong connection with him, something he’d felt once before in ‘88. he decided to talk to lucas about all of that later. right now, will was looking for something to eat in the fridge. nothing looked appetizing so he decided to order pizza. will waited as the pizza was to arrived, so he went to watch some tv. he scrolled through channels until he found daria, one of his favorite shows. after the pizza came, will grabbed it, paid the guy and plopped back on the couch.

he ate 6 slices before putting the pizza in the fridge and walking over to the bedroom, instantly falling asleep. will dreamt of his mom, surprise, surprise. she stood in a white gown, unlike her usual style and her hair was glowing down her back. she looked younger, happier, the one thing will couldn’t be without her. “remember that it wasn’t your fault and that i love you, baby, so much. can’t wait to see you.” joyce said, funny thing that those were her last words before dying in a hospital bed 9 hours after.

mike awoke in a cold sweat. nightmares seemed to plague his sleep more and more often. this time, it was about will ‘dying’ and his corpse coming back to tell him that he was all his fault and he never loved him. he was also crying, great, the hangover hit him instantly. mike ran to the bathroom and thankfully, made it to the toilet. after puking his guts out, mike popped a few tylenols, grabbed a glass of water and laid down. after a 2 hour nap, mike awoke still tired. so, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes, his lighter and sat on the fire escape. as mike smoked his first cigarette, he couldn’t help but remember what will had said about them then what he said after. ‘wonder what happened to him to have tried to kill himself…’ mike thought, blowing smoke into the early morning air.

will woke up to someone holding him. when he opened his eyes, there he saw lucas, fast asleep. will tried to get out of his hold but he just held on tighter. he huffed but was glad to get some extra sleep. ‘we’ll talk later i guess.’ will thought before drifting off. about 2 hours later, will was awoken by the smell of breakfast. he jumped up before remembering his wrist, will winced but made his way to the kitchen. there he found lucas dancing to candy rain by soul for real. “hey, baby! come join me!” lucas said, shaking his hips and reaching out a hand to will, who chuckled softly. “but i can’t danc-!” will began to say when lucas pulled him in. “just follow my lead.” lucas whispered. they waltzed, tangoed and slow danced. “ok that’s enough.” will declared, out of breath, lucas agreed.

the morning was spent eating, goofing off and getting ready of the day. lucas helps will redress his scars, which makes will force back tears. “uhm lucas, can we talk?” will said shakily. lucas hummed. “uh this may sound weird but i found a guy that i think i had a past relationship with.” lucas gave him a look, “why do you think?” his voice, strong with no waver. “well i uh got a concussion which basically made me forget the whole relationship and i think that i still love him.” will admitted. lucas stared at will’s arm, he knew that will couldn’t possibly think of breaking up with him. “lucas? i’m not breaking up with you if that’s what you’re thinking. i love the both of you but it’s fine if you don’t want m-.” will began to say when he then placed in lucas’ lap, who gave him a kiss.

“ah no, nena, todavía te quiero.” lucas whispered after pulling apart. will laid his head on lucas’ chest, “do you still love me?” he asked, “sí niño bonito, todavía te amo.” lucas replied, lifting will’s chin and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

after some time, the couple went in a search for mike. they found him at the park. “you should stay here.” will whispered, lucas nodded after looking around and placing a kiss on his cheek. will walked over to mike and took a spot next to him. “do you remember me?” will asked, mike looked at him then smiled. “of course i do, will.” he said, will looked surprised but was happy. he pulled mike into a hug, “is that your boyfriend over there or?” mike whispered in will’s ear, will hummed. “yeah, it’s kinda complicated but i love both of you and he’s ok with it.” will whispered back, mike exhaled. “so he wouldn’t mind if i kissed you right now?” mike asked, letting go of will. will began to blush, “uhm, i guess not bu-.” he began to say then he was interrupted by mike placing his lips onto of his.

it shocked to say the least but, he began to relax into the kiss. mike tasted like smoke and chocolate, will wanted more but, mike broke the kiss and will whined. “don’t worry, you’ll get more when we’re out of plain sight.” mike whispered and will smirked. they held hands, lucas couldn’t help but feel happy for his boyfriend and the three were off, to will’s and lucas’ shared apartment. there will and mike made out the whole time. will couldn’t believe how good mike tasted, it was so good, he really couldn’t get enough. mike broke the kiss to breathe then went at it again. lucas cleared his throat, the two parted, mike was clearly irritated with him. “getting take out, what y’all want?” “chinese is good!” mike hollered before going back to devouring will’s lips, god how long had it been since they kissed like this? mike couldn’t remember but he didn’t want it to stop.

after a few minutes, mike and will settled to cuddling. will was the big spoon with mike the small, who surprisingly fell asleep right after they got comfortable. lucas scooted close to the couple, “ya happy, baby?” he asked, will nodded leaning in for a kiss. lucas took and placed his lips onto of will’s. “take a nap, pretty boy, i’ll wake y’all up when the food gets here.” lucas whispered, will had happily obliged. he dreamt of that day, november 6th, crazy how it still has an effect on him. the driver carrying him to his car, the blood so much blood, the drive to the hospital, the sickeningly clean loud atmosphere, far away from home, from mike. he had flat lines in the hospital, dead in a hospital without family surrounding him, just like his mom….just like his mo-……

will was shooken awake and he screamed. mike was woken up, “what’s wrong, will?” he asked. will shook his head, his throat too tight. “hey, will, look at me.” mike said sternly, lucas looked at will in concern. will look at him, wheezing. “breathe with me, here, in, out, in, out.” mike said, grabbing one of will’s hands and placing it on his heart. will had calmed down 5 minutes later. he held mike’s face in his hands, his fingers in mike’s hair. will was safe, surrounded by the loves of his live, he was ok. will leaned in to kiss mike, he placed his lips on will’s. they kiss only for a second, will bringing mike’s forehead to his. after that, he pulled lucas to him, leaning his head on lucas’ shoulder. mike got out of will’s arms to go get his and will’s food. lucas pulled will into a hug. “you good, now?” he whispered into will’s hair, will nodded, exhaustion slowly taking over.

mike laid will’s head on his shoulder, eating his rice. lucas sat on the end of the couch, will’s legs atop of lucas’ lap. after they finished eating, lucas carried will to bed. the two of them trying to fit themselves in with will. once the three of them were comfortable, they drifted off to sleep. will was content with his boyfriends in their apartment of hawkins city, the small town of hawkins far from will’s mind. here he was, alive with his joys in life right by his side.

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