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#i'm tired of seeing ppl hating on him all the time

krtrs · 4 months

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the pressure put on rasmus højlund is INSANE when u consider that he's my age and already accomplished way more than the average 20 year old. people need to learn to be kind to players. like... it's okay to want to win, but keep in mind that they're humans and not robots. they won't be perfect all the time

#i'm tired of seeing ppl hating on him all the time #just because he isn't scoring as much as ppl want doesn't make him a bad player #he has proven that he is talented in both the danish national team AND the ucl #people just put too much focus on the premier league like it's the most definitive test of skill when it's really not #anyways rant over #//#rasmus højlund #højlund #manchester united #football #soccer #man utd #man united

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dimiclaudeblaigan · 8 months

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Okay I don't do this normally but out of curiosity, I looked at that guys' posts and yeah they're going around sealioning anyone who likes Dimitri being all like "how can you say Dimitri/AM is your favorite when you didn't play all the routes". Buddy it's called having preferences, subjectivity and opinion. I'm sure if we twist their behavior around back at them, they'll be like stop bothering us for liking Edel cause double standards is their bread and butter.

Yeah, I had taken a brief scroll through their blog the first time I saw them argue with Random about Claude because I had a pretty strong feeling that they were just another stan running around around against Rhea and Dimitri fans because I knew that person didn't follow Random when they started pulling the bad faith Claude takes.

I scrolled through a few posts before I was like yeah I'm not even gonna bother looking further because I could see all they were doing was arguing with people whose names I recognized, and the only people who ever do that are the stans. They also have absolutely nothing else but discourse on their blog.

It's crazy to me too, because I've seen those same Dimitri fans try to talk about anything else FE related and yet they still get pulled back into discourse. Like, I'm at the point where I believe everyone in that immediate group is just actively being stalked by the stans (and I recall one of them mentioning they are being stalked by them, but my guess is if one of them is, all of them are).

Also, the stans tend to pull the "you didn't play xyz route" when I'm quite certain most if not all of the Dimitri fans on Tumblr have at the very bare minimum watched the full route on YouTube of anything they didn't play. All these people have the information they need to know where they stand opinion-wise, and like you said, it's just... having an opinion. The stans have their opinions, we don't agree with them, and we don't engage with them unless they engage with us first.

Something I've noticed about the group of Dimitri fans that gets stans going after them is that it's always the stans who start it. They always respond to asks sent to those people. In other words they go onto those people's blogs, look at their posts/their replies to their anons, and start arguing at them over literally anything they say in thsoe ask responses.

Every single time I see a post reach my dashboard from any of those people (you might know the Faerghus/Dimitri group I'm talking about), it's always a stan going after them when they were just answering one of their own anons and posting something on their own blog. I'm sure there are people who think they engage in discourse too much, but they don't even start it. They get harassed and can't just blog in peace.

Unfortunately those same stans have been targeting Random as of late (and I've noticed it's more and more different ones so they're probably going after someone as soon as they notice their buddies are doing so) so it's not that surprising that they've taken notice of me since she and I interact regularly. They basically go through the chain of who interacts with who and try to start shit.

Oh nonnie honey, you better believe if even a single Dimitri fan did to them what they do to us, they'd be all over that and whining about it and posting callouts and shit.

I just want to be able to post whatever my feelings are about Dimitri without worrying that people will try to tear it down because "it's not about Edel-chan and it portrays Dimitri in a good light".

I've blocked every Edelstan I've come across but more of them keep popping up, so... I guess the blocking never ends. My block list is basically just Edelstans and bots at this point with few exceptions.

Funny how the stans don't block Dimitri fans who hate Edelgard to avoid seeing them (it's because they don't actually want to, because they want to argue), even though we're all over here trying to block them, but some of them block evade to keep going. Literally like Dimitri fans have tried to block them and move on, but they persistently find ways to keep harassing. And like I said, they go down the line, so eventually they'll just find every active Dimitri lover who posts about him and whine at them.

#DCB Ask #it's fucking wild to me how many times the same people have tried to block and move on and avoid these people #and how many times they've tried to talk about anything else or whatever they want in their own space #but the stans keep coming back and bothering them #there are even people whose favorite isn't Dimitri but they've ended up hating Edelgard because of the stans #and are wary of discourse bc of them. and like... their favorites aren't part of the general discourse much if at all #but they still hate Edelgard bc they just don't like HER but her stans made them despise the sight of her #it's tiring stressful and pathetic tbh. maybe I'll just like. write an analysis about a character I love #from another game so I can write about something fun and that I love and try to help #convince people in a happy positive way that he's GooD. bc like if you want someone to like your faves #the best way to change their mind is to have fun and talk in detail without discourse about them #if you're talking about them in a good way and explaining the depths of the character #and people can tell you're passionate about the character then they're way more likely to walk in open minded #than if you come at them insulting them and bitching at them for who they DO like or for not liking your fave #when ppl get interested in Dimitri and want to hear from me why I like him and stuff #I tell them all the great things about him that I love and gush about him. I don't start going #AND EDELGARD -INSERT EVERYTHING I HATE ABOUT HER- AND THAT'S WHY I LOVE DIMITRI #and I don't include why I hate Edelgard when ppl ask why I love Dimitri. I tell them why I love Dimitri and am happy to talk abt it #I LOVE getting ppl to enjoy my faves and sometimes it works! and that's bc they enjoy the vibe they get #when I'm talking abt my faves. they like seeing the passion and interest and positivity #I do this with my faves in another franchise all the time with an entire group of side characters who are sides but #also very plot important and it always makes people see them in a different light and appreciate them more

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angelshimaa · 6 months

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━━ 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑 ;; 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

✧ cw :: gn!reader, angst + comfort (bc y'all asked nicely), reader cries a little :), it's a part two to this (please read first) !!

✧ a/n :: @ka0ila & @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory + the ppl asked for a pt two, so here it is !!

“you're late.”

you nearly jump at the voice, not expecting any sounds to come from the dark place, way too cold to call home. you only note the laziness of his words, and how deeply they come from him.

it's past his bedtime, and he's exhausted. the hurt part of you hates how deeply his mannerisms are engraved into your mind.

you walk towards the stairs, determined to make it to bed without sharing a singular word with him. it's then when you see his figure sitting right there, blocking your path.

“where were you?” the red of bakugou's eyes is tinted darker, more bloodshot as he looks at you. you hope your own aren't as red after having cried your soul out at mina's. you half wish you'd accepted her offer to crash there for the night, for you didn't know how exactly this night could go.

“away from you. isn't that what you wanted?”

the response nips at him and he remembers the words he'd spat at you. you watch how he plays with his hands, smoothing over the rough skin and the thought is almost hilarious— he looked nervous.

“i— i didn't mean it, y/n. any of it. i was angry— and i'm sorry.”

while you were burning in hurt and rage and bitterness and overwhelming sorrow as mina hugged you, you'd listened to your heart beg him for an apology. and now, after it being thrown out, it doesn't hold the same weight as you'd like.

“until when, bakugou?” he winces at the use of his last name— he was never ‘bakugou’ to you. “you're sorry until something goes wrong at work again? you're sorry until i ‘start yapping' again? until you can't stand to look at my face?”

while he can't look you in the eyes anymore, let alone answer you, you feel the lump in your throat solidify.

“move out of the way, bakugou. i need sleep.”

you climb up a step, and the only movement bakugou makes is to stand up.

“y/n, please. please— stay.” the fragility makes itself known in both your voices and you're too tired— your heart is too heavy to fight, to protest.

“ba— katsuki, i'm tired. you yank me about at your will, and i'm so tired. all i've done is stay— endure— and all it has gotten me is here.”

he inhales sharply at the sorrow in how you say his name and it shatters him to see just how hopeless you look— all because he can't keep his damn temper in check.

“i'm sorry. please, i'll— i'll do anything— just don't leave. i'll get help, i'll come home earlier— i'll listen. just, one more chance, please.”

moments pass and the tears well up looking at his face, the prettiest face you've ever laid your eyes on. it pricks at you, watching him ask so softly.

you're weak, and you're so helplessly in love with him.

“i only have one more chance in me to give.”

bakugou exhales, moving slowly toward you. it's when you feel his arms wrap around you for a hug, that you feel your muscles ease up for the first time in so long. your own arms wrap around him, hands grasping at the back of his shirt, and he clings onto you like his life depends on it.

the smell of him— of home— is what causes the tears to finally fall. his shirt catches them and you nuzzle more into him, the thought of letting go seeming unfathomable. you can't remember the last time he'd touched you, let alone held you so close, but you try and hold onto what it feels like. what being at home feels like.

katsuki shuts his eyes, keeping his tears in. as he whispers his apology, he swears to himself he'll never make you cry so much again.

it's the sound of his heartbeat that stops your tears and lulls you to peace, and the warmth seeps back into your home that allows your broken hearts to mend in silence.

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

#— signed ⋆·ʚ⁺#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha angst #bnha angst #bakugou angst #bakugo angst #mha bakugou #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #mha x you #mha x y/n

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hrhmimieucliffe · 2 months

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⚠️Another Rant Incoming⚠️

I hate how some people are so threatened by Margo in general. Sure, her and Miles had a like 10 second interaction (with mad chemistry), the writers said Margo thinks Miles is cute, and the script implies that Gwen was a little jealous which is why they specifically say she yanked Miles FROM her, but all of this isn't going to undo 2 movies worth of Miles and Gwen development and content, whether Miles feels like she betrayed him or not. He WILL eventually forgive her, and they'll go out, let's be real. Miguel's canon blah blah will be proven wrong or will be shown to not be entirely correct (which it already has been) and Gwen will realise it's cool for her the with him. They'll use their watches to be with each other.

Just constantly trying to figure out why people are so threatened by a 10 second interaction she had with Miles, lmfao. Him and Gwen are cute and always have been cute, and will get together.

And please don't give me the "YAll juST hAtE inTerACIaL RelaTiOnsHips" bs, because 1. First of all I am a Black woman and I love all kinds of men and admittedly I have had way more crushes on non black men than black men and would happily date a non black man, so no, I don't hate interaccial relationships, and 2. That's just an annoying reach.

Just tired of people acting like this in general when a fan even tries to imply that a character is even attracted to a black girl/woman, like.... what is peoples deal with that? Same way some of the non black people are trying to argue with black women about the fact that Hobie would most likely date a black woman first and foremost before any other woman, given the time he lives in??? Like... it doesn't even stop at characters, people act like this in real life when a man dares to show an attraction to us.

This is why we need more black women being loved in fictional media, because otherwise, we'll have people acting like this.

And I'm sorry, but I've gotta say it, yall would accept characters like Miguel being with a hologram or his MARRIED (with a daughter) friend, before you ship him with a Black woman, like....

Also I see ppl hating on Hailey and I don't like that either, stay away from her.

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lola-bunn1 · 1 year

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begging for a lo’ak x fem reader where theyre childhood best friends to lovers <3 there’s barely any lo’ak writings it’s so sad 😭

❥ a/n: bro YOURE SO RIGHT i wish there were more lo’ak fics he’s so underrated and ppl hate him for no reason like my boy did nth??

Ever since you were 5, you and Lo'ak were inseparable. You went everywhere together, did everything together, hell you even had sleepovers together.

Lo'ak didn't have many friends, many of them made fun of him for being different, calling him the kid with the demon blood. So having a person that didn't pick on him and actually was friends with him was oddly surprising, and a little sad.

You two were best friends. As his best friend, he was very protective of you. When you'd go hunting, he'd tell you to be careful where you aim as he was scared you'd accidentally aim it in the air and have it fall on you, or when you'd be out after eclipse, he'd be very aware of his surroundings, keeping out for any dangerous creatures

It was safe to say you two were always together.

Another thing about him, was his issues. You knew how hard his father was on him. He already had to deal with the pressure of trying to live up to his perfect brother, and his dad wasn't making any easier by scolding and yelling at him for every breath he takes

He wasn't exactly enjoying any of it, and nobody understood him. Except you.

You were always there for him, and that's when he knew.

He was somewhere in the forest, hiding. He always liked to hide to get away from everything for a bit. But this time, he was hiding because he just had another fight with his dad, and left to get some air.

You knew exactly where to find him, and the minute you hugged him, he broke down.

And you didn't leave.

You didn't judge him, you didn't yell at him, you stayed. You stayed and comforted him, and supported him, and made sure he was okay

"I'm so sorry Lo'ak, your dad never sees the effort you put in when you try to live up to his expectations. But trust me, I see it. I see it everyday, I know you're trying, and I'm always gonna be here when you need me, it's okay, I'm here for you" You said as you held him tight, wiping his tears and playing with his hair

That's when he knew. That's when he knew he was never gonna find someone like you, he was never going to find someone that made him feel as safe as you do

He had fallen for you and didn't realize it till now.

Even with the next day, you came by and took him out to distract him from the fight, you made sure that he was smiling and laughing, forgetting all the pain

But one day, it was different. He was alone in the forest again, and of course you were quick to go comfort him

He was sitting on the ground, staring into nothing in silence. He suddenly heard footsteps and sighed

"Lo'ak?" You said in a soft voice, slowly walking towards him, "hey" you said as you pulled him in for a hug but he pushed you away

"Leave me alone" He said, turning away

You took in a deep breath, "I understand you're upset about your dad-" you said as you touched his shoulder but he pushed you away again

"Why are you even here?!" He yelled

"Wh-what?" You nervously said

"I don't need you to comfort me, I'm fine on my own"

"But Lo'ak-"

"You think I don't know about your sick game?" He said, the anger radiating off him

"What game-"

"I'm tired of you treating me like this! I'm tired of you treating me like this and acting like you don't realize what you're doing to me"

"What?"

"I don't need you! I don't need anyone. I'm sick of you playing me like I'm some stupid game! Leave me alone!" He yelled, startling you the louder he got, "You mean nothing to me. Do you understand? Nothing!"

He went quiet when he heard you sniffle, and looked into your eyes, seeing them glossy, his heart broke

You ran away, and he heard your cries as you did. He hurt you, he never saw you cry before, and he did now

and it was all because of him.

He didn't see you for days, he asked about you and they all said they haven't seen you leave your tent for a while now

He hated himself for acting the way he did, he didn't mean any of it.

One day, he saw you finally leaving your tent, your eyes were puffy and red, like you've been crying a lot, you had dark circles under your eyes like you haven't been sleeping much, he hated it, he hated the way he affected you

he followed you into the forest where you were picking some fruits he assumed your mother told you to get and took the chance

"y/n" he said and you froze, it was quiet, the sounds of the forest filling your ears, you were about to run until he pulled you back

he held your face as your eyes began to tear up, "please listen to me, y/n i swear you have to hear me out"

you stood there quietly, waiting for him to speak

"I didn't mean any of the words I said, I promise you. I was just--I was mad and I took it out on you"

"Yeah because I mean nothing to you--"

"No!" He yelled, "you mean everything to me. More than you can possibly imagine"

"Then why'd you say it!" You yelled back, and he wiped your tears

"Because I was scared!" He responded, "I was-you just...you make me feel things, things I've never felt before. And I hate it because I know I shouldn't be feeling like this, so I thought maybe if I hurt you, you'd leave and I wouldn't suffer anymore" He sighed

"Suffer what!"

"Suffer the pain of loving you!" He yelled, "I-I see you, y/n. And it scares me because-"

"Because you don't think I feel the same way?" You cut him off

He nodded

"God, you're such a stupid skxawng!" You smacked him, and he rubbed his arm in confusion, "of course I feel the same way! You-you're my best friend, Lo'ak. I see you too."

"You do?"

"Duh! I've been seeing you, dumbass!" you yelled, smacking him in the head

"Damn okay I get it jeez!" he said as he rubbed his head

You chuckled and pulled him in, kissing him on the lips, after you pulled away he had a smirk on his face

"Does this mean you're having my babies now?" He genuinely asked

"I'm leaving."

"WAIT"

this sucked okay the end hope u enjoyed love u my bbs

#lo’ak headcanons #lo’ak sully #lo’ak fluff #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak imagine #avatar fanficiton #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar x reader #avatar #loak my bby boy #lo'ak x reader

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lis-likes-fics · 8 months

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Princess I

Pairings: Eddie Munson x rich!cheerleader!Reader Word Count: 10.2k Warnings: Slow burn, misunderstandings, not much, mostly fluff... A/N: This has been sitting in my wips since January and I still have one or two more parts to write for it. But here it is! This is going to be a slow burn in two or three parts and I'm so excited to actually make it a slow burn (or as much as I can get, I am also super impatient, ppl). I hope you enjoy it! Thank you!

Hawkins' sun is hot today as you sit on the green grass beneath you, bending over one leg to stretch tired muscles. Each blade of grass that licks the bare skin of your thighs almost feels like a tiny needle pricking into your flesh, but you remain unfazed.

You're reaching your hands forwards on the grass, bending your body between your legs, when a body plops down next to you and wraps her slender arm over your shoulders, pulling you in roughly and closely.

"There goes your lover boy," she says, taunting you with an annoying smirk. You look up and immediately find a head of unruly curls bouncing in the sun as said ‘lover boy’ speaks animatedly with his friends.

"Stop it, Fiona," you scold, rolling your eyes. "He's not my lover boy. We're not even friends."

Fiona scoffs, shaking her head as she sneers apathetically. "I don't even know why you like him so much." She copies your position, legs spread out as she stretches along her left leg. "He's a freak."

"He is not a freak," you defend, sitting back up with crossed legs. "Just because he doesn't act like every other boring ass guy in this school does not mean he's a freak." You look down at your hands, twiddling your thumbs as you timidly shrug, "I like him. He's cool… He's different."

Chrissy's voice follows your own as she moves to sit a little closer, her kind smile set upon her lips. "I've talked to him a couple times," she supports. "He's really nice"

You beam. "See? Thank you, Chrissy."

Fiona rolls her eyes, another scoff pushing through her throat as she continues her stretch, eyes closed as she leans her side over her leg. "Whatever, girl." You sigh, shaking your head and turning your gaze back to the boy dressed in punk.

A whistle blows. You all look up at your coach adjusting her ball cap. "Alright, that's practice. Please work on those formations, please." The exasperation in her voice is feigned, the impact lessened by the little smile on her face.

You stand and move to grab your bag, along with all the other girls in short skirts of white, yellow, and green. You bend down and pick up your water bottle as Fiona and Chrissy take your sides to get to their one belongings.

A pair of brown eyes meet yours momentarily, looking away before you can even share a glimpse for a full second. Your heart flutters, and you hate how easy it is.

You nod definitely and take in a breath of courage as you decide, "I'm gonna go talk to him."

You receive two very different reactions. While one of them gives you a wide grin and a thumbs up, the other scowls and offers her disappointment and concern.

"Good luck!" Chrissy bids.

Fiona shakes her head. "Yeah, whatever."

It takes you a moment to move, but soon your feet are carrying you before you can back out. His slender form becomes bigger and bigger as you approach him, your stomach doing flips.

His friends see you over his shoulder as you get closer, smacking him and urging him to turn around at the sight of you.

He shifts on his feet, first glancing over his shoulder before turning quickly when he realises who you are. The look on his face isn't necessarily inviting. He looks wary, gripping his bag on his shoulder as he watches you.

You stand in front of him, keeping plenty of distance as you try not to stutter over your words. You offer him a smile, "Uh, hi."

Eddie Munson raises a brow, confused. "Hi?"

You shift on the balls of your feet, clasping your hands behind your back. "I'm Y/N."

He chuckles a little, glancing past you at the eyes glued to your back. "I know," he mumbles, his eyes finding you again. "Princess of Hawkins."

You try not to shrink under the way he says it. It isn't offensive; he doesn't spit the words like old gum that's lost its flavour, but it almost holds the same intensity as when half-hearted onlookers call him a freak just to fit in among the halls of the school.

You smooth your hands along your skirt, clearing your throat. "Uh, yeah… Um, I was wondering," you mumble the words out, hesitant and broken apart with anxiety, "if you wanted to, maybe," you struggle to get it out, hating how hard it is to speak to him when you usually remain so flawless, "go see a movie or…or get lunch?"

He begins to laugh, half-hearted and almost venomous. "Is this, like," he leans in a little, playing into the deceit he accuses you of, "some sort of joke?" He searches your eyes for an answer, one you're determined to decline.

"What?" you wonder aloud. "No. I… I-I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to hang out."

He begins to laugh again, but it falls short at the look on your face. Serious, timid. A mask?

"Really?" he asks, entirely unconvinced.

You nod slowly, lowering your head and looking up at him through your lashes as you kick at some grass. You swallow the lump in your throat formed because of his insistence of your insincerity. "Yeah."

You'd almost forgotten about his friends behind him, watching quietly with animated facial features that make you more nervous than you already are. They seem amused, underneath the judgement, of course.

"Why?" Eddie asks.

You shrug meekly, picking at your nails. "I just think you're cool."

He smiles, but not one of those wide Eddie smiles you're used to seeing in the halls when he's hanging around with his friends. This smile is almost spiteful, upset about whatever trick he thinks you're playing.

"'Kay," he laughs. "Now I know this is a joke."

You chance a little laugh, attempting to hide your nerves. "It's not a joke," you urge. You clasp your hands behind your back and tilt your head. The smile on your face is sweet, free of manipulation and full of a dwindling hope. "Please?"

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, sighing as he thought. He glances over his shoulder at his friends. They shrug or give thumbs up and he turns his conflicted gaze back to you.

"Uh," he breathes. "Sure, I guess." His hesitance does not help your nerves, but his acceptance offers a new hope.

"Oh," you say, your smile spreading a little. You half expected him to reject you, if his behaviour was anything to go by. "Cool, um…movies on Friday at seven? On me?"

He nods slowly, just a dip of his head with pursed lips. He runs his knuckles along his jaw, his thumb lingering on his bottom lip before he pinches and absent-mindedly plays with it. "Sure."

Your eyes linger on his thumb for too long before you offer a bright smile, reducing your excitement to flicking fingers, rather than clapping your hands and jumping up and down in your spot like a toddler. "Great!" you smile. "See you then."

"Yeah…" he trails off, watching you leave before turning back to his hooting friends.

You return to Chrissy and Fiona with a pep in your step, swaying side to side in a light strut. They take in the way you hold your head high with pride.

When you reach them, the smile on your face is full of confidence and a touch of cockiness. "Friday at seven," you declare, winking their way.

Fiona practically scowls, "He said yes?"

You smile only slightly. "Yep."

Chrissy's arms surprise you as she throws them around your neck and pulls you into her. "Congrats!" She exclaims, even more excited about the date than you.

Fiona laughs through her response, shaking her head in disappointed amusement. "You're insane."

You sigh, tired of her constant pessimism. "Be nice," you try. "He's cool."

She just shrugs her shoulders, insistent on emphasising how awful Eddie is, "It was nice knowing you."

You break away from Chrissy with a frown set deep in your face, turning full-bodied toward Fiona with furrowed brows. "Stop being mean to him," you tell her, your voice firm as you put your foot down. You stare at her, and she watches you defend Eddie with an intensity she deems excessive.

She just scoffs, backing down without offering her apologies for offending you as she grabs her stuff. She waves and leaves you be, walking away to separate from your anger.

Chrissy set a hand on your arm, tucking herself into your side for comfort as she smiles. "I think it's cool," she says. You look at her and your smile slowly returns as you hug her again.

"Thanks, Chris."

When Friday comes, you are ecstatic. You confirm the time with Eddie one more time and force time to pass quicker so you can see him later that evening. You and Chrissy get together and pick out the perfect outfit and the perfect makeup and the perfect everything.

As the time inches closer and closer to your date, you finally get into Chrissy's car, well on your way to the theatre to meet Eddie. When she drops you off, you are perfectly on time. Seven o'clock on the dot. With good wishes, she leaves to go meet up with Jason.

You wait for Eddie as the time ticks on, assuming he is simply fashionably late. More people come in, more people grab their tickets and concessions, more people go to their movies with their dates and families and friends.

But you wait.

And you wait.

You wait.

For three hours, you wait.

But he never comes.

The embarrassment was hot in your cheeks all weekend. Chrissy came over as soon as she heard on Saturday, there to comfort you, to assure you that maybe there was a good explanation. She stayed the night at your place and you watched movies and talked and pretended you were happy and fine with what happened.

On Sunday, the sadness and the pity kicked in. You stayed in bed and read romance novels and cuddled your favourite stuffed animal and ignored the homework you had left to do.

But on Monday, when it is time to get back to class…

You are livid.

The princess of Hawkins tears through Hawkins High on the way to the cafeteria during lunch, and no one dares to stop her. Walking into the cafeteria, you catch Eddie at his usual table like clockwork and set your sights on him. People notice you walk down, they see you go up to his table and stop in front of him way before he even notices the footsteps approaching him.

When he finally sees you, it's because you're standing in front of him with your arm crossed over your chest.

He looks at you, a hint of fear in his eyes expertly coated in confusion. His table watches intently, all conversation halted to see what would go down as you glare at the ringleader of Hawkins' freaks.

"You stood me up."

He furrows his brow, tilting his head. "Huh?"

You scoff, uncrossing your arms and shaking your head. "You stood me up!" you repeat yourself, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a moment. "I waited for you for, like, an hour, and you never came."

He looks around, taking in the amount of attention you both were drawing.

Eddie Munson is not one to hide from the prying eyes of gossips in this school—in this whole town—but being caught with conflict with the princess of it all would not end well for him.

He stands to his feet, running his hand over his jeans for a moment before gesturing to move to one of the white columns further away from everyone else. He practically hides behind it and almost begs you to do the same.

You huddle behind the column, standing close enough to fit, but not close enough to feel awkward. Your arms cross over your chest again and your anger continues to flare like bursts of fire.

He collects his thoughts for a moment, trying to figure out the right thing to say before settling on, "...You went?"

"What?" you mumble. You uncross your arms, raising a confused brow at him. "Of course, I went."

He repeats your words under his breath as though you're speaking a different language. "I didn't come because I thought you were going to stand me up."

Some of your fire dissipates, anger replaced by confusion as you tilt your head at him. "Why would I do that?" you asked, genuinely bewildered by the proposal.

"Why would you do that?" He's repeating your words again, mumbling them under your breath with such disbelief as he looks at you like you're insane.

Seriously, were you speaking a different language? Were your words not getting through?

He sighs, looking at you and beginning his explanation with plenty of animation to pair. "You're you. I'm me," he says. "You hang with cheerleaders and jocks and all the rich kids in school. I hang out with the outcast freaks who play 'the devil's game'."

He puts the air quotes up, but swings his head with the words to articulate his intent. You watch him and struggle to keep your fascination and slight adoration of his character away from your face because he is so pretty. He's confused and frustrated, but he's still being so funny and pretty–

No. You are mad at him. Be mad at him.

"You're not freaks," you tell him, letting out a breath. "I don't think you are."

He seems to hesitate for a moment, considering you before shaking his head. "Well," he clicks his tongue and gives you a grand smile meant to serve his exaggeration without fully convincing you that he doesn't hate you. You feel like he might hate you. You don't know why.

"That solves everything," he continues. "Still doesn't change the fact that girls like you-" he gestures to you "-don't talk to guys like me-" he jabs his fingers into his chest- "unless it's to pull some stupid prank to humiliate me."

Slowly, you begin to understand what he was saying. Connecting the dots, you're able to understand his apprehension, and thus his rejection, to go on the date with you.

You take a tiny step forward and put your hand on his forearm, right about one of his cool tattoos you've only seen once or twice. "I would never do that to you, Eddie."

His eyes widen slightly as he watches you, his lips parting gently in another moment of bewilderment. You just watch him, your eyes trailing over his face—his big eyes; big nose; big, plump, pink lips—as you take in the sight of him.

He licks those pretty lips of his, "You know my name?"

You tried, you really did. But as you look at him now, so confused and slightly amazed, you end up smiling a little—just a tiny grin that curls your lips.

"Of course, I know your name. I asked you out," you say. "Why would I not know your name?"

He scoffs, back to sarcasm and exaggeration. "Because everyone calls me ‘freak’, and, again, rich girls like you don't talk to guys like me."

You sigh, "And what kind of guy are you?"

You catch him off guard. He opens his mouth to speak before stopping and thinking for a moment. His mouth closes and he sighs, shrugging his shoulder before letting it fall limply at his side.

"The kind of guy who would rather keep the pretty princesses in DND campaigns."

Two things run through your head at that moment.

One: Eddie Munson sees you as a princess. But not like a princess in his fantasy game, likely fair and kind and gracious in her endeavours- he genuinely doesn't believe that you hold good intentions for him and his interests. Instead, he thinks you plan to use him in cruel tricks to humiliate him for being different, the very reason that you like him in the first place.

Two: Eddie Munson thinks you're pretty.

Your hand on his forearm shifts down to rest in his own hand. He looks down at them, processing the feeling of your fingers resting against his palm.

When he looks at you again, your eyes are soft and your lips are parted and you look fair and kind and gracious.

"I do like you, Eddie."

He stares at you for a moment, his dark brown eyes flicking through your own to search for the ingenuity he expects to find there.

But nothing.

He clears his throat and hums, taking his hand back and glancing down at the floor beneath his feet as he shoves his hands in his back pockets. "Hm."

You let out a gentle sigh. You shift your stance and straighten your spine to look at him again, licking your lips before you speak again.

"I decided that I would give you one of two things, depending on whether I deemed your explanation to be fair enough." You tilt your chin up, making yourself appear bigger than you are as you avoid smiling at him again.

"Oh, yeah?" he wonders, raising a brow and allowing himself to smirk. The way your heart skips in your chest threatens to turn your legs to jelly. He really is so pretty, isn't he? "And what did you decide?" He shifts closer to you, sidling up at your side as he teases you. Maybe he doesn't hate you as much as you thought? Or maybe he's just a good actor. You don't know, but you don't really care either. As long as he keeps smiling at you.

"I guess…" you sigh as a slight smile takes your lips. "That's a decent explanation." You reach in your bag and allow your grin to widen. "So, here."

You pull a journal out of your bag, black and bound in leather as you hand it over to him. Eddie looks at you, taking the book carefully in his hands and stroking his hand along the cover. He glances at you before flipping it open to the first page. The sheets are thick and white, ready to be filled with stories and campaign ideas.

"Uhh…" he says, staring at the book with the slight shake of his head. You examine every shift in his features, every little thought that flashes behind his eyes as you take in the bewilderment that continues to run rampant. "Thanks?"

You smile and shrug a little. "I thought you might like it," you say. "I guess it's just a peace offering now."

He looks up with furrowed brows, "Just out of curiosity… What was the other thing?"

"I was going to punch you in the face."

"Oh."

You nod slowly before waving it away dismissively. "Anyway, I hope you like the journal."

He nods, slow and characteristically confused. "Yeah…thank you."

"Bye, Eddie." You turn to leave him there, gripping your purse tight.

"Bye."

As you're leaving, you stop suddenly, turning on the balls of your feet with a slight bounce at your naturally excited movements. "Oh, also… This isn't some joke or prank."

He watches your every move as you stare at him, a kind smile on your lips, soft eyes staring back at him. "I do like you, Eddie."

He doesn't respond to you, just stares with wide doe eyes and a slightly open mouth. Curious. Confused.

You hide your hesitation as his lack of verbal response as you nod awkwardly, raising a hand as you turn on your heels. "Bye."

A book.

He stands you up and you give him a book as a peace offering? Eddie thought he was weird, but you just took the whole damn cake.

It doesn't make sense, he can't make sense of it. You're so kind- too kind. He left you waiting for him at the movie theatre for an hour, and your response is to give him a gift to show that you aren't lying about liking him.

And why do you like him?!

He's Eddie fucking Munson. The freak of Hawkins High, a drug dealer, a junkie, a super super senior, a demon spawn, the ringmaster of this town’s freaks, the vessel for Satan himself.

There is no way a popular rich girl like you would like a poor reject freak like him. Eddie can't wrap his head around it.

Watching you leave, your hands clasped behind your back, a little hop in your step, Eddie just stares. As he slowly comes to sit back down at his table, his group surrounds him, swarming like vultures.

"Bro, what was that?"

"Did you seriously have a date with her?"

"And you stood her up?"

"Why did you do that?"

"How did you do that?"

"You're insane, man!"

"If she asked me out, I'd drop all of you in a second to say yes."

Eddie just flips open his book again.

"What's that?"

"Uh… She gave me this as a peace offering," he explains slowly, staring down at the journal and setting his foot in his chair as he leans on his knee. "To prove she's not lying about…liking me?"

"Dude, the princess of Hawkins has a crush on you and you stood her up?" Dustin gawks, dropping his jaw in utter disbelief.

"How are we supposed to look up to you after this?" Mike shakes his head, his long arms falling onto the table.

"Would you just shut up? Jesus, can't even hear my own thoughts," Eddie mutters.

"Good," Gareth scoffs, "’cause, clearly, your thoughts are cheating you."

Eddie rolls his eyes, staring at the book again. The way you looked at him before, he couldn't help but to realise how much truth you were actually speaking. You were serious. Or a good actress.

You knew his name?

He shouldn't be as shocked as he is. He's infamous, but even Chrissy Cunningham—the queen of Hawkins—had needed reminding of who he was when they bumped into each other one day outside of the halls of the school. They'd hit it off instantly, but being who she was and being who he was, the connection didn't last as long as he wished it had.

But you and Chrissy are friends, aren't you? Best friends. Surely you couldn't be bad if you were friends with such an angel, right? Surely not.

Maybe you were genuine, maybe you weren't. Maybe you were a pretty girl with good grades and nice clothes and a nice smile, but you could end up being the devil in disguise and all that prettiness could blind him from the truth.

What if you were lying? What if you were playing tricks on him?

Eddie doesn't have the best reputation, but if it got out that you were screwing with him all along, and he actually let himself believe that you really and truly wanted him of all people…the embarrassment would overshadow his lack of care for what people thought of him. That'd be a whole new light all together. He couldn't handle that on top of everything else.

But you’re pretty, and you have kind eyes. Maybe he could take a chance on a pretty princess? Maybe he could trust you?

God, he was in trouble.

Eddie startles as he closes his locker and comes face to face with you once again. You stand too close, a wide smile on your lips and your books hugged to your chest.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," you chuckle weakly, taking a step back. "Hi."

"Hey?" he mumbles, hooking his thumb on his bag strap.

You rock awkwardly on your heels. "How was class?"

The rush of students around you both after the bell had rung was quick, everyone insistent on getting out of the school as classes came to a conclusion.

"Fine, I guess," he mumbles.

"Good…" you nod. You lick your lips, your eyes trailing down the journal he is still holding. You gesture toward it, "Do you like the journal I gave you?"

He nods, "Yeah. It's really cool."

"Good!"

The both of you continue to stand awkwardly, struggling to find something to say.

"Um, I just wanted to say hi," you say. "Maybe ask if you wanted to… go see a movie with me or get some food?"

Your heart pumps in your chest at the question, a second attempt at securing a date with Eddie Munson—especially since you were the one asking again…as if it went well last time.

"Again?" he raises a brow, chuckling.

"To be fair," you tilt your head, smiling adorably, "you stood me up last time."

"Fair." He reaches his hand up to scratch the side of his neck, tilting his head as he asks, “But why would you want to go out with me again if I stood you up? I mean, what if I did it again?”

Your eyes stare back at him, wide and too pretty as the smile drops from your face. “Would you?” you wonder, lips parted slightly in wait for his response.

His hand drops down to his collarbone, resting there as he stares back, brow furrowed in too much concentration of that look on your face. You look like a deer in headlights, too captivated by bright lights to take notice of the danger you’re putting yourself in.

But Eddie isn’t dangerous. And, apparently, you knew that.

“Probably not,” he finally answers, letting his arm hang by his side carelessly. It swings a little, and his knee pops out when he leans on his side. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your smile is too big when it spreads over your lips again. “Then I’m okay with taking that chance. And if I’m made a fool of because I liked someone…I’m okay with that.”

Eddie thinks you’re really weird, but in a good way.

"So…" you rock on your heels again, holding your books behind your back, "Is that a yes?"

He shrugs. "It's not a no."

"Okay…" you mumble. You take in a breath of courage, standing a little straighter. "Friday?"

He adjusts his bag, looking up at the ceiling and blowing his cheeks out in a sigh. "How about Thursday?"

"Um… okay." Why Thursday? Why didn't he want to go on Friday? Does that mean something?

"And, just to be clear," he continues, his voice soft, void of annoyance but not providing you much solace, "this isn't a date. This is just two…friends hanging out."

Your heart sinks.

"Okay. Not a date." You nod definitely, licking your grinning lips.

"Okay."

"See you." You offer a small wave, taking a step back.

"See you."

He turns, waving over his shoulder at you and shuffling out of the door to meet his friends. You sigh gently, nodding and turning on your heel to go meet Chrissy, who is poorly hiding around the corner.

"Did he say yes?" she asks as soon as you stand in front of her, her hands holding onto your arms with a hopeful look on her face.

You lick your lips again as you smile and nod jovially, a bad habit. "He said yes," your smile falls a little, "but it's not a date."

"Why not?" she pouts, letting go of you to walk beside you.

You shrug meekly, "Guess I haven't won him over yet."

Chrissy sighs. She takes your hand and pulls you out of the door, certainty and determination clear in her voice. "I'm sure you will eventually. You're awesome," she asserts. Her support of you warms you, and you can't help but to smile. "He'll love you… eventually."

You laugh, nodding along with her as the sun blinds you. "Eventually."

"Hey."

Eddie could laugh.

He waddles around to face you in the middle of the hall, earning looks from people passing by him during the passing period. Some people go to shove him out of the way, to continue the flow of foot traffic so he isn't holding up so many people.

But they quickly rethink their decisions at the sight of you approaching him. They part like the fucking Red Sea, giving you plenty of space to talk, as dozens of students circle like fish.

"Hey, Y/N," he says, looking at you with his pretty brown eyes. He's got a long eyelash on the apple of his cheek. You want to wipe it away and tell him to make a wish, but you don't.

You've got a box in your hands, done up all in pretty paper and a ribbon bow on top. It looks heavy with the way you hold it up against your hips, arms flexing every now and then with each little effort to keep it in your arms

"I just wanted to give you something," you tell him, taking a step closer and thus tightening the circle around you.

Eddie thinks briefly you're some sort of mutant from his comics, with a forcefield power that makes you untouchable or mind control that makes everyone love you. But then he remembers you're supposedly nice enough not to need mind control.

You could get or do what you want and not have to deal with the consequences because people just love you that much.

He looks down at the box with a hint of something you can't decipher.

"Again?" he comments, his gaze wary now.

How much money do you have that you can just buy whatever you want for a random stranger you don't even know? And how easy do you think he is that you can just buy him stuff and he'll want to go out with you? Eddie hates the idea of it.

You hand him the box, brushing past the slight annoyance in his voice.

He takes it hesitantly, surprised at the weight, like it's full of bricks. He knocks his knuckles against the side and is met with a solid wall. What did you give him?

He looks at you expectantly and you shrug. "I noticed your copy was getting really worn out."

He furrows his dark brow and takes the bow stuck on the top off, slapping it against the side of the box and out of the way. He's surprised by your dedication to wrap the flaps of the box instead of the box as a whole, making it easier to just open it up and reveal the various spines of hardcover books revealing the golden font he knew well.

He's at a loss for words, staring at the books you'd gifted him. His assumption of shallow intentions is challenged in this moment as he stares and stares and then stares at you.

"You got me the Lord of the Rings trilogy?" he gapes.

His reaction fills you with a little bit of hope. He seems to like it. "Yeah," you smile gently.

He looks back and forth between them and you. "And the Hobbit?"

You nod again, "Mhm."

He picks up one book, creating an empty slot in the box as he examines it. His hand feels the spine, made of a material he can only guess is very expensive. "Hardcover?"

"I thought you'd appreciate it," you reply, fidgeting with the bottom of your skirt.

He begins to smile a little, a ghost of a thing created in the heat of the moment that you actually paid enough attention to know that he's not dumb enough not to know how to read, and to know that he adores these books so much that you got him hardcover copies to cherish.

But then he pauses and the smile is gone before it could grow. It puts the book back in its rightful slot and looks at you with a narrowed suspicion.

"What's the catch?"

You tilt your head. "No catch," you shrug, taking a tiny step forward. "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

Eddie doesn't believe you. Why would you want to do something nice for him when he can count on one hand the amount of conversations you've had? It doesn't make sense. Who does that?

But he doesn't challenge you. Especially not in this hall of swarming students where so many people are passing, watching. He may be infamous for his nonchalance for onlookers, but even he has a limit to what he will and won't do in front of people to save himself a little more trouble and humiliation.

"Alright…" he mumbles.

You give him a smile and step away, turning on your heel after waving your goodbye. Your departure begins to close the circle, throwing him back into the crowd of shoving bodies and whispers.

Eddie looks back at the box of books in his hands, ignoring the way more people try to push him out of the way of the traffic flow, and something he doesn't like swells in his chest and festers there.

He curses under his breath before he calls after you, "Hey."

You turn, looking over your shoulder and shifting your body to face him.

Eddie shifts the box to his side, jutting his hip out to support it as he uses his now free hand to brush some hair from his face. He sighs and hates the way his throat suddenly feels blocked.

"I could pick you up at eight for the movie," he offers, confused by the way he wants you to say yes. You got him the whole of the Lord of the Rings books, he might as well offer a ride to your not-date. "If you want…" He adds it on at the end, an afterthought. He assumes you're going to say yes, but still feels the anxiety of a possible no.

You cup your elbow in your hand. "Yeah?"

You flutter your eyelashes. Eddie wonders if you're manipulating him or if you are just genuinely this sweet.

He realises he may be exaggerating his reasons for not trusting you.

"Yeah," he shrugs a shoulder. "As payment."

A pretty smile tickles your lips as you nod. "Okay," you agree. "21st on Griffith."

Eddie chuckles, nodding and rolling his eyes in a way that's too playful for your dynamic. "Yeah, I know."

You furrow your brow. "You do?"

"Yeah. Everyone knows," he says. "You host parties sometimes."

You suddenly feel stupid for not realising that. "Oh."

Whether he means to or not, he eases your worries about looking dumb as he smiles. He kicks out his foot to turn on his heel, "See you then, princess."

The way he says it is not like he'd been saying it before. It had been as though he was teasing you, like he wanted to make you flinch with the name that had become the town's honorary title for you.

But now… now it felt like a nickname. Like one of those little things that add onto the end of sentences, embedded with fondness and familiarity. Strange for your dynamic, but so warm in the pit of your stomach where your liking for Eddie rests.

"Okay," you smile.

He salutes you and leaves as the warning bell rings. You watch as he heads in the direction of the double doors that lead outside, probably to put the box in his van. He'll be late for class. But you assume he doesn't care.

You care a little more, but not enough to pick up the pace to get to class as you turn and spot Chrissy waiting in the hall. You join her, letting her grab your hands hopefully as she brings them up between you. You give her a large smile, one that lights up your face and hers.

“It worked!” you exclaim, shaking your hands lightly.

“You bribed him?” she accuses, smiling but furrowing her brow with a huff of a laugh.

You roll your eyes, waving your hand dismissively. “It’s not a bribe. I gave him a gift.”

“So you bribed him?” she questions, still unconvinced.

“No!” A bubble of laughter works its way out of you. “I did something nice for him because he deserves nice things. I just secretly hoped he would repay the favour.”

The tardy bell rings, but neither of you pay it any mind.

“That’s a bribe, sweetie,” she says.

You roll your eyes again, “Anyway, it worked!”

“And?” she prompts you into giving details, interested in the outcome of your not-bribe for your not-date.

“And now he’s picking me up tomorrow night.” You bring her hands up to cover your smiling mouth with them, unabashed by your outward display of excitement as you hop a little in your spot.

She shares your excitement for a moment before remembering something. “But it’s still not a date.” She states it as a fact, shaking her head gently and hoping for a different answer.

Some of your elation seeps out of you, turning your boiling joy to a simmering delight. “...No.”

Chrissy sighs, and then she smiles, separating one hand from yours in favour of setting it on your cheek. You lean into her cold hand–warm heart combo staring into her eyes that would make outsiders wonder if friendship was your actual connection.

“It’s progress,” she reassures, swiping her thumb over your cheek to make you smile. It works, turning the heat of your affection back up.

“But he called me princess!” You smile. “I know it was probably sarcastic—and, well, everyone calls me princess—but it felt different this time. You know? Genuine.”

Chrissy just laughs, squeezes your shoulder lightly, and nods gently. “I’ll help you get ready tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Chris,” you beam.

She pulls her hands from you and claps them lightly, barely making more than a little snap of sound as she makes a bashful face. “Now, we’re late for class. By, like, a lot.”

You just scoff, rolling your eyes playfully before pulling a pink slip from your bag. “No, we’re not.”

It’s a pass signed with Principal Higgins’ name one of your friends forged, one you can flash the teachers and immediately get excused with. Chrissy has one, too. The two of you haven’t been “late” for class in months.

Chrissy pulls her own out and shares your giggle before shoving your arm lightly to push you in the direction of your class. “Well, go! Before we get caught.”

Walking backwards, you just laugh it off. “Please. We’re the royalty of Hawkins High. We don’t get in trouble.”

She rolls her eyes, turning around to get to her own class. “We will if you keep screaming that.”

The anxiety of your not-date with Eddie Munson is making it hard to think, which isn't at all ideal when you need your brain to function, or—more importantly—come up with a good outfit for tonight.

"I've tried on fifty different outfits! We're not finding anything," you whine, throwing a failure of a shirt onto the bed next to Chrissy, who rolls her eyes and stands.

"Please," she scoffs playfully, walking toward your closet and sorting through it. You take her spot, crossing your arms and pouting sourly at the lack of style in your closet.

Chrissy comes back in a few moments, clothes and smile in hand. "Wear this."

You look down at the clothes as you take them in your hands. She's given you a thick, white turtleneck, a red plaid skirt, and knee high socks. You whine again, "It's too simple!"

She tilts her head and shoots you a look. "Good. Put it on."

You sulk the whole time, changing out of the outfit you'd just tried on for the one she'd given you with a deep frown and sluggish movements.

When you turn around to face her, slouching in the new ensemble, she smiles wide. "See? You look great!"

You scratch your neck as she passes you to pick from the jewellery on your vanity. "I don't know," you shrug pitifully.

She comes back with a long necklace and little stud earrings. "If you put on the most expensive things you've got just to look good for him," she says, putting the jewellery in for you, "he'll think you're just trying too hard, or flaunting your money, or all the stupid ideas a boy can think of to convince himself it's not worth it." She takes your face in her hands, squishing your cheeks a little as she gives you her sweetest smile. "And you are worth it."

You cheer up just a bit, raising a brow, "So you think he's stupid?"

She giggles gently, shaking her head at your joke as she stuffs your shirt into your skirt, fluffing it a bit. You laugh with her.

She steps back to observe you, smiling proudly. "You look amazing. And he'll think so, too."

You shrug, "Unless he's stupid."

"Exactly!" she beams. Then she furrows her brows, "I think." She waves it off and steps forward again, taking your hands in hers to calm you some more. It works. She always knows how to calm you. "Just don't be nervous."

Your brows curl together.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, turning away and pacing a small line back and forth in front of your bed. "I don't want to screw this up. He already didn't like me before the books."

Chrissy sits on the bed and watches you pace. "I'm sure it'll be fine, and I'm sure he did like you before the books."

You scoff, mumbling under your breath and glancing away, "Clearly, you weren't there."

She shrugs, speaking slowly at first, "Not directly, but he has no reason to hate you, so I think you're okay."

You whine, "Just okay?"

Just then, the faint sound of music you don't listen to blares off in the distance. Both your gazes fall to the window as it becomes louder and louder and doesn't seem to stop coming, like a harbinger of chaos coming to take you to war.

"I think that's him," you say.

Chrissy chuckles, "A van that loud? I'd be surprised if it wasn't."

You turn back to her, frantic. "What if I screw this up? This is probably my only chance."

The music gets quiet.

She walks up to you again, taking your face in her hands and smiling at you, "Babe, you'll be fine. Don't stress, he'll love you."

You are so fortunate to have a friend like Chrissy, a real friend who isn't here for the food or presents or cool party invites. She's just here because she loves you and you love her for it.

"Eventually," you nod, though you let out a gentle sigh full of anxiety.

She shrugs a shoulder, ever the optimist. "Well, eventually means it'll happen."

"Eventually," you repeat, nearly defeated at the prospect of eventually and not soon. If it even happens at all!

"Yes, eventually," she says.

There's a knock on the door all the way downstairs. He's here, he's here, he's here.

Chrissy's grabbing you by your shoulders and snatching all your things as she manhandles you away from your room. before you can begin to process the rising in your belly. For such a small girl, she's got a lot of strength as she wrestles you down the stairs and to the front door.

She turns you toward her, a big smile on her face. "Have fun. Knock him dead."

She shoves your purse in your hands and shoos you away. "I'll try," you mumble truthfully. "Though part of me feels like you're trying to get rid of me."

"Because I am," she offers her shameless response. "You have a hot date with Eddie Munson, I have a hot date with your really cosy bed."

You roll your eyes as she's opening the door. You turn around at the same time Eddie does, coming face to face with one another as your eyes go wide with nerves.

You take him in for a moment, observing his outfit with the appreciation child being given a candy bar. He looks great. He's got a baggy, black muscle tee with a big, white skull on the front. His jeans are just as dark, though the tears in them are messier and you've got a sneaking suspicion he'd done it himself. You don't know why, but he has biker gloves on. You're not complaining though, because he looks nice and he pulls them off very well. His shoes, which are thick combat boots, give him an unnecessary extra inch that makes you have to crane your neck just a bit more.

He seems to be observing you the way you do him because when you meet his big, brown eyes again, his are finding their way back to yours as well.

"Hi," you breathe, offering a smile made of twitchy nerves and too much admiration.

"Hey, princess," he greets, and you're content because it doesn't hold the same disapproval it used to, instead warming you with the same light-heartedness he'd offered you before. "Hey, Chrissy." He waves at the girl behind you, and she's happy to wave back.

"You look…" he takes a moment, raking his eyes over you again. You panic internally. "You look really nice," he says, trying to be kind for purposes of being appropriate rather than just to be kind. That helps you calm down. He thinks you look nice, but you think he wanted to say something a little less composed. Then you bubble up a bit because he thinks you look nice, but you think he wanted to say something a little less composed.

"Thanks," you smile. You turn toward your best friend and your smile becomes a little more excited, and she's happy to see you so excited. You hug her. "Bye, Chrissy."

She reciprocates your hug and farewell, waving at the both of you as you step out of the door with Eddie and make your way to his vehicle.

He opens your door like a gentleman and asks if you want him to turn off the music or change the station. You say no, fiddling with your hands in your lap. Then he's driving away, having turned the music back up just a slight. He doesn't speak much at all on the ride, and you're so nervous you have no idea how to form enough words to start a conversation. So you both sit silently in the car, not looking at each other and listening to music you're willing to get into for the sake of appreciating something he likes. And you do appreciate it because the songs are nice—although you're sure the word he would use wouldn't be "nice".

It's awkward and nerve-wracking and you somehow manage to convince yourself that he doesn't like you again. So you both stay quiet until you get to the theatre, at which point he turns off the music and then the van and rounds it to open your door like a gentleman.

You step out on a shaky foot, smiling bashfully at him. He looks at you and you look at him, and then he clears his throat and turns away and starts walking with you. At this point, you feel like crawling into a hole.

When you get to the booth, you're the one who pulls out a wallet with a kind smile to the person there—someone you know from the school—and hands them the fare for two tickets.

They eye your date for a moment, looking back at you with a little bit of confusion before brushing it off. Whatever.

"What–uh," you clear your throat, turning to look at Eddie but finding it hard to hold his gaze. "What do you want? Popcorn? I'll get whatever."

He waves a hand, pulling them from his back pockets where they'd been nervously stuffed and goes to run them through his curly hair—which is frizzier than usual, like he'd taken a comb to it in hopes of taming it some more—only to be stopped by the tangles he finds there. "Uh, no," he says. "I can get it. Whatever you want."

"It's okay–"

He shakes his head and smiles, actually smiles at your bashfulness with that type of grin that makes you dizzy with affection. "Princess, it's fine. Lemme get it. 'M not a total bottom feeder, you know."

You raise your hands to add a rebuttal. "I never thought–"

"Don't worry about it." He takes one of your hands in both of his, watching yours disappear between them as you both pause to look at them. He pulls away and scratches his neck. "Sorry. Just lemme know what you want. I'll go get it at the counter."

You swallow thickly. It's awkward again—it was cute for a moment, but now it's just awkward again.

You mumble out your choices and he goes to get them. When he comes back, a bucket of popcorn between his arms, two big drinks in his hands, and a bag of Skittles candy held by the smallest corner with his pinky, you hurry to help him out as you take the candy before it slips, and one of the cups sweaty with condensation.

"Good?" he asks, shifting the popcorn over so he can hold it more securely. You nod, humming gently as you both start to make your way to check your tickets and find your seats. You do the aisle scoot in the dark theatre as you take your seats, mumbling "sorry's" and "s'cuse me's" as you go.

You sit next to Eddie, fitting your cup in the slot of your arm rest. Eddie begins to sit the popcorn in his lap, rethinking it between his hands and glancing around himself awkwardly. He squeezes it between his lap and the seat—another barrier separating you—and offers a tight smile.

You don’t think he means to put more between you and him, but it does put a damper on your already dwindling mood. You return the tight smile.

You both sit there in silence as the movie starts, playing with your hands and passing awkward sighs through your lips. Even as the movie starts, neither of you can really figure out when to speak—if you should speak, whispering to one another in little comments of laughter and delight at the comedy you’d chosen to watch.

But no. Neither of you say a word through the whole thing. You hardly look at each other. It’s stiff and cold and you honestly believe this was just a huge mistake. You like Eddie and you want to hang out with him but…you don’t think he really shares that sentiment. You want to go home to Chrissy and cry and tell her everything that didn’t happen, but you also don’t want to feel that desperate.

God, it was a long movie, too.

As soon as the credits were rolling, you both stood up as fast as you could to leave the darkened theatre. You walk out, throwing away your trash and holding your purse close. You step out of the theatre in the direction of Eddie’s van. He opens the door, you get in, he closes the door, he rounds his vehicle, he opens his door, he gets in, he closes his door, he sits there.

You wait for him to start the engine, but he seems to be lost in his thoughts. “Uhm,” he mumbles. You don’t look at him, but if you had the ears of a cat, they would perk toward him at the sound of his voice. But you don’t, and they don’t. “Good movie.”

Effort. He’s putting in effort, so he must care a little. Unless he’s just trying to be nice.

You really hope he isn’t just trying to be nice.

“Yeah, good.” Your words fall short during your overthinking and you just look away. He clears his throat and finally starts the van, pulling out of his parking space and onto the road.

You twiddle your thumbs as you think of something to say or do. Your skin crawls with the embarrassment of the whole night. This was clearly a mistake.

You shake your head and sigh and decide that this is too ridiculous to keep going. “Is this weird?” you ask, turning toward Eddie and acting like you’re actually brave. He glances at you. “You and me hanging out?” you finish.

“What?” he furrows his brows slightly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Be honest,” you state it firmly before you continue. No bullshit. You don’t like the question, you don’t like the fact that you have to ask, but you want to get it out of the way. Depending on the answer, you’ll either stop or keep trying to give this failing attempt a shot. “Do you not like me?”

He hesitates and it tears you apart inside. He shrugs. “I don’t not like you.”

You look away, your voice sounding more defeated than you wanted to let on. “But you don’t like me.” You sigh, spiralling in your overthinking mess of a mind. “Did I force you into the movie? I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course not. It’s just…” He tries to come up with the right word but falls short. He speaks slowly, guarding his words in an attempt not to hurt your feelings, you assume. “Weird. You and me. Hanging out. I mean… we have nothing in common.”

You reach. “Sure we do.”

He raises a brow, scoffing lightly and glancing between you and the dark road in front of him. “Name one.”

“You…” You stop short, realising with wide eyes that you don’t really know anything about him and he doesn’t really know anything about you and you are literally at opposite ends of the other’s experiences. “I…” You keep reaching, and you keep falling short. “We both…” Give it up. You’re not going to find anything. “...Are seniors at Hawkins?”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, shaking his head gently. “Like I said.”

You sigh, defeated once again. You keep having to resist the overwhelming urge to curl into yourself. “I just…”

You don’t continue your pathetic attempt. It’s less humiliating that way, you think.

Eddie is the one to speak next. “Why do you even like me?”

You don’t like the question. You don’t know why, maybe it just reveals too much. You don’t know.

“Because,” you think for a moment, “you’re cool, and…and you’re cute, and…”

Eddie licks his canine, breathing a short laugh through his nose and shaking his head. Ridiculous. “I’m ‘cool’ and I’m ‘cute’.” You look down at your lap. Mistake. It’s silent again, until he speaks and keeps digging your hole for you—one you would gladly lay in if it meant escaping this conversation.

“When did you even realise I existed?”

You furrow your brow and look at him. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, princess,” the mocking is back. You want to die. “Who am I supposed to be to you? Some guy named Eddie in your science class?”

“I…” you don’t know how to answer that.

He hums, looking through the windshield as he comes to a stop at a light. The red washes gently across his face and illuminates him. Everything tints with its own version of red, a unique variation of the colour that flatters his hard features. You stare at the side of his face for a moment too long and then turn away, sitting through the light in a silence too thick to cut.

When the hum of the engine starts again as the light turns him green, you finally open your mouth, your voice soft and chastised.

“I’ve always liked you.” Eddie doesn’t speak, so you don’t know if he believes you or not as you keep your eyes directed toward your lap. You don’t think it matters much anymore—this was a mistake—so you keep talking. “Since I started high school and met you and you were a really cool junior who kept getting into trouble for ‘bad boy’ stuff,” you chuckle a little as you remember the time he jumped off the bleachers during a pep rally after flipping the bird to the team. He broke his wrist and got suspended for three days, but he looked really cool and he was really proud of himself for some reason. “And I felt weird for liking you, but then we ended up in senior year together when you kept…failing…and I thought that maybe I’d have a chance. So I asked you out and…” Your smile fades, “And then you stood me up.”

Eddie still doesn’t speak.

You feel pathetic for holding back the lump in your throat but it doesn’t matter much anymore because this was a mistake.

“I waited for you for a pathetic amount of time,” you laugh. “And you never showed.”

Eddie squeezes the steering wheel uncomfortably. “You said you waited an hour.”

You turn your head farther away from him. “I waited three.”

Eddie winces. “Shit,” he hisses under his breath. He sighs, feeling like shit because he is shit. “I’m sorry,” he tries, glancing at you but not making full contact.

You shake your head. “I’m not trying to guilt you or anything, I just…” You sigh and turn toward him, really turn toward him, hoping your voice holds the amount of genuinity that you feel. “I really like you, Eddie. I want to be your friend, if nothing else, I’d be happy just being your friend.”

He went quiet again, thinking in his head and wincing at something he’d thought. “‘Kay, so…” he shrugs nervously, “maybe I misjudged you.”

“You still thought this was a prank?”

He seems ashamed to admit it. “Yeah.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Pretty elaborate prank.” You shake your head and roll your eyes, kind of frustrated now as you look at him again. “C’mon, man. I’m best friends with Chrissy Cunningham.” That alone, you feel, should have been a clue that you weren’t totally an asshole. The frustration gets deeper as the stereotypes and the attitudes really get to you.

You scoff, hating the lump for still taking residence in your throat and keeping you from sounding calm. It doesn’t matter. “I’m a dumb cheerleader who hangs out with jocks, I get it, but that’s what happens when your parents are rich, and you need to join a school program that keeps you out of their faces. You hang out with the jocks because they’re the big dogs, and you’re supposed to be.”

Eddie hates himself for making you feel that way. “You’re not dumb,” he says quickly. “I don’t think you’re dumb. I know you’re smart…maybe not for liking me, but you’re smart. You get all the grades, you stay outta trouble–”

“It’s boring.” You roll your eyes.

“It’s good.” He almost laughs. “With my criminal record, I’m never getting a job outside of Radio Shack…and that’s if Radio Shack even takes me.”

You almost laugh a little, his comment on your intelligence granting you with far more praise than you think you deserve. You tilt your head toward him. “I’d be able to get you a job.”

He smiles. It’s one of those smiles that makes you shy and smiley and dumb with your schoolgirl crush. “I’m sure you could, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Oh, you’re a mess already. You try and fail to hide your grin at the name.

“So…” you look at him hopefully. “Truce?”

“Sure,” he nods, letting out the tiniest chuckle, one that sounds as though he’s releasing all the stress and tension from the night and becoming normal, or at least, his version of normal. “Truce,” he nods his head forward and it shakes his frizzy hair all over his head.

“We’re friends?” Your grin widens, whipped again already.

He looks over at you briefly, raising a teasing brow and making you feel lighter already with the look he casts you. “You feel like sitting at my table of rejects?”

You laugh excitedly. “Absolutely! You guys look like fun.”

His whole face drops in complete shock and surprise, and he stares at you like you’re crazy. “Wow, you really do like me.” He says it through a frown and you hide away, covering your face with your hands and mewling pathetically.

His frown reverses so quickly as he smiles and laughs loudly, filling your bones with the echo of his joy. “I mean it in a good way!” He moves one hand from the wheel, placing it on the centre console to drive one-handed as he normally does. He looks way more relaxed and you think he’s beautiful like this. His hand bumps yours. Your heart flutters as his pinky curls around your own to bring it in with the fond grin you’ve been wanting to see looking at you for years. “Friends.”

You smile wide. Your cheeks hurt and the lump in your throat is there for a different reason now. He leans his head over his right shoulder as he continues glancing at you.

“Oh, and…princess?’

You hum, your smile somehow becoming fonder at the softer mumble of your alias.

“I meant it earlier when I picked you up.” A passing streetlight shines on the side of his face and makes him look like an angel. “You look beautiful.”

Your voice breaks on your response, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter much anymore. “Thank you.”

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @hellfire1986baby @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 Eddie the Banished taglist: @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 Tag yourself here...

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie my love <3 #eddie munson x reader fluff

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vitzi9 · 2 months

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Pretty gifts

Joker X GN!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's how life is in Gotham.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speaking of the devil...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some are fond of me, huh ?

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

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

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

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

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

This city is lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fucking hate chaos.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why ? she asks.

-It's complicated." you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This place sucks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"D'you like them ?

-Sorry ? you blinked.

-My scars. Do you like them ?

-Uh, yeah, yeah.

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

-Do you want to know how I got them ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Liars.

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What. The. Fuck.

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

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

-You want me to come back ? How flattering.

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

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

-Do you want to play a game with me ?

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

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

Sean, move your ass over here, now.

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

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

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

No...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But wouldn't you be safer in a asylum ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But do you really have a choice ?

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

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

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

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

Did he say clown ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like a badly drawn smile.

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

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

And that's bad news.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-What ?

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

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

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

Six fucking what ?

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

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

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

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

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

Judging by his eyes, he is not kidding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, you hate this place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Am I wanted ?

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

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

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

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

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

-What environment ...?

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

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

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

Damn.

-Why do you think that anyway ? he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

-Oh fuck.

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

He hung up.

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

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

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

What have you done ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How did he get your address ?

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

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

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

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

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

-Why did you hang up ?

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

-And ?

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

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

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

-How are you so sure ?

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

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

-What do we do, now ?

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

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

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

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

-What's your plan ? you ask.

-It depends on what you want.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What ?

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

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

-Jeez, calm down.

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

-You want my help or not ?

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

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

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

-Wow. No ?

He stops in his tracks as you block his way.

-What do you mean, 'no' ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

-That means I'm in danger, right ?

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

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

You don't bring it up, of course.

-Explain.

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

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

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

-His name was, uh, Korej I believe.

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

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

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

-Korej, you corrected.

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

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

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

-You don't believe me ?

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

-Please, leave my house.

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

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

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

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

-Shopping center.

-What ?

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

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

"Okay. You yield, once again.

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

And with these last words, he left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Whatever... You rub your eyes."

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

But are you really leaving this place, though ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right, earlier's vandals.

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

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

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

-What do they looked like ?

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

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

-Thank you, have a nice day sir.

-Yeah yeah…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry.” you mumble, avoiding eye contact.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Well, uh, it's complicated.

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

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

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

Why does he always seem so nervous talking about him ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

-The Joker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Shut the fuck up you whore !

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

Blood, there’s blood everywhere.

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

-I believe alive was written on the contract.

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

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

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

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

Who is he ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gotham killed you.

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

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wordsarelife · 1 year

Note

I love your fics!! Could you do a Lockwood x reader fanfic for illicit affairs? Like the reader could be related to someone high up in DEPRAC or Fittes and Lockwood doesn’t want people to know they’re tgt bc he’d be accused of trying to get favours or smthin but reader rlly wants ppl to know n is getting fed up with hiding. A healthy dose of angst would be 10/10 <3

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

pairing: Anthony Lockwood x reader

warnings: mentions of sexual themes

summary: you want to make your relationship public, anthony doesn’t. you don’t think you can accept that any longer, but at least for tonight you can

note: i loved this ask!! illicit affairs is one of my favorite songs of ms taylor!! i’ve decided to split it into two parts, just because it feels better for me. part two will be out tomorrow!!

part 2: tomorrow

"why does it matter anyway?" Anthony asked and you could hear the desperation in his voice

"it matters to me, Anthony" you answered calmly, tired of all the fighting you both had done in the past week. it wasn't like you always fought, this wasn't a usual state for your over two year relationship.

you were used to a loving, considerate boy and you knew that he would do anything for you. just not that one thing and that's why it wasn't enough for you.

you continued to fight while you walked around the room, collecting your items of clothing.

"y/n, please" Anthony sat down on his bed "we've been over this, I explained it to you more than a million times"

"I know" you replied tiredly

"let's just not fight anymore" he stood up and brought you close to his body

"okay" you muttered and you hated yourself for always giving in. you just loved him too much to maintain you restrain.

you put on your jacket and walked to the door

"make sure nobody sees you leave" it almost pained him to say what he always said

"no one will see me" it pained you to reply what you always replied

***

you were sitting at the large table in the entrance hall of the house you lived in. you nearly jumped to your feet when you noticed Anthony and his friends walking into the room.

they were led into the hall by your father, the son of Marissa Fittes. that was merely Anthonys problem about your relationship, he didn't want anyone to think he was just dating you for favours, you had told him a million times that that was rubbish and he argued a million times that it would matter. you could never agree on the matter.

you noticed Penelope walk in behind the agency and you felt it was rude to just sit and watch, so you stood up, flowing the material of your dress, as you joined your sisters side.

"I'm sure you've already heard of them, but these are my daughters" your father introduced you both "Penelope and y/n"

you expressed your greeting, Anthony's eyes staying a bit too long on your face. your father cleared his throat and you lost the boy's attention.

“Lockwood and co are our special guests for the ball tonight, that’s the least we could offer, after the job they did for us last year”

there had been a rather big problem in one of the houses your family owned. the haunting had be caused by a scandal, a forbidden relationship that escalated in the walls of the house and led to one of the affair partners dying at the hands of the other. your family had been able to suppress all the runout and stop any information on going out, but they had to get rid of the problem nonetheless.

that had been when your father had found the little three people agency. they had promised to get rid of your problem as quietly as possible. nothing ever got out.

that’s actually how you had met Anthony. because unbeknownst to your father, and not allowed you often spend time in the garden of the haunted mansion. that’s were you had first met Anthony, you remembered it like it had been yesterday

***

you were sitting in the garden, picking flowers. the golden august sun was displaying on your features and warming your skin. your dress was flowing a bit from the wind and your hair would now and then flutter in front of your face

"oh hello" a voice suddenly said, noticing you between the high grown grass

it was a boy, he was about your age and despite the summer heat, he was wearing a suit and a long black coat on top of it

"hi" you smiled, laying your head to the side and further inspecting him. his hair was short, and his skin was light, which made the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent.

“eh— i’m Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood” his hand jolted forward and you shook it while you grinned at him

“n/n” you said “just n/n”

ever since then he had found you intriguing, how you would sit in high grown grass in front of a haunted mansion, peacefully picking flowers. that’s why he loved you, you mostly did the things you did out of pure joy for them.

after your first meeting it seemed that Anthony Lockwood would just not leave your mind. you had found out later that it had been similar to him, always thinking about you in that dress, sitting in a field of flowers.

so you started to meet every few weeks, casually talking on your run to arif’s, or meeting each other on the street. coincidental meetings turned into dates and you spend more and more time with each other.

but as much as you wanted to tell the whole world, Anthony wanted to keep it a secret. even to Lucy and George, you weren’t more than friends to them.

***

“can i come in?” you asked after you had knocked on the door softly. there were some muffled words you couldn’t quite make out, but it sounded like a yes, so you slowly opened the wooden door.

“n/n” Anthony smiled, ushering you into the room he would spent the night in, and closing the door behind you “what are you doing?”

“i wanted to see you” you spoke softly, gripping his tie with both your hands. his hands wandered to your waist almost naturally “and i wanted to ask you if you’d like to accompany to the ball later… maybe we could slip away later”

“it’s a bit risky, don’t you think?”

“isn’t that what makes it fun in the first place?” you brought him down by his tie, his lips meeting yours. you deepened the kiss, walking you backwards and enjoying the control you had over him

Anthony laid on the bed, while you sat on top of him, straddling his waist. “we shouldn’t do this, y/n”

you raised your brows, slipping off your dress, leaving you only in your underwear

“okay, maybe we can be quick”

you giggled and rushed forward, crashing your lips onto his.

maybe you would always give in when he was telling you to, but at least you had the same hold over him, neither one could resist the other and that was part of the dangerous game you were playing.

and you didn’t know it yet, but you were about to lose.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #george karim #netflix #ali hadji heshmati #cameron chapman #ghost hunting #ruby stokes #lucy carlyle #forbidden love #secret relationship #illicit affairs #taylor swift #lockwood x reader #anthony bloody lockwood #angst #illicitaffairsseries

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adventuringblind · 21 days

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Jos hate jos hate jos hate

He just gives me the creeps. Like Max’s tone when talking about him reminds me of myself talking about my parents.

Detached. Wanting to move on but still try to be open about it even though it’ll make ppl ask questions especially if you avoid and don’t answer the question. (Did that make sense?)

So yeah. I don’t know him, but from what I can observe through a screen I’m not a fan.

- 🦒

IT DOESSSSS

(Hello new anon! Thanks for joining me and starting a rant!)

Don't get me STARTED on the psychology that is Max Verstappen. His mind is my obsession and how anyone could ever paint him as a villain hasn't been through trauma with a parent (or hasn't realized that they have).

Like, joking about trauma is a very clear indicator?? "My dad did that once to a mechanic??" I'm sorry??? Max, baby, that's not something you're supposed to laugh about...

Key word here is supposed. I laugh about my trauma all the time and it concerns my therapist.

It sucks that Max's personal life is out there for the media to pick apart. I've seen debates about Jos' parenting style and how he has given Max everything. I don't see any ungrateful bone in Max's body. If he was, then Jos would've been out of Max's life the second he turned eighteen.

So then people ask: if Jos is a bad parent, why is he still around Max?

Answer: Traumaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

(Rant under the cut about abuse trauma... you've been warned)

Good god, are people so ignorant? It's hard to detach from a parent! Specially one who you spent all your time with! You get used to it eventually, you figure out how to cope and then you know nothing else aside from that.

All those times Max was driving recklessly when he was younger? I've listened back to his radio. He was in fight or flight because he had learned early on that it's better to risk crashing and injuring himself then placing lower.

I did the same thing! I was good at archery. Like, I was giving adults a run for their money at the age of thirteen. I switched from a recurve bow to a compound and about two weeks before a tournament. It was an absolute pain because it was an entirely different way of shooting.

I have this memory of my dad driving me to his friends house to sight in some longer distances the day before. As in, crunch time. We were out there in the cold and rain for hours. I was sore already because constantly pulling back sixty pounds of resistance with just your arms gets tiring. I broke so many fundamental rules; the ones my instructors were specific about. However, I knew it was break myself or my dad was going to lash out.

Anyway, I tore two muscles in my dominant arm by the end of the day. I got home and my dad went to shower so I hid with my mom in the kitchen icing it to hopefully lessen the pain.

I placed second in regionals. My dad lectured me in the car on the way home. He said the injury was my own fault. The doctor I saw said they didn't know how I managed and my instructors said I couldn't shoot at the range for over a month.

My dad hailed me a hero to everyone who asked about it.

Jos Verstappen is so outwardly aggressive that anyone who has been through something similar can see what's happening. Just because he's done a lot for Max doesn't negate the other behaviors. This isn't math, you can't cross cancel, two negatives don't make a positive.

Rant over! :)

#Ren's.inbox #Ren's.thoughts #maxverstappen.things #🦒.anon

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fruitwaterz · 2 months

Text

why jfabe is NOT!!!! boring and lifeless and proving that wrong, an informational thread discussing their relationship and dynamic, because honestly im getting tired of ppl saying their boring

contains s3 spoilers!

The relationship between JFK and abe from Clone High is something alot of people within the community discussed, especially before s3, being talked about more after s2's finale. Many speculated that the two would remain friends or even become more than that.

Now with season 3 out, we have a lot more things to work out with, specifically episode 3. It's something a lot of people are too afraid to admit, but jfabe/abefk would make the show a lot more interesting, rather than its repeatable joanabe plotline.

So, I'm here to talk about the inner workings of this pair, why their so interesting, and why they work out so much, whether platonic or not. If ur not a fan of jfabe/abefk, or heavily dislike the ship, I'd recommend turning away from this post.

Introduction, the who, the when, the why, the how...and their differences n similarities

So, we all know these two characters. JFK the beloved, Abe the hated. Something that many people picked out of the 2020 clone high fandom. But what if i told you that the beloved and the hated were truly meant to be together from the start?

What we already know is that they are the complete opposite of each other in many ways. JFK is meant to be a parody on 90s jocks from highschool movies and tv shows. Abe is the weak nerd who desperately wants to be cool.

JFK is buff and shorter, Abe is tall and lanky. JFK is a douchebag, Abe is the nicer guy. The list goes on and on. And they even have stuff in common, such as the fear of abandonment and the fear of ruining things.

But one difference i can note is that Abe is way more naive than JFK, JFK is portrayed as empty-headed, but not empty-headed enough to not realize whats going on. Of course, despite the differences, both characters make a really good team.

And this was even evident in s2 ep10, aka the finale, where they both realize that they make a great "duo of bros who'll remain friends for the rest of their lives". Jfabe shippers were FEEDING on this shit back then you have no idea

So with this stuff out of the way, it's time to talk about my favorite episode out of season 3.

Bible Humpers: A Much Needed Praycation

This episode revolves around JFK getting tired of having meaningless sex with girls and partying hard, and decides to seek out a new life when he and Abe discovers the prayer pals club, hosted by Lady Godiva. And at first, Abe is happy to see that JFK is taking on new opportunities.

"Where the slut goes, the wing slut follows."

But eventually, JFK starts straying away from Abe and his friendship, to the point of even FORGETTING about the broniversary that Abe had planned for the both of them (he literally baked a giant cake for him, look at me and tell me thats straight cmon now).

Seeing how Abe had already lost Joan and Gandhi, he didn't wanna lose JFK either, and does everything he can to make him happy and thats so clear. And even at the end of the episode, it's revealed that Abe even respected his choice on ultimately choosing celibacy.

He really does care a bunch for JFK, liking him for who he truly was (compared to JFK's other dates) and respecting his choices. And despite choosing celibacy over Abe, the two still remain close, which really tells you how great their bond is.

So something HAS definitely changed throughout the years, from them hating each others guts to potentially becoming clone highs next couple...which didn't happen, and I'm still petty about it i will admit.

But even if they didn't become canon at the end, you could really tell that some people who worked on this episode wanted them to be a thing, and that's a good enough sign for me that they could hopefully become canon in the next season if we ever get one (still petty though).

Let's circle back to season 1 again. I'm not making a jfabe thread without mentioning Litter Kills: Literally, which is another episode that jfabe shippers fed on. In this episode, JFK's close friend Ponce dies, and he's left to grieve over him.

And in this episode, we see a side of JFK that we never saw before. He starts wondering why the hell he's feeling all of these emotions, because he's a Kennedy, and he's not used to them. But Abe helps him realize that emotions like this are normal.

And even if the two hated each other, Abe apologized to him in the end and finally realized his mistakes. It seemed like Abe disliked him, yet he cares about him. Abe never knew what if felt like, because he hasn't lost a friend close to him.

So he starts berating Cleo for comforting JFK and was even aggressive towards JFK as well, believing that he was only doing all of this just to take Cleo away from him. That was all because he NEVER knew what it was like. But he finally understood.

He was sorry, but he felt like he couldn't do much to help because he didn't experience the same thing. So he just hugged JFK and held him...for a really long time.

But that was just enough for JFK, all he needed was comfort, and Abe chose to do that. So even at the episode, he couldn't help but ask JFK if he was alright. And by the next episode, JFK was already feeling better. All it takes is someone to tell you that its gonna be okay.

So what I'm trying to say is despite their own anxieties, flaws, characteristics, whatever, their PERFECT for each other. I don't like how people label them as "boring", when their so much more deeper than that.

Jfabe/AbeFK is one of my comfort ships for this exact reason. Their lore, dynamic and relationship goes beyond that, i don't ship them just because i think their cute, but because their interesting, and it may seem like im going insane over a white boy ship, but i truly, truly, from the bottom of my heart, love this ship to pieces, and hopefully people can see that through me. Thank you, clone high.

#clone high #analysis #clone high season 2 #jfk clone high #clone high 2023 #jfabe #abefk #clone high abe #clone high reboot #clone high season 3 #clone high spoilers #i GUESS the alternate title for this should be “in defense of jfabe/abefk” because some of yall needa hop off of a harmless ship #i hope this converts some of you i managed to do that w some mutuals on twitter #long story short jfabe is just a really underrated ship with interesting lore and potential and i never got why people hated it #so now that ur reading this watch the mr peabody and sherman show if you want another good history show to watch (shameless plug)#im so rabid about this ship someone hold me back. no one gets them like i do (except for like 5 people)#yes im the same guy who wrote that one jfk character essay and the jfabe queerbaiting essay can you tell i like them a normal amount #bai

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frogboy0 · 21 days

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HAZBIN HOTEL REDESIGNS!!!!

I recently watched Hazbin Hotel for the first time! I've never been into it before, and I vaguely remember it when the pilot first came out years ago but I never even watched THAT!!

It's not............. the best show ever BUT I HAD FUN WATCHING IT!!!!!! I mainly like it bc I love Catholicism and the bible SOOOOO I'm rewriting it and I'll be posting ALL MY IDEAS!!!!!! (Ppl are gonna hate it LOL)

Close-ups + notes are under the cut :)

CHARLIE: OK SO I basically got rid of all the goat stuff that she (didn't) have going on ASIDE from the hooves hahaha, I didn't draw them here but she still has those bc I think they're COOL

So taking inspo from the fact that Charlie's design was based off porcelain dolls and marionettes, Charlie is LITERALLY a doll come to life!!! Lucifer and Lilith, bc they couldn't naturally conceive a child (bc Lilith is dead + is known to be responsible for the death of newborns), basically just made a child-doll and gave it life with their demonic magic!!!

I ALSO WANT CHARLIE TO CONSTANTLY BE TEETERING THE LINE OF LOOKING CREEPY AND FUCKED UP!!!! She's literally a living doll, I need ppl to look at her sometimes and be unsettled (sheep in wolf's clothing)

VAGGIE: Like Charlie, I'm completely throwing the animal (moth) motif that Vaggie (supposably) had. I'm mainly leaning more into Hotel Manager/body guard. WELCOME TO THE GUN SHOW!!!!!!

Honestly, I've changed Vaggie's design over 4 times and it's subject to change STILL. I gave her a cloak bc I think it's epic and I think she's epic and you'll be seeing her in future posts with what her outfit looks like without the cloak, it's a sleeveless collared shirt and she's got long fingerless gloves on :) AND THE CLOAK IS ALSO THERE BC I THINK SHE'S EDGY!!!! She's edgy and emo and amazing

I WAS gonna make her with awesome battle scars but then I remembered that angels can only be harmed with angelic weapons so :(((( no hot scars

ANGEL: MY ANGEL DESIGN IS NEVER CHANGING!!!!!! I have no notes, I think I'm in love with my Angel.

I heard somewhere that Angel in cannon has one black sclera and one white one bc he died with a black eye sooo..... He died with 2 black eyes LOL!!!

I didn't wanna give him prominent wrists and ankles bc I thought it looks cute :3

HUSK: He's a tuxedo cat, I think they're adorable and I think Husk is a 70 year old man who should be adorable. And NO BOW TIE!!!! I'M TIRED OF EVERY CHARACTER HAVING ONE!!!!

He's a frazzled drunk who's still Alastor's pet LOL

ALASTOR: I took a lot of inspiration for Alastor's design from Dr. Daddy-o, a radio DJ/host from New Orleans in the 1940's!!! I LOVE his voice and I wanted to base Alastor off of a BLACK RADIO HOST bc he's you know, BLACK!!!!!!!! Idk who that white boy is in cannon

He and Charlie are tied for the tallest in the cast, they're the same height (not counting his antlers)

I wanted to make Alastor look pretty human looking, aside from his antlers and deer ears ofc bc I don't think he needs to look scary all the time, he usually uses his words to provoke ppl anyway (and if that doesn't work THEN he'll use force) (Wolf in sheep's clothing)

NIFFTY: Niffty's design is based off Rosie the Riveter (WE CAN DO IT!!!!) especially with her her top, her hair and her headband/bandana.

I also made her taller than she is in cannon bc she's not the kind of character that the audience or even the other characters take seriously so in my head adding a couple inches to her will make me take her more seriously LOL

#hazbin hotel #tw hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #niffty hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesigns #my art #I wouldn't call these notes #its more just me talking abt NOTHING hahaha

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generouskittentidalwave · 2 months

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Milo Murphy's law, holy shit

HOLY CHEESE N CRACKERS, I HATE SOCIETY BECAUSE OF YOU PEOPLE

LISTEN, LISTEN, SIT DOWN AND *LISTEN*

I was watching a popular video on YouTube about Milo Murphy's Law, now despite the people in the comments having a collective trauma boner they can't get rid of, yes I said what I said and you'll know why, everyone OUTSIDE of that confined space actually agrees it's a funny, happy, underrated show.

BUT OML YOU PPL IN NEED TO GET A GRIP CAUSE HOL-Y SHIT YOU PPL NEED *THERAPY*

Because in that comment section everyone was complaining that "Oh Milo doesn't care about the stuff going on around him" and "It would be so much better if he was constantly filled with anxiety" or "I always wanted him to break down and cry about the things going on around him" or "he should feel guilty about the things going on around him and have a breakdown"

No, NO, STFU, RESPECTFULLY MIND YOU, BUT STFU, THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS AND I'M TIRED OF IT

Milo cares, he clearly does as in every episode he's helping everyone after mistakes get made because of the jinx out of his own kindness, even going out of his way to do his best to avoid stuff. He's just happy and positive and nonchalant about the outrageous comedic calamity that follows him wherever he goes not because he doesn't care but because he's dealt with it since birth, he stays optimistic and prepared as that's all you can really do. Being upset constantly, although justified, would not help or fix anything. If you made him constantly sad, guilty, and depressed constantly over the things he can't control (mind you he has gotten upset because of it before, multiple times) then that would ruin the whole message of the show and of Milo's character that Dan tried to display. Which is that things are gonna happen sometimes that are out of your control, but what matters is making the most of it and enjoying the things in life as they come. As even when they are bad, that doesn't take away the good that can happen. It's okay to get upset over things out of your control, but sometimes the only thing you can do is make the most of what you have and find enjoyment through the daily life of chaos.

But NOOO ppl would rather have this literal happy optimistic child in a hilariously chaotic and shitty situation be constantly depressed, on edge, anxiety ridden and guilty because if we can't be happy in that situation then they can't be either, and in the words of Milo Murphy "Does that sound like more fun to you?"

SO yeah, if you are trying to make something dark and depressing to be more relatable then take a good, HARD, look at yourself and revaluate. This child should NOT be upset because nothing that happens around him IS HIS FAULT. It's, let me repeat, literally OUT OF HIS CONTROL. And yet he STILLS helps everyone around him constantly DESPITE THAT.

We gotta stop getting upset at realistically positive characters in shitty situations and immediately getting upset that they have an optimistic outlook where we wouldn't. That's not to say don't take every situation not-seriously when it's needed (Which they have taken serious situations seriously and respectfully mind you), but for the love of god people need to stop self projecting. We all have our own traumas, and it can be validating seeing someone in your same shoes, but that doesn't mean every happy character needs to be as upset as we are.

Maybe, just maybe, they can serve as a happy reminder that, no matter what comes your way, sometimes there can be good found in even the craziest and shitty situations. That maybe, just maybe, we all need a bit of fun and happiness and optimisim in our lives because bad things are always going to happen that's out of your control. But what matters is focusing on the good in our lives.

Also before you say "WeLl It Was SaId Milo Wouldn't WaNT a CuRe foR MurPhy'S laW-" No, Milo's best friend assumed he wouldn't want that, that's not saying he wants to keep it because he likes it and will let ppl suffer because of that, but it was literally stated, and displayed in many other shows that use Murphy's law in a literal sense, that the "cure" for Murphy's law is literally passing it on elsewhere or onto someone else, and that was literally stated in the show too later on. Milo wouldn't want that and Melissa knows it. She also knows if there was a cure, they would've found it already, which means there is a reason why they still have this curse. Murphy's law is who he is, and him having it keeps it from affecting someone else, even if it causes problems he tries to see the good in having it around.

(And P.S., before you say "BuT tHe PaF Crossover MaDe ThIngS-", NOPE GET THAT, ALTHOUGH UNDERSTANDABLE OPINION, OUTTA HERE. It's a Dan run show, he's gonna do crossovers, he's gonna connect the two together and Doof being brought back as the fun uncle in the house with a platypus friend is amazing. You don't have to like it, but you gotta accept that others do.)

So, people, as a society, DO BETTER

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wildpeachfarm · 1 month

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(sending this around or similarly worded to get a variety of opinions)

i'm kind of stuck between two very different opinions right now on what george should do:

A) he addresses it

i don't think he needs to post another video, maybe a tweet or something similar, he either confirms or denies caiti's claims of touching her breast and reiterates what he said in his previous video, maybe adds a part where he says he's taking a hiatus or something similar.

B) he stays silent

this one is tricky because to me he's already said all that he needs to say, he's addressed and taken accountability for the power dynamic and how he didn't see it that way, how he was careless for ages and how explains how he's gonna do better to prevent another situation like this in the future, all while apologizing to caiti. But since she refuses to watch his video where he addresses all that she claims he didn't address (so fucking stupid on her part imo, specially when she begs ppl that hate her to hear her out fully but whatever).

To me the best thing no matter what is to just move on, maybe wait a week or two and start off with a dteam video on Sapnap's channel, then slowly start content again with dream and eventually post on his own channel. The less they stay on twitter the better and if they start being full time youtubers again it'll be perfect. Maybe streaming if he gets a tight circle of mods that'll do their job (paying them will be good too to avoid controversy)

but what do you think?

ehhhh I'm kinda torn tbh

I personally would be fine with him not addressing it; his original response and apology still holds true no matter what and I really don't think the situation changes much- and honestly I'm so fucking tired and emotionally exhausted and just want this to be finished as soon as possible so we can all move on

However I do understand that him responding means closure for some people, but I really don't think george will literally say "yes I touched her boobs" because that right there would be used against him forever and that would be stupid of him to say even if it did happen. So i don't know what people really expect from him in a final response?

But yeah I think they just need to resume youtube content soon at the very least to give people something new to consume and start talking about dteam minecraft again

#ask #anon #anti drummyache tag

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artheresy · 2 months

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An argument over whether or not Dan Heng is Dan Feng seems to have begun getting sparked again in certain parts of the Fandom and it does nothing but hurt my head to no end

Both sides cherrypicking or treating it like a strange situation, making false equivalents. "Yknow governments don't consider people who've lost their memories to be separate people" that's a flawed argument to use in favorite of DH = DF because it's not just he lost his memories. He literally grew up, experienced his own childhood, had a whole identity cultivated based on those experiences and that life and continues to live his own life. To treat the situation like it's just him getting a bit of amnesia is wild to me

But also I hate when people continue to insist he's running from Dan Feng and his past and how he's miserable and shouldn't ever confront the past and deal with it as if his and Blade's whole stories aren't centered around rebirth and karma, paying for your past life's karma. He needed to confront the past to ensure a freer future! He literally has!! And he will continue to do so because he realizes this, DH isn't dumb and he's grown since we first saw him. He understands

But yeah uh I'm so tired

This whole thing feels very Ship of Theseus. What makes the ship what it is, the physical aspects of its planks, its sailing history, or both?

For him, the question is what makes someone who they are? Is it the body that makes them up and any inherent genetic factors (like traits)? Is it their experiences, how they've grown up, and the identity they've developed in that time? Or is it both factors mixed together?

Personally in the case of Dan Heng, I think it's both! Yeah he has a lot of traits from Dan Feng. There's a lot inherently there. But we can't disregard his own experiences and the identity that has formed based on his history and what he's seen.

Again I can't stress this enough... It is a false equivalent to compare him to people who lose their memories or get amnesia, he didn't just lose those memories. He started life from the beginning, a whole different kind of life. And even then, the amnesia topic comes with its own debates. Isn't there a whole other thought experiment regarding someone put to trial who ends up with amnesia and what their verdict should be?

I guess in the end, it's all up to people's own philosophical beliefs after what constitutes a person. My personal belief that DH and DF will always be connect but the separation between them is also meaningful is something based on my own ideas of what consisitutes a person and their individual identity, similar situation with how I see Rukkhadevata and Nahida as connected but still not the same person exactly. At the end of the day again, it's personal beliefs

But what I can't stand and can't stand by, is someone acting all high and mighty like they're perfectly right and everyone else is wrong, especially when they're cherrypicking or not holding all their evidence to the same standard. According to some ppl, apparently it's better in the CN fandom where instead of treating it like "I'm right you're wrong" people have divided themselves into "DF and DH one person" and "DF and DH two people" groups and most importantly of all, they treat both like theories and just keep to their space and tag which they believe when it's relevant. Why can't we just do that? Why can't we follow in their footsteps instead of bringing up this argument every so often with the same tired flaws from both sides?

#Lore discussion in this community can be so tiring #I wish more people would be open to their viewpoint being challenged instead of believing they can never ever be wrong #And seeing people throw out wild accusations #Like someone saying people are transphobic if they believe dh is df like what?#I get it if you identity with dh and read it as a trans narrative personally even if I dont #Doesn't mean you can call people transphobic over it #I dunno I'm tired #Everything I see this topic I get mad #“He says you're my past in the ichor of two dragons!!”#He also says right after “But you won't follow me into my future” so your point is?#Additionally if we're being 100% real that animation feels like it's less about his rejection and eventual acceptance of DF specifically #It feels more so like his rejection of the role of Imbibitor Lunae given what I've talked about about the DF being there would never say #Any of those things how it's based on his biased view of him and is a projection of things he was told growing up likely #So I'm tired #One of the only good arguments I've ever seen to say DH is DF is in regards to how he clings to DF's old stuff #I have things to say about it personally #But it's a MILES better argument than some of the other ones I've seen and even then my arguments against it would still be an up for #Interpretation kind of thing like the initial argument rather than pointing out someone is looking at the full picture #Again I respect how people see it! Believe what you want to believe about it again it's all about our own perspectives #Just don't be a dick to people on either side if you don't agree with them #Dan heng #Dan feng #Hsr #Honkai star rail

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