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pradaksj · 4 years

Text

7 Rings | 01

♛ pairing: taehyung/reader

♛ rating: mature

♛ word count: 12,000+

♛ warnings for this chapter : explicit language, terminal illness, this chapter basically just sets the foundation of this story up so sorry if it’s a little boring

♛ summary: In need of money for your mom’s medical bills, you and your best friend come up with a plan to infiltrate one of Seoul’s richest families, the Kim family. The plan was simple, blackmail, get your money, and disappear, but of course things don’t always go as planned. Especially not with someone like Kim Taehyung.

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em. ❞

♛ chapter index/masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

Chapters⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

“Why Y/N?” his voice cracks, the look of betrayal evidently on his face.

"I never—" you sobbed. Your throat felt swollen and you stuttered, pitifully trying to speak the words in your head. "I never meant for it to go this far," you said at last.

How did you end up here? Where did everything go wrong? When had the rabbit hole simply become too deep? The sounds of several voices echoed in your head.

You could hear him calling your name, begging no demanding an answer, but all you could do was stare off into space, thinking of everything that led up this exact moment.

If only you could turn back time.

3 Months Ago.

Friday Morning.

“In today’s news, the Kim family’s multibillion dollar deal has been officially confirmed. Their partnership with Hyundai is estimated to bring in at least seven billion in revenue to Korea’s economy over the next 5 years. Both parties have agreed to terms that will lift…”

Oh the irony.

Sighing, you turned off the radio of your run-down 2006 grey Hyundai, which every morning you had to cross your fingers and hope that the engine wouldn't burn out on you. The rumbling sounds of the engine starting up never failing to catch the attention of pedestrians walking by.

After several frustrating minutes of struggling to parallel park, you sat in your car and allowed yourself to sulk for a moment. Another day, another dollar to make. Even if it meant having to deal with rude and entitled customers all day, your school loans plus your bills just weren’t going to pay themselves off anytime soon.

“One day at a time Y/N, just one day at a time,” you reassured yourself, placing on your mandatory logoed hat, and mentally preparing yourself for another day. If only you were rich.

Friday Night.

Despite being tired from work, visiting your mom was something you always felt like you needed to do every so often, plus her homemade meals were quite often a bonus considering how lazy you’d often get to cook food for yourself. In fact, the pizza shop near your apartment not only having your order, but voice completely memorized for whenever you called. The young employee quickly interrupting your greeting with a, “Pepperoni pizza, half sausage, half Hawaiian, and a pink lemonade?” surprisingly no longer offended you as much as it would back in the beginning.

Your mom certainly didn’t mind the company as it inevitably got quite lonely living by herself, but she knew she couldn’t smother you forever as much as she would love to. College was a necessity for you in her eyes, a ticket to a better life that wouldn’t require you to scrub the floors of the rich as she did.

And maybe it was because you were more mature nowadays, but conversations with her had now also seemed to be much more meaningful. Well that and the two of you didn’t butt heads as much as you used to compared to when you were nothing but a temperamental teenager whose biggest life crisis was whether your crush glanced at you in the hallway or not.

Of course the boundary and respect of a mother-daughter relationship was always there, some of your jokes sometimes garnering a “I’m not your friend, I’m your mother” speech from her, but nonetheless your relationship with her in a way was very much like a friendship. It seemed as if with every visit you learned new things about her, the different stories she shared with you from her youth always having an underlying lesson that you could apply to your own life.

“I really needed this,” you said while chewing on a mouthful of bulgogi. Small stains of sauce at the corners of your mouth, as your mom’s cooking never failed to make you feel like a little kid. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her now twenty one year old daughter who in her heart was always going to be just a little girl.

She got up from the small wooden dining chair, picking up any leftover dinnerware as she prepared to start washing dishes, all while at the same time listening to you as you babbled on about work.

“I mean really, how hard is it to say thank you,” you rolled your eyes, dramatically sticking your chopstick into your bowl, as you were recalling one of today’s customers who kept snapping their fingers at you as if you were their very own personal servant.

“Well it’s a good thing it’s summer, you don’t have to worry about college so mu—” The sound of glass shattering on the floor abruptly caught your attention. You looked up at your mom who was now dead silent, her face which was now extremely pale, and her breathing which had suddenly became erratic. What you didn't know was that your mom had suddenly felt as if the world spinning, the feeling of disorientation becoming too overwhelming.

“Mom? Are you okay?” you quickly got up, grabbing your mom by the forearm in a means of trying to redirect her from the kitchen to the couch at an attempt to get her to relax. You unlocked your phone, fingers slightly trembling as you called the ambulance.

“Just breathe okay. You’re gonna be okay,” you kept trying to reassure your mom as you waited for them to pick up which at the moment felt like an eternity. Your leg was bouncing up and down in anticipation as you kept glancing at your mom who was trying to keep her breathing in control and her eyes open. “Do not close your eyes on me, you hear me?” your voice began to feel shaky, eyelids brimming with tears, the pulsating feeling of panic flowing through your veins.

“Hello, what’s your emergency?”

You hated hospitals. Who didn’t? The smell, the yellow-toned ugly lighting, and the feeling of anxiousness the whole place gave people. For you though, the hospital was a reminder of tragedy, a reminder that whatever comes in here never walks out the same whether you’re a patient or not. Fifteen years ago, it made your mom a widow left having to pay remaining hospital bills all while having to raise her six year old daughter.

So here you were now, fifteen years later sitting at her bedside waiting for her to wake up, stuck in the same position she once was. You stared up at the ceiling counting each time the overhead lights flickered as you tried not to get so lost into your thoughts. Everything had happened in what felt like was the blink of an eye, guilt was beginning to seep in. Why hadn’t noticed anything earlier? Maybe in some miraculous way you could’ve prevented this, you thought to yourself.

You turned on the small TV that the hospital provided in every room, flipping through several channels hoping you'd find something that would be able to distract you.

“Shut up and kis—” K-drama. Next.

“Watch ou—” Action movie. Next.

“Kim Taehyung gets physical with paparazzi, the heir to Kim Enterprises spotted —” but before you could place your full attention to the entertainment newscast you turned your attention to your mother who was now beginning to shift in her sleep, her eyes now slowly opening, clearly in a daze as to where she was and how she got there.

“Hey ma,” you softly whispered, giving her a warm smile as you held her hand tighter, beginning to rub small circles on her palm.

“W-what happened Y/N?”

“You fain-”

“Ah you’re finally up,” you turned towards the door, seeing who you assumed was the doctor in charge now walking in.

For a doctor she appeared quite young, her petite figure and wrinkle free skin a defining factor in her appearance. You formally greeted her, a wave of anxiousness now overcoming you. “Dr. Whitney Han'' is what her name tag read, but it was what was in small font beneath her name that made your heart feel as if it feel down to the pit of your stomach. “Oncologist,” meaning doctors who specialize in the study and treatment for cancer.

Faintly clearing her throat, “Hello, I’m Dr. Han,” she introduced herself, reaching her hand out for you to shake. She smiled at your mom who was still in a slightly groggy state, but aware nonetheless. “So Ms. Y/L/N, you seemed to have suffered from what we call a syncope, meaning an episode of passing out, it’s usually caused by insufficient blood flow to the brain, a result of hypotension,” you nodded following along with what she was saying,

“When episodes such as these occur, it tends to mean that there’s an underlying cause and so we decided to run some tests on your mother to cross out any possibilities, and well there’s never an easy way to tell anybody this...” her gaze lowered for just a slight moment until she quickly regained her composure, but it was just enough for you to just know. She continued with what you assumed she’s told hundred’s if not thousand’s of patients in her career. For her it’d be just another day of work, but for you it felt as if the world stopped.

Whatever she had said after couldn’t be heard because the only thing you could hear was the sound of your blood pounding in your ears, and an intense beating against your chest. You could see her mouth moving, but nothing seemed to be coming out, everything suddenly becoming a ringing noise to your ears.

Fight or flight is what they call it. When a stressful situation triggers you to either run or stay, and at this moment you just wanted to run, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew that at this exact moment, everything was going to change because whether you liked it or not, the carousel never stops turning.

You slowly glanced at your mom who seemed to be in the same paralyzed state as you, her face stoic of any possible emotion.

“With treatment chances of survival are of course immensely improved, the treatments are harsh, but taking your mom’s age and clean medical history I think she can definitely handle it,” Dr. Han tried to give you a small smile, but even she knew situations like these were always tough. No matter how many years of experience she had, the countless tragedies and rare miracles she’d witnessed in her career, every case was different. Her job as a doctor was to make people like you and your mother feel more comfortable with their situation, but never make any promises.

“Now treatments are done in intervals, and will probably have to be done starting from now until about three to six months which is when we usually see improvement, meaning you will have to permanently stay here for that time. From what I’ve seen with past patients is that treatment can be very costly without insurance, and well I know a lot of physicians don’t like to talk about expenses with patients, but—”

“My mom doesn’t have health insurance. I know,” you harshly broke the deafening silence, interrupting her before she could continue, not wanting to hear anymore of her pity. You had no reason to give her attitude, no reason to direct your anger towards her, it wasn’t like she caused any of this to happen, but you just couldn’t help it. The atmosphere in the air was stiff, any next word out of her mouth and you’d probably go ballistic. “C-can we just have a moment alone? So we could just um process everything,” you stammered, lacking to make any eye contact with her.

“I’ll be right outside in the hallway, let me know if you have any questions,” she gave you and your mom one last tiny sad smile before making her way out.

Once the door closed, you thought that you’d be able to breathe properly again, but the same heavy feeling on your chest remained. It wasn’t until you felt a grab at your hand that you were brought back to reality.

“Hey we are going to be just fine Y/N,” your mom whispered to you as it was now she who was rubbing your hand in an effort to comfort you. A weak smile appearing on your face, of course your mom would be comforting you despite it being her who's sick. “Come on lay down with me,” she then began to scoot to the side in her already tiny hospital bed, trying to make space for you.

And for a small everlasting moment you felt like a little girl again as you hugged your mom, tears silently falling from the corner of your eyes, the soft sound of her humming comforting you. You let your head relax onto her shoulder, your breathing somehow finally under control. The question of “What are we going to do?” slowly disappearing from your mind, letting yourself drift off to sleep in the arms of your mom.

Sunday Morning.

In the following days after, you had helped your mom move her necessities into the hospital room that she’d be staying in until her treatment was over and she could be discharged. You had contacted your landlord informing him that you’d be cancelling your lease as you now had plans to move back home. The only reason you had your own small apartment in the first place was because your mom thought it’d be better to live near campus and not waste so much money on gas going from campus to your job and then back to your moms place. Despite her protests on the cancellation of your lease, you had done it anyway.

“Ma someone has to live there, or else it’d just be useless to continue paying rent. We can’t just leave it empty for the whole year, someone could break in or even try to live there for the while that you’re not there. I mean imagine walking in on some strang—”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want you living there, and move the decoration a little more to your right,” she says while making a motion with her hand as a way to guide you. For the past hour you had been putting up flimsy removable decorations all across the beige hospital walls at an attempt to make her room look less depressing than it already was.

“I already told you, I’ll be just fine. I already asked Yuna to help me get my stuff, and you’re acting like everyone in the neighborhood doesn’t know who I am, and it’s a lot faster to get here from home. I just need to start looking for a second job in the meant—”

“Ah about that,” your moms sudden interruption causing you to stop what you were doing , now tilting your head in confusion, “I called Mr. Choi and told him about me no longer being able to work for the meantime that I'm here and well that’s when he mentioned something about going on vacation, and needing a temporary assistant… and that he needed someone to run some business like errands for him and well I may have mentioned you and that you’re majoring in business and how you’d love to work for him…” she tried zooming through the last part but you had heard it all.

“Wait what!”

Mr. Choi was your mom’s boss, having been his housekeeper for as long as you could remember. Endless long nights of making sure whatever multimillion dollar penthouse he or his other snobby friends owned looked squeaky clean, just to be paid like any other minimum-wage worker minus the tip.

You could still vividly remember the nights when you were younger being babysat by your neighbor, anxiously waiting for your mom's knock on the door signifying that she was back home, and just how exhausted she’d look as she took off her housekeeping shoes, too tired to even look at the pile of sealed letters on the sturdy coffee table. A constant reminder that she was going to be working for that man for a very long time.

For a long time you had wondered how she was able to do it all. Were there nights where she felt like just giving up and simply letting everything she’d work so hard for to collapse?

Your mind flashing back to the night before you moved out for college. It was about 3 in the morning and anxiety had been keeping you up the whole night, the fear of moving somewhere you were unfamiliar with creeping into your mind. The sound of muffled tears coming from the living room snapping you back into reality. Slowly you had gotten up from bed, opening your door wide enough to leave a crack that you could visibly see through, desperately trying to avoid having the door loudly creak.

And so there she was with a wax stick candle in her hand, quietly whispering to herself a small recital, the sound of several wailed “thank you’s” coming out of her mouth, grateful that she had made it this far. The old framed picture of your dad on the coffee table making it hard for you to fight back your own tears.

Nights where she was sure your landlord would knock at any moment to kick you guys out because the rent was going to be late, nights where she’d silently cry herself to sleep because it killed her to say no to something you desperately wanted from the store, and nights where she merely missed the love of her life. Doubting herself as to whether she was doing a good job in raising you, simply wishing she could have someone give her some reassurance. And having to hide those feelings because she didn’t want her daughter to find out that the person she had once given a “Happy Mother’s Day to the Strongest Mommy in the World” card with a colorful doodle of herself in a cape was in fact not strong at all, but acted like she was because she simply loved her daughter too much.

And so that night instead of going back to sleep, you slowly made your way into the living room, silently enveloping her in a hug, no words having to be spoken. Promising yourself that you were going to work hard in college, and get each other out of the small cramped apartment to which you guys called home. Life of course had different plans, which brings you back to one of the causes of your stress and worries: Mr. Choi.

Oh how you despised that man. One would think a rich man like him would’ve offered by now to pay for all of your mom’s expenses considering the years of servitude, but no. He only fed into the stereotype you already had of the rich, the only people they cared for were themselves.

“So you’re basically telling me I have to quit my job by tonight, and do something I have absolutely no experience with?”

“Yes! You need to start getting all the experience you can get in the world of business, and him being on vacation is perfect. Less stress, and I assume it’ll be better pay than that restaurant you’re working in.” Oh how you hated how naive your mom could be sometimes, it always led to Choi taking advantage of her and her kindness.

“Mr. Choi lives—”

“In the city which is not at all far from here, the only reason you work at that lousy restaurant is because it’s near campus, yes or yes?”

“And when school starts?”

“Mr. Choi should be back by then and he can find someone new to replace you,” you dramatically groaned, the fact that she had reasonable answers to your questions bugged you.

“But-”

“But nothing! You’re a hard worker Y/N, who knows you may even meet someone who could change your life around in that area. You’re young, about to be a college graduate, you need to start printing out resumes and Mr. Choi is a big name in the indust—”

“I get it, I get it,” you said chuckling at your mom’s enthusiasm, “and who's going to keep you company then?”

“Ah well the nurse was telling me last night about the events they throw here every week for people like me who are staying here for a while and trust me I’ll be just fine,” she winked at you which raised a laugh out of you. Who knew your mom could be so… social. “Just try and visit hmm... at least once a week.”

“Once?”

“I’m telling you Y/N, we will be just fine. Stop acting like I’m dying anytime soon.” she said, “now what do you say? It’s just until the end of summer.” You began to consider your options, money was definitely the weighing factor here.

Sighing once you had made your decision, “When do I start?”, a giant grin now appearing on her face.

Sunday Night

“Well that’s the last of it,” you sighed in relief as you finally were able to close the trunk of your car after several minutes of struggling to compress your things in order for everything to fit in your small car and not make any double trips back.

“Finally! You know for someone who claims they need to save money, you sure do like spending it on such small useless things,” your best friend, Yuna, complained.

“Oh because you were so much help,” you huffed, she had no right to complain considering all she did was loudly munch on her chips, watching the pitiful sight of you nearly fighting your trunk after several failed attempts of it not closing. She raised her hand in defense.

You and Yuna had met in the 8th grade after the two of you were assigned as partners for your geometry class, casual conversation about latest idol debuts and fashion trends had blossomed a beautiful friendship. For a while you thought that college was going to cause the two of you to grow apart, but in fact you two became even closer. It had become a friendship where you didn’t need to see each other everyday, nor talk about absolutely everything all in one moment. Everything was always at its own pace between you two, the boundaries having been silently set.

You had told Yuna of your situation and rather than try to get you to cry about your feelings and awkwardly comfort you, she instead agreed to help you move out, letting her actions speaking louder than words. Of course Yuna’s definition of help differed from yours. but it was the thought that counted. She knew that when you were ready you’d talk to her about everything.

“Well apartment D2 you’ve been... “ you paused, recalling the amount of times you’ve nearly burned something, now scratching your neck, “...decent to me, but it’s time for a new chapter,” you whispered to yourself, anxious for the weeks to come.

The drive home like almost all of them had the two of you singing to both current and childhood songs without a care in the world even though you two weren’t exactly what people would consider “good” singers. Occasional voice cracks seeping through the bass of the speakers, garnering a laugh from the two of you.

By the time you got home and finished unpacking, you were not only exhausted but extremely hungry.

“I’m gonna go get us take out,” Yuna announced, getting up from the couch and grabbing your car keys from the rack, almost as if she read your mind.

And so while she went to get that, you laid on your small childhood bed, staring at the ceiling. You laughed at the multiple glow in the dark stickers you had crookedly placed onto it several years ago, and cringe at the posters of second generation idols you had sloppily posted up on your walls when you were fifteen, now unaware that you were subconsciously grinning.

It surprised you that your mom for the most part hadn’t moved anything around from your room, for the most part it looked almost exactly as how you left it years ago. The same old baby blue duvet covered your metal twin-sized bed frame, decorated with grey fluffy throw pillows which at the time you thought made you a professional interior designer. Your fingers grazed over the framed pictures you had on your small desk (minus the ones you took to college) of past memories including a photo of your dad piggy back carrying a five year old you who had the biggest smile on her face. A small reminder of what life once was.

You could feel your eyes getting watery as you continued to stare at the photo, and so you quickly snapped yourself out of it, deciding that you already had enough emotional turmoil on your plate. Instead you plopped back onto bed, unlocked your phone and began to scroll through Twitter occasionally laughing at some memes.

A certain retweet had caught your eye causing you to let out a scoff, “Kim Taehyung NASTY fight with girlfriend Sunhi. Click here for more.” The Kim family were almost insufferable, their names practically plastered everywhere across Korea. Especially Mr. Kim’s son Taehyung who somehow always managed to get his name across the headlines whether it be on TV, magazines, or social media.

“Famous for being a brat,” you muttered to yourself, but ironically before you could click on the link you had heard the door open and close, resulting in you locking your phone and immediately getting up from bed, your stomach desperately ready to stop growling.

“Im baaaack!” Yuna dramatically squealed, placing the foam takeout containers on your small kitchen table. The scent of the warm food making your mouth water. “I know it’s chilly right now, but the stars are out tonight, so I say we go eat at the top,” she then gave you the puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t need to make such… disturbing...faces for me to agree, you do know that right?” you teased, trying to hide your smirk.

“Fuck you,” she responded to you while playfully hitting your shoulder.

Despite it being summer, when you had walked outside you immediately felt the crispy cold weather, but it was something you and Yuna had grown accustomed to. The countless number of late nights climbing up your metal ladder to get to the rooftop and watching the small tiny stars had made you two somewhat immune to the nightly cold. Your mom sometimes would even climb up herself to bring hot cocoa, rightfully worried that the two of you would freeze yourselves to death.

You see your apartment, like the rest of your complex, wasn’t in the greatest condition. The infrastructure of it mostly relying on a mix of cement and brick, rust engulfing most things along with metal bars on each complex’s windows in order to prevent break ins. Crime was not something uncommon in your area, but something that you were used to hearing about as you got older.

What made the whole situation more ironic was that the rich were separated by a simple six way motorway, acting almost as a bridge between two completely different worlds with their skyscrapers and condos looking down upon you guys. It was only at night when the stars were out and you looked up at the navy blue sky that you felt like for a small moment none of it mattered. The warm milky glow of the moon never failing to soothe you, reminding you that even in the dark there was light. Reminding you that even now which felt as if was one of the darkest hours in your life, there was going to be light. At least that’s what you hoped.

“This view just never gets old,” you whispered, amazed at the moonlight’s reflection, the speckle of stars only adding to its beauty. Your eyes had once again become watery, a sudden state of reflection washing over you, but you quickly composed yourself before Yuna could notice.

“What time do you even go in tomorrow?” Yuna asked, her eyes still primarily focused on the view above.

“Well their flight is at 1PM so my mom told me I should get there by at least 11AM so he can explain everything to me, show me around, and all that other stuff.”

“I don’t see why you have an attitude about it, you’re acting like it’s the worst job in the world!” she scolded you.

“I know I know, I’ve heard it all already,” you rolled your eyes recalling your mom's lecture and that she expected your attitude to be fixed come Monday morning.

“Well you gotta do what you gotta do,” Yuna mumbled while shrugging her shoulders and continuing to eat her food.

“You can say that again.... ” you acknowledged her remark, secretly scared for tomorrow, silently hoping that all went well, “and I thought I was a slob,” you snorted, watching how sloppily Yuna was slurping her noodles. She raised her hand, smacking you on the shoulder.

“Hey, watch—”

Monday Morning.

“Where you’re going, you asshole!” you shouted over your window, your irritation fixated at the man who cut you off without signaling. God how you hated driving in the city. All the one way signs, the assholes who called themselves drivers, and the narrow streets which were hard to maneuver in. It all caused unnecessary stress, but here you were nonetheless.

“Turn right in 1.2 miles,” you let out a snide scoff as you entered the parking lot, there was nothing but car of the year models ranging from Mercedes Benz’s, BMW’s, Range Rover’s, and more. All making your car look worse than it already did.

Making your way into the lobby, you were in complete utter awe of the place. From the giant diamond chandelier hanging from above to the sparkly interior design which screamed Hollywood glam. The ivory colored double staircase reminded you of Titanic, the color scheme of the whole place was overwhelmingly beautiful. You could only imagine what Mr. Choi’s condo could look like as you made your way to the front desk.

Ding.

To your surprise a boy, a very handsome one to say the least, appeared from what you assumed was his office. He looked no older than you, his hair dyed a crimson-red color giving him a youthful appearance accompanied with a face that had both sharp and soft features. Before you could ponder on why such a good looking person was working and not living at a place like this, your thoughts were interrupted.

“Hello, welcome to The Oaks condos, how can I help you?” he asked, sounding eerily similar to a robot. It reminded you of yourself at your old job, something you certainly would not miss.

“Um I’m Mr. Choi’s new assistant,” you looked for his name tag which coincidentally he didn’t have on, but you could immediately see his shoulders relax once he had heard the words “new assistant”.

“Ah yes! You’re Ms. Y/L/N’s daughter right? Y/N right?” you nodded in agreement, a smile now appearing on his face, causing the corner of your lips to turn upward. Wow was this guy handsome, you only hoped that the heat you felt on your cheeks wasn’t visible to the eye.

“Your mom called me to give me a heads up. I’m Hoseok, I’m what you can consider the receptionist around here,” he said, reaching his hand out for you to shake.

Hoseok. The name sounded so familiar, you could’ve sworn you'd heard your mom mention the name a couple times.

A light bulb then went off in your head, as you remembered the countless number of times she had tried setting you up on a date with him, but wow did she fail to mention that Hoseok had the literal face of a GQ model.

An awkward cough brought you back to reality as you had realized that Hoseok’s hand had been stuck out for quite some time, you were now certain that your face must’ve resembled a ripe tomato. You quickly returned the handshake, internally scolding yourself for making yourself look like an idiot. Here you were, a grown woman, acting like a teenager again.

“So um, you seem um ... pretty young to be working here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he teased, “I replaced my aunt after she retired and the owner of this place trusted her to teach me well, and well I guess I’ve been doing a pretty good job if I’m still employed,” he explained, playfully winking at you, confirming that he knew the effect he had on people. You stood there in silence, deciding that it was just best to say nothing, look pretty, and nod. Thus causing him throw his head back and laugh, making small claps with his hands. With the way you were acting, you couldn’t blame him. He must’ve thought you were some kind of walking circus act.

“You’ll get used to it, you know...” you now had a look a look of confusion on your face which only made him laugh harder, but before you could ask him any questions, he changed the topic.

“Well I assume your mom gave you Mr. Choi’s key pass, correct?” you shyly nodded no in response. “Ah I see, let’s go ahead and get that set up for you then,” you watched him as he began to type some things onto the computer in front of him. Compared to how fast his fingers were moving across the keyboard, he made you like a complete newb on the keyboard. The boy was clearly now in his own zone.

“First name, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Last name, Y/L/N?”

“Yes.”

“You see where that X mark is on your left?” he pointed at the microscopic mark on the floor to which you followed, “Okay now look at where that pretty gold flower is on the wall, and say cheese!” Before you could even properly prepare yourself you heard the sound of the shutter go off, immediately causing Hoseok to begin cracking up.

He turned the desktop computer to face towards you, showing the horrendous picture the camera took of you. One eye had come out mid-blink, your mouth slightly agape from fixing your hair in the moment. “Hey that’s not—!” Before you could start complaining, Hoseok had quickly interrupted.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! It’s only for the program’s database which only Rachel and I see? Ain’t that right Rachel?” Rachel? Who the hell was that?

Glancing around to see who this Rachel person was, you were surprised to see a very old woman seated behind the front desk seemingly caring less about what he had said, a permanent scowl on her face along with a small groan coming out of her mouth as a response. “That’s my girl,” Hoseok jested, “Now you,” he dramatically pointed at you, “come back over here.”

You muttered a quiet “Whatever,” peeved by his little antics. Maybe it was because Rachel was old but you could slowly see why she had that look on her face.

“Place your index finger on the small machine when it lights up,” he pointed to the small biometric scanning machine, similar to the ones used at the DMV. Following the simple instructions you allowed the machine to scan your finger, assuming it was going to be used for something important around here.

All you could do was observe him as he finished typing who knows what. You observed how his eyebrows quirked as he continued to type, a satisfied smile gracing his lips once he was done.

Too caught up in his appearance, the sudden tug at your hand had caught you by surprise, yanking you from where you were standing. “I’ll be back Rachel! I’m going to show little Ms. Y/N here around,” Rachel as before. only grunted in response.

“So here of course we have the lobby, this is where all the..” he glanced around making sure no one was around before whispering, “snobby folks come in and out of every day. Them and their visitors of course, so hopefully you don’t have to interact with any of them.”

“I don’t think all of this will be neces—” before you could continue he pulled your hand again now guiding you towards another area. You glanced at the time on your phone, hoping this so called tour wasn’t going to take too long.

“Right here is the entrance to the patio and pool area, which is what you’ll use your fingerprint for as well as entering Mr. Choi’s condo and any other amenities we have around here,” he reached into his pocket pulling out a laminated card, “but if for any reason our system’s down then this right here should do the trick for amenities only, you’ll have to come up to the front desk if the finger pad in the elevator isn’t working. For precautionary reasons of course,” he explained, most of it pretty self explanatory, except the elevator part but you assumed he’d get to that soon.

“So the entrance to every apartment is through the elevator which is right there on your left,” You followed him as he began to walk towards it, placing his finger on the elevator’s finger scanning pad, “The stairs are really only here for decoration considering no one uses them, I mean unless of course you want to climb up 7 flights of stairs everyday,” You quickly nodded your head no, “Only resident’s and employee fingerprints allow the elevator to open but,” the two of you stepped into the elevator, “the fingerpad inside the elevator only allows certain people to access certain floors. Since Mr. Choi’s going to be out on vacation with his vacation, you are currently the only person with access to his floor,” you raised your finger, slightly confused.

“Don’t you technically—”

“I do, but let’s say I were to enter a resident’s condo without their explicit permission, they’d immediately be notified through their phone as I’m also under strict contract.” Your mouth made an “O” shape, impressed by how everything was ran around here. Another question then popped up in your mind as he clicked the elevator’s 7th button.

“Well what if there’s more than one person in the elevator? What then?”

“Ah good question! Since you don’t know any of the residents here yet, I suggest you always try to go into the elevator by yourself, and if the situation arises where you feel uncomfortable or paranoid about who's in the elevator with you then just go back down to the lobby of course and wait it out, but we’ve never had any cases of break ins or anything like that. Especially not in an area like this. Things around here are ran very smoothly,” he shrugged, “I mean around here the burglars don’t wear black ski mask and carry scary weapons. In fact the real criminals live on these same floors,” he deadpanned, slightly catching you by surprise.

“I know what you’re probably thinking, who the hell makes an elevator an entrance to their home? I thought the same thing when I first started, but for some reason they see it as some kind of luxury feature around here...”

“Mm it’s expected if I’m being honest,” you chuckled, slowly finding the confidence to make small talk with Hoseok without getting so flustered. A pregnant silence had made it’s way into the elevator.

“I’m sorry about your mom by the way...” though he had said it out the blue, you could feel the sincerity behind his words. All you could do was give him a small smile of acknowledgment, feeling as if it was too early to feel someone’s pity. “She talks about you a lot...” he said, causing you to smile.

“My Y/N is going to one of the top schools in all of Korea! My Y/N is going to become a successful businesswoman! My Y/N is so pretty Hobi, a boy like you should take her out some time!” he mimicked your mom’s voice, now causing you to genuinely laugh.

“That definitely sounds like her,” you giggled, your cheeks now becoming a tinging shade of pink at the mention of her trying to playing matchmaker.

“You should’ve seen her face when I told her I was gay,” your eyes immediately felt as if they had bulged out of your eye sockets, your face now completely red at his previous words. He on the other hand was now laughing as hard as ever, his hand clutching onto his stomach from laughing so hard.

“I told you you’d get used to me,” he said in-between laughs, tears now welting out of his eyes from his laughing fit. Things definitely started to make sense, especially now that you were inconveniently remembering how your mom had completely stopped mentioning Hoseok in any romantic way to you. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment because here you were already fantasizing about the dude.

“You're also probably wondering why I’m working at a place like this, that’s what most people ask me when they visit round here, but...”

“I’ll have to answer your questions some other time Ms. Y/N because well here we are! I’ll have your parking pass ready by the time leave but for now just place your finger on the scanner and off you go,” you followed his instructions, opening the doors of the elevator, stepping out, and waving a small goodbye watching him return the wave as the doors slowly closed. In all honesty you were genuinely happy at the fact that you had made a friend around here even though you were still slightly embarrassed about the moment that had played out only minutes ago.

But before you could dwell on it any longer, you heard a voice call out your name, “Ah Y/N, good you’re here right on time!” You formally greeted who you presumed was Mrs. Choi, slightly surprised at the fact that she even knew your name.

“You don’t have to be so formal. Muah. Muah,” she pulled you in for a hug and giving you a kiss on each cheek like the French do. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, tell her I send my condolences.” You returned her fake smile, not expecting yourself to despise her this early on. Oh were you glad she wasn’t going to be around.

Mrs. Choi in a way reminded you of Regina George’s mom despite not having any kids. Needles and plastic were definitely her best friends, and her attempt to try and act younger than her actual age was quite cringe to watch.

Soon after greeting each other, two pomeranians began to circle around you barking. You bent down trying to pet them, but you guess they picked up the snob’s attitude because all they did was continue barking and one even tried to bite you.

“If it isn’t Y/N, I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!” you snapped your attention to the man himself, Mr. Choi, who was coming down his stairs with a thick black luggage case in his hand. The last time you saw him was around 9 years ago when he had lived on the other side of the city. Your mom had to take you to work with her that day because your neighbor was unavailable to watch after you and you were still too young to be home alone.

Mr. Choi had definitely changed in appearance, his once full head of black hair was now clearly balding, he had gained some weight, and overall looked like a man who had long been worn out. You couldn’t help but think that this vacation was probably needed, especially with a wife like his.

“I’ll wait for you in the car my love. It was nice seeing you Y/N, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks!” she squealed, waving goodbye as she stepped into the elevator, the dogs following right behind her.

You could hear Mr. Choi sigh, probably already mentally preparing himself for the next 10 weeks. So this is what a pretentious marriage looks like, you thought to yourself. You theorized that Mr. Choi must’ve only married her for her looks and she for his money, and well no wonder there were no kids in the picture. It’d be the ultimate death of both of them. You actually felt pity for the man, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a choice in marrying her.

You brought your attention back to Mr. Choi who must have been rambling on for some time now, “My most recent assistant just quit on me for no reason,” a genuine puzzled look on his face, “something about me being too overwhelming for her, as if I'm supposed to know what that means,” he scoffed. “So when your mom mentioned you well I knew I could trust her!”

Your mom truly never failed at mentioning you to whoever and whenever she possibly could, it was both a blessing and a curse.

“So… what exactly am I going to be in charge of?” You blurted out, the question had been lingering in your mind since the night prior.

“Good question, I’d show you around, but time is on the essence. I basically just need you to organize my office, file paperwork, organize Amelia’s closet, go run errands for me, pick up documents, but most importantly I’m going to need you to attend certain events in place for me, but of course just introduce yourself as my assistant, apologize as to why I couldn’t be there, and most importantly keep your eyes and ears open. In my world we like to keep… tabs… on one another,” your eyebrow quirked in curiosity, “and since I won’t have any signal I expect to have a report ready for me when I come back so I’m caught up with everything of course,” he grabbed something from the coffee table, “I made a planner for you with everything that needs to be done on a day to day basis,” he then proceeded in handing you the bulk gray planner, “It includes passwords, data sheets, and all that good stuff.”

You were amazed at how his demeanor had changed from clumsy-like to serious businessman in the blink of an eye. It was actually quite intimidating.

“Finances need to be kept in check, investors need to be accommodated, and well I just want to come back to everything being normal,” he began to gather the remainder of his stuff, “also your money is going to be wired to your bank account on a weekly basis and well that’s really it. I’ll see you in 10 weeks Ms. L/N! Good luck!”

“Good luck..” you quietly repeated his final parting words back to yourself, watching as the elevator doors closed. You could see why his last assistant quit, you didn’t even know where to start. You took a deep breath deciding to make your way up to his office, your day was just getting started.

The condo may have looked like it came out of a show from HGTV, but Mr. Choi’s office looked like it came out of an episode of Hoarders Buried Alive. There were scattered papers everywhere, his desk was practically hidden by all the stacks of papers. Food wrappers and aluminum soda cans thrown around like the slob he was, the stench making you want to throw up.

“Oh my God…” you said to yourself, this man was just a mess.

You skimmed through some of the papers all of them having to do with different things ranging from firm performance, finances, legal forms, and much more. You could already feel a headache coming, but at the end of the day this was your job. You grabbed some storage boxes and began to label them with a black marker.

Your plan was to separate the papers into two sections: Important and Unimportant. Once you finished separating, you’d then shred what you deemed unimportant, and further organize what was important by date and then transfer them to his filing cabinets. It would take time, but it was the only method you could possibly think of. Your goal was to stop by 3 and then start working on Mrs. Choi’s closet.

You put on your earphones and began to play some music so that you wouldn’t be so stressed while organizing everything.

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s and bottles of bubbles…” you hummed to yourself and before you knew it, it was already 3. You had thrown out all of the trash in his office, and for the majority part most of his papers were organized.

You sighed, now to get started with her damn closet.

Mrs. Choi’s closet was its own giant room, marble shelves stacked with bags and shoes, racks full of clothes, jewelry sparkling under their display showcase. The sparkling glass chandelier on the ceiling adding an extra oomph to the room.

Hermes. Gucci. Chanel. Versace. Burberry. Balmain. Louis Vuitton. Saint Laurent. Fendi.

Any brand you could think of was in this closet, it was unbelievable. The closet had to be worth several thousands, no millions. So many questions were running through your head. How could someone just have so much? What do you even do with this amount of clothes? You were truly left speechless.

Shaking your head, you began to pick up all the clothes on the floor deciding that it was best to organize everything by color, your day almost done.

By the time your alarm went off it was already six which is the time that Mr. Choi had said you could leave, and it wasn’t like he was paying you extra for staying any longer and doing more work. For the most part, you had finished with both the office and closet and were just ready to go home, jump into bed, and watch some Netflix.

You went down the elevator, satisfied at your first day on the job. This was going to be easy, you thought to yourself.

Just as you were leaving the lobby you heard Hoseok, “Hey I had your parking permit printed out!” You stopped dead in your tracks, turned around and walked towards his desk. It wouldn’t hurt to make a little bit of conversation, right?

“Ah I had forgotten about that, thanks,” you chuckled.

“It’s no problem! The parking officer loves giving tickets.… so how was your first day?”

“Um not bad actually, a little boring to be honest,” you pondered at his question, for the most part you were being truthful, “Tomorrow I’m supposed to go and get Mr. Choi’s Mercedes Benz checked out, and then from there go and pick up some paperwork from some legal firm, transfer it onto his computer.”

“Well at least he’s not around to be over your shoulder, he practically had his last assistant going nuts,” he responded, laughing at the memory.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow,” you yawned, giving him a small wave goodbye.

“Hey well let me know if you ever need anything, and I’m being serious,” and to that you nodded, taking note of what he said.

Monday Afternoon.

[Incoming Facetime from: Ma 💞💗💓💕]

Immediately you clicked “accept”, having just gotten home and tidying up a couple things around the apartment.

“So how was your first day?” your mom immediately questions you, clearly eager to know.

“It was pretty decent ma, nothing I can’t handle,” you chuckled, “but wow was that man’s office practically a pig pen,” you complained only causing your mom to start laughing.

“Oh I know,” she comments, only causing you to roll your eyes.

“I think these 10 weeks should go by quite smoothly if I say so myself,” you sounded genuinely optimistic, “I met Hoseok you know,” your embarrassment had long subsided, instead finding it hilarious.

“Ah my Hobi!” your mom sounding delighted at the mention of the young boy, “a hard worker that boy is I'm telling you.”

“He seems like it,” you had long concluded that he was when he had been explaining everything about the residency to you. He seemed like one of those people who even though they disliked their job, still put in their absolute everything into making sure they were the best at it. “You shoud’ve seen me giving him the googly eyes earlier,” you joked around.

“Hobi is—”

“Gay, yeah I know. I had to find that out the hard way,” you covered your face with your hands, playfully sulking.

“Why do you think I stopped trying to set the two of you up,” your mom laughed.

“Mm really ma? I would’ve never guessed,” sarcasm dripping from your words.

“Hey remember who you’re sp—”

“Anywayssss, how are you holding up out there?” you took a sip from the cup of juice you had served yourself earlier, your mom’s dismissive expression returning back to a smile.

“Well the food around here is horrible! I told my nurse that they should let me in the kitchen for a change, but all she did was laugh!” You grinned at the idea of your mom actually working at the cafeteria for the sake of it.

"Ah well I’lll make sure to bring you something on Wednesday.”

“Did anything arrive in the mail today about the invoice for everything?” your mom asked, a look of worry now on her face.

“No ma, and don’t even worry about anything like that okay? Focus on your treatment, and you let me handle the rest alright?” your voice now becoming stern, leave it to your mom to start worrying about finances.

“I know, I know, but I know some fees were coming up and well—”

“And I’m telling you to leave it to me, okay?”

“Ah okay then, well I'm going to sleep already,” she yawned, “they’ve been prodding needles in me all day,” she tried to say it as lighthearted as she could, but she quickly regretted it as she saw the sudden sad look on your face.

“Goodnight ma, I’ll see you Wednesday alright?”

“Okay then Y/N, I love you.”

“I love you too,” and with a small pressured smile, you clicked “end call”. An immediate sigh coming from your lips as you glanced at the several unsealed envelopes on your coffee table, many of the scattered papers stamped with a red “PAST DUE”.

School, rent, the water bill, the light bill, the gas bill, your phone bill, the old hospital bills, the new ones, all due in such small amounts of time with almost no room in-between dates to rest.

And so that night you laid in bed staring at your ceiling for what felt like hours unable to go to sleep. The only thing on your mind was how you were going to get the funds to pay for everything because well if you didn’t then you’d be left in hospital debt with an eviction notice right at your door and a whole bunch of other problems that you didn’t want to think about.

Deciding that it was best to get a breath of fresh air, you made your way to the rooftop, watching as the scattered stars glimmered in the sky. You sorta wished that life could be like those childhood TV shows where a shooting star would pass by and make your wish all come true, but the fact was, is that your life isn’t a movie or a tv show. This was your reality, and you were just going to have to suck it up.

You unlocked your phone and texted the only person you possibly could.

[To: Yuna 🤍]

[10:09] you up??

You tapped your foot, waited for her to reply.

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:10] i'm offended that that’s even a question tbh

[you]

[10:11] you think you can come over? pleaseeee 🥺

[10:12] ik it’s late and you’re probably tired and work tmrw but i just rlly need some company rn

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:13] i’ll be there in 10, don’t judge how i look

[you]

[10:14] when have i ever…

Soon enough you heard a knock on your door.

“I brought your favorite snacks,” Yuna had a giant grin plastered on her face to which you couldn’t help but smile at. Her makeup-free face and bright Hello Kitty pajamas told you that she was probably in bed when you texted her.

Once she slid off her shoes, she was quick to make herself feel at home by jumping onto your couch. Hell, this was basically her second home.

“Do you work tomorrow?” you asked her.

“I called off, I’ve already accumulated a lot of hours anyway and well I might as well start putting them to use,” she stated, as she munched on a freshly opened bag of barbeque chips.

Yuna was a retail clerk at the local mall, attending fashion school at night in hopes of landing herself a future internship, but like you was currently on summer vacation. Even in middle school, becoming a world renowned fashion designer had always been her dream, having gone to the the principal’s office a countless number of times because she added some kind of tailor to the plain old school uniform whether it be bedazzles or embellishing some kind of bizarre pattern onto it.

Yuna though was sadly a case of a prodigy without the resources, accepted to one of Seoul’s top fashion schools when the two of you had graduated high school. You were there the day she opened her letter of acceptance, the two of you along with her family celebrating by going to one of Seoul’s most expensive restaurants. But just as you were there the day she was accepted, you were also her shoulder to cry on the day she realized that the money she had saved up wouldn’t even cover a quarter of tuition costs, and her applications for scholarships had all fallen through.

What you admired most about Yuna was that disappointment didn't stop her from trying. Her designs were truly one of a kind, and you weren’t even saying that because she was your best friend and had a bias towards her. You could only hope that one day she’d be recognized for her talents.

You grabbed your blanket from your room and sat next to her on the couch. She stared at you while you flicked through different channels on the TV, sensing that something was wrong.

You could practically feel her burning a hole through your head and so you decided to answer the question you knew was looming in her head, “I’m not okay,” you mumbled, letting out a sardonic laugh. “I’m trying to act like I am, but I'm just not,” you stared off into the TV not wanting to make eye contact with her, “it’s just not fair,” you whispered, confused with yourself as to whether you were sad or angry.

Yuna could feel her heart wrench as she listened.

“My mom’s been nothing but a kind person, I’ve been nothing but a kind person, and so I can’t help but ask why? What did we do to end up in a situation like this?” you hadn’t even realized that tears were falling from your eyes until you felt the salty drops of water make their way onto your lips, dripping from your chin, “The whole time I was in Mr. Choi’s condo looking around at the million dollar paintings, and organizing his wife’s thousand dollar outfits I kept thinking to myself how can a man like Mr. Choi just not care? He didn’t even bother to ask how she was...” you seethed, the emptiness in your voice had now become anger.

Yuna scoffed, “The rich are always looking down on us like we’re just nothing but money makers to them, demanding their respect like they deserve it for free.”

“I just,” you paused for a second, “I just don’t know what to do, I think I might have to start looking for a second job or something, or maybe even take a gap year...” you breathed out, running a hand through your hair in distress.

And maybe one could call it fate with what you and Yuna had seen on your TV that night. Destiny perhaps. Whatever it was, it was going to open the doors to a brand new world. A world that you had only ever caught small glimpses of.

“Kim Taehyung is officially Seoul’s most eligible bachelor, our sources have confirmed that he and on and off again girlfriend Sunhi have called it quits permanently this time. The reason you may ask? Rumor has it that she was caught cheating on him,” the entertainment reporter had a giant grin on her face, “That’s right ladies, the heir to Kim Enterprises is back on the market.”

Pictures which you assumed were recent showed Taehyung partying, drinking, flashing expensive cars, and at red carpet events for major fashion brands. “Tweet us using hasht—” you changed the channel on the TV, bored of the topic at hand.

“I swear he’s the only person they talk about nowadays, I mean literally he’s everywhere!” you chuckled, turning your attention to Yuna who for some odd reason now had a look of disbelief on her face.

“Y/N… how did I— no how did we not think of this earlier?” Yuna got up from the couch like an excited toddler causing you to tilt your head to the side in honest confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about now,” you said, laughing at how childish she looked. She was now pacing herself back and forth across your living room, her adrenaline practically visible.

“You know I don’t normally believe in this stuff but holy shit this has got to be a sign!” At this point you were convinced she was talking to herself considering she wasn’t even making direct eye contact when she said that. She frantically ran her hands through her hair, “I mean you have the quote on quote resources, the clothes, my fashion expertise, the car, the events, and he’s single now. Oh my God how did we not think of this,” you carefully listened to what she said trying to piece everything together. Resources? Clothes? Was she talking about Kim Taehyung?

Your eyes immediately widened when you put two and two together and realized what she was so excited about, and it was now your turn to get up from the couch.

“You’re literally insane you understand that right!?” you stared at her, completely baffled. You thought stopping her from pacing around would bring her back to reality and get that grin off her face, but if anything it did the opposite.

“Y/N! What are the chances that as we’re talking about your finance issues and then something like that comes up! What are the chances that you literally work for a millionaire who's going to be gone for several weeks and expects you to attend his events! You can’t tell me that this isn’t hmm… I don’t know… Fate!” All you could do was stare at her in disbelief as she began to mumble something about this being something “straight out of a movie”. You were waiting for her to laugh and tell you this was all some kind of joke, but you soon realized she was being serious.

“The fact that you’re actually being serious about this is ridiculous!”

“And the fact that you think it’s ridiculous is what’s really crazy!” you shook your head refusing to accept what she was alluding to.

“Yuna! Let’s be rational he—”

“No, just listen to me Y/N. Please,” you looked at Yuna who had now calmed down, her face completely serious, “I know it seems out of the ballpark…” you nodded in agreement, “You have the opportunity to infiltrate the rich, and not just anyone but the Kim family! You know how many rumors there are about that family and their business!” she shouted while adding extra emphasis on the word infiltrate as if this was some kind of spy movie.

You sighed, “And how exactly would I do that? How could I not get caught up in lies? Why the Kim family? Why not not just steal some of Mr. Choi’s belongings and sell them on Ebay or something? Just what exactly are y—”

“You didn’t let me finish!” you grunted in annoyance. There were just so many questions running through your head, did she not realize the risk in what she was proposing? The consequences?

“You’re a stranger in their world, a brand new person … a brand new identity! You already have to go to these events as it is, and you can’t steal anything from Mr. Choi and sell it because I mean clearly he knows who you are. They, as in the rich, do not,” Yuna knew she had managed to grab your attention based on the look of skepticism on your face, “And technically you’re not going to be stealing Mrs. Choi’s clothes, you’ll be um ... borrowing them.” she flashed a giddy smile, “10 weeks Y/N, 10 weeks to get Kim Taehyung to fall in love with you, blackmail money out of that family, and then poof you disappear without a trace!”

“You have no idea how many questions are running through my head at this very moment.”

“And I think I can give you answers to them all, but please Y/N just think about it! It would solve all of your problems, financially at least,” you jokingly hit her shoulder as she teased you with the last part of her sentence, “you wouldn’t be doing it for yourself, you’d be doing it for your mom.”

“For my mom…” you mumbled to yourself. Yuna stared at your blank expression. She could only assume that you were letting everything sink in before making a decision. On one hand you’d be able to pay for all of your expenses while still getting your job done, but on the other you'd be using someone under a false pretense in order to blackmail money out of them. You’d literally be infiltrating the rich. You were scared. What if you got caught? Would you go to jail? What would happen to your mom?

You had made your decision.

“I trust you Yuna… I really do…” she now had a worrisome look on her face, “and so..” without even realizing it Yuna had been crossing her fingers, “I’m in.”

“Oh my God,” she let out a sigh of both relief and disbelief, a beaming smile on her face.

“But!” her smile quickly disappeared after hearing your tone, “we need to plan this thoroughly, like a solid proof plan by tonight on pen and paper, you got me?” she nodded in agreement, “and I think there’s someone we need involved in this... “

She tilted her head in confusion.

“Who?”

Tuesday Morning.

“Yuna this is Hoseok, Hoseok this is Yuna,” the two shook hands giving one another a warm smile.

Yuna began eyeing you in a way of saying “Are you sure about this?”. You understood why she was skeptical of Yuna whether or not she’d agree to everything, hell you had your own doubts. What if Hoseok said no? Worse, what if he completely snitched you out? Then you’d be stuck with no job, no money, and probably blacklisted from all major companies in Seoul by Mr. Choi himself with the label “thief” over your head. You had to reassure yourself that everything would be just fine, “So what brings you guys here?”

“Well I was hoping I could talk to you um…” you glanced around, “somewhere private,” you whispered giving him a shy smile, “maybe up in Mr. Choi’s condo,” you offered remembering that Rachel could possibly be hearing (though you highly doubted she’d care).

“Oh um… sure, let me just tell Rachel to cover for me,” he awkwardly dismissed himself to the back.

“I don’t know Y/N … he seems like the type of person to not want to risk his job..” Yuna whispered to you, she was clearly on high alert.

“He told me I could ask him for anything, and well I know I’ve only known her for about 24 hours, but I don’t know… something about him just seems reliable, I can't explain it. It’s just better to have him on our team than to be suspicious of us. I can’t do this whole infiltration thing being paranoid that the receptionist is going to snitch on me when he sees me walk out with clothes worth thousands of dollars,” you replied, “And if this really is playing out as a movie like you say, then we need someone whose tech savvy.”

“You have a point,” she chuckled, “wait how do you know he’s good at computers again?”

Your mind flashed back to the night before, while Yuna was asleep you had gone full stalker mode on Hoseok to get to the bottom of who he was. After hours of looking through different social media platforms you had ended up finding both his Twitter and Instagram @/junghsk, where he had pictures of his college graduation from 2 years ago. Major? Computer Science. It explained why he looked like he was in some Matrix movie the other day, and though of course it didn't mean automatically he was an expert, he definitely must’ve been better than both you and Yuna combined when it came to programming which is something (based on your plan) you were going to need for future endeavors.

You also came to find out that he was an avid animal lover, taught cardio dance classes on morning weekends, likes to live tweet show series such as Games of Thrones, and is in a committed relationship with someone named Min Yoongi. What could you say? You liked to do intensive research.

Once Hoseok returned the three of you went up to Mr. Choi’s condo, the elevator ride up was definitely awkward compared to the day before.

Yuna was in clear awe of the place. You could tell she wanted to give herself a personal tour, but you shot her a look dismissing the idea as she could easily do that later.

“We should sit,” you suggested pointing to the kitchen’s island, "Yuna can make us all some instant ramen,” she immediately shot you a look of annoyance, but didn’t argue with you making her way to the pantry.

“So...” he quietly mumbled at an attempt to break the ice, making small tapping noises on the island’s surface with his fingers.

Flashing him a pretentious smile, you awkwardly glanced around trying to think of something to make small talk with, “Um do you like Games of Thrones?”

Immediately he grinned, you expected a “yes” to come out of his mouth but instead he said, “Ah so that was you yesterday!”

The color drained out of your face , wait what? He began to laugh, making small claps as he threw his head back, “You were stalking me,” his face scrunched up as he began to tease you.

“What are you talking about?” your tone becoming defensive along with your eyebrows furrowing, only causing his fits of laughter to become louder. His index finger wiping the tears that began to form in his eyes.

“Don’t act like you didn't like and unlike my picture at like 3 in the morning!” He suddenly pulled out his phone, showing the notification which he hadn’t cleared from his phone, showing your username and the words “liked your photo” following right after. You had forgotten about that...

It was already 3AM and you were beginning to doze off, eyelids barely even open. You saw the white heart on Instagram appear on a 56 week old picture which you immediately unliked, also causing you to jolt out of your comfortable position in panic.

Damn you Instagram. “Whatever you need must be pretty important if you’re up at 3AM instastalking me.”

“Oh shut up—”

“Well since you were on there, what hair color do you prefer on me: red, brown, or black?” You scowled before muttering a quiet “brown”. “Really I’ve been told red looks best on me, hmm...” he pondered, pressing his index finger onto his bottom lip. "So are you going to tell me what this is all about anytime soon or ...” he said, his tone coming out more demanding than he intended, but Hoseok was the kind of person that didn’t like to beat around the bush, rather preferring to be told things straight up as they were.

“Okay..” You started, explaining to him of your situation starting from your mom, to the bills you needed to pay, why this job just wasn’t enough, why you needed to go ahead with your plan, why you needed him to be in on everything, and emphasizing that you weren’t doing this for yourself but your mom. By the time you finished explaining, Yuna was already done making the noodles.

Hoseok sat there in silence, you could hear your heart from your chest, your fingers getting slightly sweaty as you thought of the different possible outcomes. The deafening silence had made you feel like you guys were there for hours. Honestly, you could have heard a pin drop.

It wasn’t until you saw his signature smile beginning to form on his face that you could’ve sworn you felt bricks actually fall off your shoulders.

“Okay let’s do it,” he stated as he began to slurp on his noodles.

“You’re in?” Yuna asked in complete shock, eyes completely widened. He nodded in return clearly enjoying his food, “You don’t have any questions? No concerns?”

Hoseok shrugged, “Mm well of course I’m curious as to what exactly the plan is, which I’m sure you’ll be explaining to me soon, but nope. I’d probably say no if the cause wasn’t for something important,” he looked at you giving a warm compassionate smile, “and this has got to be the most interesting thing that’s happened on this job for the past 2 years so there’s that,” his brows knitting remembering past situations with residents, “and lastly these snobs deserve what’s coming to them,” he finished off causing all three of you to laugh.

“Well then cheers to mission… ummm... “ Yuna placed her finger on her chin, causing you to facepalm yourself as she was trying to think of a name for something so irrelevant.

“7 Rings,” Hoseok interjected , “like the Ariana Grande song. I want it, I got it!”

“You like my hair gee thanks just bought it!” you guys simultaneously sang at the top of your lungs, clinking each other’s drinks.

And so that was how mission “7 Rings” came into fruition, but of course like everything else in the world, nothing ever goes as planned. If only you had realized then that things were going to change, whether they were for the better or for the worse… well that was for you to find out on your own.

author’s note 🧚🏻 : SK has universal health care but for the sake of the plot we’re going to have to pretend they have a private healthcare system so please don’t attack me lmao. Also please like & repost as it keeps me motivated to write and update faster !! Thank you in advance if you do 💞

#btswritingcafe #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #taehyung fic #taehyung/reader #taehyung fanfic #tae fic #tae fanfic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung series #7 Rings #kim taehyung #kth #kth fanfic

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927roses-and-stuff · 4 years

Text

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 3: Unwelcome Discoveries (Part 1)

Hey, guys! This fic is inspired by @ozmav mav’s Maribat AU. Shoutout to @mystery-5-5 for brainstorming ideas with me for this fic.

Midterms have got me acting up. Despite the quarantine, I literally wasn’t motivated to write until the moment I could use writing to procrastinate. Absolutely brilliant logic. Truly. Thank you guys so much for the wait and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

P.S. For the sake of continuity, I’m going to ignore the Heroes United thing because that episode was basically a fanfic of the fanfic and as much as I loved the animation and the new characters...I’ve seen better plots and explanations for a lot of the similar problems in the Maribat fandom. Also Sparrow is probably a reference to Batman, anyways. Also, canon has just gone out the window...I guess...whoops.

P.P.S. Swearing tw, death tw.

Please remember this is rated M for a reason. Also, it is my headcanon that not everyone who dies during the akuma attacks come back. Of course, it’s not mentioned in a children’s show, but I’ve always seen the Miraculous Cure as a cure for physical, non-living objects as they’re easier to fix, and lives take a lot more effort and energy from the user to revive. And since Marinette is a child, there’s not going to be a lot of energy to spare.

Tag list: @northernbluetongue @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn @zerotosiki

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To the members of the Justice League…

I am writing to you as Chat Noir, superhero of Paris and holder of the Black Cat Miraculous of Destruction, and partner to Ladybug, the official Guardian and the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous of Creation. I come to you with a plea similar to ones that we have sent you a year ago. The magical terrorist, Hawkmoth, is still at large here in Paris, France. If you are not aware of who he is, Hawkmoth is a domestic terrorist in Paris who relies on the power of the Butterfly Miraculous to create a physical and amplified manifestation of a person’s negative emotions, using the victim as a host, using magical butterflies as his form of transmission. These are called akumas. The akuma allows Hakwmoth to essentially get inside the mind of his victims and manipulate and amplify their emotions. We have been fortunate enough to have a failsafe in Ladybug, who can repair any physical damages, and even bring back lives, from these attacks. However, both Ladybug and I have reached our wits’ ends with no lead to Hawkmoth’s true identity. The people of Paris are suffering both from emotional trauma and the physical trauma of being subjugated, manipulated, experiencing bouts of amnesia, and even resurrecting multiple times. Hawkmoth has even taken to exclusively targeting a middle-school class at College Francois-Dupont.

Ladybug and I are aware of the risks superhero presence may bring since we will not survive a fight if any more experienced superheroes such as yourselves are akumatized. However, I feel that we have no other choice. Our Master has recently been put out of commission and the rest of our comrades have had their identities compromised. Ladybug is now the Guardian of the rest of the Miraculous. And although she will not approve of my plea, even your advice or insight will be of use to us.

Please consider our plight and contact us as soon as you can.

Chat Noir

Bruce Wayne was not a perfect man, he will admit. However, he did pride himself on his sense of logic and adaptability to most situations, as long as they stayed within the mortal realms of believability that is. Magic, however, or anything pertaining to the supernatural was out of his forte; in fact, he often liked to pretend it did not exist despite having acquaintances and enemies whose entire lives revolved around it. There was a reason he did not tolerate the prolonged presence of meta-humans in Gotham, after all.

He re-read through the email once, twice, again and again, desperately wishing that it had not been his shift to look through the messages that the Justice League received on a daily basis. Why couldn’t it have been Superman or Wonder Woman? Or better yet, Dr. Fate or Zatanna, never mind the fact that the latter was technically retired. Any of them would’ve made sense of this gibberish that was laid out in front of him.

Initially, he thought it had been a coded message. It made perfect sense, in his opinion. The only concrete fact he could dissect out of this nonsense was the presence of a domestic terrorist and how they were targeting some middle school students for whatever reason. His mind recalled the recent conversation he had with André Bourgeois yesterday. Even he had mentioned a domestic terrorist going after his daughter’s class, which was why he reached out to Bruce, since Bruce would be the most fitted to protect them with his resources, despite Gotham being the crime capital of the world. He nodded to himself; the facts were consistent then. There was a terrorist and middle school students were the targets.

On one of the other screen monitors, he had pulled up records of College Francois Dupont School for a background check using a VPN to connect to French service networks. Both the email from this Chat Noir (Selina would get a kick out of that) and André failed to mention the terrorist’s intentions with these kids. However, looking through the different classes, there had been a special note besides Mme. Bustier’s class that stated:

“High vulnerability to akumas.”

This was where Bruce was once again stumped. Of course, he really couldn’t deny the existence of magic, but accepting that meant accepting that the terrorist used magical butterflies as his form of attack. Bruce wasn’t a qualified psychologist or any sort of specialist, but surely magical butterflies could not give you emotional trauma, mind-control, or even as Chat Noir had implied, a means to murder.

Bruce scanned through Mme. Bustier’s class to look for anything that might be different from other classes. If he recalled correctly, this was the same class that André’s kid was in. He took note of the name, Chloé Bourgeois, and other notable names such as Adrien Agreste (who’s father was a fashion mogul and a model in his own right), Lila Rossi (a diplomat’s daughter), Max Kanté (a genius, and he noted to himself to see if that held true when the class was under his supervision), Marinette Dupain-Cheng (the class president and the designer of a recent rock album according to Jason who had obsessed over the cover for a few weeks before Alfred confiscated it), and Alya Césaire (an aspiring journalist who ran a blog called the Ladyblog).

Okay, he rationalized. While not all of these kids were significant, some, like the Mayor’s own daughter, would be prime targets for a terrorist, so that made some sort of sense in Bruce’s mind.

He sighed again, wishing that he had a cup of coffee or an energy drink with him at the moment. Unfortunately, Tim’s recent addiction meant no one could have it. Bruce scoffed underneath his breath. Alfred had really weird rules when it came to show “family support.” Tim was a grown man who should suffer his own consequences. Alas, no one argues with Alfred lest they risked his wrath.

Bruce hovered over the link under Mlle. Césaire’s file, the Ladyblog. Perhaps it would give him some answers.

As a bright ladybug designed website popped up, Bruce realized he might have been so wrong.

He scrolled through the website thoroughly from the latest posts to the earliest. He noticed a concerning trend where the later blog posts centered more around one of Césaire’s classmates, Lila Rossi, and shaky videos of a red and black spotted figurem and a black cat figure fleeing the scene, or fighting some sort of abomination that Bruce did not even attempt to understand. In one video it was the two heroes against a flock of pigeons, or a gigantic baby, or whatever else. Bruce had half a mind to dismiss the entire blog as based on falsities, however one of the videos caught his eye.

It was a video titled: “Syren: Paris Going Underwater!!”

That was concerning, considering a flooded Paris would’ve featured on international news, not just on an amateur blog by a middle schooler. Fortunately for him, the video quality was clearer, allowing him to watch as the camera recorded the scene of that day.

Bruce jolted awake and snapped to attention when he realized it was being filmed on a rooftop, and that the water levels were still rising as the video progressed. From what the camera captured, there were only a handful of people on each rooftop; not even making up a fifth of the Parisian population in total.

What the fuck?

Then, as the video concluded, gigantic swarms of red and white bugs (ladybugs?) filled the camera’s frame and when it disappeared, everything was back to what he presumed was normal. The video then faded to black, posting statistics that chilled Bruce to the fucking bone.

“Death count: 1.528 million Parisians

Resurrection count: 1.51 million Parisians

Injured count: 10 000 Parisians

Permanent death count: 18 000 Parisians

In honour of the Parisians who were not revived and were injured during the attack, the Ladyblog, offers our condolences, and will help in any way we can online and offline. The akuma victim, as always, will remain anonymous for safety purposes. Links to help organizations and donation funds to the peoples and families affected will be posted below. Additional links will be posted for available online mental health services.”

And, if Chat Noir was to be believed, some people had died multiple times.

After making sure the video was not doctored in any way (though that would be cruel to assume about a kid’s blog), Bruce sent Chat Noir’s email (along with the earlier videos from both heroes and an email from Marinette Dupain-Cheng that he had found) and all of the links he had amassed to his own computer in the Bat Cave before closing all the tabs on the monitors. Swerving around, he stormed to the Batmobile, eyebrows furrowed in solemnity.

Magic or not, whatever terrorist was plaguing Paris had a pretty damn high casualty count, and the only people that were stopping him were this Ladybug and Chat Noir people, who did not seem to be properly equipped (the Ladybug heroine was using a yoyo, for fuck’s sake) to deal with someone of this power. Not to mention, Bruce winced, their mentor was “out of commission” whatever that meant, with their peers being compromised, so they probably had no outside help.

And it seems, Bruce’s features darkened into a scowl, his dear friend André Bourgeois had a lot of explaining to do. Police department has it handled, his ass.

In the meantime, he was going to make damn sure the class under his care would have a relaxing reprieve even if he had to lock up every villain in Arkham Asylum himself.

________________________________________________________________

Dear Diary,

The talk with Chat was a bust. I know he thinks I don’t trust him, but I wish he knew how much I’m trying to, but it’s not as simple as he makes it out to be...right? And of course I trust him with my life, but as the Guardian, I can’t just make impulsive decisions like going to other superheroes, especially when there’s no guarantee they would help us, or can even be trusted in the first place! And I can’t just reveal our identities to each other either. It would put Chat and the rest of the Miraculous at risk. And I really don’t want a repeat of Chat Blanc…

That future will never happen on my watch. I forbid it.

Speaking of other superheroes, I think there might be someone though, who could help us, even a little bit.

Marianne.

She wasn’t a Guardian, but she was a Ladybug user for a while and was really close to Master Fu. She must know something. She’s in London so she might not be available but...

I’ll check up on her today after class! If she has any helpful advice, I’ll be sure to share it with Chat too.

Gotta go!

Bisoux,

Marinette

Scrambling to get ready, Marinette fumbled with her pigtails and shoulder bag simultaneously, trying to make sure that her pigtails were just right. Tikki zoomed around, helping her get ready by shoving stray pens and pencils into her pockets. When they were done, Marinette rushed downstairs, swiping one of the freshly-made quiche along the way. Just before she exited the store, she turned back to give her Maman and Papa a smooch. Hastily, she then left the bakery, the bakery’s bell ringing behind her as she sprinted to school.

It was a mystery for most people, but despite living less than five minutes away from the school, Marinette was always late. Marinette liked to blame her Ladybug duties when Tikki asked, but she knew better. She had the habit of being late since before she knew the Miraculous existed.

To be fair though, Marinette usually slept in because she was exhausted from schoolwork, designing,

and Ladybug duties. Was it her fault that Hawkmoth liked making 3 AM akumas? Was it her fault that coffee- for all the espresso and sugar she dumped into it, and despite all those hipster blogs saying otherwise- did nothing to help her stay awake? Of course not. If anything she was a victim here; a victim of late night akumas and faulty biology.

Fortunately for her (and her quiche), she was actually earlier today than usual. She could see students milling around the courtyard behind the school. Some sat with their friend groups while others huddled to catch up on the homework from the night before.

Unfortunately, one of those groups was Lila and her friends. Lila sat on one of the picnic tables, talking about whatever grand adventure she supposedly went on or whichever famous celebrity she supposedly saved from a rare type of cancer or something while her friends sat around her, captivated with every word. Marinette rolled her eyes. It was too early for this.

She steered away from them towards the other side of the yard, where she could see Alya and Nino cuddling while finishing their homework. She glanced back at Lila, who waved at the couple before going back to whatever story she was regaling to her loving audience. It was probably because Alya and Nino hadn’t seen Lila greet them in the first place, but Marinette couldn’t help feeling a bit happy that they didn’t return her greeting.

“Morning, guys!” She greeted as she approached their table, sitting on the other side.

Alya looked up first. “Hey! You woke up early today,” she teased, giving her shoulder a friendly nudge.

“Heh, guess it’s my lucky day today,” she said. As she sat down, she began eating the quiche she had swiped earlier. “Well, almost, anyway.”

Alya rolled her eyes and smirked. “You live in front of the school. It’s your own damn fault at this point.”

Nino, who had been pouring over a worksheet that was due today, finally looked up. Upon seeing Marinette, he smiled. “Hey, dude. You’re actually early!”

At Marinette’s exasperated groan, both Alya and Nino fell into giggles, Marinette shortly following along.

“Keep that up, and I’m not gonna let you guys eat at my place for lunch,” she teased, wagging a finger at them.

Alya wagged her own finger, engaging in a finger sword fight. “As if your mom would ever let us starve!”

Marinette laughed, as she wrapped her finger around Alya’s and lightly slammed it onto the table, declaring her victory.

“Okay, okay, you got me.” Marinette went back to eating her quiche, devouring it before it got too cold. For once, she was in a pretty good mood.

“Hey, Alya, Nino,”

And of course, she just had to jinx it.

Marinette didn’t even try to join in the conversation to acknowledge Lila’s presence. If Lila wanted to talk to her, she needed to stop lying about everything; and with her supposed “lying disease,” that wasn’t happening anytime soon. She only wished Adrien was here so someone could sympathize with her.

“Oh, hey Lila,” Alya greeted, having gained her hand back and waved. “Ignore Nino here. He forgot about Mendeleiv’s worksheet due today.”

“Oh, I see.” Lila said. “Well, you know, Nino. If you ever need help with science, one of my cousins actually won a Noble Peace Prize for his contributions in molecular chemistry.”

Nino, to his credit, only muttered an “uh huh” before turning the worksheet over and frantically scribbling all over it. Marinette briefly wondered if Nino understood what he was writing down- or if he cared.

Alya perked up. “Wow, that’s amazing Lila! What did your cousin do?”

Lila smiled bashfully, and looked away, waving her hand. “Oh, you know, it was the discovery of some man-made element.” Marinette had to give Lila credit- she knew how to fake her blushes really well. “I’m nowhere near as smart as my cousin, you know? All the scientific words get me so confused!”

Marinette buried her head in her arms. Did she need to be here for this? She could just slip away? Glancing at Lila, who caught her eyes, she decided against it. Like hell she was letting Lila take away her time with her friends.

Alya laughed good-naturedly. “Oh, I understand completely. English is so much more of my forté, you know?”

“Yeah I totally get what you mean.” Lila stopped laughing as her gaze landed on Marinette. Only she seemed to notice the glare she gave her. “Oh, hi, Marinette. Glad to see you’re early today.”

“Yeah,” she deadpanned. “Hi.” With a fake smile, she robotically waved at her.

“Well, anyways I got to go. See you later Alya.” Lila said, waving her fingers before finally walking away. Marinette exhaled. Thank kwami. She may have been less obnoxious today but that was probably because of Alya’s presence.

Speaking of, the said girl turned towards her. “You could be nicer towards her.”

“She almost got me expelled.” Marinette had had this conversation with Alya many times before. At this point, her responses came like clockwork. She contemplated telling Alya’s threat back in Lila’s first day, but she really wasn’t ready for the backlash if Alya accused her of lying.

“Well,” Alya stuttered. “It was because she has an illness that makes her lie uncontrollably.”

Marinette was pretty sure there was no such illness but at this point, Lila had somehow convinced everyone it was an actual illness. That, or no one wanted to point out the obvious lie, including administration. Which would be pretty negligent of the school admin so she hoped not.

“Alya, if it was just an illness that makes her tell lies, pray tell, who put the test answers in my bag and the necklace in my locker?” she asked.

“Maybe, well,” Alya tried coming up with an answer but failed, thereby changing the subjects. “Look, both of you are my friends, and I don’t want to get in between the two of you.”

Marinette sighed. “Yeah, yeah.” She picked up the discarded quiche container and her bag. “I gotta go to class and see if Mme. Bustier needs help.”

Alya frowned. “Marinette, wait.”

“It’s okay, really.” Marinette assured her, before walking away. When she was climbing up the steps to the entrance, she sighed heavily. She didn’t really understand Alya’s logic sometimes. If she knew about Lila’s supposed lying disease, why did she put Lila’s trash on the Ladyblog? If Alya knew Lila’s lies had led to Marinette’s initial expulsion, why still defend her? Marinette shook the thoughts away, not wanting to get into that impeding headache. Lila Rossi was never worth her time.

When she reached the entrance, Lila was leaning against the doors, her arms crossed. Her olive green eyes were glaring right at her.

“Dupain-Cheng.”

“Rossi.”

Lila strutted up to her, getting uncomfortably close to her face. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t play along.”

Marinette stared back, unimpressed. She really had more pressing issues than this weird power play Lila wanted to play. Leaning back and stepping to the side, she said, “I already told you I’m not scared of you, Lila.”

Marinette didn’t spare her another glance. In some ways, she pitied Lila. What kind of life did you have that you were so desperate for attention you lied about everything, and tried to get rid of anyone else who called you out?

She really hoped Alya would soon see sense. Adrien had once told her to take the high road, and honestly? Sometimes, it felt good to not let Lila’s lies get under her skin.

Then again, when did Lila ever go down so simply?

#miraclesingotham #maribat #its so long itll be two parts #rip #tw:death #tw: swearing #it was rated m for a reason guys #daminette #not there yet tho #mlb season 3 spoilers #maribat fanfic #mlb x dc #ml x dc

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saltandburnsis · 4 years

Text

dead in the water, pt. 2

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam

Age: 20

Warnings: Drowning mention

Word Count: 2,993

Summary: The investigation brings on new connections, revelations and deaths around every corner as you and your brothers get closer to finding the real monster of Lake Manitoc.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent messages while I was away. I appreciate every one of you so, so much. Thankfully (and miraculously) both of my grandparents have made full recoveries. (Still positive for COVID but symptom-free.) As usual, all dialogue taken directly from the episode will be in italics.

~ ~ ~ ~

“So, there’s the three drowning victims from this year,” Sam said, his eyes never leaving the computer screen in front of him. You were going through the clothes with Dean, silently planning a trip to the local laundromat as the “too used to wear again” pile grew larger and larger by the second.

“And before that?” Dean asked, lifting a shirt to his nose before setting it down on the bed beside him—the first of few wearable clothes.

“Uh, yeah. Six more, spread out over the past 35 years. Those bodies were never recovered, either. If there is something out there, it’s picking up its pace,” Sam replied.

“So, what? We got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean threw a pair of jeans to the large pile behind you.

“This whole lake monster theory—it just bugs me,” you cut in, mimicking your eldest brother’s actions. At this rate, you’d spend more time at the laundromat than working on the case.

“Why?” Dean asked. Sam continued to click through the articles on his screen.

“Loch Ness, Lake Champlain—there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, there’s almost nothing. Whatever is out there, no one’s living to talk about it,” you explained. Dean walked over to Sam, standing behind him and reading over his shoulder. He pointed at one of the articles.

“Bar. Christopher Bar. Where have I heard that name before?” he asked.

“Christopher Bar, the victim in May,” Sam mused, clicking around a bit to find the article he was looking for.

“Isn’t that Andrea’s last name?” you asked as he searched, making your way over to the table and leaning over Sam’s right shoulder. He pulled up the article he was looking for, and the three of you were met with a picture of Lucas. He was wrapped in a towel, and you could only assume it was his grandfather standing beside him.

“Huh. Christopher Bar was Andrea’s husband. Lucas’s father. Apparently, he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued,” Sam summarized. He clicked on the picture so it filled the screen, Lucas’s terrified face staring back at you.

“Maybe we have an eyewitness after all,” you said, moving away from the table and looking anywhere but the picture. Dean did the same, though his eyes were locked on the computer screen.

“No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn’t something you just get over.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Dean pulled up to the playground, and parked. He didn’t shut the car off, however, until he’d surveyed the area and spotted Andrea.

“Let’s go” was all he said before getting out of the car. He waited for you and Sam to get out before starting the walk over to where Andrea sat.

“Can we join you?” Sam asked once the three of you were in close proximity to her. Andrea looked up at the three of you and smiled.

“I’m here with my son,” she replied, glancing over at Lucas before turning back to you.

“Oh. Mind if I say ‘hi’?” Dean asked. Without waiting for a response, he turned away and walked towards Lucas. Andrea scoffed, smiling, and looked back at you and Sam.

“Tell your friend this whole “Jerry McGuire” thing’s not going to work on me,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s what this is about,” you answered, giving her a small, reassuring smile before looking back at Dean. Andrea mimicked your smile before turning her attention to Dean and her son. She rose from her seat and stood beside you on your left, Sam to your right. The three of you watched in an awkward silence for a moment, like parents only congregated to ensure their children’s safety. You decided to break the tense stillness.

“So, has Lucas always been so…reserved?” You asked, watching as Lucas almost refused to acknowledge Dean’s presence. A humorless laugh escaped Andrea’s lips, and she turned to face you.

“No, no. He used to be so talkative when he was younger. He shut down when his dad passed.”

“We’re sorry to hear that,” Sam interjected when Andrea paused. She sighed, crossing her arms. “I’ve taken him to therapists…done everything under the sun that I could, but still, Lucas hasn’t said a word. Not even to me. Not since his dad’s accident.”

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry,” said Dean as he went to stand beside her.

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam asked. Andrea sighed again, a sort of exasperated sigh that usually accompanied information relayed countless times.

“Oh, that it’s a kind of post-traumatic stress,” she replied. Something about her tone led you to believe she didn’t believe that herself.

“That can’t be easy for either of you,” you sympathized.

“We moved in with my dad. That helps a lot. It’s just…when I think about what Lucas went through—what he saw…” Andrea trailed off, focusing her gaze back on her son.

“Kids are strong. You’d be surprised what they can deal with,” Dean assured her.

“You know, he used to have such life. He was so hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth.” Her nostalgic smile was short-lived as her thoughts settled back in the present. “Now, he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—” She cut herself off when Lucas approached, bending slightly to greet the boy. “Hey, sweetie.” Lucas kept his eyes on the ground in front of him, but went to Dean’s side and held out a picture.

“Thanks.” Dean took the picture and looked down at it. “Thanks, Lucas.” He turned his head to look back at the younger boy, but he’d already set back toward the bench. Andrea watched him for a moment then looked back at Dean, mouth slightly agape.

~ ~ ~ ~

The door of your motel room swung open and Sam walked in, letting it shut itself.

“So, I think it’s safe to say we can rule out Nessie,” he announced. He looked to Dean, who sat at the end of the bed currently covered in clothes—clean clothes you’d just brought back from the laundromat.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked as Sam sat at the edge of the second bed.

“I just drove by the Carlton’s house,” he explained. “There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.”

“He drowned?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“Yep, in the sink.”

“What the hell? So, Y/N is right; this isn’t a creature. We’re dealing with something else,” said Dean.

“Yeah, but what?” you asked, dropping the shirt in your hands. Sam shook his head.

“I don’t know. A water wraith maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water…” Dean trailed off, and the three of you looked at each other, eyes widening with the revelation you seemed to come to simultaneously. “Water that comes from the same source.”

“The lake,” you continued your brother’s thoughts. “Which would explain why it’s upping the body count. The lake is draining. It’ll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it’s running out of time.”

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone almost anywhere,” Sam added.

“This is going to happen again soon.” Dean moved to sit at the table and began putting his shoes back on, ready to go after this thing. You grabbed your boots from their spot beside the bed.

“And we do know one other thing for sure,” Sam continued. “We know that this has got something to do with Bill Carlton.”

“Yeah. It took both his kids,” you said, pointing out the obvious in Sam’s statement as you tied your laces.

“And I’ve been asking around. Lucas’s dad, Chris—Bill Carlton’s godson,” Sam revealed.

“Let’s go pay Mr. Carlton a visit,” Dean decided, rising from his seat.

~ ~ ~ ~

As if he’d never moved from the last time the three of you visited his home, Bill Carlton sat on his dock, looking out at the water. His back was to the house, and he made no move to acknowledge your arrival at any point as the three of you walked over. His grief was obvious in his movements—or lack of, that is—but it was a whole other thing to see the despair on his face, the sorrow in his eyes when you approached the man.

“Mr. Carlton?” Sam asked. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“We’re from the Department of-”

“I don’t care who you’re with,” Bill cut Dean off. “I’ve answered enough questions today.” His voice quivered as he spoke, always on the verge of tears. You stepped forward to speak with him.

“Your son said he saw something in that lake. What about you? You ever see anything out there?” Your voice was empathetic, but professional—you’d found it was enough to give you an air of authority, but comforting enough to allow you to gain the trust of your witness. Bill, however, remained silent, refusing to meet your gaze. “Mr. Carlton, Sophie’s drowning and Will’s death—we think there might be a connection. To you or your family.”

“My children are gone. It’s…it’s worse than dying.” Bill blinked away tears and finally turned to look up at you. The air fell still for a moment, punctuating his words. He turned away before he spoke again. “Go away…please.” Dean nudged you before nodding his head in the direction of the car. You wouldn’t get anywhere badgering him any further. Sam and Dean left the dock, but you stayed planted in your spot, pursing your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Bill only looked down at the ground and shut his eyes. With that, you finally turned and followed your brothers back to the car.

“What do you think?” Sam asked once you were back at the car and out of Bill’s earshot.

“I think the poor guy’s been through hell. I also think he’s not telling us something.” Dean answered.

“So now what?” Sam asked, resting his arms on the hood of the car. You went to stand beside him, ready to get in, but Dean had stopped and was now looking up at the house.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Huh. Maybe Bill’s not the only one who knows something.” He pulled Lucas’s picture out of his jacket pocket and held it out in front of him. The drawing was identical to the house standing before you.

~ ~ ~ ~

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Andrea said, putting her hands on her hips.

“I just need to talk to him, just for a few minutes,” Dean pleaded.

“He won’t say anything. What good’s it gonna do?” Andrea asked him. Sam was the one to answer her.

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something’s happening out there.”

“My husband, the others—they just drowned. That’s all.” Andrea shook her head, adamant in her beliefs. You sighed.

“If that’s what you really believe, then we’ll go,” you said. “But if you think there’s even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let Dean talk to your son.” Andrea didn’t reply, and she cast her gaze downward. You could practically see the gears turning as she weighed the pros and cons of letting the three of you upstairs. Moments later, she looked back at the three of you and nodded.

“Alright.” She moved past you and walked up the stairs, motioning for the three of you to follow. You stood against the wall once you’d all reached Lucas’s room, standing close enough to see what was going on, but far enough back to give Dean space to do his thing without an audience. He stepped into the room and knelt down on the floor beside Lucas.

“Hey, Lucas. Remember me?” It was silent for a moment as he looked down at two of Lucas’s pictures. “You know, I, uh…I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.” Dean pulled the picture of the Carlton house out of his pocket and set it down in front of Lucas. “How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me. You’re scared.” Dean nodded. “It’s okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn’t feel like talking, just like you. But, see, my mom, I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that everyday. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe your dad wants you to be brave, too.” You quickly wiped a tear from your eye. The three of you had always had a bond, having lost your mothers to demons at such young ages, but Dean was the only one with real, concrete memories of Mary. Having been two when your own mother passed, you had a vague recollection of her, but nothing as real as what Dean had.

Suddenly, Angela’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open again. You looked back into the room to see what you had missed. Lucas was looking up at Dean, meeting his eyes. He grabbed another picture and held it out to your brother. Dean looked down at it then smiled at the boy. “Thanks, Lucas.”

~ ~ ~ ~

You sat in the back of the car, leaning forward and looking over Sam’s shoulder at the picture he held in his hands. Dean sped down the street, headed back towards the motel.

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that ’til his dad died,” Dean said.

“There are cases. Going through a traumatic experience could make certain people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies—” Sam relayed some Supernatural Psychology 101, but was cut off by Dean.

“Whatever’s out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow?” He asked. Sam started to respond, but Dean continued his thought. “I mean, it’s only a matter of time before somebody else drowns. So if you got a better lead, please.”

“Alright,” Sam relented. “We got another house to find.”

“The only problem is, there’s about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone,” Dean complained. You reached forward and took the picture from Sam, moving it so Dean could better see it.

“See this church?” You asked, pointing to the building in the foreground. “Bet there’s less than a thousand of those around here.”

“Oh, kid thinks she’s so smart,” Dean mocked. You smirked.

“Only ‘cause I am,” you responded triumphantly, sitting back in your seat and setting the picture down next to you. Sam chuckled at the two of you before looking at Dean, shifting the mood of the car when he began to speak.

“You know, uh, what you said about mom—you never told me that before.” Dean kept his eyes on the road ahead.

“It’s no big deal,” he replied, voice monotone. He looked over at Sam when the younger brother refused to look away and grimaced. “Oh, god, we’re not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?” Sam smiled but shook his head, finally turning away from Dean. The two of them remained silent, though, and you decided to break the tension.

“Aw, look at college boy, all in touch with his feelings,” you teased, reaching forward to push on Sam’s shoulder. “You’re turning it into a real chick-flick in here.” You sat back and smiled when your brothers started laughing; your job was done.

~ ~ ~ ~

It had taken a little over half an hour to find the location from Lucas’s drawing, but your assertion had been correct and the three of you had found the white church and, subsequently, the yellow house with relative ease. You had opted to stay in the car this time, letting Sam and Dean go investigate this part of the puzzle. You didn’t have a good feeling about what they were going to find, and after your encounter with Bill, you thought it best to stay back, lest you start getting emotional. Sam and Dean were back in the car within twenty minutes and as always, were quick to fill you in on their discoveries.

“Okay, this little boy, Peter Sweeney, vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow,” you summarized, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean nodded, eyes on the road in front of him as he drove down the street, on his way back to the Carlton house.

“And Bill—the people he loves—they’re all getting punished,” Sam continued.

“So what if Bill did something to Peter?” Dean asked, connecting the dots in front of you.

“What if Bill killed him?” Sam specified.

“Peter’s spirit would be furious,” you said. “It’d want revenge. I mean, it’s possible.”

You were back at Bill’s house minutes later. The three of you got out and looked to the dock, only to find it empty.

“Mr. Carlton!” Sam called, looking around. Dean looked back to the water and spotted Bill in the boat, going out into the water.

“Hey, check it out,” he said, getting you and Sam to follow his gaze. The three of you ran down the beach and onto the dock, calling after Bill.

“Turn the boat around! Come back here!” you yelled, your brothers calling out similarly. Bill only looked back at you before turning his head and speeding up. Seconds later the boat shot out of the water, flying back towards the dock. You jumped back at the sudden explosion of water. The boat landed upside down on top of Bill and, almost instantly, both disappeared under the water.

~ ~ ~ ~

SPN rewrite taglist: @mrsfortune1306 @marvelous-glims @headsup-i-am-very-bad-at-writing

forever taglist: @griff1ndor @gothsatanicrapunzel @choosemyname @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @not-astounding @vicmc624 @idksupernatural

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Tumblr’s Top Fandoms of 2020

https://ift.tt/37LLRPI

It’s been a weird and often devastating year, and our social media has reflected that. Tumblr has just released its top fandoms of 2020 and it’s fascinating to see how a year of pandemic and quarantine has affected transformative fandom and broader cultural trends. In a year when almost everyone spent a lot more time at home, Animal Crossing: New Horizons was the most blogged about topic on the social media platform, followed by animated dramedy Steven Universe, Belgian SKAM adaptation WtFOCK, K-pop supergroup BTS, and Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker. We talked to Tumblr’s Trend Expert Amanda Brennan about how she interpreted the biggest trends of the year, how this was a big year for animation and international media, and why 2020 was the year everyone stopped worrying about what was cool and just embraced what they love. But, first, some 2020 Tumblr statistics:

Top 20 of 2020

Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Steven Universe

wtFOCK

BTS

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker

Artists on Tumblr

Critical Role

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Boku No Hero Academia

Black Lives Matter

Pokémon

COVID-19

The Witcher

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

The Magnus Archives

Reylo Rey & Kylo Ren, the Star Wars universe

RWBY

Sanders Sides

Catradora Catra & Adora, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Zuko | Avatar: The Last Airbender

Top 25 Ships

Rey & Kylo Ren, the Star Wars universe (m/f)

Catra & Adora, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (f/f)

Richie Tozier & Eddie Kaspbrak, It (m/m)

Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier, The Witcher (m/m)

Aziraphale & Crowley, Good Omens (m/m)

Zuko & Sokka, Avatar: The Last Airbender (m/m)

Luz Noceda & Amity Blight, The Owl House (f/f)

Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor, Supergirl (f/f)

Park Jimin & Jeon Jungkook, BTS (m/m)

Dean Winchester & Castiel, Supernatural (m/m)

Live Action TV

Wtfock

The Witcher

The Mandalorian

Good Omens

Skam France

The Umbrella Academy

Doctor Who

Supernatural

The Untamed

Killing Eve

Animated TV

Steven Universe

Avatar: The Last Airbender

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

The Owl House

Invader Zim

Ducktales

The Dragon Prince

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Gravity Falls

TV Characters

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Zuko

Catra

Jaskier

Sokka

Adora | She-Ra

Geralt Of Rivia

Katara

Aang

Crowley

Aziraphale

Movies

Frozen

The Old Guard

Star Wars: Episode IX The Rise of Skywalker

Birds Of Prey

Twilight

Hamilton

Little Women

Parasite

Sonic Movie

Lord of the Rings

Movie Characters

Kylo Ren

Harley Quinn

Bucky Barnes

Batman

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Rey

Spinel

Peter Parker

Richie Tozier

Actors

Chris Evans

Henry Cavill

Sebastian Stan

Adam Driver

Tom Holland

Pedro Pascal

John Boyega

Robert Pattinson

Tom Hiddleston

Timothee Chalamet

Actresses

Katie Mcgrath

Jodie Comer

Daisy Ridley

Margot Robbie

Zendaya

Lili Reinhart

Naya Rivera

Brie Larson

Florence Pugh

Jodie Whittaker

Books

Harry Potter

Percy Jackson & the Olympians

Warrior Cats

The All for the Game series

Pride And Prejudice

Midnight Sun

The Secret History

The Raven Cycle series

Carry On

Six Of Crows

Authors of Books

J.K. Rowling

Rick Riordan

Erin Hunter

Nora Sakavic

Jane Austen

Stephenie Meyer

Donna Tartt

Maggie Stiefvater

Rainbow Rowell

Leigh Bardugo

Video Games

Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Among Us

Pokemon Sword And Shield

Undertale

Minecraft

Sims 4

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Danganronpa

Overwatch

Persona 5

Video Games Characters

Obey Me Lucifer

Obey Me Mammon

Tom Nook

Link

Sans

Cloud Strife

Dandelion

Kirby

Raihan

Arthur Morgan

Animal Crossing Villagers

Raymond

Marshal

Poppy

Fauna

Julian

Claude

Marina

Stitches

Bob

Ankha

Anime & Manga

Boku no Hero Academia

Haikyuu!!

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Beastars

Naruto

Mo Dao Zu Shi

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

One Piece

Fruits Basket

19 Days

Anime & Manga Characters

Midoriya Izuku

Bakugou Katsuki

Dabi

Wei Wuxian

Aizawa Shouta

Hawks

Todoroki Shouto

Kirishima Eijirou

Lan Wangji

Levi Ackerman

And, now, our chat with Brennan. (This Q&A has been edited for clarity and length.)

Den of Geek: I’ve heard you refer to the users as the Tumblr hive-mind or the orchid, whatever it is. I was just hoping you could generally talk about what the Tumblr hive-mind is to you? Which is the way of saying, who uses Tumblr generally? And how and why? If you can even extrapolate those things. Go!

Amanda Brennan: Most of our audiences is Gen Z; it’s at 48%. Our new user registration with Gen Z is even higher; I’m pretty sure it’s 60%. These are people who come to Tumblr because they love something so much they just want to share that love with people who love it as much as they do. I know that feels like a giant umbrella, but that’s the thing: Tumblr is what you make of it. If you love sports, sports Tumblr is intense hockey Tumblr, so good. If you love TV, you’ll have all of that. K-pop Tumblr, totally amazing. Furby Tumblr is off the hook and they make these incredible creations. I’ve recently gotten into Stained Glass Tumblr.

There’s layers upon layers. No matter what you love, there’s something on Tumblr for you. That’s both the easiest thing and the hardest thing about it. You have to go in being like, “Alright, I’m so into this thing, what does Tumblr have for me?” It’s not like the other social media networks, right? It’s really about what you love rather than who you know.

Yeah, I like that. I did want to ask you specifically about the process of how you track trends and how you make decisions about what to track?

We built the whole taxonomy that powers fandom metrics based on what Tumblr talks about. I’m a librarian, as you know, and I kind of reverse engineered it. My first year in review at Tumblr in 2013, they handed me a spreadsheet and they’re like, ‘OK, go to town.” So I was like, “Cool, let me pull out the threads that I see.” We really let the data tell us how to analyze it, if that makes sense. So when it comes to what we track, I have a running notebook that I’ve kept all year of the things that I’ve wanted to have in year in review.

The Witcher has been on my list since it came out. Animal Crossing has been another one. The Old Guard had a huge moment. I was just writing notes, like, “Oh, what is this thing? And we’ll keep an eye on it.” I have an amazing team. We all are into our own pieces of Tumblr. So we’ll all work together to just keep an eye on different fandoms. I don’t know if you know about Minecraft YouTuber fandom?

Yeah. I was actually listening to the latest Fansplaining last night and they mentioned it in that. I was just like, “OK, a new thing.” There’s always a new thing to learn about.

There’s always a new thing. That’s the beauty of Tumblr. It’s so fluid in fandom. You can go from one fandom to another and then you’ll see like, “Ooh, what is this thing?” I’ve got Supernatural on the brain, as who in the fandom doesn’t right now. [This interview was recorded on the day of the Supernatual series finale.] I was telling someone, the whole reason I got into Supernatural was because I saw a gif from the show on Tumblr and I was like, “What is happening? Let me go back and watch this entire series.” That’s the vibe of Tumblr, right? You see a thing and you’re like, “Oh, I need to know everything about that.”

Supernatural Series Finale: Why Dean’s Fate Works

By Juliette Harrisson

Supernatural: The Internet’s Best Reactions to the Series Finale

By Kayti Burt

Hmm. Yeah, for sure. I was interested in talking to you or getting your insight into how trends you saw or data you saw that were maybe tied to the very unique experience of being in the middle of a pandemic.

Yeah. I was looking back at the predictions that I had made last year and like four of those things didn’t even come out. It was just so unexpected. There’s two things that we really saw tied to the pandemic. The first was “cottagecore” as an aesthetic. It kind of touched everything because it’s soothing, it feels comfortable. In March and April in the early days, when you didn’t know what to do, you’re stuck in a forest isolation. Cottagecore has got this vibe of chosen isolation. It was very fantasy-driven and something to reach out for.

That evolved also into nostalgia. I think this year’s really big theme is nostalgia and comfort. We saw huge returns to fandoms like Twilight and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Avatar going on Netflix was such a world-breaking moment. Not only did it introduce a new, younger fandom to the show, there’s a lot of Avatar content once you get into it, but it brought people back to a younger time in their lives. Remembering and rewatching. The Avatar fandom, as you see, it’s all over all of the lists. Zuko is number 20 on all of the things on Tumblr this year. Avatar was able to redefine people’s year. Because you know what, we’re all at home, I’m going to binge Avatar. Reignite my love for this fandom.

A lot of TV too, because TV is episodic, you get lost in it. Movies had a really rough year. When we look at the movies, movies like Megamind were trending this year. That comfort movie that you go back and watch 17 times.

Yeah. I was curious about that too. The balance or proportions between older fandoms and newer fandoms, like the Avatar example. I was curious how much that changed this year? How much you thought it was tied to the pandemic? How much is tied to accessibility and things, like Avatar coming to Netflix? Do you think that is an interest in older fandoms? Or that it’s going to continue past the pandemic?

Yeah. I think another high-level theme of this year is the rejection of cringe culture. I’m getting a little ahead of myself, but I’ll tie it all back in. I think people are realizing what their values are and not being afraid to admit that they like a thing. Not caring what other people think of the things they like. Unabashedly loving the things they love. That’s why I think we do see a resurgence in these older fandoms.

Because people who may have loved them their whole lives, or may have been nervous to share that they liked it when they were younger they’re not afraid anymore. They’re like, “You know what? Twilight, it’s not that great, but I love it. This is my emotional support vampire.” Recognizing that you can be critical of something. You can see where its flaws are, but you can still love it. That duality of fandom is something that is going to persist into next year. That freedom to just like a thing, because you like it. Be able to see its flaws, but still be like, “You know what? Overall, this brings me joy and the world is melting down.”

I’m on board with that mission, that plan for 2021. I did want to ask about the role of non-English language media, especially live action stuff. Generally because I was someone who fell into The Untamed this year, but I saw that there were two SKAM remakes as well that are on the top 10. In general, have you seen over your time at Tumblr, and maybe especially in the past few years, an increase in non-English language content? Do you think that is mostly English speakers and Americans being more open to that or being able to find it easier? Or do you think it’s also an influx of people from outside the United States coming to Tumblr? Or both?

Interesting. The data that we work with is actually stripped of all user information. I don’t really have an insight into where these people are coming from. I do think that users in general are more open to content in any language. Tumblr is more interested in characters than where the story comes from. Thinking about The Untamed, it’s just such a compelling story, it doesn’t matter if you have to read subtitles.

To parallel it to something in major pop culture, Parasite. People are becoming more open to just watching content because it’s good. SKAM is really fascinating to me because the number one live action show is wtFOCK. Then, I think two years ago, 2018, the original SKAM was number one at some point. This show really transcends language barriers. It transcends geographical barriers. At the core, the story of the teenagers is just so relatable to anyone. We’ve seen lots of translation happening and not just into English. Translation of SKAM into other languages, just because people want more of these characters and their iterations, no matter what locale they’re based in. I’m waiting for some professor to have a class on it, because it’s so fascinating to me.

I also wanted to ask about how you thought the election cycle affected Tumblr this year, if there were any trends or data that you were like, “Yes, of course this is what people were doing on Tumblr this year.”

Tumblr has always had this backbone of social justice. This year, it came out stronger and in more force. No matter what fandom you were in or interests, everyone I know on Tumblr was participating in sharing social justice stuff. Even politics, if they weren’t from the US, those kinds of memes that were like, “I feel for you”. The way that fandoms do. I see your show is ending and I’m sorry.

The one thing that Tumblr really had leading up to the election was such an appreciation for the postal service. Especially Gen Z, their world is so much larger due to digital connection. Mail order, just as well as sending letters and keeping in touch with your digital friends is just as important as keeping in touch with your IRL friends. All of the artists on Tumblr, so many of them turn to mail order to replace cons. This is their livelihood. By the time the fall hit and the postal service was having all these issues, people are ready to jump in. There were the Transformers dressed like mail people.

https://morethanmeetstheass.tumblr.com/post/626466946047705088/i-completely-forgot-to-post-this-guy-here-this-is

There were all these comments like “support your postal workers,” “support the USPS.” It really boils down to the fact that we are all connected and the mail service is something in the US that connects everyone. Even overseas. Supporting these artists whose livelihood went from IRL to online and having to deal with all of this.

And the “Super Putin Election.” The confluence of those elements. I was just surfing on my personal computer and I was on Tumblr and I saw a post being like “Destiel’s canon.” I’m like, “Excuse me?” I immediately texted my team. I was like, “Open up your work computers, let’s go.”

It’s time.

We all signed on trying to figure out what’s going on and watching the numbers. That, to me, is thrilling. I said this to someone else, but it felt like the night of The Dress. To have that moment where everyone on the internet is feeling the energy. The things that kept getting layered on top of it. Putin and Sherlock and all the anime mysteries. It was breakneck speed, and it was really thrilling just to be in that moment, and so Tumblr.

I did want to ask you about an increase in animated fandom and potentially anime fandom. A lot of these things I’m anecdotally or just observing things in my own little corner of the internet. It just seems like animation and anime, probably at least partially because Netflix has accumulated a much larger anime collection and seems to be investing in these sorts of things. Have you seen that increase? Could you talk about it, if so?

It plays into what we were talking about earlier, twofold. That nostalgia vibe, the late nineties anime vibe, that art style. Also your comfort zone and being open to more stuff just because it’s good. Not worrying about reading subtitles and stuff like that. But anime in general had a huge year. Haikyū!! ending also transposed into other fandoms because that moment of the final panels, it brings people together. People being so excited to see this massive thing come to a close. You might not be familiar with Haikyū!! in general, but you’ll see the fanart and be like, “Oh, I feel that.” It’s the emotion of it.

The popularity of Avatar did also open people’s doors to like, “Oh, well, what else can I watch? What else do I want to learn about”? Boku No Hero was consistently on our Week In Review every week. BEASTARS is another Netflix anime that’s at the top. Then Mo Dao Zu Shi, thinking about The Untamed, the story of Mo Dao Zu Shi is so fascinating. I don’t think I can name another piece of content that has that storyline. People are just ready to take it all on.

I did want to ask you, I think you’ve probably talked about some of these already, but what were some of the biggest fandom moments for you on Tumblr this year?

Oh boy. So many things going canon. Catradora was a huge, huge moment. I cried watching that. The Witcher, Jaskier, introducing this whole new world to Henry Cavill. I saw a post yesterday that was like once Superman was goth, a lot more people realize that he’s hot. Repurposing and looking at things in a new way. Among Us, so huge. There is a user who is doing a comic about White and Pink being in love. She’s giving them lore. She’s giving them backstory, personalities. It is amazing.

Unus Annus, I am not very into streamers, but I’ve caught some of those videos. When they had their final stream, I was tuning in. I was like, “Are you really going to delete the channel?” Then they did. Just watching the fans have that moment, even though I am not in that fandom, it was wonderful so meaningful.

Harry Potter being taken by the fans. Fans own Harry Potter now, and that’s what matters. The Old Guard also came out of nowhere and really blew Tumblr away. The Immortal Husbands. I love that ship. I’ve got to touch on almost all of the places, MCR, My Chemical Romance. Those fans have woken up and they didn’t get their tour, but they will. They’re not going to sleep until they do.

Because we maybe all have Supernatural on the brain, to a certain extent. I’m just curious how you think, that show’s been on for 15 years. The fandom has gone through literal generations. How do you think the fandom is going to change?

There’s always going to be a supernatural gif for everything. People will continue gifing it. It’s going to surpass what it is and it’s going to become that comfort show. This is a personal anecdote, but when I go to the dentist, every single time supernatural is on. It’s just like, “Oh, I get to watch my boys while I’m getting my teeth cleaned. That’s good.” It’s always going to be there. It’s always going to be there for people when they need it the most. We’re going to see a lot more fan creations. People love these boys, men now they’re adults. People love these characters. I haven’t watched this season. I am going to watch the finale tonight. I’m going in almost cold. I know that a lot of fan favorites have returned. My prediction for Supernatural fandom going forward is seeing these side stories come through in fanfiction even more than they already do. Lots more Charlie. That’s personal of mine because I love her.

I don’t think you’re alone in this.

Yeah. Who doesn’t love Charlie? Seeing these smaller characters come out and just shine in their own fan works, more so than the world might’ve provided them in canon.

It feels dangerous to make fandom predictions based on what happened this year, but if you have any predictions and or hopes for the coming year in terms of Tumblr and fandom?

Where we’re at now and going forward, it’s all about true authenticity. Screw what people think. We’re rejecting our old ways of thinking. We’re about flipping perspectives and forgetting what you thought was important in exchange for what you truly love. 2020 has helped us all figure out what our values at our core are. It’s about choosing something that makes you happy, that supports you, and your people. Choosing the happiness of those around you and making sure that you’re fighting for the goodness in life. Which sounds really sugar sweet, but one of the things, again, that I love about Tumblr is it is about putting people first based on the things they love. That’s what I see happening.

Explore the rest of Tumblr’s Year in Review lists here, and let us know what your biggest 2020 fandoms were in the comments below.

The post Tumblr’s Top Fandoms of 2020 appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3lPIRa9

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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xxmisty · 4 years

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My Big Humiliating Torchwood Confession - Part 1 :P

Warning: this will be a LONG post, and i’m sorry about that!

Lucy is sat opposite me asking me repeatedly if I’ve started typing yet because she knows how desperately i’m putting off making this post!!1

This is awful, this is.... probably the most embarrassingly intimate confession i’ll have made since the day I opened up about my fetish way back at the start of 2013. And on the surface of it it probably doesn’t seem like that big of a deal but IT IS TO ME! And a big chunk of the trauma i’m about to express is tongue in cheek but it’s genuinely been - and continues to be - a huge bundle of DISTRESS AND HUMILIATION AND UTTER RESENTMENT!!! Because this year has been.... one hell of a personal journey and i don’t even mean anything to do with the pandemic.

It all started on New Year’s Day. I was feeling horrendously ill; the miraculous medication that had started to give me my life back had run out and thanks to the festive postal delays my new lot hadn’t arrived yet. I was in agony, I had a horrible headache, I felt sick and I could hardly move. We spent the day watching a bunch of muppet stuff, and that night we watched the first ep of season 12 of Doctor Who and, y’know, it was a pretty damn good episode (plus thirteen in the suit.... fuuckkk)

So afterwards we started having a discussion about Chris Chibnall - we’ve long held criticisms about some of his writing (not all of it, but it’s a mixed bag) and Lucy told me I still hadn’t seen his worst writing because that was for Torchwood...

Which I had never seen. Which I had been desperately trying not to see, although I didn’t know why. I just always had this vibe like a big “NO ENTRY!” sign at the idea of ever watching it. It’s not as though I had a logical reason for it, it’s not like I’d read up about it and thought, ‘naahhhhhh, I don’t fancy watching that’. I just had a big WARNING sign in my head, telling me not to go there.

Several years ago Lucy made me watch the first episode (after i’d been avoiding her threats of showing it to me for like 2 years) and like... it wasn’t horrible? It wasn’t... great either... but it didn’t kill me. Then a couple of years ago she showed me Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang because we were having a big Runaways phase so she wanted to show me an episode with James Marsters in. Again, it didn’t kill me. It wasn’t horrible. But I still had those big NO ENTRY!!! signs up in my head. I was still trying desperately to avoid actually being shown Torchwood as a show.

And the the new year happened and I was too WEAK AND DEFENCELESS to know what was happening when Lucy and I cuddled up in bed that night. I was too sick to really comprehend what she was doing or to fight back when she announced she was going to show me the very worst of Chris Chibnall’s writing... and put on Day One followed by Cyberwoman.

Oh. My. God.

All day I had been in a state of physical agony. Suddenly my mental and emotional state was far, FAR worse!!! The sex gas alien was bad enough, then by the time she put on Cyberwoman my brain was trying to shut down. I used to suffer blackouts and, god, I kept blacking out all the way through it, and instead of being her usual loving, wonderful self she KEPT FORCING ME TO COME ROUND TO WATCH IT!!!

By this point it was gone midnight and I was in a state of utter distress!! This was the worst double helping of tv I had ever sat through in my life and I sat up and let forth a tirade of absolute distress! This, I decided, had to be the reason I’d been avoiding Torchwood. Because it was more like.... Torurewood :P

Yep, that had to be it. Couldn’t possibly be anything worse, could it?

At least now lucy had shown me those two terrible Chibnall eps I would NEVER EVER HAVE TO WATCH THEM AGAIN. Or ANY Torchwood episodes. Yes, my ordeal was over. Had to be.

Nope. We went back to bed and she put on Out if Time. And i’ll admit, the story was much stronger but goddddd I had issues with the endings! And my level of despair started to rise even higher. I HATED Torchwood! This was the most distressing night’s viewing ever and I just wanted to go to sleep and be done with it all! Lucy put one more episode on afterwards: They Keep Killing Suzie. And that was much better but halfway through we finally fell asleep - so surely my trauma was over with.

Nope.

I had horrible nightmares of a very thirsty Gwen coming onto me all night, over and over again and it was HORRIBLE!!! Like, you have no idea how distressed I was! And when I woke up I blamed lucy whole-heartedly and she very sympathetically laughed at my plight!

But yeah. My trauma was over. No more Torchwood. I’d suffered the night from hell. Now it was time to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and move on! My medication arrived that day, I started work on some new pet portraits and life went back to normal.

Until that night, when I saw the telltale sign of Lucy putting a video on and turning her iPad around and then there they were - the opening titles of Torchwood - and I wanted to jump out the boat and into the canal and swim as far away as possible!!!

But the episode she put on was Fragments. She said she wanted to show me Chris Chibnall’s finest episode. And y’know what? It was really pretty fucking good. And god, I was fURIOUS about that!!! When we went to bed she pulled a real double whammy though by putting on Adam - which became instantly one of my favourite episodes of ANYTHING, EVER. And I looked at my wife, shook my head, sighed and told her, ‘nice save, Lucy... nice save...’

Over the next couple of weeks we also had a major Doctor Who rewatch and revisited most of the New Who era, and - to my mixed feelings - she dotted various other episodes of Torchwood in around them. I was conflicted - after the Adam and Fragments double bill I was no longer in brain-screamy hatred territory. I did however keep having flashbacks to that godawful night. Plus i’d had several further nightmares about a thirsty Gwen and I did NOT like it! But by a couple of weeks into January I’d seen a fair bit of Torchwood. Some of them twice.

Around this same time I’d started back in testosterone after not being able to afford it for the last 3 years. And then I started to notice I was getting some..... urghhhhhh..... unusual... and very uncomfortable feelings... about certain.... things... and characters.

And I started falling headlong into a great big gay panic :P

And here’s where the whole story becomes a HELL of a lot more embarrassing so i’m going to put it under a read more :P

Did ya click on that read more? Wh-why? there’s nothing to see here... especially not a long tale of shame and distress :P ugggghhhhhhh ok, FINE;

Basically there were two things happening at the same time. One was that I started to feel something I hadn’t felt in two decades. When I was a kid/teen we didn’t have the phrase ‘hyperfixation’ so I just called them obsessions. I always had obsessions, at any given point there was always this ONE THING that was my entire life. i lived it, breathed it, became it. It was my whole world, my whole personality, my focus, my lifeline. 9 times out of 10 it would be a tv show. Between the ages of 12 and 15 I would generally change my obsession about once a month. There were several ‘usual suspects’ that would cycle around over and over - Red Dwarf, The Brittas Empire, Sonic the Hedgehog, Halfway Across the Galaxy, Parallel 9, Out of this World...

late in 1995 I became obsessed with The X Files and - bizarrely - that obsession just ran and ran. I was so used to my obsession changing around once every month that it was bizarre to still be absolutely hyperfixated on it almost 9 months later. And then, in June 1996, my longest ever obsession took its place, a little known uk fantasy show called Bugs.

That... was my longest running obsession. And oh my god, was I ever obsessed with it. I have no idea how that one obsession kept going for 3 years. i’m sorry this is particularly wordy but this is kind of personal and I want to explain this right.

If you’ve been following me for a while you’ll probably known that one of the most defining moments of my life happened in the summer of ‘98. My cousin’s husband sexually assaulted me and my life spiralled into total despair. While that night was bad enough, the slow breakdown I went through over the course of the year that followed was harder to recover from. And eventually I came out the other side to some degree but i’d lost my love of three things that made me the person I was: writing, drawing and being obsessed. All three were so closely entangled with that night and surviving afterwards that it changed something that had always been a fundamental part of me.

I was no longer able to feel obsession. To hyperfixate the way I previously had. It was like something was broken inside me. And that was like a loss unto itself. It was SUCH a big part of me. It had been the only way i’d survived years of depression when I was young. My obsessions were what kept me afloat.

In the last decade there are a few things that I called ‘obsessions’ and I thought were as close as I would ever get to the way I used to feel. I thought maybe it was because i’d ‘grown up’ (pah). That’s not to say that i wasn't thoroughly into Ashes to Ashes, FNAF and Homestuck, for example, because of course I was! I even called them obsessions, but there was something that just... wasn’t the same, no matter what I did.

And over time, I got back the other things I’d lost. I started writing my A2A fics in 2010 and Lucy helped me to start drawing again in 2018 and god, both times it was like finally having a piece of myself returned after so long! As for my ‘obsessions’, I just thought I wasn't able to feel the way I used to because I wasn’t a kid any more.

But then, I thought that about Christmas Eve too, and then lucy came into my life <3

Still, the last thing I was expecting was... for *those* feelings to start sneaking back in my life. Feelings I hadn’t been able to experience since the summer of 1998-9. And to my further distress I discovered that they were relating to a certain show that I’d had a traumatising introduction to on new year’s day...

Suddenly it was all I could think about; TORCHWOOD! TORCHWOOD! Aargghhhhh and yet I still hated it! It was still awful! And yet... at the same time... it was so goooooooood.... arghhhhh, every time we watched an episode there was a knife twisting in my guts, reminding me that I hadn’t even felt these feelings over things we’d been HUGELY into... the fandoms we’d met through, the fandoms we discovered together. Nope. It was Torchwood that brought back my ability to hyperfixate! And I have SO MANY ANGRY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS!!!! Grrrrrrrrr!!

And believe me, I kept thinking it was going to stop and go away BUT IT HASN’T! It’s only gotten worse! And as of yesterday Torchwood officially became my second longest obsession ever!!!

I. AM. FURIOUS!!!

It’s... urrghhhh I hate this fact but it’s almost like I have a crush on the *show*??!!! I... can’t explain it better than that??? It’s like, if I could throw Torchwood on the bed and make sweet, sweet love to it I would :P and yeah, i’m saying all of this tongue in cheek but i’ve had a fucking sky high libido ever since I went back on T (ohhhhh and believe me I am LOVING it!!! 💙💙💙) But it’s like... there are elements of Torchwood itself that are so fucking hot that I get.... reactions that I am SO FUCKING EMBARRASSED ABOUT for so many reasons deidjdhdggjhaaahhhhhhhhh

Lucy literally only has to say ‘Torchwood’ at me and I end up in a gibbering heap half the time - I am not even kidding!!!

This, however, is NOT the worst thing that happened as a result of Lucy making me watch this god damned show.

But honestly this post has gone on WAY too long already so i’m going to save that for part 2.

Oh god... my shame.... my total and utter shame....

To be continued :P

#torchwood #about me #me #obsessions #hyperfixation #moirspritmaterail blogging #Lucy is MEAN!!!#my posts

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rockthistowninsideout · 4 years

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JyoumiChallenge 2020

November 3rd – Cooking...Favourite Version of Jou

Rating: General Audiences Words: 992

This is (not) a disaster

“Minasan konbanwa – Welcome my lovely cooking community to another episode of Cuisine With Mimi! My name is Mimi Tachikawa and today we wanna have a look into a rather magnifique way of cooking – namely the French one! But I won’t be alone on my quest of discovering this interesting and wildly varied cuisine and conquering some of the more challenging recipes. My guest today is Jou Kido, an extraordinary doctor who happens to be my boyfriend!”

The smile Mimi gives him when the camera swings over to broadcast his by nervousness red-patched face is meant to be encouraging but Jou hardly notices. He feels about to be strangled and gulps heavily, his adam’s apple quivering. A glance over to the monitor lets him nearly wince. His forehead is way too glossy, there’s a strand of hair that’s decided to ditch the laws of physics and stands at a 90° degree angle, and he’d rather not think about the aforementioned uneven red patches all over his cheeks.

When the camera light goes out and the directive assistant indicates a short video that’ll give an overview of croissants, snails, and baguettes, as well as some lesser known specialities, Jou turns to Mimi and asks in defeat “Why haven’t you invited Yamato or Takeru? They are half-french and Yamato can actually cook. My experience hardly extends the various versions of ramen.”

“All that’s true. But France is the country of romance and Yamato is not my boyfriend.”

Unbeatable Mimi logic. Nothing that Jou can argue over.

The two are now ushered behind the huge kitchen counter of the studio, it’s as big as his bedroom in the small apartment opposite the hospital he works at. He and Mimi haven’t moved in together yet because she’s always on tour, giving cooking classes all over the world, while he basically lives in the hospital. It’s rather surprising that he has the day off to film the show but probably Mimi has used her irresistible powers of persuasion on his boss. He suspects she’s a big fan of Mimi’s show, at least judging by the complementary cook book that he’s seen wedged between all those medical handbooks in her office.

“And we’re back in three, two, one!”

The camera pans over to them and Mimi says “Today’s recipes I’m very curious about because they’ve become essentials around the world and are also well-loved here in Japan. But! Most of the time people buy them in stores even though, with a few tips and tricks, they can be made at home just as easily. We will start with the croissant dough because that has to be refrigerated for two hours.”

She spreads her hands to showcase the ingredients needed. “Jou, would you be so kind to attach the dough hook to the stand mixer and switch it on?”

Sweat pearls on Jou’s forehead. Where he can basically do surgeries in the dark and still find the right instruments, he is helpless when it comes to kitchen equipment (and, to be honest, any other tool outside the operating theatre).

Mimi seems to notice. A tiny nod to the right, and the camera zooms in on her assembling the dry ingredients in an extra bowl. That step is actually unnecessary but it gives the assistant the chance to point out what a dough hook is and how to attach it to the mixer. Jou nods frantically as a thank you, but then the focus is back on him.

“Here we will stir together the yeast and the water which needs to be warmed to about 46 degrees. Then we’ll let it sit for about ten minutes. In the meantime…”

Thankfully, for most of the show, Mimi handles the spotlight. He is tasked with small aids, such as washing the lamb’s lettuce or putting oil in a pan and switching on the hob. Whenever he is out of shot he just watches Mimi.

This is the perfect platform for her. She can present herself in frilly aprons and matching dresses, ramble about the food and everything else that comes to her mind, and in general just enjoy the Mimi Show as much as the viewers do.

Ratings have soared in the past two years since the show is on, climbing with every new season even higher. She’s started in the afternoon program on weekends, then moved to the early evenings on weekdays, then once a week during primetime, and now the show has garnered so much acclaim that it’s the major Saturday evening show, the highlight of every month. Usually her guests are much more illustrious. Other famous TV personalities have cooked with her, first just of national, then also of international renown. Even the prime minister has chopped vegetables with Mimi.

But, as she freely admits in many an interview, she likes to cook with none other more than her long-time childhood friend and now partner. So fans have started a hashtag, #cookingwithkido, where they have been begging Mimi to finally show them the both totally unknown and yet internet-famous Jou Kido. They have tried to unearth his identity but Jou is completely inactive on the world wide web. No social media presence, nothing. And miraculously, none of his patients has so far posted a picture with a caption “Mimi Tachikawa is not the only one Dr Jou Kido lays his gentle hands on”. Which Jou is very thankful for.

Still, he has caved in to Mimi’s plea to appear on the show, and it didn’t even need a lot of doe eyes from her side. That’s just how it is. Mimi asks, Jou gives. But he never feels drained, or taken advantage of. That’s a concept far out of Mimi’s personality. Her abundant joy, her careless view on the world that she has kept regardless of all the perilous events in the Digital World and the show business alike, make up for everything she wants from him. And he doesn’t want to have it any other way.

#jyoumi challenge #mimi tachikawa #jou kido #jyou kido #joe kido #digimon adventure #digimon adventure tri #digimon adventure kizuna #jyoumi #my stories

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missbeautyandherbeast · 5 years

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It’s Nice To Have A Friend

Michelangelo X Reader

Summary: Taking people under your wing was your thing until four mutant brothers took you under theirs. It still didn’t stop you from taking one of them under your wing. Until you screwed that up from miscommunication and some harsh words. Can you fix this? How are you supposed to express emotions when you barely understand the situation? Is it too late to save what you broke? Can you save your friend?

A/N: For the ever-lovely @brightlotusmoon, here’s my drabble into Mikey, making his a round character in my own mind as well as on paper. I hope I did him justice, and you justice.

Word Count: +3,200

Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, self-loathing, fluff, abuse

Was living underground with four large mutant turtles weird? Sure.

If you wanted to call it that. To me, it was a family, as it was to them, brothers and a father. They had all welcomed me with curiosity and hesitancy as I showed immunity to mutagen, and retro- mutagen—both of which happened in Donnie’s lab after a mishap and me tripping over my own feet.

It freaked me out, to say the least. Again, the questioned seemed to be: what was wrong with me? Again I felt different, out of place, with no answer as to why. I loathed it.

To Donnie I was something to be studied, he tried to hide it and he did pretty well, but I caught the nuances. I wasn’t opposed to it too much, I wanted answers as well. But I wished that I was a bit more than an experiment.

To Leo, I was someone to protect. Whatever was different—wrong—about me he wanted to be kept safe from Shredder and the Kraang. Which I understood, but I also refused to fight, or even learn how. I could defend myself, but I refused to go on the offense, or hurt anyone, even if it was someone trying to hurt me. I knew this frustrated him, but he respected my choice of pacifism.

Raphael and I fought. A lot. Not physically, but verbally. He reminded me too much of my abusive older brother that I had finally gotten away from by moving to New York, and there was something about him that sparked anger in me. I found the confidence to snap back at him when he made offhand rude comments, to anyone. Most of the time Leo stepped in and reprimanded Raph before things could get too far. If the red brute didn’t back down, Splinter intervened.

Then there was Mikey. He was the only one who didn’t treat me differently because of who, what I was. Instead, we played Mario Kart until I got good enough to beat him, sometimes. I showed him my comic books and TV shows, and I watched him fall in love with them as I was. We spent nights reading fan theories, working on cosplay, and jamming to Taylor Swift.

It’s nice to have a friend.

.................................

And Mikey was the one I stood up for the most against Raph. As soon as I started to notice that Mikey was his favorite target, I got a bit more observant. Signs that I knew, because I had the same reactions around my own brother.

“You actually like that stuff? You’re so weird.” Raph muttered as we started to binge Doctor Who.

“Says the one who spends every minute of every day looking in a mirror, or working out.” I snapped back.

Raph scoffed and walked off as Mikey was silent beside me, looking down. I leaned against him as the show continued. Slowly he relaxed and we ended up, like always, tangled in blankets, passed out, as the show continued to play.

Raph seemed to back down after a while, now that I was always there to fight back against him. There was a solace around the Lair when the comments ceased to exist. Sometimes they were there, like teasing, or light-hearted jokes, but nothing that cut too deep. I made sure of that.

It was nice to be a friend.

....................................

After a few months, I felt safe enough to go back to my apartment every few nights, just to be in my own space, something that I desperately needed to stay sane. It was comforting, being back in my own small studio apartment on Cornelia. I could do what I wanted when I wanted. Play my own music, eat what and when I wanted to, wear what I wanted. I had no one to impress but me.

Mikey came over the first night that I was back in my apartment. He had a pizza and sodas for the two of us as he stood on my fire escape. I laughed to myself and let him in, going to grab paper towels.

We fell into our normal routine, nested in my bed, watching TV—this time it was season 14 of Supernatural—eating and curled up under blankets. Well, I was under blankets, Mikey radiated heat like a space heater. He finished most of the pizza while I nibbled on my one slice.

When the last episode ended, Mikey was shocked when I jumped up and threw the remote towards the TV. His reflexes were quick enough to snatch it before it did any damage, though he seemed to be in the same agitated state that I was in.

I growled. “They can’t just! It’s not fair! They! And he! And Sammy! And Jack! And UGH!” I paced.

“How is that supposed to be the end of the season!” Mikey exclaimed. “They can’t just do that!” “How is there supped to be only one more season to fix that!” I countered.

We both stared at the TV screen, in tense silence, settling down next to each other again.

“I need something to take my mind off of that,” I muttered, scrolling for another movie.

We ended up re-watching Miraculous Ladybug for like the fifteenth time. We both ended up liking the show, a weird mix of my love for cartoons and his love of anime. Nothing like a boy in a leather catsuit and a girl in polka-dotted spandex fighting an old man who loves butterflies and not his son to comfort the mind.

I rearranged my seventy-five pillows and nestled down next to the warm terrapin, allowing myself to get comfortable. Winter was setting into New York and I was about to really miserable with the oncoming cold weather. It was nice with Mikey though. I could always count on his warmth.

Letting the episodes play through, my eyes eventually became too heavy to reopen. My dreams were light and safe. They always were when I wasn’t sleeping alone. It was nice, for once, not to need melatonin, or not be up until four am, or not need my nightly counting routines to lull me to sleep.

It’s nice to have a friend.

.................................

Once a week Donnie and I worked on figuring out what was so different about me that I was immune. It was a slow-going process because I got tired or disinterested before we could make it too far, and every brother and Splinter was keen on not pushing me farther than I could manage.

“I’m a freak,” I muttered to Donnie one week, looking down at the floor.

“Take it from a huge talking turtle, you’re not a freak.” Donnie mused, a smile playing at his lips.

“Okay, but mutagen affected you: normal. Retro mutagen affects you: normal. Me, absolutely nothing. I’m a freak.” I laid back on the exam table, closing my eyes.

I heard his gentle laugh. I simply sighed.

“No one wants a freak, Don,” I muttered. “No one is gonna want me. I’ll always be weird.”

“That’s not true. You’re a wonderful person Y/n, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“No one wants a freak,” I repeated, sighing. “No one can love a freak,”

He was quiet for a moment as if he were debating the notion.

“Maybe we’re all doomed then.” He decided.

I chuckled and shook my head, sitting up.

“Do you need me for anything else?” I rubbed my face and stretched.

“You should be alright for today, I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Thanks, Don.”

I almost ran into Mikey as I left the lab.

“Hey.” My face lit up. “You wanna watch somethin’? There’s a new series that I’ve been meaning to watch, or I could show you Rocky Horror Picture Show, that’s a classic.” I went through my mental checklist of things that I wanted him to watch, trying to settle on the best one.

“No thanks. I gotta patrol. Just came to say bye.” His voice was almost void of emotion.

“Oh.” My face fell. “Okay, be safe.” I frowned a bit but kept my emotions under wraps.

Watching him leave, I wandered into the main room, trying to solve the look on his face and his tone, feeling like I was missing something.

“That was pretty harsh there Y/n.” Raph leaned against the wall next to the lab.

“What?” I turned my attention to him. “What did I even do? What was all that?” I gestured weakly.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Mikey heard you.” He made air-quotes: “‘No one can love a freak’? Almost sounded like me.”

“I’m still not getting it?” I stood, anxiety clawing my insides. Had I hurt Mikey somehow?

“The kid is head over heels for you Y/n, and you just told him that you’d never love a freak.” Raph laid it out, his tone was cold and distant.

I froze, panic taking over my entire form. I didn’t think, I just did. I grabbed my jacket and slipped on my shoes. I ignored Raph’s questions, I ignored Donnie’s questions. I couldn’t ignore the hands that held me back though. I thought I heard Donnie explain through a muddled mind.

“I have to make this right,” Tears were slipping down my cheeks. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t...” I could feel my breath hiking moving towards hyperventilation. “Mikey...” My voice was broken.

I was broken.

I had broken my friend.

My best friend.

Who loved me?

...he loved me back.

The revelation was mind shattering. Both my mind and heart laid shattered, the pieces oozing into the concrete floor, refusing to be put back together.

“I’ll go find him.” Raph decided.

“No!” I shouted. “He’s going to think you’re lying. That you’re dragging him along. I have to go. I have to make this right.” My voice was squeaky and pathetic, but it was the truth.

“She’s right. Go shadow her, but she has to be the one to do it.” Donnie rubbed my shoulders comfortingly as he spoke to Raph.

I stumbled out into the cold night, cursing the frigid air.

“Mikey!” I shouted hopelessly. “Mikey, please I need to talk to you! Please!” The tears that ran down my face threatened to freeze. I wiped them away in an attempt to keep warm.

I walked quickly down the route that I knew Mikey patrolled, keeping my eyes on the rooftops, muttering his name and wiping tears away until I couldn’t anymore.

I crumbled onto a nearby bench and buried my face in my hands, sobbing for my loss, my stupid mistake, for my Mikey.

“Y/n!”

It wasn’t the voice that I wanted, but my head shot up, in panic.

“We gotta go! Now!” Raph was right beside me in a matter of moments, lifting me into his arms and taking off, in a direction that held no meaning to me.

“Raph!” I complained.

“Mikey was caught by the Kraang. Leo’s trying to get in now, but...” He shook his head as he turned another block.

Fear froze my shattered heart. The words didn’t want to process.

“Hey, hey. Hold it together kid, he’s gonna be okay.” Raph soothed, sensing my despair.

“This is my fault.” I sobbed. “I did this.”

“Hey. No. This is not... good lord kid. This wasn’t you. I swear.” Raph’s voice was hard and commanding. It reminded me of Leo.

When he stopped on a random block, in front of a random building, a warehouse, he made the mistake of letting me go.

I hit the ground running into the building, right into the center of a vast floor, filled with Kraang, and... and Mikey. When his eyes flashed to mine I almost collapsed. He wasn’t dead. I could still tell him I was sorry. I could...

“Let him go,” I whispered, taking careful steps forward. “Please.”

There was a commotion behind me, and I didn’t even have to turn back to know that it was the other brothers, coming to our aid. My eyes didn’t leave Mikey’s. There was so much hurt and betrayal in them. And now I knew why.

I jumped when a blur of silver flashed by me and into the droid closest to Mikey, sending sparks flying, and the Kraang bot dropping to the ground.

“Man, these things are always creepy,” Raph muttered.

Then all hell broke loose. Both sides advanced, and I was caught in the crossfire. Something pulled me down to the floor, and I landed hard on my wrist. I watched as Mikey’s eyes widened in horror, his eyes fixed on something behind me.

I turned and saw a gun pointed at my head, one of the Kraang’s high tech ones.

A swipe of a katana and the Kraang was no more. Leo and I locked eyes; fear in mine and determination in his.

“Go! I’ll cover you!” He shouted, stealing a glance in his youngest brother’s direction.

I leaped to my feet and dashed through the carnage to get to my Mikey. I knelt beside him, trying to figure out his bonds, thanking someone that they were only rope.

“Just leave me.” Mikey bit out. It was like a slap to the face. “I’m nothing but I freak to you anyway.”

The depressing words weighed on my soul and my body until I was held in place by the weight of his words. I had to stop my task of untying him to fight the urge to not scream and cry. I rested my forehead on his shoulder, tears making their way down my face.

“I didn’t...” I choked out. “I was talking about me. I’m the freak. I’m unlovable. I’m unwanted.” I sobbed out. “I’m so unlovable.” I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself, looking him in the eye. “There was never a day that I didn’t love you.”

Recognition crossed his face, as I sat back on my knees, my head bowed and shoulders hunched, as I finally let go of holding my hurt back, sobs shaking my frame softly as they left my lips in unintelligible self-loathing words. My arms desperately tried to hold all of me together, but no matter how tightly I wrapped them around me, I still fell apart.

Until warm familiar arms wrapped around me tightly did I feel whole again. These arms held me together when I couldn’t do it on my own. These arms and these hands picked up the shattered pieces of my heart and took the time to put them back together with care.

“Don’t leave me, please. Please. Please.” I choked out, wrapping my arms around him, my friend, my best friend, my lifeline, my Michelangelo, my Mikey. “I love you, please,”

I could feel his hand stroke my hair gently, as he pulled me into his lap, encasing me with warmth until I wasn’t shaking anymore. I waited and prepared for the worst. He wouldn’t want me. He wouldn’t love me. He couldn’t forgive me for this. I was unforgivable. Unlovable.

I sank into these thoughts until darkness consumed me.

This is what it was like to lose a friend.

..........................................

“Let her mind protect itself. She’ll come around when she can handle it all again.” The voice was muted and muddled, and made little sense.

“It’s been an hour Donnie,” A worried voice, much closer to me, argued back.

I wanted to tell the voice that I was okay. That I was here. He didn’t need to worry. I was fine. Mikey didn’t need to worry.

“Y/n!?” He called, urgent. “Can you hear me? Y/n!?”

“M’fine...” I mumbled, my eyelashes fluttering as I opened my eyes. Intense blue eyes stared back at me; tears mixed in.

“M’fine Mikey.” I curled up further into his arms.

“Don’t let her fall asleep she might have a concussion,” Donnie warned. I wanted to glare at him. I was fine. Peachy.

I still had my friend.

I hoped.

.....................................

I blinked a few times and struggled to sit up. Realizing what I was trying to accomplish, Mikey’s arms supported me, aiding me.

“You okay angelcakes?” His voice was gentle and worried still.

I nodded, ignoring my pounding headache. I looked up at him, afraid. What now? What was he going to say? What was I going to do if he sent me away? If he didn’t love me back?

“Are you really up this time?” He asked, hesitant.

I frowned and blinked a few more times, rubbing my eyes. I noticed that one of my hands was in a brace. I stared at it with curiosity.

“You hurt your wrist. Donnie doesn’t think it’s broken, but he’s not entirely sure.” He was almost sheepish to explain the fact.

I looked up at him, waiting for more. Tensed and prepared for the worst, praying and hoping for the best.

“Did you mean it?” He whispered, cupping my jaw with one of his hands. I leaned into the warmth. “Do you really love me? Freak and all?” His blue eyes were pleading with mine, begging the fact to be true.

“Since the first night that you stayed.” My voice was raspy and broken sounding from dehydration and being rubbed raw from my sobs, but it spoke the truth.

There was a moment of deliberation on his face before he pressed his lips to mine. I wasn’t shocked. I was relieved. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers twisting into the tails of his bandana. He was gentle while kissing me as if he were afraid to break me, and part of me knew that he could. If he wanted to.

But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to break me. Or leave me, or yell at me.

He wanted to kiss me and be near me. He wanted to love me. Like I wanted to love him. Freely, openly, courageously.

Pulling away sooner than I wanted, the turtle pressed a soft kiss to my forehead before his blue eyes enraptured mine.

“You’re not unlovable. And you’ve never been unwanted.” He whispered. “I want you. And God, Y/n, I love you.” There was a small smile on his face, my breaking dawn.

“Freak and all?” I murmured.

“Freak and all.” He chuckled.

It’s nice to have a love.

.......................................

Curled up on the couch on a late Friday night after Mikey’s patrol, I laid gentle kisses on his neck, half paying attention to the movie on. He smiled down at me and pulled me closer.

“I don’t see why you like these movies.” He scoffed.

“Reminds me of you, us,” I whispered. “He’s so keen on protecting her, he almost loses her. He’s part of another world that she gets thrown into, and walks in it willingly. She’s different though. She’s immune to their powers.” My eyes flickered to the screen. “‘I tell you I can read minds, and you want to know if there’s something wrong with you?’” I quoted.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a dork.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“But I’m yours.” I grinned cheesily up at him.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It’s nice to have a friend.

..................................

Don’t be afraid to comment and reblog! I love knowing what you guys have to say and I love your feedback always!

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n8thegr8 · 3 years

Text

My Avengers Academy Chapter 3: Parasites

“Peter, honey, you’re not eating your ice cream.”

Peter looked at the delicious treat that was laid out in front of him. He glanced at his Auntie May, who had a face scorned with concern and sorrow.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Auntie.” Peter then slowly started to pick at his treat. It was a gloomy summer day. It was overcast and the man on the tv said it was going to rain that day. He was in an ice cream parlor. It had a certain classic feel to it. Sitting across the booth was his auntie and uncle, which both looked so sad. Peter had his head hung low, but it was up enough for him to bring the spoon to his mouth.

“Hey, kiddo, why don’t we watch Aladdin when we get back home, huh?” Uncle Ben said in an attempt to liven up the mood.

Peter began to play with his treat. “No, it’s okay.” His spoon kept moving the ice cream in circles. An endless loop until he decided to put a stop to it. He’d just been to the doctor. It was his yearly check-up. It was supposed to be a good day. His fifth birthday was only two days ago, and that was a good day. Today was supposed to be a good day. However, something ruined it. Droplets of salty tears started to form in Peter’s eyes. Why was he like this? Was he cursed? Why did it seem like the universe was out to get him? Did he do something wrong? His vision began to blur from the heavy flow of tears and his nose clogged up with mucus.

“Auntie May? Uncle Ben?” he choked. He slowly lifted his head, he couldn’t bear the shame he felt within him. He tried to look them in the eyes but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. “Why am I quirkless?” he sobbed. “Why am I quirk-“

“-less?” Peter felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through his body and he quickly sat up from his lying position. He found himself in an unfamiliar location. Everything was sterile and white. The bed he was lying in felt rough, but still gave some sense of comfort. His head was throbbing in pain. He put his hand on his forehead. “Am... am I dead?” he muttered.

“If you were, then I’ve been doing a crappy job.”

The voice startled Peter out of his daze. He looked to his left to see a woman he’d never seen before. She was dressed in a white long coat, glasses, and a little badge that read: “Claire Temple, Doctor”. She was writing on her clipboard. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“Umm…”

The doctor looked up from her clipboard. “What?”

“Wh-who are you?” Peter blinked.

“Claire Temple, resident Doctor at the Avengers Academy Hospital Ward,” she stated matter-of-factly.

What, I’m in the hospital?!

“You went into a syncopal episode, fell and hit your head on the ground, no bleeding though, so that’s great. We took a blood test and everything seems norm-“

“Woah woah woah, back up.” Peter waved his hands. “I fainted?!”

The doctor cocked an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you know what syncope means,” she commented, “But yes, you fainted. Specifically from a spider bite.” She gestured to Peter’s right hand.

Peter gasped as he looked at the back of his right hand. There were two small teeth marks and a giant bump. He almost fainted again.

“I… I’m not…”

“No, miraculously there wasn’t any poison delivered. Your blood came back perfectly normal.”

Oh, thank God… Peter sighed and hung his head. His memory was still covered in a deep dark fog. He held his head and shook it. “Doctor Temple-“

“Just call me Claire.”

Peter was taken aback by this statement. Isn’t the stereotype that doctors want to be called ‘doctor’?

“... Claire. What happened when I was unconscious?”

Claire’s gaze returned to her clipboard. “Your friend screamed for help and got the attention of Dr. Banner. He picked you up and rushed you up here.”

Peter jumped up onto his knees, a sudden burst of energy rushed through him. “I was held by the Hulk?!”

Claire backed up a bit, surprised by the sudden outburst. She readjusted her glasses and gave a light laugh. “You’re quite the hero fanboy aren’t you?”

As it is guaranteed that the sun will rise in the east, Peter’s face turned crimson with embarrassment. “I uh, wanna be one.” He scratched the back of his head.

“So do a lot of kids, but since you're quirkless, it adds more desperation, doesn’t it?”

Peter was taken by surprise by this. She read him so easily. Did she have a quirk? Was her quirk about knowing what a person is like just by looking at them? “That’s so cool! Can I write this down? That’s such a neat concept for a quirk. You could know exactly what’s wrong with a patient and act accordingly! I need to write this do-“

“Oh, by the way, your uncle’s on the way to pick you up.”

Claire’s words were a giant hammer to Peter’s wall of muttering.

“Also, I don’t have a quirk,” she added.

Peter started to sweat bullets. His heart started to pound like a jackhammer, and his body started to shake faster than Pietro when he tried to convince him that he could phase through solid objects. “Uncle Ben’s coming here?! B-but he’s supposed to be at work!” he sputtered. “J-just let me go home! He doesn’t have to pick me up…”

Claire sighed and rubbed her temples. “Yes, yes he does. Under federal law, a minor, you, cannot be discharged from the hospital, here,” she said as she circled her arm around the room while pointing. “Unless a parent or guardian, your uncle, signs a legally binding paper that states that you have been discharged from said hospital.”

Peter shook his head in desperation. “No no no no you don’t understand. Uncle Ben works a nine-to-five job, it’s really strict over there and even though Uncle Ben’s a veteran, they barely let anybody just drop their shifts even for family and and and-”

Suddenly Peter heard a vibration coming from a corner of the room, where the cabinet for patient belongings was stored. He then got out of his bed. His legs wobbled beneath him. It had been a while since he walked.

“Oh, you can walk, that’s good,” Claire added while writing on her clipboard.

Peter opened up the cabinet and saw all of his clothes folded neatly, and his phone and glasses laid on top of the pile. He snatched them both and turned the phone on immediately.

“I can see your ass, by the way, hospital gowns do a crappy job of covering stuff.”

Peter let out a small, “Yipe!” and covered his full moon. “Y-you coulda told me that earlier!”

“Yeah, I could’ve.”

Peter grunted. So that’s why it felt airy in here. Peter walked back to his cot; this is when Peter finally noticed the heavy bags under Claire’s eyes. She must not get a lot of sleep. He hopped into his cot, making sure that he stayed modest as he did, and turned on his screen. He saw a variety of messages:

Wanda Maximoff :P (2:35 PM, 32 messages): Please please message me, I really hope you’re alright.

Pietro Maximoff (2:36 PM): Sis is kind of a stalker amirite?? Message us when you wake up big guy, worried for ya.

Uncle Ben (2:40 PM): Hey son, I’m 5 minutes away, okay? Stay tight, I love you.

After Peter read the message from his Uncle, he wanted to scream out to the heavens. Uncle Ben needed to work; make money so that he can support the family. This can’t happen, it just can’t. He felt breath on his shoulder. He turned his head to his right to see that Claire’s chin was resting on his shoulder, sneaking looks at his phone. He then jerked his phone away and sat on it. “Hey, no peeking!”

Claire pushed herself from the cot and the rolling chair carried her a bit of a way away from the cot. “Your girlfriend’s pretty clingy, you should watch your back.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he snapped. “She’s just my friend.”

A sly grin climbed itself onto Claire’s features. “Uh-huh, sure.”

Eventually Uncle Ben arrived at the hospital ward and Peter was discharged, free to go home. Uncle Ben and Peter had to book it to the car since he put only enough money in the parking meter for twenty minutes. Once in the car, Peter stood silent. A mix of emotions swirled within him like a ravaging hurricane. He was sad, frustrated, angry, and depressed all at once. He didn’t want to talk to Uncle Ben. Peter basically demanded him to drop him off at the subway station so he could get back to work as soon as possible.

Uncle Ben took a look at his nephew. Peter sat on an angle where his whole body was facing away from him. His head was tilted and rested on the window. It despaired him so much to see Peter in such a bad mood. He thought back to when Peter was born. He was so excited for his brother, Richard, and his sister-in-law, Mary. They’d been trying for years to have a child, and when Peter was born, he saw this spark in their eyes. He knew Peter was something special, a boy that could lighten up any room he’s in just by talking about what he loves. Uncle Ben kept his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t help but attempt to get Peter in a better mood.

“Hey, Pete, when I get home tonight, why don’t we watch It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World? I’ll have May make us some chocolate shakes and you can invite Pietro and Wanda over. We can make a whole thing out of it!”

Peter sighed. “No, it’s okay.”

Uncle Ben eyed Peter. He knew something was up. “Son, are you okay? What’s bothering you? Is it the camera? May and I can get you a new one.”

Peter always hated it when he called him “son”. It meant that he was worried about him, and he was trying to connect with him. Even though Uncle Ben couldn’t possibly understand what Peter was feeling. However, he knew he couldn’t hide things from him for long. He always finds out one way or another.

“N-no! Don’t get me a new one, please. It’s just that I… I didn’t want to pull you away from work. The hospital should’ve let me go home,” Peter said in a low sad voice.

“Peter,” Uncle Ben sighed, “You know that I’d do anything for you, right?”

Peter bumped his head against the window. “I told you to stop that,” Uncle Ben scolded.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, “I just… I just don’t like taking you away from your responsibilities, I guess.”

“Responsibilities? Peter... my responsibility is you. Providing for you. Raising you. Teaching you. Taking care of you.”

Peter shook his head. “But I pulled you away from work. Don’t you have a responsibility there too? One that’s a lot more important than me...” Peter trailed off.

Uncle Ben suddenly pulled over to an open space on the side of the road and put the car in park. He drew in a hefty sigh and turned to look at Peter.

“Peter, look at me,” Uncle Ben said. Peter turned his head to see Uncle Ben looking at him dead in the eye. He knew what this meant. He was going to get a speech.

“Peter, you are my greatest responsibility okay? When May and I took you in, I knew what that meant. I knew that I had to be the best parent, guardian, whatever there is for you. I had to be. I had to do it for Richard and Mary, but most importantly I had to do it for you. Yeah, I have to go to work and yes, doing well at work, going to work, etc. is my responsibility. But you are my greatest responsibility. Making sure that you grow up into a fine young man. Picking you up from crazy situations like these. Protecting you. Also, supporting whatever you want to be. You still wanna be a hero?”

“Yeah...” Peter blushed in embarrassment.

Uncle Ben let out a small chuckle. “That’s a big responsibility to take on, Peter, but I know you can pull it off. You’re a smart kid. With enough gusto, you can do anything. Now, don’t say you’re not important ever again, okay? You’re already my hero, alright?”

“O-okay Uncle Ben,” Peter stammered, “I love you.”

Uncle Ben smiled and patted Peter on the shoulder. “I love you too. Now let’s get you to the train station okay?”

Uncle Ben then put the car into drive and looked over to his blind spot to see if any cars were coming. Peter went back and laid his head on the window. He could hear the mumblings of his Uncle as there were no decent spots to pull out into the street. He laughed silently at the nonsensical words that were spoken from his Uncle’s mouth.

“Jeez, finally,” stated Uncle Ben.

Peter then felt the car start to move. Then out of nowhere, a horrible migraine hit Peter like a truck. Time slowed down as he felt this excruciatingly weird tingly feeling running through his head and his body. He felt extreme paranoia and a sense of immediate danger.

Look out.

“Uncle Ben!”

“What’s wrong?!” Uncle Ben exclaimed, whipping his head around to face Peter.

Without warning, a speeding pick-up truck came rushing past the car, honking its horn as it passed.

“Woah!” exclaimed Uncle Ben, turning his head back towards the road. “I... I didn’t even see him,” Uncle Ben muttered, “Saved us another doctor’s visit. Good eye, kid.” He gave a hearty laugh.

Peter let out a nervous chuckle, “Y-yeah, r-right...” Peter was sitting stiff as a board at this point. That’s the thing though; Peter never saw the truck coming. He just felt this overwhelming feeling of danger and decided to act on it. What the hell was that? was his thought as Uncle Ben finally pulled onto the street and started to drive again.

The rest of the car ride was blanketed in a kind silence. The talk had been made, love had been reaffirmed, but Peter was struggling inside yet again. If something seemed off, he couldn’t just let it go. Uncle Ben had this trait too. “The Parker Paranoia” he called it. That migraine wasn’t normal. It felt like I was having an aura.

Uncle Ben dropped Peter off at the train station. When he boarded his train, he pulled out his phone. He wanted to research the phenomena that he had just experienced. Quickly he realized that he never texted Pietro and Wanda and that there were 30 new messages from her.

“Oh, shit.”

Peter was bummed to find out that his regular stop, the Queens Station, was closed due to the earlier Villain attack by the Sandman.

Pretty basic name, if I gotta be honest.

So he had to get off one stop early and huff it the rest on foot.

It took fourteen minutes of apologizing to Wanda, but eventually, he got through to her. Nobody found out about the fight between Flash and Pietro. Peter internally groaned since he could already imagine the amount of bragging from Pietro about how he was totally going to win that fight. Peter shot a text to Wanda saying that he’d gotten off of the train and that he’d see her when he’d get home. As Peter was walking down the sidewalk, he spotted a beautiful lone flower in the middle of a desecrated lot. Police tape withheld entrance to the lot, thick sheets of glass covered the perimeter, and there were two signs: one had the radiation symbol, and the other read “Area Quarantined by Damage Control.”

This is where the Radioactive Man was arrested last week, he thought.

Villain attacks have become a common occurrence in society ever since the Quirk Boom in the 1960s. It wouldn’t be too unusual for an entire block to be destroyed. There were government programs and agencies such as Damage Control that helped get common people and communities back onto their feet.

Peter reached into his backpack to grab his camera, only to remember the fate of his most sentimental possession. He hung his head in sadness once again and he continued on his way. He didn’t even want to take a picture with his phone. He just didn’t want to do anything at the moment. He was tired, his head ached, his legs felt wobbly, and he just wanted to go home.

As Peter continued walking, his mind flashbacked to that horrible day. The day he found out he was quirkless. He recalled the doctor’s harsh words to him, the tightness in his chest, the pain in his throat from crying so much; he recalled everything. Today was the anniversary. He wanted to wipe away the horrible memory by making new ones at Avengers Academy. However, as his luck would have it, today might just have been the worst day of his life.

He came across a small tunnel. He stopped and sighed. He lost all of the pictures he took today; the SD card either was smashed or was lost. Why? Why me? Peter has asked this question many times but has never gotten an answer. He just felt like he was the unluckiest boy alive. Tears started to well up in his eyes as they usually did. Peter was always taught that crying was a healthy thing, but other times Aunt May felt like it was a mistake to tell him that. Peter cried so much that Pietro sometimes joked that crying was Peter’s secret quirk. Usually, when he’d say that, he’d trip and fall on his face courtesy of Wanda’s Hex.

His chest started to tighten as the intense emotion of sadness filled him like water pouring into a cup. His vision blurred with tears. Then, he put his back against the wall of the entrance to the tunnel, knelt, hugged his knees to his chest, hid his face, and cried. I’m so useless. Memories of Flash’s name-calling ran through his mind. Every day he suffered. Whether it was Flash, life, or even himself, Peter’s days were filled with sadness and depression. Sure, there were days where his family and friends would cheer him up, but that could only do so much, and it was all because of his body. His blood. His DNA. It was all because of him. Because of himself, he could never be who he wanted to be. He could never become a hero. He couldn’t fly, he couldn’t punch through walls, shoot lightning from his fingertips, nothing. All he could do was what everyone else could already do, and that made him feel absolutely horrible.

His breath became irregular and he started to hit himself on the head. “I’m so stupid.” He hit the wall behind him, and pain stung his balled-up fist. “Nothing ever goes right.” He pulled his hair. “I’m a damn failure.” He started to scratch his wrists. “Nobody loves me.” He flung his head and bumped the wall behind him. “I want to die!” he screamed. His head then started to throb with pain, and he kept muttering, “I’m so worthless,” over and over again. He cried harder and small sobs and whines escaped his mouth. Even though nobody was around, he didn’t want his pain to be noticeable. Nobody should know that he’s hurting, not his family, not his friends, not his teachers, not his therapist, not God, not anybody. His head started to hurt more and more. His arm hair stood straight up.

Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t I have a quirk? Why was I born wrong? Why am I curs-

“Excuse me.”

Peter jolted back to his feet when he heard the voice coming deeper from the tunnel. Peter’s eyesight was still blurry from the crying, but he could see the vague figure of a man standing a few meters from him.

“O-oh,” Peter stammered, “I’m sorry about that.” Peter’s head started to hurt even more now, and his legs started to wobble beneath him. What the hell?

“No, child, it’s okay.” The stranger's voice sounded odd to Peter as if it was a corrupted sound file on a computer. “I was just trying to find my way home. Do you know where I am?”

Peter kept wiping his eyes. “Yeah, actually, you’re in Queens.” A chill ran up and down Peter’s spine.

What’s happening?

The stranger let out a small laugh. “Good, good, and what time is it?”

Peter looked down at his phone. “It’s 3:23 PM, sir.” A small voice yelled in Peter’s head. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.

“How excellent!” the stranger exclaimed, “Everyone’s still at work now, yes?”

Peter still couldn’t see the stranger. His eyes were no longer blurry, but he was still shrouded in the darkness of the tunnel. A foul stench caught the attention of Peter’s nose. “Jeez!” He then held his nose. “Um, yeah they still should be.”

RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN, the voice kept screaming. His eyes widened as he remembered this feeling. This feeling of paranoia. Of imminent danger. The feeling that he was going to die. Peter took a step back and lengthened the distance between him and the stranger. “Well, sir, I hope you find your way home. Have a good day.”

He turned around and started to walk. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER. His leg was snagged by something mid-step and Peter fell to the ground. “What the..?” He looked to his leg and his heart jumped into his throat when he saw it being held by a red tendril. “Oh no.” Peter’s gaze followed the tendril back to the tunnel, and, more horrifyingly, back to the stranger.

The stranger began to speak once more. “Oh, don’t go! We haven’t even learned each other’s names yet!” The voice transformed into something much more demonic with each passing word.

Peter felt himself slowly starting to slide across the old tough concrete ground towards the stranger. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RU-

“I’ll start!” The stranger’s face became much clearer, however, one would be mistaken if you could even call it a face. It had no eyes, but it had giant white angular white splotches where eyes should be. It did have a mouth. It looked familiar to Peter, and that made him realize who currently had him in its grasp. It was jagged, and the teeth were long and black. It was a symbiote’s mouth. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.

“My name is Carnage, and we’re going to be best friends!” The creature cackled a hellish laugh. Peter grasped at the ground around him to try to get away, but it was in vain. More tendrils came from Carnage, wrapped around his throat, arms, and remaining leg, and pulled him into the darkness of the tunnel.

Peter’s screams for help were cut off from another tendril wrapping itself around Peter’s mouth. Carnage put its long finger up to its mouth and gave a chilling hush. “We can’t have you ruining our playdate, human. You gotta help me, best friend.” Peter was brought closer to the monster and his entire body violently shook. Everything in his body told him to run, to get out of there, but he couldn’t break free. “You see, I’m playing Cops and Robbers with another friend! I’m the robber and I need to hide. Best friend, I need to hide in your body.”

No no no no no no no, this can’t be happening.

“I’m also…” Carnage’s tongue escaped its mouth and traced Peter’s face. Its saliva felt hot and slightly stung Peter’s skin. Peter tried to let out a scream, a cry for help, anything, but he couldn't. “Extremely hungry. My friend started to play with me in the middle of my dinner,” the red demon cackled, “And you, best friend, are the perfect replacement for my dinner.”

A giant tendril shot out of Carnage’s body, forced its way into Peter’s mouth, and slithered its way into his body. Peter’s whole body was on fire, he was in so much pain, and his head wouldn’t stop hurting.

Am I dying? Is this it?

“Thank you, best friend. You’re a real hero.”

Peter’s life flashed before his eyes, his first memory, his birthdays, meeting Flash and Wanda, watching movies with Uncle Ben and Aunt May, the day he found out he was quirkless, the day that Flash beat him up for the first time, his Aunt and Uncle hugging him and crying because of something he said, every memory started to get sadder and sadder. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to die. Not like this. I need to be a hero. Peter looked at his hero notebook which laid upon the ground. It was opened at Iron Man’s page.

Someone! Please! Save me!

Peter’s vision started to fade. There was no light to go to; there was only the encroaching darkness that consumed everything. During what he thought were his final moments, he heard a loud clanging noise to his right. He heard someone say, “Man, I’m sure glad this suit has filters.”

He heard another voice screech in terror and say, “No! Not you! Let me have my din-!” Peter felt intense vibrations surround him, and then everything went dark.

Peter’s eyes shot wide open. He looked at his surroundings and realized he was no longer in the tunnel, but he was at the park. He saw Flash standing over a boy he didn’t know, and he was on the ground clutching his stomach. Peter noticed how the boy was in pain and rushed to his side. Peter turned to Flash. He noticed that he had a distinct smile on his face.

Peter called out to him. “Flash, what happened to him?”

Flash only chuckled to himself and shook his head. The boy groaned in pain, and Peter’s attention went back to him.

“Flash, you have to get an adult,” Peter said, “He’s really hurt.” Peter looked at the boy. His skin was pale as a sheet, but his hair was a fiery red. His clothes were expensive-looking, a green vest, a white shirt, and dark pants. His face was bruised and beaten. “It’s okay, we’re gonna get help and-“

“Why are you helping him, Wall-Crawler?”

Peter snapped his head back to Flash, an annoyed look was painted on his face.

“Look at him. He’s weak.”

Peter’s eyes widened. Why was Flash acting like this? Peter’s gaze was drawn to Flash’s knuckles; they were red. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. “Flash… did you hurt him?”

Flash only grimaced.

“Flash, answer me. Did you hu-“

“-rt? Hey kid, wake up! You good?”

Peter felt something cold cup his cheek. It felt metallic.

DANGER!

Then, he felt that same cold metallic object smack him across the face.

“Oh shut up, Friday, the Hulk woke me up with an Earth-shattering roar. This kid can handle a love tap to the face.”

F...Friday? Peter could only see darkness since his eyes were still closed. He could hear a voice, but it sounded robotic and static. However, it sounded familiar. He knew that name: Friday. His mind was still clouded by a thick fog.

“I can’t just leave him here. Just because I purged the Symbiote from him doesn’t mean he’s okay. He’s just a kid.”

I definitely know that voice. Wait… is that-?! Peter interrupted his thought by opening his eyes. However, the light from the afternoon sun blinded him as he threw his hands up to cover his eyes.

“Oh, good, he’s awake.”

Peter heard the sound of heavy footsteps that came from his left. Along with the footsteps, sounds of mechanical whirring and clanging came with it. Peter put down his shielding hands, and his eyes readjusted to the light. On his left stood a man, clad in red and yellow armor. Various blue lights lined the crevices, and a glowing blue triangle adorned the man’s chest. A mask covered the man’s face; the eyes glowed the same blue light as in the crevices and the triangle. Peter’s jaw dropped in utter disbelief. He was in the presence of the most popular hero in the world.

The man clad in red and yellow armor knelt to meet Peter eye to eye. “Hey, you okay, kid?”

Peter’s entire body went numb. His mouth quivered in excitement. The earth stood still, time stopped, and all he could hear was the flow of his blood in his veins. He started spouting incoherent nonsense. “I-I-I-I-“ he stammered.

The man tilted his helmet in a curious disposition. “You what, kid?”

“Iron Man?!” Peter screamed while pointing at him.

Iron Man then dashed towards Peter and covered his mouth. “Pipe down, kid! Do you know how hard it is to escape rabid fans?!”

Peter's whole body shook as he realized that the real Iron Man was telling him to shut his trap. This is so amazing! Peter slowly nodded his head, and Iron Man then released his grip on his mouth.

This turned out to be a bad idea, however, Peter didn’t start screaming again. Instead, he started to mutter.

“So do you actually have a quirk or not it’s been a debate for years and years and you’ve been really shady when you have to talk about it and that’s fine ‘cuz it’s your own personal life and all but I really really would like to know ‘cuz I have this notebook here see and let me open up to your page and oh wow you actually signed it oh my God oh my God this is amazing I’ll treasure this forever it’ll be hung up in the living room oh wow oh wow you’re so amazing and...“

“Woah, this kid has nothing better to do, does he?” Iron Man mumbled under his breath. Peter’s onslaught of words was getting on Iron Man’s and Friday’s nerves, and Friday didn’t even have nerves to get on. Iron Man needed to stop this before Peter passed out. “Alright, alright, calm down,” he said while waving his hands. “Are you feeling okay? No voices? No sudden urge to consume human flesh?”

Peter flinched when Iron Man suddenly interrupted his airstrike of word vomit. Then, he shook his head. Iron Man then let his arms hang and sighed in relief. “Awesome,” he said as he turned his back on Peter. “Don’t worry about Carnage. He’s secure and sedated in a special compartment in the suit.,” he said lightly tapping his gauntlet on his left hand. Iron Man then turned his head slightly in Peter’s direction. Peter could only see a bit of the mask, specifically the glowing eye and a bit of the face. “You know your way home, kid?”

Peter only made a small sound in response.

“Beautiful.”

Peter was at an impasse. There he was, standing behind the most popular hero of all time, and he was told to be quiet. He couldn’t even make a sound anymore. All he could do was look onward. He reached out his hand when Iron Man turned his back. He was leaving him that quick? A signature, a few basic questions, and that was it? No questions about himself? Nothing? Peter didn’t even care that he almost died only minutes ago. He just felt so heavy, as if a rock was tied together by steel and was stuffed in his heart. Was this a hero's life? Was this Iron Man’s true self? Was he wrong about everything?

“Alright, kid.” The distinct sound of exhaust and flames started to emanate from Iron Man. “Go home, okay? Your parents are probably worried sick about ‘ya. Oh, and if you do start feeling particularly cannibal-ly, call the Avengers hotline. We’ll deal with it immediately.” The sound of engines began to intensify and Iron Man was shot into the sky by the rockets built in his boots and palms.

Tony Stark sighed as he began his flight; he didn’t have much time left. He just had to get Carnage to the Raft, charge up there, and get home. He was really taking this one a little too close to the chest by being out so long. Carnage was a crafty bastard and a quick one as well. No wonder why he’d been on the run for more than thirty years.

“Boss, something’s on your back,” his in-suit AI, Friday, said with the enthusiasm of a secretary on the last thirty minutes of her shift.

This made him panic a bit inside. Was it a villain attack? Now? How did his sensors not pick up this object until it was already on his back?

“Putting up live-feed from the ‘Hulk’s-Hand-in-the-Cookie-Jar’ camera,” Friday stated.

The live feed showed up on the mask’s UI, and Tony could not believe what he was seeing. It’s that kid! How the hell?!

“Friday! Get him off my back!” he shouted.

There was a long pause of silence, and even though the suit blocked off all sounds from the outside world, he could faintly hear the screaming of the kid that was clung to his back.

“Are you an idiot, boss? Look where we’re flying over right now.”

Tony’s visor then switched to standby mode, a mode which was used when no action was happening. He then saw that he was high above the streets of Manhattan and realized why dropping a child from this height would be very bad for his public image.

Tony sighed and he looked back at the kid who was still hanging on. He was slightly disturbed by the g-forces at work doing a number on the poor boy’s face and told him specifically to keep his head down. Once he saw the boy follow his order, he held the kid’s head with his left hand and gave it a little pressure to hold it in place. This was a precaution in case the kid was stupid enough to raise his head and let his neck be at the mercy of the laws of physics.

“Boss, power level is currently at 3%. You have to hurry,” Friday stated urgently, “We have to get this kid to safety soon.”

Easier said than done, Tony thought. He couldn’t just drop the kid off at street level. It would take too much power to get back at a respectable altitude and fly the rest of the way. He had to drop him off at a building, but a smaller one though. Suddenly, Tony felt extremely weak. His body started to become extremely stiff, and his breathing started to slow and become labored.

Shit.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that to him, Flash.”

Flash shot a disapproving glare at his friend, Kenny Kong. He was a bit on the plus side which made him ideal for the school’s football team. He did well enough in school to qualify for sports, but he wasn’t exceptionally bright. He was also born quirkless, which made life a bit difficult for him socially, but he was well respected among his peers for going toe-to-toe with other quirked students in football. He was not a mean person by any means; he didn’t go out of his way to torment or bully people who he deemed below him. However, maybe he didn’t get on anyone’s bad side because he thought he couldn’t stand up to them. Usually, after school Flash and Kenny would go downtown and find a nice alley that they could bunker down in and drink some booze in secret.

“You could’ve gotten suspended,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall behind him.

Flash exhaled from his nose in annoyance. He took a swift swig of his 40, and his face scrunched up as he felt the alcohol burn his throat and the pungent taste assault his taste buds. He let out a breath of relief and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. That was a lot stronger than I thought. He tossed the bottle to Kenny, who in turn caught it and took a swig himself. “But I didn’t, right? So nothing bad happened.”

“Bro, he fainted…”

“So?”

“He coulda got hurt!”

Flash scoffed at him. “Nah, that round-faced bitch caught him before he hit the ground. And he was just overreacting anyway. It’s just a camera.”

“Uh, no she didn’t! He hit his head!” Kenny exclaimed.

Flash shrugged in indifference.

“Come on du-“

“Listen, Ken, the Wall-Crawler’s in over his head.” Flash walked up to Kenny and snagged the bottle from him. “Imagine that Parker is this bottle, okay? What would happen if I chucked it at the wall there?” Flash asked as he pointed behind him.

“It would break…?” Kenny answered, not sure where Flash was going with this metaphor.

“Yup, it would break into a million little pieces and the alcohol inside would spill out. The bottle is gone and it failed its task to hold the booze. It can’t even be recycled.”

“I don’t see how that…”

“But, if I, let’s say…” Suddenly, Flash’s arm became covered with the symbiote, and Flash’s hand grew claws at the end of his fingers. He then took the bottle with his hand and cracked the top of it off. All that was left on the top was the craggy pattern of broken glass. “Did that. Yeah, the top’s broken off, but look, the alcohol is still there. It can also be recycled into something else.”

“That was $30 man!” Kenny shouted, “Do you know how expensive it is to get booze as a minor?!”

Flash put his finger to his mouth. “Irrelevant, and pipe down will ‘ya?! I’m not lookin’ to get an underage drinking mark on my record. I’m aiming for the big shots, y’here?” Flash then sighed. “Look if that idiot somehow gets into a hero school, he’s going to get slaughtered. By a teacher, classmate, or even a villain if he ever gets that far. And apparently, I’m the only one man enough to put him in his place and teach him a lesson.” Flash shook his head and slumped against the wall. “It’s how I learned.”

Flash heard a “‘Tch” come from Kenny. “You got a problem, Kong?”

“Yeah, maybe I do.”

Flash stood up; a blood vessel started to make itself visible on his forehead. “Well, please then, tell me a better idea. If ‘ya have one.”

Kenny stood up too, matching Flash’s deadly gaze with his own. “How about this: leave him alone. It’s his life. If he’s quirkless and wants to be a hero, then let him. You’re not obligated to stop his dream, no matter how unattainable it is. He ain’t your responsibility, and maybe your method of literally crushing his dreams isn’t really all that good.”

“What do you know?” Flash spat. “Isn’t it a hero’s job supposed to be stopping deaths from happening?”

“Yeah, but they don’t usually send their saved civilians home with bruises they caused. You’re making excuses.” Kenny crossed his arms. The two stared down each other; the menace of anger filled the air. More of Flash’s symbiote crawled down his other arm. Kenny noticed this, grunted, and shook his head. “Whatever, man. I’m going home. I expect $30 on my desk tomorrow.”

Flash rolled his eyes. “And where the hell would I find $30?”

Kenny shrugged. “I dunno. Hold Parker upside down and shake the money out of him.”

“Jesus Christ, Ken, I-“

Suddenly, Flash noticed that Kenny’s eyes were wide. His mouth was ajar ever so slightly and his bottom lip was quivering. Normally Flash would just write this behavior off as Kenny being Kenny, but there was something about his eyes. They were dilated, and they weren’t looking at Flash. They were looking above him.

He could feel it. The atmosphere changed radically. Instead of the stench of anger, the smell of fear permeated everywhere. Flash didn’t like this feeling. Not one bit. Something was behind him, and he did not want to turn around. His hands started to shake. He swallowed a lump down his throat. They both needed to get out of there. They both were in serious trouble.

“Ken,” Flash whispered, “Run.”

Red clouded Flash’s vision and a psychotic laugh pierced Flash’s ears.

Peter had spent the last forty-five seconds coughing his lungs out. A common occurrence because he had never been able to burp his entire life, and he usually resorted to coughing up all of the gas in his stomach due to his horrible hiccups. However, this time it was because he was flying around at speeds that a human was never designed to be traveling at. That was so stupid.

“Kid, that was literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen someone do, and I work with Deadpool.”

Peter sighed as he looked back at Iron Man. Again, his back was turned to him. He wasted time. He had this question. This question haunted him for ten whole years. Why didn’t he ask this question earlier when he was ranting? Peter finally got back up on his two feet.

“Keep banging on the door until someone lets you down. After that, go straigh-“

“Wait a second!”

“No!” Iron Man’s voice became stern, like a master scolding their dog. “I’m extremely busy, and I don’t have time for fanboys an-“

“Can somebody become a hero, even if they don’t have a quirk?!” Peter bellowed. He did it. He tossed the line into the pond.

Iron Man turned his head slightly in Peter’s direction. “Kid, I…”

Peter kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t bear to see the expression on Iron Man’s face. Even though he had a mask on, he knew if he looked he would feel an intense wave of disapproval. He just knew it. When he realized that Iron Man didn’t continue speaking, he stepped back in. “I wasn’t born with a quirk, but I always wanted to be a hero. I’ve been picked on so much because of that. I can’t run really fast or move things with my mind, but, I don’t know. I just really want to save people. I just think … that’s the coolest thing in the world. I want to be able to save the world with brimming confidence. Like you do. I don’t want a reward. I don’t care about money and fame. I just want to be there when someone falls to catch them right in the nick of time or rush in when some criminals rob a bank. I just want to help.” Peter opened his eyes and lifted his head to his hero. “You know what I mean?”

But who Peter saw standing in Iron Man’s place wasn’t him. Who stood in his place was an incredibly anorexic man, with greying hair on his head and on his beard, wearing a graphic t-shirt of two cartoon electrons telling a smart chemistry joke, and baggy green-ish pants. Peter screamed in terror.

“Wh-what?! Who are you?! What happened to Iron Man?! You look like Tony Stark but…! Wait! You’re an imposter! A fake! Some sort of off-brand Life Model Decoy?!” he babbled while pointing at the man.

The man hung his head and gave a deep, depressed, and frustrated sigh. “I am Iron Man, and ‘off-brand Life Model Decoy’? That’s pretty rude to say to someone, kid.”

“No way,” Peter gasped. He couldn’t put his finger on why he knew, but hearing him talk assured him that the unusual-looking man in front of him was indeed Tony Stark: The Invincible Iron Man. “You haven’t shown your face in years. People were wondering if-“

“If I was dead?” Tony sat down and put his back against the short ledge behind him. “No, not yet… Well, technically yes.”

Peter couldn’t process this. Tony Stark wasn’t huge or anything, but he was a six-foot-tall man who exhumed confidence by just standing in the room. Always dressed nice, cleaned up well, and still considered attractive at an age where most models would be let go. The man sitting in front of him was pale, frail, his hair was thin, and his eyes looked sullen and tired. This was a man who looked like he gave up on life a long time ago, not the man who saved the world in a high-tech suit.

“Well, if you’ve seen me like this, I guess I’ll just tell you.” Tony grasped the bottom of his shirt and lifted. Peter flinched when he saw virtually a skeleton with skin wrapped around it. He didn’t even have a belly to speak of. It was sucked in so far into his body. How did he even walk to put the suit on today? What caught Peter’s eye, though, was the arc reactor nestled in his chest. Everyone knew the story of Tony Stark and his invention. However, Peter noticed that the veins around the chest piece itself were glowing multiple colors. A group of colors that seemed oddly familiar to him, but he didn’t know why. “Five years ago, there was a battle, and I did a Hail Mary play to end it. I died. My heart stopped, but I was still conscious. I’m basically running on fumes right now.” Tony then knocked on his chest piece, the famous Arc Reactor. “Because of my quirk, the energy that I absorbed during the battle is what is keeping me alive. If I use it, I die. I charge the arc reactor on my off time, storing new energy so I don’t have to use this special energy that’s inside of me. It‘s built to run on a 1% charge for a day, but when I use the suit, it drains fast.”

Peter’s mind flipped through its imaginary pages to find the event that he was talking about. “Was it the fight against the U-Foes? They really messed you and Cap up…”

“Those D-Lister lowlifes?” Tony said dismissively. “No, it wasn’t them. This battle had very little coverage. I made sure of it.”

The thought of Tony Stark manipulating news coverage on a fight disturbed Peter, but that was a discussion for another day.

“The Invincible Iron Man should always remain, well, invincible. If word got out there that I’m functionally dead, people would lose hope. Sometimes I feel that I’m the only thing that’s holding this world from destruction. I don’t know if that's my ego talking or if it’s true. That’s why I wear the armor, kid. So people won’t see that I’m terrified. That I’m human, just like the rest. Some people say I’m a symbol of peace. A man who rejected his war profiteering ways and decided to fight for the greater good of humanity. In reality, I’m just a scared and jaded old man who shouldn’t even be alive.”

Tony got up and walked towards a door that led to the stairs of the building that they were on. “Oh, and to answer your question.”

Peter’s ears perked up. His chest tightened with anticipation.

“I don’t think a person without a quirk can be a hero, and before you say anything, Cap doesn’t count. You have to be willing to lay yourself down on the barbed wire so your partner can crawl on top of you. Except the barbed wire is laced with poison and you don’t have a healing factor. Also, the field that you’re in is over two-hundred degrees Fahrenheit and you don’t have a heat-resistance quirk. You’d just be killed. I’m sorry.”

Peter’s head hung low, and his eyes darkened with sadness. “Ah, I see,” he whispered.

Tony opened the door and sighed as he could practically feel Peter’s sadness. “Listen, if you wanna be able to help you should be a first responder. It’s a fine profession. New Yorkers love their Firefighters and Paramedics. You’d be doing a good thing. Also, I don’t think I need to tell you this, but don’t post what I said to you online, okay?”

Tony glanced back at Peter. He noticed the small tears running down his face, going down his neck, and seeping into the collar of his shirt. He hated being the bad guy. “But, I can tell that you won’t. You look like a good kid.” After he said this, he walked through the doorway and closed it. Peter could faintly hear Tony ask Friday something about where she put Carnage’s canister, but he honestly didn’t care. He was now alone on a rooftop. Heartbroken.

Before Peter had time to sulk and cry about his situation, he heard a loud explosion. Then, he peered over the edge and saw people running out from an intersection. A villain attack?! Peter ran to the door and grabbed the handle. It’s not far. I should-

The memories of Tony Stark’s words flew through his mind like a wasp circling its victim. Peter’s grip on the handle loosened, and his shoulders hung. “Never mind,” he whispered to himself. He opened the door and slowly walked down the stairs. Right now, he just wanted to go home.

Peter hit the streets and made his trek towards the station. What was he gonna tell Aunt May? If he told her, would he ever be allowed outside the house again? Would they have to start driving him to school so they can make sure he’s safe? What was he gonna tell Wanda and Pietro? “Hey, by the way, on the way home I was attacked by the most infamous and deadly serial killer of the modern era. What game do you guys wanna play?” He could tell that whatever measures Aunt May and Uncle Ben would take to protect Peter; Pietro and Wanda’s measures would be one-hundred times more severe. They’d probably request a class transfer so they could make sure he’s safe, or at least Wanda would. As much as he’d like that, the last thing that he wanted was to burden and worry them.

Peter made a right at the intersection and was taken out of his trance when he picked up the faint and distinct smell of burning gas. He looked up to see a group of people huddled around an entrance to an alley, as he got closer. He realized where he was. He was at the location of the explosion he heard earlier. Even though he had his hopes and dreams crushed by the most popular hero in the world, there was something in Peter’s instincts that drew him to danger. He sighed. If he was already here, he might as well get the most of it. He pushed his way through the crowd, and he saw that Multiple Man was still on patrol today as he, once again, formed a barrier between the civilians and the action. Peter felt an intense heat as fire engulfed parts of the alley. Past the barrier of men were a couple of heroes that Peter recognized: The Thing and Mr. Fantastic. The last two-thirds of the Future Foundation. By the looks of things, they were having trouble. Peter’s gaze went past them to see the villain.

A horrible, stomach-churning feeling ravaged Peter’s body like a hurricane. He saw a monstrous indescribable form of red, but it was very familiar to him. It was Carnage, and he was in the process of eating another person. He could faintly overhear the two heroes debating on how to beat the villain. There were sounds of worry in their voices. Were they losing? Were they not prepared?

This is my fault. Peter remembered that Iron Man said something about storing Carnage in his gauntlet. He specifically remembered him pointing to his left arm. The same arm that he used to hold Peter’s head down when they were flying. How did it fall out? Was it loose? Was it because his power was low? This is my fault and someone is going to die because of me. He covered his mouth in terror. Peter overheard some commotion in the crowd, there was talk about Iron Man. There was talk about how Iron Man was chasing Carnage earlier. People were also asking where Iron Man was.

This is my fault this is all my fault. Peter saw a glimpse of the victim that Carnage currently had in its grasp. It was a horrifying sight. Carnage’s mouth was wide open, and razor-sharp teeth were everywhere. Its victim was inside its mouth as if it were slowly eating the victim. It was straight out of a horror movie. Peter felt like he was going to throw up. He knew how horrifying it is to be in the grasp of Carnage. He knew exactly what the victim was thinking. He suddenly heard a scream. It was a scream for help. Peter looked up, and his heart stopped.

What he saw in the mouth of Carnage, was the desperate and scared face of Eugene “Flash” Thompson. Half of it was human, and the other half was covered in his symbiote. He was holding out his arm as if he was reaching out for help.

Peter gasped.

Save him.

Peter then found himself eight feet in the air, because he just jumped over Multiple Man’s barricade. Shoes touched down on the concrete earth, and he ran. He ran faster than he ever did.

“You?!” he heard the red demon screech. He saw Flash mutter something but he didn’t hear.

He swore he could hear the cries of the two heroes that were currently behind him, begging him to stop, but he didn’t listen. He just kept running. His legs kept moving on their own. His head tingled, and his body shivered.

Danger.

He saw Carnage whip a tendril at him, but he knew it was coming. He moved out of the way ever so slightly to the left, and the tendril completely whiffed him.

Danger.

He heard the blood-curdling scream from the monster as it threw another tendril at him. He swiftly dodged to the right and came out unscathed as the tendril hit the ground.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

Yet another blood-curdling scream filled the air as multiple tendrils shot themselves towards Peter. Peter dove over all of them, rolled when he hit the floor to keep his momentum going, and kept running.

Peter wasn’t even thinking at this point. He couldn’t even feel anything either. He couldn’t feel the heat of the flames around him or the pain from the scraps on his knees. Someone was in danger and he had to do something.

He was close to Carnage now. Carnage cried another scream. As he was closing the gap between himself and the symbiote, instinct suddenly took Peter over. He held his arm up high and aimed his palm at Carnage’s eyes. His middle finger and ring finger curled into his palm, and something unexpected happened. A string of fluid shot out from Peter’s wrist and hit Carnage square in the white blotches that it called eyes. Carnage thrashed about as it couldn’t see. The strange fluid seemingly solidified and wrapped around Carnage’s face. Carnage’s grip on Flash loosened as he slid ever so slightly out of the gullet of the demon. Finally, Peter got close, took hold of Flash’s arm, and began to pull.

“Parker?! What are you doing?!” he frantically yelled.

Peter kept pulling and pulling. “I don’t know! I couldn’t stop my legs! I don’t know what’s happening!”

“Why are you here?! Get out of here!”

“Flash I…!” Peter’s face contorted into a determined grimace as tears ran down his face. “I'm not gonna stand there and watch you die!”

Flash’s eyes widened and his symbiote crawled to the edges of his face. The only human thing about Flash was his face at this point; his whole body was covered in the black symbiote. Flash bared his teeth, his eyes became pinpoint with rage, and he screamed.

“Get the hell ‘offa me!”

The symbiote within Flash came to life. Its own tendrils battled Carnage’s as it formed itself from Flash with a chilling figure. It looked similar to Carnage. It had white splotches where its eyes should be and it had sharp white teeth. It almost looked like it was grinning. It was black as the midnight sky, but the fires illuminated it with a subtle tinge of blue.

“Kill him! Venom!” Flash bellowed.

Venom let out a guttural roar that shook the earth beneath them. It then bit into Carnage’s upper face with its sharp monstrous teeth as Carnage screamed in pain.

“No! No! No!” Carnage yelled. Two large mouths flew out of Carnage’s blob-like biomass and bit hard into Venom’s neck. Venom screamed in agony. As did Flash who recoiled his free arm. Which escaped Peter’s grip, and held his neck in pain. Venom screeched in pain and fell to the side, not moving.

“This is not how playdates are supposed to go! I’m supposed to win! Always!” Carnage ripped off the solid-like fluid of his face and let out yet another roar.

Danger!

Peter felt danger coming from his left but it was too late, tendril struck him in the stomach and wrapped itself around his torso. Peter yelled in pain. It felt like someone took a bat to his abdomen. He tried moving his arms as he struggled to get out of Carnage’s deadly grasp. He needed to get out! He needed to save Flash!

“This play date is over!” Carnage screamed. “Now go to Hell!” An extra mouth formed from Carnage’s red mass and shot itself towards Peter at a blistering speed.

Peter’s head tingled and throbbed with pain but he could do nothing. He was trapped. He closed his eyes and braced for the inevitable.

The roars of engines suddenly filled the air and Peter opened his eyes to see Iron Man blocking the mouth with his arm!

“Iron Man?!” Peter yelled.

Iron Man looked directly at Peter. “I really am a piece of work, huh? Apparently, I wasn’t practicing what I preached!”

“No! Not you, again!”

“Hold on, kids!” Peter felt Iron Man grab his arm and he felt him pull. Peter was no longer in the grasp of Carnage, and he saw that Iron Man had Flash in his other hand.

He did it!

Peter saw the light in crevices of the armor glowing multiple colors. The same colors he saw earlier that were surrounding the chest piece.

“You know, Carnage, technically you aren’t human. You’re just a quirk!” Multi-colored light began shining from the chest piece. “Which means that I don’t have to hold back on you!”

“No!” Carnage screamed in terror.

Iron Man dropped Peter and Flash behind him as the multi-colored energy whirled within him. He crossed his arms in an “X” formation across his chest. The colors started to flash with more intensity. Iron Man kneeled and aimed upwards with his torso. “Oh yes! Your reign of terror is over!”

“I will not be defeated! I am Carnage! I am the most powerful being on the pla-“

”Yeah?! So what?! I’m Iron Man!” he bellowed. “Take this! Unibeam!”

A giant beam of multi-colored energy exploded out of Iron Man’s chest piece and enveloped itself around Carnage. It let out one last scream as its molecules were ripped asunder, and being vaporized into nothingness. The beam went past the nearby buildings and headed straight right into the stratosphere as it left the Earth.

Peter blinked and saw that Iron Man stopped the Unibeam. It didn’t look like he was moving. Peter started to worry until Iron Man’s hand curled into a thumbs-up. He then stood on his two feet, turned to the crowd, and gave them a thumbs-up as well. The sound of a cheering crowd filled Peter’s ears, and for the first time since this morning, Peter had a genuine smile on his face.

The events of the next hour were a blur to Peter. After Carnage was vaporized by Iron Man, Peter and Flash were pulled aside by on-scene medics to be evaluated. However, during this Peter got scolded heavily by the Thing for being so reckless. Peter felt a bit intimidated by him, but deep down in his heart, he knew he did the right thing. After being let go by medical services, Peter made his trek home once again. He tried to talk to Iron Man but he was hounded by the media.

As Peter got on the train once again, he opened up his phone once again to see that, once again, he had more messages than he can count. Everyone texted him. Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Pietro, Wanda, and even Mr. and Mrs. Maximoff, and they couldn’t even speak English too well. The texts from them touched Peter’s heart. He knew that he was loved, but it was nice to be reminded of that. He texted them all that he’s fine and he’s on the way home. However, he noticed that none of them read it. He shrugged and put his phone back in his pocket.

As the light of the setting sun filled the train car, Peter started to have questions about what he just saw. How did Iron Man do that? He had no energy left. He used the energy that was keeping him alive to pull that stunt off. Why didn’t he die? Did he not use all of it? Peter sighed and shook his head. He was so tired. He had a really long day.

Peter finally got to the Queens stop. Now it’s fixed? He touched ground and began his walk home. The sun was setting on the horizon with a beautiful orange glow and the sky danced with beautiful evening colors. The leaves were just starting to change. Peter didn’t notice it this morning, but now he realized how truly beautiful the season of Autumn can be. He turned on his street, and he saw blue and red lights in front of his house. Great. They probably think I’m missing. He turned back to the street that he was on beforehand so he wouldn’t be seen by anyone. He had to mentally prepare himself before he walked into the mess that was his front yard.

Danger.

“Parker!” a familiar voice barked.

Peter jumped, he knew something was coming, but he still jumped. He turned around to see Flash standing behind him. He looked furious. Peter flinched inwardly, but only for a second. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

“What do you want, Flash?” he asked with a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He was taught by his consular to take his time when he needed to stand up for himself. To take a deep breath and visualize what he was going to say and how he was going to say it.

“I want to tell you something,” Flash’s eyes narrowed, “I didn’t ask you to save me. I didn’t need your help. I could’ve gotten out of it.” His face was red, and his speech was slurred. “I don’t need your pity! I don’t need anything from you! Not from some quirkless, weak, worthless nobody!” He turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. He stomped angrily as he went. “Don’t cross me, Wall-Crawler!”

Peter tilted his head in confusion as he saw Flash walk away. He winced when he saw him kick an innocent trash can in spite.

I guess that’s his way of saying thank you?

A rush of concern for Flash washed over Peter. A rare occurrence. Flash stank of booze and looked pretty drunk. For a person with a symbiote to get drunk meant that they had to drink a lot of alcohol to balance out the host and the symbiote. Peter cupped his hands to his mouth.

“Flash!” he called out, “Do you know how to get home?!”

Flash turned around, his face even redder than before. “Of course I do, dumbass!” He pointed further down the road. “Go down three blocks and turn right!” He swiped the air with the hand he was pointing with and pivoted back into the direction he was walking in. “Just get outta my sight!” he yelled.

Peter gave a minuscule smile, sighed, and shook his head. I’m too nice to him… he did destroy my camera, today, though. That smile went directly in a frown. Great. Peter turned back around. He had to prepare himself again.

Dick. He just had to ruin my focus.

He took a deep breath, formulated his plan, figured out what he was going to say, and visualized how everything was going to go down. He decided he was ready and almost took his first step before he was interrupted again.

“Hey, kid!” A familiar voice shouted from above Peter. Peter looked up and saw Iron Man flying towards him.

An expression of shock found itself on Peter’s face.

“Iron Ma-?!” Before Peter could finish his shriek, Iron Man firmly planted his palm onto Peter’s mouth. Peter could practically taste the metal of the iron. Which was kind of disgusting.

“Are you going to do that every time?” he asked.

Peter shook his head and Iron Man let go of his mouth. Like last time, Peter had questions.

“So how did you escape the media they always hound you whenever you do hero work and also speaking of hero work how the hell did you do that and not die you explicitly told me that if you use that energy that’s keeping you alive which I have some theories about by the way you would literally die because your heart isn’t beating and also explain to me how that makes sense because I’m losing my Goddam-“

Suddenly the armor ran out of power again and revealed the zombie-like Tony Stark to which Peter promptly screamed in terror. Once Peter calmed down. Tony sighed and began to speak.

“I’ll answer all that in a bit, but right now, I gotta tell you two things, one’s a statement and one’s a question.”

Peter nodded cautiously.

“Okay, so, question first.” Tony sharply inhaled. “Why did you lie to me?”

Peter was utterly taken aback. “Wh-what?!”

“Your quirk! You told me you didn’t have a quirk!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t have one! What are you saying?!”

“Kid, I saw it. You jumped ten feet in the air over a human barricade. Ran faster than any kid your age can. Dodged every single attack thrown at you, with style, if I might add. And you shot that stringy stuff out of your wrist!”

Peter was grasping for an explanation. Any explanation. There’s no way he had a quirk. No way. This was all some sort of misunderstanding.

“Listen, uh, Mister Stark, what I said to you was true. I don’t have a quirk! You can check my medical record, I’m quirkless.” He looked towards the ground, feeling dejected. “All of that earlier must have been a misunderstand-“

Danger.

“-ing.” Peter’s eyes widened. What just happened? Peter looked up and saw that his hand was holding a pen, and from the look of it, the pen was thrown at his head. Peter looked at Tony with disbelief. Tony had a smug look on his face.

No way.

“Oh my God. I have a quirk,” Peter muttered with a little chuckle of utter disbelief.

“Now that we’ve proven that theory. Statement second. Thank you, kid. I mean that. If you didn’t figure it out by now, I was in the crowd. I showed up and felt utterly helpless. I couldn’t do anything. No. It’s that I wouldn’t do anything. I was too scared. Too scared to die.” His face darkened with regret as he said this. Then, he looked up at Peter and smiled. “But, then I saw you. This kid. This stupid, arrogant kid. Whose dreams were just crushed by his idol. Who was told by the most popular hero in the world that he could not be a hero. This kid ran in there with no hope. This kid that thought he had no quirk; ran in as if he had a plan to save the day. Let me guess. Your legs started to move on their own, didn’t they?”

Peter nodded frantically.

Tony chuckled. “Figured as much. It’s a phenomenon. Heroes claim that it happens all the time. When they run headfirst into danger and they don’t stop. They don’t think about their own wellbeing. They only think about saving people. That’s what happened to you. Kid. What I’m about to say is something that I say very rarely. I was wrong. Dead wrong.”

The wind blew through the dying leaves of the Autumn trees. The setting sun looked like it illuminated Tony from behind him. He was both in shadow and light. The Arc Reactor in his chest burned brightly through his clothes. Peter then noticed how beautiful the evening sky was. Vibrant shades of pink, yellow, blue, and orange danced in the atmosphere. Time stopped and nothing mattered at that moment except the words that Peter thought he was going to hear. Breathing became harder for him as his chest started to become extremely heavy. His eyes stung as they began to water, and thus his vision became blurry.

“I’d be saying this even if you didn’t have a quirk. Because even though you apparently have one now, you still believed that you were quirkless when you ran in.”

Don’t say it, Peter thought. Don’t you dare say it. I’ve cried so much today. So much! I don’t think I have enough in me to cry again! Peter clutched his chest and he fell to his knees as tears rolled down his face. His body began to shiver as anticipation took him over. Memories from the past flew through his mind like a bird flying into a house and exiting through an open window. Memories of the day he was told he was quirkless. Memories of him, Uncle Ben, and Aunt May all excitedly watching the latest villain attack on the news. Memories of the day when he tried to save a boy from Flash. Memories of the day when he met Wanda and Pietro. Memories of the day where they all promised to attend Avengers Academy and become heroes together. Memories of every beating from Flash, of every hug from Aunt May and Uncle Ben, of every time somebody told him that he couldn’t be a hero, and of every time either Wanda, Pietro, Uncle Ben, or Aunt May told him that he most certainly could become a hero and a damn good one at that.

“Kid, you can become a hero,” Tony Stark stated with a genuine and sincere tone.

The floodgates opened. Peter Parker officially broke. His question was finally answered. He had a quirk. He could start his dream. He could finally start his journey to becoming an Avenger.

“Hey, so, uh, I’m gonna need that pen back.”

Me (11:00 PM): hey u up?

Harry Osborn (11:01 PM): DUDE HELL YEAH IM UP I JUST SAW YOU ON THE NEWS

Me (11:05 PM): YEAH I KNOW THAT WAS WILD

Harry Osborn (11:06 PM): So do you like have a quirk now????

Me (11:10 PM): Yeah I think?? I didn’t have the chance to play around with it cuz of all the police that were at my house. And May and Wanda scolded me for hours

Harry Osborn (11:11 PM): Wanda’s probably training so she can whip you into submission when she ties the knot with you ;D

Me (11:16 PM): >:-[ shut up!

Harry Osborn (11:17 PM): I can hear it now, the screams of agony as she literally ping pongs you across the room over and over again for working too much as a hero >:)

Me (11:24 PM): You enjoy this don’t you?

Harry Osborn (11:24 PM): You love it you know you do

Me (11:30 PM): No. I don’t. Anyway, you free to have a video call soon? I was at Avengers Tower, and they mentioned that your dad’s company is doing quirk research with Stark Industries.

Harry Osborn (11:31 PM): oh you found out about that? Lol yeah it’s a thing that dads investing in to like you know Cure me lol but yeah dude! I’m free this Friday or Saturday

Me (11:33 PM): Saturday please lol Wanda has Pietro and I tied down to go see some movie that day

Harry Osborn (11:34 PM): Pietro gonna sit between you two lovebirds? ;)

Me (11:45 PM): oh shut up. We’re just friends!! Just friends, I don’t know why people think that there’s something more!

Harry Osborn (11:46 PM): lolll! just busting your balls bud

Me (11:55 PM): well stop! They hurt! lol but anyway, believe it or not I’m still going to school tomorrow lol so I gotta get to sleep. Night dude!

Harry Osborn (11:56 PM): Good night man!! Welcome to the “wonderful” world of quirks! Good thing your’s doesn’t kill you like mine does.

Me (12:00 AM): Oh shush lol we’ll find a cure for you! I promise! Good night :)

To be continued...

#my hero academia fanfic #marvel fanfiction #my avengers academy #my hero academia #Spideywitch #peter parker #wanda maximoff #venom #IzuOcha #action #tony stark #symbiotes

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megalony · 5 years

Text

Newborn epidemic

This is a Roger Taylor imagine I came up with based off of an episode of House which I hope you all like, and there is a second part. It is a rather long imagine.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls

Part 2

Roger Taylor masterlist

Enjoy.

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

Roger's features were beginning to hurt from the excessive smile that hadn't dulled down over the course of the past hour. The drummer sat crossed-legged on the side of the bed that (Y/n) was sitting up in, their newborn resting in the crook of his elbow. Moving his hand, Roger gently brushed his thumb over his son's cheek, smiling brighter at the sea-green eyes he was met with.

It seemed like a lifetime ago since they found out that they were going to be parents. The past nine months seemed so distant and gone in Roger's memory, although he could recall not being able to control his excitement when he told the band. Making sure that they wouldn't be snowed under with work or going on tour around this time so Roger wouldn't miss out on anything, especially not the birth. He could also remember the giddy response he gained from Freddie when he and (Y/n) asked the singer if he would be the godparent for their baby who had now arrived.

A baby they had decided to call Charlie.

Moving his hand, Roger very delicately pressed the back of his hand to Charlie's temple, his eyes creasing at the corners when he felt the newborn seemed to be rather warm.

Roger's eyes locked with (Y/n)'s as he was about to speak but cut himself off, turning his head at hearing the door to the room opening. A nurse that had tended to them when they first came into the hospital last night walked into the room. Wearing a bright smile as she walked over to the pair of them, seeing smiles on both their features which was a good sign.

"How are we doing?" She looked at (Y/n) as she spoke so the new mother would know what she had said. Having made the mistake earlier of speaking but not looking at (Y/n) who had to lip read due to her lack of hearing. Through the labour they had seen two nurses and two midwives, all of which didn't know sign language leaving Roger to have to sign what they had said to (Y/n) and then reiterate her responses. It had been tiring on all of them but it was the most effective way of communication for them all and it had worked.

"We're doing good, he seems a bit warm though." Roger didn't want to make a fuss or look like a helicopter parent, especially since Charlie was only just an hour old. He just felt he ought to raise his very mild concern since the newborn looked a bit flushed as well as being warm to the touch.

(Y/n) nodded before looking to Roger who gently placed Charlie into the nurse's arms when she indicated to him so she could check him over quickly.

"Let's take a look then." She was clearly used to the worries coming from new parents. Smiling tentatively as she gently placed Charlie in the cot at the end of the bed so she could give him the once over and make sure there was nothing wrong.

Roger turned around and shuffled back a little so he was sitting at (Y/n)'s side, smiling when she interlaced their hands together. Leaning her head to the side, (Y/n) watched the nurse tap her finger against Charlie's cheek a few times as if trying to gain a reaction or movement from him but he laid motionless. She felt Roger jolting like he had been shocked as his eyes widened in terror when he watched their newborn suddenly having a seizure.

Reaching to his side Roger wrapped his arm around (Y/n), pulling her into his side but he wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to comfort. Charlie wasn't a day old yet, he was barely even an hour old, how could he be having a seizure? He hadn't been given anything to be able to have an allergic reaction to it and he had been fine up until a few moments ago. Roger wasn't even sure that newborns could have epileptic fits this early on. Which begged the question, what was wrong with him?

"W-what are you doing? Why is he seizing?" Roger balled his hand into a fist that was pressing against his knee to try and stop himself from shaking but it didn't do much good. He felt alarm bells ringing in his mind when she reached for some sort of tube that she pressed to Charlie's lips when he started coughing as if he couldn't breathe. If he knew what was wrong it would make it easier to sit and watch the scene unfold, but to sit in confusion without a hint of certainty wasn't something that Roger had had to do before. They hadn't had a child before but he knew this wasn't something that was meant to be happening.

"His airways are becoming blocked... I don't know why this is happening."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "You're a fucking hospital, Aren't you meant to prevent epidemics?" Roger criticised, his eyes just asking for a fight as he felt his blood boiling over. He had watched them take Charlie for an MRI and then place him in a room with about five other newborns who Roger found out also seemed to have whatever Charlie did. They had quarantined the maternity ward because there was some kind of virus or bacteria or some illness spreading that was affecting the newborns but miraculously not the parents.

Turning his head, Roger looked at (Y/n) who was sitting on the sofa he was standing in front of. A doctor neither of them had seen before had brought them into this quaint room near to where Charlie was so she could talk to them. Looking up at Roger, (Y/n) gave him a pleading look asking him not to start a fight. Her hands gently grasped at his arm and tugged on his sleeve to get him to sit down with her and calm down, an argument wasn't going to help Charlie get better.

The drummer begrudgingly sat down, his hand grasping (Y/n)'s very tightly as his knee nudged against hers frequently when his foot rapidly tapped against the floor.

Roger couldn't help but feel angry. They were in a hospital, a place that was meant to prevent infections from spreading and make people better and yet it had given infections to six newborns who were one of the most at-risk patients here. And they didn't even know what the babies had or how they had gotten it. The drummer couldn't help but be a little pissed off considering all the regulations and people they had working here to make people better and yet they had magically made Roger's son worse.

"We're doing everything we can to stop this from spreading, we think it's an infection so we're going to put your son on two kinds of antibiotics to clear it up." The doctor responded, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes as Roger let go of (Y/n)'s hand to sign the response, knowing she had spoken far too fast for his wife to comprehend.

'Why two?' (Y/n) signed in response. If they thought Charlie had an infection then surely one specific kind of antibiotic would be enough to clear it up. Why bother putting him on two different kinds when that could give him any number of side effects or reactions?

"Why are you giving him two different antibiotics- do you even know what kind of infection it is?" Roger narrowed his eyes as he reached out to take (Y/n)'s hand again, needing that sense of security when he felt like everything else was beginning to crumble around them. Roger had done biology as his major, he had learnt about infections both bacterial and viral. They could be more specific and tell them what kind of infection it is and if they were liable to get it or not. Unless of course, they didn't have any evidence for what this was and they were taking a guess with two different antibiotics to try and clear it up quicker.

"We think it's a bacterial infection, but with your son having a low heartbeat and a fever, taking blood for testing is too dangerous. By putting him on two antibiotics we can cover a broad range of infections and it is more likely to keep him stable and clear up the infection."

Roger's shoulders slumped as he rested his head in his free hand. Half of him wanted to blame them and argue that they needed to do something else to make sure they knew what Charlie had before giving him the antibiotics. But the other half of Roger knew that it must be hard and there clearly wasn't a way that they could test what was wrong. They were doing what they could and Roger could respect that, he just wished there was more that could be done because he wanted them to be one hundred percent sure.

He didn't want to be picking at straws and seeing what the best option would be because this was his son. They were risking Charlie's health and his life by guessing and that scared Roger more than he could comprehend. He had been a father for only four hours yet he felt such an overwhelming sense of fear and protection that he couldn't cope with.

"You don't know what he has. You're treating him for something he might not even have. Tell me honestly if this is safe or not."

If they could tell Roger with certainty that this was a safe option and it was all they could do then he wouldn't object. But if they told him this was risky and could harm Charlie he wouldn't let them do this. It was alright to estimate or to go with gut instincts but if their instincts were wrong they were risking Roger's child's life and he wouldn't have that.

"There can be side effects but it is much safer to give him the antibiotics than to wait because his heart isn't beating efficiently as it is." Charlie wasn't stable and it was alright to say that they wanted to wait for confirmation or for another safer idea but that would also risk his life. He needed something and he needed it now.

'It's safer to give him antibiotics than to wait. His heart isn't beating properly, do you want to do this?' Roger signed, turning his attention to the woman sitting beside him. This wasn't just Roger's choice to make but he knew he had already given in. As long as (Y/n) wanted to do this he wouldn't object because there was nothing else on the table right now. There was no other option that could be done so they needed to take what they could get whilst it was on offer before something else happened. (Y/n) trusted Roger's opinion and knowledge over her own at this moment in time because he understood more than she did. If there was nothing else then they had no choice but to say yes, so she nodded.

"Do it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Leaning over, Roger perched his chin on (Y/n)'s shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist so his chest was pressed against her back. He felt his lips curving at the corners when her hands rested over his own that were clasped together around her front. The pair of them didn't move, nor try and make conversation as their focuses were on the room in front of them.

Charlie had been on both antibiotics overnight like a lot of the other ill babies were but none of the six ill newborns seemed to be making much of an improvement. They weren't allowed in the room in case they passed anything to the babies or they got whatever infection the newborns did so all each parent was allowed as to gaze through the window. Neither Roger nor (Y/n) had gotten to hold Charlie for very long but both of them felt like they were suffering withdrawal symptoms. Not being able to hold or even touch him, reduced to watching him through a pane of glass like he was a toy in a shop window that they both desired to have.

"Excuse me?" Letting his eyes wander to the left, Roger locked eyes with the doctor they had talked to last night who he now knew to be doctor Wilson. He made no attempt to move away from (Y/n), his chin still on her shoulder as he tipped his head for the doctor to continue. "Could we talk? I have some news about your son." Her voice was calming but there was something about her expression that put Roger on edge as if she knew something damaging that he didn't.

Roger bit the inside of his lip as he silently nodded, squeezing his arms around (Y/n) to gain her attention before he tipped his head in the direction of the doctor at their side who she hadn't noticed. He kept his right arm around (Y/n)'s waist, tucking her into his side as he pressed his lips to her temple once they began walking down the corridor after the doctor. His other hand tucked into the pocket of his jeans as they didn't walk very far. Turning to walk into an empty waiting room.

Doctor Wilson sat down on one of the chairs, kindly indicating to the sofa opposite for the couple to sit so they could talk.

"The antibiotics are having an effect, but not as good or quickly as we'd of hoped. It seems that the combination of both antibiotics is causing kidney failure."

Roger opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't find the words he was looking for. His brows raised before he turned to look at (Y/n) to make sure she didn't need him to repeat any of that, her expression told him she had taken in all of that information. Roger blinked, one hand pressing to his mouth before sat up a bit straighter on the sofa hearing his back clicking into place as he couldn't quite believe she was telling them this.

"But they haven't shut down yet, right?" Roger needed that confirmation before she tried to tell them anything else because he couldn't work out if she meant his kidneys had packed in already or if they were on the verge of shutting down. If they had shut down then this would be a very hurtful conversation but if they hadn't then there was some hope left.

"No, they're not shut down yet but it's getting close." A breath of relief left his lips as he nodded. "To stop this we'd like your permission to take him off the tobramycin antibiotics which might be causing the kidney problems. Leaving him on the cephalexin which should fight the bacterial infection we're sure he has. This will have a more direct approach and should cause fewer side effects." Her words were too rushed and mind-numbing for (Y/n) to keep up with. She moved her head without really realising it when she spoke and that made it harder for (Y/n) to work out what words were leaving her lips.

Turning to Roger she bit her lip, her eyes asking for him to repeat that and make it more down to Earth. She didn't know what kind of antibiotics the doctor was talking about because they had names that made her lips seem like they were jumbling random concoctions of words together.

'They want to take him off the stronger antibiotics so the other one can fight the infection with fewer effects. It will be better and more direct to fight the infection.' (Y/n) noticed the way Roger's expression hardened as his hands tensed and trembled as they tried to repeat what he had been told. It showed he was far from happy with this news that was making his blood boil like he was sitting over a fire.

Clearly whatever they thought the problem was had turned out not to be the right diagnosis and they had made Charlie worse as opposed to better with their treatment. His kidneys had been fine yesterday, it had only been his heart that was the problem and now he was getting worse instead of better. They had given him the infection to begin with and now they were treating him for the wrong thing which Roger had been anticipating because they had no clue what the problem was. He could tell in her eyes that she didn't know if this was the actual problem that they were going to treat or if they had made another error in judgement.

"So you were wrong yesterday. Do you have any proof that he has whatever you think he does because being 'sure' doesn't really help. Is this safe or actually going to work?" It was alright for her to say they were 'sure' that Charlie had this but it wasn't evidence. For all Roger knew she could be guessing or going with her instincts again and he would rather have evidence over her instincts because they hadn't worked last night so there wasn't much of a high chance of them working now.

"As I said before, we can't take blood samples yet, his blood isn't getting enough oxygen and his heartbeat is still too low. So we don't have proof but we can't leave him on both antibiotics. So you have to decide whether to take him off this one or off both and we would have to work out something else."

'Take him off the one she said. There isn't another choice.' (Y/n) signed. She didn't know which one they were being advised to take Charlie off but they couldn't take him off both of them because he would be rendered defenceless. He needed something to work without killing him, she saw no other option but to go along with what they were being advised with. Roger pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he tried to think if there was anything else that they could do but he came up blank.

"Alright, take him off whichever one you said." She needed no more convincing than that, nodding with a reassuring smile before she left them to think. "This better be right." Roger was going to blow a fuse at any moment if this turned out to be the wrong decision because they had to choose.

They were Charlie's parents and therefore had to choose the treatment he had and agree to whatever tests he needed. By making them both choose what happened it passed the responsibility onto both Roger and (Y/n) because they had been advised to the treatments. They had said yes and when it worked out like this they felt the guilt because they were Charlie's parents. He was one day old and they were already failing at protecting him without meaning to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bending down on his knees in front of (Y/n), Roger rested his hands on her thighs to let her know that he had come back. He watched her lift her head from her hands, revealing the tears soaking into her features as her eyes were bloodshot but pleading. Her eyes were burning into his own, silently but loudly asking him to tell her what had happened. She watched as he pulled his hands away from her sides to sign his response that she wasn't so sure she wanted to hear.

'It wasn't him, sweetheart.'

Although this news was one that (Y/n) had been praying for it still caused a tidal wave of tears to escape from her eyes of both relief and sadness. A small sound resembling a cry bubbled in the back of her throat as her hands cupped her mouth and nose, trying to calm herself down. Her hands grasped onto Roger's arms for reassurance when he gently rested his hands to either side of her face, his thumbs brushing away the streams of tears from her cheeks. He tilted her head so he could press his forehead to her own, his lips lightly brushing against hers as he felt the tears he shed before sticking to his features.

Moving her hands (Y/n) wrapped her arms around Roger's neck, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder as he pushed himself up a little more in order to hug her back. Feeling her tears soaking into his skin but he paid no mind to it. Simply held her tighter to reassure both of them that they were okay.

They had been waiting outside of the room Charlie and the other newborns were in with another couple when one of them started to flatline. Neither couple had the chance to see if it was their child or someone else's who seemed to be in peril as the blinds had suddenly been closed on them. Roger had brought (Y/n) to the waiting room just around the corner so they could sit down, knowing if it was Charlie they would be informed soon enough. But his nerves had gotten the better of him and he went to wait outside the room.

He had cried when he heard the nurse tell the other couple that it was their baby who had passed away because their pain meant Roger and (Y/n) didn't have to suffer and that hurt. It hurt to know that they had to be in pain to spare him.

Roger stopped swaying the pair of them when (Y/n) tapped his shoulder, pushing herself to sit back in the chair when she noticed doctor Wilson approaching them. Her hands clasped together as she seemed to be slowly moving one of her rings around her finger showing she was nervous or upset or feeling something other than calmness.

When Roger turned to see who had turned up all hell let loose inside of him and boiled to the surface. He stood to his feet faster than lightning as his expression hardened and his hands balled into fists as if he were about to fight her. (Y/n) knew he was more sensible than to start a fight here and now and he would never hit a doctor but in that moment she couldn't be sure that he wouldn't do something rash. Yet he didn't take her hand when she reached out for him, he barely noticed the touch before he took two steps closer to the doctor who was a match for him in height yet she still seemed to take a step back anyway.

"What the fuck are you playing at here?!" His voice bellowed around the room and adjoining corridor, catching the attention of a few passersby as the doctor visibly shivered in fear.

(Y/n) was looking at the back of Roger so she couldn't see what he was saying and that worried her too. He was liable to say things he would either regret or would not mean when he was angered. Getting to her feet (Y/n) moved a few paces forward so she was standing at his side but with a membrane of space between them just in case.

"Mr Taylor-"

"I heard the nurse talking to that poor couple whose baby you just killed. You're playing with our children's lives like they mean nothing! They aren't your little lab rats to experiment on, I did not give you the consent to treat my son like a test dummy and now you've killed that baby girl." Roger's voice hitched an octave higher than usual as tears flushed his features. He wasn't stupid and he shouldn't have been kept in the dark.

(Y/n) grabbed Roger's arm, her eyes welling with more tears as she wanted him to explain. She didn't know what Roger had seen or heard but it was clearly important and she needed to know if it was something to do with Charlie.

'They took C off one antibiotic but took another baby off the other one, they don't know what's wrong with them and they played God. That baby girl died because they treated her like a test subject.' Roger's hands trembled as he signed what had happened, his face showing nothing but raw pain. Watching his wife's jaw slack as a look of pure horror took over her features. If they had been advised otherwise it could just have easily have been Charlie who had died instead of that other little girl.

The doctors hadn't known which antibiotic would have worked to treat the epidemic the hospital was having so they had taken a leap of faith that had not worked in their favour. They took Charlie off the stronger antibiotic that had more side effects in hopes the other one would treat what he had. But they had taken the other baby girl off of the antibiotic that held fewer side effects in hopes that the stronger one might help. They knew the risks and they had clearly known that one child might die but they hadn't told the parents that.

They didn't tell Roger and (Y/n) nor the other couple that another baby would be taken off the other antibiotic and they were going to see which one worked because they knew neither couple would have agreed. Now that had cost them a life and it could have been Roger and (Y/n) who lost their baby.

"If we took all the babies off both antibiotics we would have killed them, if we took them all off of one we could have lost them all." That didn't justify the life they had taken away, in Roger's eyes. They were giving excuses they didn't have the right to give out.

"You withheld information from us that would have affected our decision, don't talk to me as if you did the right thing, you haven't even told that other couple that Charlie was on the other antibiotics. If you'd just killed my son like that I'd have you in prison." Roger sneered the words as he felt like his head was going to burst a blood vessel at any moment. He was debating telling that other couple the truth but he didn't fancy having to be the one to inform them that their child died because they had been lied to. That wasn't his job and he didn't want to break them even further since they had lost their baby.

Roger moved to sit down on the chair to his left when his legs felt like they had turned to jelly. He wasn't in the right mind frame for this conversation anymore and he didn't hold the energy to shout. His head looked up, his eyes locking with doctor Wilson just as (Y/n) sat down beside him.

"Why the fuck are you still standing there?" The words weren't said with a raised tone of voice or a burst of anger like a gush of wind. Instead, they were spoken through a tone of annoyance in a quieter voice as Roger looked at her in a way that was rather dismissive. He had finished what he wanted to say and he didn't want to hear anything else unless she had some update on Charlie but he somehow doubted it. He had been told moments before the baby girl died that Charlie was responding to the antibiotics on their own.

The doctor seemed to question why she was still there, awkwardly turning on her heels and walking away.

Reaching her arms out, (Y/n) enveloped her arms around Roger's upper back, a little surprised when he simply melted into her touch. Turning to rest his head on her chest as his arms enveloped around her waist, pressing himself into her as he felt her lips pressing to the top of his head.

At least it wasn't Charlie.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger x reader #imagine #queen band #freddie mercury #john deacon #Brian May

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