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fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy · 3 years

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Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

#tales of arcadia #rise of the titans #trollhunters #rott #rise of the titans spoilers #rott spoilers #toa #3 below #athena's own original post!#jim lake jr #claire nuñez #toby domzalski

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thevioletjones · 3 years

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31, because I can’t see it fitting Ian/Mickey easily and know you’re a good enough writer to prove me wrong ☺️

Thanks! I tried. 🙂

Prompt 6: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Ian’s Box of Crap

Being currently unemployed, Mickey didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when attempting to deflect Ian’s demands that he get chores and household tasks done while his husband was out earning an honest paycheck. He wasn’t even allowed to shake people down anymore, let alone pull robberies, or get back into the drug trade. Ian had made it clear that divorce wasn't off the table if Mickey deliberately did something stupid that got him thrown back in prison for a long stretch.

He didn’t much like being told what to do, but what he liked even less was not having Ian in his life. He’d had to go too many years without him in the past, and nothing good ever came during those times. Unfortunately, Ian Gallagher was it for Mickey Milkovich. That meant that he actually had to stay in line and put in the work if he didn’t want to lose him again. Ian wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Never really had been at his core, but the maturity of age had cemented his backbone rather rigidly, and Mickey was actually loathe to piss him off too badly these days.

So he did the bullshit grunt work requested of him, just to keep the peace. He was tired of fighting every day of his life, and what was the point of marrying Ian if they weren’t going to try and make each other happy?

In the past couple weeks, Mickey had done everything from laundry and dishes, to vacuuming and mopping. He’d patched up a couple of big holes in the wall that Frank had made, and fixed the loose parts of the wooden outdoor steps and banisters, both front and back. He’d even gone so far as to babysit the tiny, helpless Gallagher spawn a few times, which had been interesting and somewhat terrifying. Then Ian had given him this look when he caught the scene one afternoon, eyes shining, smile beaming. It reminded him of that brief time they’d helped take care of Yevgeny, which made Mickey’s head spin. He didn’t need Gallagher getting the whole ‘having kids’ thing back in his head right now. Mickey was in no way ready for all that. Hadn’t been the first time, and they’d all seen how that turned out.

Today, he was supposed to clean out the attic. He told Ian that asking someone outside the family to do it sounded like a bad idea. How was he supposed to know what shit the Gallaghers wanted to keep, and what they wanted to get rid of? What if he made a mistake? If anyone had asked him what to keep from the hoarded piles of shit in the Milkovich house, he would’ve laughed in their face, then set everything on fire. Mickey wasn’t the sentimental type. So did Ian want him to just toss everything?

Ian had rolled his eyes, clarified that Mickey was a Gallagher now, and given him a run-down. Anything that had obviously been made or cherished by a Gallagher kid, any family photos and albums, or small boxes of keepsakes, those stayed. Anything that wasn’t being used by anyone, but could be of use and handed down to the youngest or recently shacked up of them, set them aside to be put in rotation. Anything that worked, but they already had one of or didn’t need, donation box (because apparently they actually sometimes donated shit to the local shelter). And anything that looked completely unnecessary for anyone, throw it in a Best Choice trash bag, but don't take them to the curb yet. Ian would go over everything when he got home to make sure it was sorted correctly.

“So you’re gettin' me to do all this boring-ass grunt work, then you’re gonna have to go through it anyway? What the fuck, man?” he’d asked.

“It'll make the whole thing way easier on me, so can you just shut the fuck up and do me the favor? I’ll blow you later for your trouble.”

“Like you wouldn’t be doin’ that anyway.”

Ian had shrugged. “If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Threatening to withhold sex? That’s a bitch move if I ever heard one.”

“Whatever, deadbeat. You want me to support you, gotta help out when I ask. A blowjob would just be a bonus, because I’m generous of spirit.”

“I’m not gonna forget this hardcore manipulation, Firecrotch. I’ll get my revenge eventually.”

Ian merely kissed him on the nose. “Sounds like a plan. See ya.”

And he was out the door.

“Asshole,” Mickey’d muttered under his breath.

And now, a few hours later, here he was; sitting on the dusty, hard planks of the weird-smelling Gallagher attic, sorting through the memories and forgotten things of the family he’d married into less than six months ago. He’d dawdled as long as he could on the couch, eating junk food and watching his favorite daytime game shows, judge shows, and salacious ‘who’s the baby daddy?’ shows. The only hint of fun left in the remainder of his day was in the bong and the beer he’d brought with him up the rickety ladder. After every box sorted, he’d take a rip or two and chase the smoke with a long swig of cheap alcohol.

The most interesting things he’d found so far were some old pictures of Ian when he was little, his hair a curly mess, and his pale skin covered in dark freckles. His smile was too big for his face, and he looked goofy as all hell. Nothing like the hot hunk of man he was today. It was the Ian Mickey remembered from Little League a million years ago. And maybe he’d set one of the photos aside to keep for himself and taken some pics of others with his phone, so what?

Mostly he’d had to sift through little Debbie’s ridiculous girly shit, and Frank’s completely random assortment of insignificant trinkets with a side of what looked like bondage gear. He’d since moved on to a group of boxes obviously labeled by Carl when he was younger. He recognized the scrawl, occasional backwards lettering, and lack of possessive apostrophes. The words were short enough not to be atrociously misspelled, and consisted of a Gallagher first name in plural, followed by: ‘box of crap.’

Everybody had one, including Fiona, who hadn’t taken it with her when she’d left Chicago, and the kids she’d raised as her own, behind. The most scandalous item in there was a dildo of decent size that Mickey definitely would’ve packed in his suitcase if he’d been the one moving away as a single chick. The thought crossed his mind to pilfer it for his own collection, but he figured that Ian would be weirded out by the association. Sex toys were probably the only thing Gallaghers never shared between them.

Carl had a box of his own, semi-well-hidden compared to the others, and Mickey discovered why when he’d managed to get the copious amount of packing tape off. It was full of straight porn mags with big-tittied women and shaved pussies, underneath an array of dangerous weapons the family had forbidden him to have when he was underaged. He found everything from nunchucks, to throwing stars, to switchblades, to brass knuckles. No guns or attempted homemade bombs, thank fuck. He chucked the porn in the trash pile, cuz nobody needed to see that shit, and set the switchblade aside for himself, deciding to give the rest to Ian to sort out.

He saved Ian’s box for last, opening it up to find a grab bag of old army decorations, tattered paperbacks, comics, a bunch of loose paper covered in scribbles, and a stack of notebooks.

Mickey didn’t realize Ian was such a huge nerd that he’d kept his high school notebooks, but giving a quick flip through the first two revealed they weren’t school-related at all. He remembered Ian going through a phase when he was always writing shit down, ranting about having great ideas he needed to save for posterity. Before he went to the hospital. A manic phase. Probably one of many he’d cycled through, yet Mickey had missed some of those extremes.

Everything had been so chaotic then. He’d pushed Ian away, then gotten the same treatment in return. Their typical messiness pervaded everything back then. And now, he had in his hands Ian’s unfiltered thoughts about what happened back then.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, setting the notebooks down and going for the beer/weed combo again.

There were exactly two ways to go about this: he could put the notebooks back into the Ian box and not invade his privacy, or he could skim through them and hone in on the interesting relevant bits and maybe get a few long-pondered answers. On the one hand, Ian would probably get pissed if Mickey read them. On the other hand, Ian never had to know about it, did he?

It really wasn’t much of a choice… he’d always been curious as to what the hell was going through Ian’s head back in the day. They’d never exactly been great at talking things out, and he didn’t have it in him to try and make Ian relive some of the lowest moments of his life just to give Mickey some peace of mind. Plus, they were always facing some new bullshit obstacle head-on, so the past always just kind of got lost in the shuffle of their present difficulties.

Mickey took a deep breath and opened one of the notebooks again. The pages weren’t dated, and a lot of it didn’t make much sense. There were many lists with lines crossed out, but they didn’t describe things ‘to do,’ more like an endless inventory of concepts and feelings. The thought patterns were totally abstract, and Mickey couldn’t really make heads or tails of them. It hit him sharply in the chest when he realized that when Ian had been out of it, he’d really and truly been fucking out of it. These seemed like the crazed rantings of an unmedicated schizophrenic babbling on public transportation. It pained Mickey to the core, and it scared the shit out of him too.

He flipped through it fairly quickly, then opened the next one. It seemed to be calmer, more legible, and less unintelligible. It was more like a diary with bad poetry sprinkled in, and it only took a few pages for Mickey’s own name to jump out at him among the wall of words. It must have been written during Ian’s lost months, after going AWOL from the Army when he was 17.

He described running away from Chicago, scamming his early enlistment, crashing and burning his way out of bootcamp, shaking and selling his ass as a club boy, snorting, smoking, and swallowing all manner of substances, and crashing anywhere from penthouses to flophouses with sexual favors sprinkled in liberally. It was like the chronicle of a person going mad and coping in all the wrong ways. It surprised Mickey how emotional it made him to read these things in vivid detail. He’d completely forgotten how worried he used to be about Ian. When he was gone, when he went missing again, and when he started doing irrational things that could’ve ended so much worse than they did.

Ian was the one that had to live out all the drama and trauma of his disorder, but Mickey was the one caught on the sidelines, not having a single clue what to do or how to fix it. He’d never felt so useless or helpless in his entire life, even through all the bullshit he’d suffered growing up with Terry as a father. Maybe it was because of his age, or how Ian made him feel a certain way he’d never felt before. He just remembered hating it, and being so fucking sad.

These pages reminded him that through the mania, Ian was a bottomless well of sadness himself.

It was tough text to get through, and more than once, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t be reading it at all. Ian had never intended for other people to see his innermost thoughts, even Mickey. But it was impossible to stop now that he’d opened that floodgate. It was like reliving a part of their shared history through the eyes of his partner in crime. It was too fascinating.

After countless pages of dark tales from the void, Mickey came upon a page that was actually addressed to him. Surely, Ian had never intended to hand it over, but it was his nonetheless.

Mickey— I never had the balls to tell you this, But you’re the only boy I’ve ever loved. I thought you loved me too, But now I’m not so sure. I’m so confused and I go back and forth, Never really knowing what to actually think, Or what the truth is. All I really realize now is that I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. It took you forever to let me, And now I just do it with anyone, Cuz I don’t fucking care. I just miss you, And I wish you were here. But also, I don’t, Cuz I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m having a great time on my own adventure, But also not. You shouldn’t be a part of it right now. You’re on your own strange journey, I guess. Maybe one day we’ll be on the same road together again, And also for the first time, since we never really were.

Mickey barely had enough time to sniff and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen, when his husband’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“You’re still up here?”

“Jesus Christ!” he cried out with a visible jolt of his body.

His head snapped toward the attic hatch, where Ian’s dumb red head was surveying the musty space. Mickey let the notebook fall from his grasp, but Ian was already climbing the rest of the way in before it occurred to him that he was about to be caught red-handed with journals that were supposed to be deeply private. He could only flip it closed and grab his beer to polish it off, before Ian was crouching in front of him and taking a seat.

“Can’t believe you actually did this for me, to be honest,” Ian said with a chuckle, glancing at the bong. “Anything left?”

“Baggie’s right there,” Mickey replied nodding his head to the left.

“Nice.”

Ian got distracted with loading a bowl, so Mickey very subtly tried to nudge Ian's notebooks aside with his foot, like maybe if they were slightly farther away, he could claim complete innocence as to knowing what they were.

He watched Ian take a couple hits before passing it to him, and Mickey welcomed the opportunity to temper his suddenly sullen mood.

“How was work?” he asked between hits, before passing back to Ian.

Ian snickered and furrowed his brow. “You never ask me about work.”

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t mean I don’t care.”

“Uh huh.” Ian looked even more skeptical, and finally glanced around at what Mickey had in his vicinity. That sent his brow up high, in a decent imitation of Mickey’s usual expressiveness. “Oh. That my box?”

Mickey gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just sorting it out. Should’ve just left the whole thing for ya. Sorry.”

Ian’s gaze snapped to his face. “You read stuff.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Just a little,” Mickey admitted. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

But Ian only shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’d be pissed.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Ian shook his head again. “No. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“How the fuck so?”

“It's all stuff I wanted you to know. I mean, part of me used to be really ashamed, maybe still is, but… another part of me always just wanted to be totally honest with you. In a way I haven’t ever been with anyone. Even Lip. But I didn’t have the words to say it, you know? And I know a lot of it is just scary rambling. I don’t even understand what some of it means, but the stuff that’s real… the lucid stuff… it’s depressing as fuck, but it’s the truth. We didn’t always tell each other the truth, but we showed each other. And this was something I couldn’t really show you. So maybe you were meant to find these. Do my dirty work for me.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that’s kinda heavy. These were… kinda heavy. Made me feel shit I’d forgotten about, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t read ‘em in years, but I remember. It’s why I wanted to put ‘em away, I guess. Plus, I didn’t want someone else snooping around and finding out too much. I mean, you never know in this house. It’s possible every fucking Gallagher already read them, but I hope not.”

“Ian…” Mickey started, but didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. Words of reassurance? It was all in the past, and Ian was doing so well now. He was diligent about his medication, and he hadn’t spun out of control since before prison. Anything Mickey said now would just be cold comfort, since that notebook version of Ian barely existed anymore. Ian was always afraid that it would recur, but Mickey wasn’t. They were truly in it together now, and he’d never let Ian cross the threshold into the uncontrollable. “I wish I coulda been what you needed me to be back then. However impossible it was. Some of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even my fault, really. It was some shitty shit that happened to me. I reacted the only way I thought I could. There’s no use in either of us wishing we’d done things differently now. At least we got the right outcome, right? We’re together.” He clasped their left hands so that their wedding rings touched. “Forever.”

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to get that gay about it. I already had to suffer through a buncha your faggy teen poetry. I deserve a break from the high drama of it all.”

Ian laughed, kissed his hand, dropped it, then smacked him on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

“Just say when,” Mickey responded with a smile.

“After we go through all this shit, Romeo. Explain the piles.”

“Well,” said Mickey, pointing to the nearby corner, “Carl has a shitload of contraband in there. Weapons, not drugs. Frank has some shit that might be S&M gear, not sure, then aside from your lunatic journal ramblings, everything else is boring as shit. Oh, and Fiona left a big blue dildo.”

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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lady-daydream · 4 years

Text

Random Headcanons about MacCready Fallout 4 - (Part 1)

He has an extremely fast reaction time, with equally fast reflects to match. Naturally, this fast reaction time was due to him always being alert while in the Commonwealth and in Capital Wasteland. However, this reaction time sometimes puts people on edge as he always seems to know when a glass will fall or when an enemy is behind a wall before anyone else can hear or see them. This mixed with his extremely high survival instinct means he almost always seems to have an awareness and the upper hand in many scenarios. He has even somehow dodging incoming (and fatal) bullets without thinking. He clocked it down to luck. However, this little skill of his does not fully show itself until he is seen with Duncan. If Duncan is even close to falling over his hand is already there to balance him. Duncan's about to drop a toy, MacCready has already got it. Maccready has an almost sixth sense, meaning he seems to just know when Duncan is about to cry. He does make an effort to not be overbearing to Duncan however even if it is only from a distance he is always making sure his son is okay. This skill however has also saved sole in multiple occasions; from catching them before their footing went lose while having to climb the remains of a pre-war building, to kicking a grenade from them before pushing them both to cover. Sole always jokes about it being his Spider Sense.

As much as MacCready may seem like a muscle head. He has a strange need and desire to learn. He knows he is not extremely intelligent like Curie or Nick. But he still enjoys learning thing or understanding information he knows will help him survive. Some examples being, when he first left little lamplight when he was 16, he found reading helped him take his mind off things. He did however have difficulty making out most of the story, so he forced himself to learn. When he met Lucy, he had a good hang of reading, but she helped him whenever he got stumped as well as teaching him to write. Duncan’s name was actual plucked from Shakespeare's play Macbeth which she would use to help him learn. After Lucy's death, he became a farmer. He tried to find any books and advice to help him. He is a generally skilled farmer and was somehow able to make things grow just due to learning skills from precious farmers and pre-war books. When Duncan feel ill, Maccready not only asked as many doctors as he could about the disease but also tried to read as much as he could about it. He picked up not only some useful medical skills and understandings but also found he is one of the few that can follow Curies’ topical rants about medical science with being completely confused.

However, much he likes to read, he also prefers comic books due to them being easier to read when its late and he was exhausted. He also found them easier to follow when he was younger. He also enjoys reading them to Duncan, collecting new ones whenever he can just to see Duncan’s face light up whenever he was reading him a story.

MacCready has a form of colour-blindness called Achromatopsia. This means he is unable to see colour, and only sees things in shades of black, white and grey. Due to having this as a child he quickly adapted and tried to the best of his ability to learn the different shades of grey as the colours people would associate them with. Though he has never seen colour he wishes that he could in order to see if Duncan has his mothers or his own eyes. He also prefers the night to the day due the sensitivity brought one by this condition as well as growing up in little lamplight meaning that his eyes have difficulty adjusting to light. On the other hand, he does see better in the dark slightly better than the average person. From the little he has read about it as well as what Curie later discussed with him, this form of colour blindness is genetic however is extremely rare. This however does not stump his fear that Duncan would have his colour-blindness. Curie quickly explained that Duncan is still able to see in colour even if he couldn't and quickly helped soothe that fear. He enjoys sitting with Duncan and asking him to describe the sunset and the colours he can see. While with Lucy, and later with Sole both will happily help mention a colour if he needs them to however, they do not help unless asked knowing assuming he is helpless he finds belittling. When Maccready asks however what eye colour he has Sole happily told him that he had blue eyes and that Duncan had Brown eyes.

MacCready pretended to be NCR. Due to them being more situational in the Mojave, people were more likely to just accept he was a soldier from a war far from the Capital Wasteland than ask questions. He found out about the NCR from a group of ex-soldiers turned caravan guards that mentioned a group of sharp shooters within the NCR and how they never seemed to miss. So, he stuck with that cover when lying to Lucy.

Due to this if MacCready ever met Boone, their interactions would be a mixture of reactions. Boone having a general disliking for anyone who pretends to be NCR without fighting, with this angering him is enough for him to want to start a fight. This paired with Macready’s underlining guilt about lying however not liking to back down from a fight if there isn't another option might lead to both avoiding each other out of awkwardness if Boone was unaware, or a fight if Macready's lie was known to Boone and things become confrontational. Both however could understand loss. And on the event, both shared a drink or went on watch together, both would be able to understand each other better than most. With Boone envying Macready's drive to survive due to his son, while Maccready admiring Boone’s determination even if it were for revenge. Deep down he knowing that if he could destroy ever feral ghoul, he would in a heartbeat without second thought.

MacCready is a pretty good cards player. and has been able to win himself a bed for the night or drinks on the house more than once. He wants to learn card tricks however due to years of shooting and living in the harshness of the Capital Wasteland his fingers are to Callous and numb to do most of the more detailed and intricate tricks.

MacCready has a habit of watching and observing as well as learning about his targets before he would kill them. He made it almost a habit of learning routines, people or things his target would interact with in order to as quickly as possible to make sure he knew where they would be when his sights landed. He got his reputation for a reason and he isn't know for being a cold-hearted son of a bitch when he needs to be. This became hyper focused after Lucy however, with him observing Feral Ghouls to understand them. From learning their movement pattern to how fast they are at attacking to how they interact with other feral ghouls. After failing to get Duncan's cure the first time from the Medtek Laboratory he used to sit, watching the hoards outside the place from a safe distance days on end ,hoping to find a time that would be safest to go.

He has the patience of a saint. He can sit in a place for days on end waiting for a target. He would sometimes sit in Daisy's shop and act as security, not moving unless something kicked of. When he is like this is breathing slows to an almost silent rate, and he almost seems to be away in his own thoughts, with a single movement bringing him back. Daisy used to joke saying he was more a guard dog than a bodyguard.

He met Daisy while he was still with Lucy when they travelled to Good neighbour before Duncan was born. She was helping unload caravan supplies and Lucy volunteered them both to help her. It was only a brief encounter but when Daisy spotted MacCready years later looking like he had aged many more years than had passed without the chirpy Lucy by his side she put two and two together. Though he does not remember meeting Daisy before Goodneighbour they quickly found it easier talking to each other. Though he would never admit it, he saw Daisy as an almost aunt figure. With him even telling her everything from Lying to Lucy, To Duncan, to the Gunners and even Little lamp light. Daisy would never tell anyone anything MacCready said to her in confidence, and even keeps the one-time Maccready came to here almost in tears after being unable to get the Medtek cure, covered in Injures a secret. Knowing that he would not want anyone seeing him in a weakened state. She always says he has a free spare bed above her shop if he needs it. And in return, if Daisy ever needs Macready's skill set for anything, he will do it with very little questions asked. She even helps him with anything he is reading with her love of books and pre-war knowledge meaning she has a little collection of books she will let him borrow as well as the understanding of pre-war words and their meanings.

MacCready likes anything Elvis created, and finds all his songs enjoyable. Though to many of his holotapes exist, he has had the luck to listen to a few. He hums them when he is doing some repetitive tasks such as cleaning his weapon or Collecting his bullets. His favourites are Blue Suede Shoes which he likes to teach and sing with Duncan. (Though he cannot dance to save his life), as well as Return to sender and if I can dream.

Sorry this has to be in a few parts, I’ve just moved to university so haven't had a lot of time. The other parts will be following shortly.

This one is for you @thatwolfnamednyla and @strawberrymilkuwo who both agree that Maccready deserves some attention and love. He is personally my joint favourite companion in all the fallout games, and he after having him as a companion I don't pick anyone else.

I'm sorry in advance if their are many spelling mistakes please comment if you see any so I can correct them. :) If anyone has any suggestions/ imagine/ headcannons please just message me or comment and I will try and write it as quickly and to the best as my ability. I hope everyone has an amazing day, love you all <3

#fallout maccready #Macready #fallout 4 #fallout companions #fo4 #fo4 companions #fo4 maccready #fo4 headcanons #fallout headcanons #fallout

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1337wtfomgbbq · 3 years

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I gotta rant for a second here. I hate this app. Okay maybe not this whole app, more the people on here. Specifically the people in the supernatural community. Yes talking to you. I can’t believe I’m even back into this with you guys.

I know people can pick and chose which characters they like and which they dislike. I know, for some trauma and whathaveyou also plays into what they feel towards a character.

But I am just so mad. I’m on a little bit of a rewatch, as you are, of season 1 to 3 (maybe some episodes of 4 and 5) because those are the only good seasons, and I just wanna look at some posts of my favorite character.

But my favorite character happens to be John.

TLDR: John's character is complex as fuck and people like to oversimplify and villify him, for no reason other than „BuT My DaAAadYY WaS ShiTTy!!!!“

And I get it. People on here disregard season 1-3, even the writers disregarded what JDM wanted John to be: “I don’t think he’s as screwed-up as other people do,” Morgan told EW. “I think he is a guy who’s got a tremendous amount of love for his family. He was willing to die for his sons, willing to put himself in a place to where he could lose his life for revenge on what killed his wife. So as much has been said about John or that I’ve heard about John, I think what is missing is that he shows love in different ways. Maybe he wasn’t a big hugger and he didn’t say the right things when he should’ve — and there’s a bigger picture about getting your kids into hunting ghosts that I should acknowledge — but I think at his core he really loved his family and was willing to sacrifice everything. So I never looked or played John in a way that there was any malice toward his sons.”

People project what went wrong in their lifes and with their fathers on this app SO HARD. To be fair they do that everywhere. But it's so infuriating when it's done to a character you love so much.

And as much as I wanna be understanding I am just so pissed.

Hear me out: Back when I first started watching supernatural (I was fucking 12 back then, can you believe that) and my friend was all „OMG Sam is such a treat. He's mine!“ I thought, okay I'm gonna take Dean then.

The coin finally dropped on me in 'Shadow' and I realized „Heck, screw Dean, I'm taking John!“ (Not that I told my friend that, LOL. I hadn't realized just then that I prefer older guys)

And attraction is one thing, but the character spoke to me on such a deep level too. I mean, you got a dude whos wife died in a way that he cannot explain in a rational way, only to have his eyes opened to the supernatural by Missouri. And it turns out whatever killed his wife also did some fucked up shit to his kid and is after, not only his youngest but, all of them.

So he's forced to take his kids on the run. But, he's also an ex-marine, he's a soldier and he can't leave other people to die at the hands and claws and teeth of monsters and ghosts and strigas and whathaveyou. Which leaves him struggling to ballance protecting and caring for his kids and saving people and hunting things, AND finding the thing that killed his wife.

The way John's situation was set up (ignoring for a second what we learn in later seasons) and the way Sam was brought up by him created a relationship that was bound to escalate; it was only a matter of time.

Season 1 to 3 we got a John that was distant and rough, but a John that recognized he fucked up along the way and who saught to rectify where he went wrong with his boys.

Season 1 episode 20: „You gotta understand something. After your mother passed all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you...prepared. Ready. Except somewhere along the line I ... uh ... I stopped being your father and I ... I became your, your drill sergeant. So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was, that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable. Sammy, it just... it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me -- We're just different.“

And guess what, Sam admits seconds later: „We're not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess... Well we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone.“

Season 1 episode 21: „I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want....I want Mary alive. It's just....I just want this to be over.“

John literally on the show in person, Jeffrey Dean Morgan Season 1, admits that he didn't want ANYTHING OF WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHAT HE HAD TO DO TO HAPPEN!!!!

Sure, Sam suggested to Dean that John's just „working overtime on Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later“ in the very first episode but we never see John drink alcohol, for all he's on screen in season one, ONCE. (1x1) Suggesting that John did have a drinking problem but somewhere between Sam going off to college and the pilot he kicked that habit.

Sure, Sam is clearly vindictive BUT, when faced with a kid with a clearly abusive father, he also says that, „Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we coulda had Max' childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him.“ (1x14)

We see him cry on multible occasions in season one and two, we see him hug both Sam and Dean and tell BOTH OF THEM that he is proud of them. Heck, he couldn't shut up about how proud he was of them. Like Jerry told Sam in 1x4 „Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell, He talked about you all the time.“ He kept Sam's soccer trophie, and Dean's first sawed off. He fucking died to safe Dean.

Yeah, he told Dean that he'd have to kill Sam if he goes evil but...

Let's take into consideration season 4 and 5, and John wasn't all too wrong for telling Dean this. Even if we ignore all that, as John probably didn't have the full picture, John didn't knew the extend of Sam's powers. As is always said, „With great power comes great responsibility“. We have seen in comics, shows, movies, all over pop culture and history, how easily great power can corrupt, don't matter how nice and righteous that person is.

Let's take into consideration what was added in season 4 and 5: Like John having another family, the fact that cupid had to get him and Mary together, Mary making a deal with Azazel, the few demons (not even all of them) Lucifer showed Sam who had been put into his life by yellow eyes; even that just adds more credence to the already established character.

Of course John was bound to have flings after Mary, you can't expect a widower to just be celibate forever. And it wasn't even that he bailed on her, he literally didn't know there was a child until twelve years later.

And considering John's erratic 'work schedule' and how little we know of Kate, maybe it was her that wanted John not to have much contact to her son. The whole situation with Adam isn't exactly clear, and told through the eyes of a ghoul. Plus, we all saw where John's decision to leave Adam in the dark about the supernatural had him end up (namely killed by a ghoul).

The fact that cupid had to get John and Mary together only gives more ammunition for my argument that John was only working with what was given to him. Pretty much everyone from hell to heaven was meddling in his life.

Getting ahead with headcanons here but, for all we know John and Mary would've never ended up together; for all we know Mary was a lesbian and John was bi; for all we know they could've still worked out without cupid's help. Who knows? We don't because heaven took that decision away from both John and Mary.

The fact that Mary made a deal with Azazel to safe John's life in exchange for Azazel to be able to enter her home in ten years time, again, caused something to happen down the line that affected John and the boys that John had no control over.

And I gotta thank Lucifer for his part, because it gives EVEN MORE credence as to why John couldn't give Dean and Sam a normal life. He reveals SOME of the people Azazel planted into Sam's life that were actually possessed by demons.

„LUCIFER: Look closely. None of these little devils look familiar to you? SAM: That's Mr. Bensman... One of my grade-school teachers. LUCIFER: And that's your friend Doug from that time in East Lansing. And Rachel... your prom date. Sam Winchester, this is your life. Azazel's gang – watching you since you were a rugrat, jerking you around like a dog on a leash. I know how you feel about them. Me too. So, what do you say you and I blow off a little steam?“ (5x22)

A few episodes earlier we found out that his friend Brady, the one that introduced him to Jess, was actually possessed by a demon, and the one that fucking killed her.

„BRADY (chuckles): Brady hasn't been Brady in years. Not since, oh... middle of our sophomore year?

SAM: What?

BRADY: That's right. You had a devil on your shoulder even back then. All right, now, let it all sink in.

SAM: You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch! (Sam approaches Brady, Dean holds him back) You introduced me to Jess!

BRADY: Ding, ding! I think he's got it!“ (5x20)

All of this paints a clear picture for me, of a man that got played by fate and heaven and hell and was only trying to play the cards all of them dealt him to the best of his ability. Did he fuck up along the way, yes, did he show remorse for that and did he wish he could've given Sam and Dean a better life, Yes.

I completely understand people liking one character and disliking another, even projecting onto characters I get. And I get that people's life experiances lead them to different conclusions.

But it pisses me off so much that I can't go into the 'John Winchester' tag without having to read some shit as fuck take on John.

I have to read people saying that he never told Dean he was proud of him and that the only time he did so he was possessed by Azazel. Which isn't even true, but a motherfucking lie.

Season 2, episode 1; when John WASN'T POSSESSED ANYMORE he said to Dean: „You know, when you were a kid... I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen... I'd be wrecked. And you... You'd come up to me... you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye. You'd say, "It's okay, Dad." Dean. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to say that to me. I should've been saying that to you. You know, I put... I put too much on your shoulders. I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sam, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know... that I am so proud of you.“

I have to read people forget or disregard that John was literally a righteous man. Alastair tried to break John and John didn't break for a century and then clawed his way OUT OF HELL TO SAFE HIS SONS IN 2x22. John must've had righteousness in heaven (which would come through faith in Jesus) and righteousness on earth (which would come through living through the commandments) as long as that's what the writers meant with 'righteous man'.

I have to read stuff John would apparently do only because we learn in 'Dark side of the Moon' that John and Mary's marriage wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and that John even moved out for a period. Even though we don't know who caused that fight and what it was about, literally it could've been Mary's fault and John only left to cool off. And even if not, marriages aren't just sunshines and rainbows. Fights happen, bad stuff is worked out. That would be true even without the cupid spell.

I have to read someone projecting their experiance with their father onto John. I have to read about someone saying John would've been such a dick because he was in the military and fought in the vietnam war, and we all know that's what all sodiers back then were (dicks). I have to read about how homophobic and transphobic John obviously was. I have to read about how much John would've been racist to Sam and Dean if they'd been mixed.

John was born in 1954, he has to be homophobic and transphobic and racist and bigoted and everthing you can think of. It can't be possible for someone to be born during that time and not be, right. (I hope you recognize the sarcasm)

Everybody is screaming 'child abuse' as loud as they can without taking into account the unique world those characters inhabit and the situation fate, heaven and hell put John and the boys into.

Dean could dig himself out of his grave because John used to bury them alive and had them dig their way out of a coffin as training!!!? Are yall good?? Literally what did your parents do to you, what went wront in your life that you think shit like this?!

And I get it, you can headcanon all you want. I myself headcanon John as bi and that Azazel knew and used this fact.

The writers did John so dirty in later seasons, and I'm not even alone in this, JDM agrees with me.

„But it always bugged me that the John that I played is different than the John that has been portrayed since I haven't been around. I really wanted the opportunity to be able to come back and make amends in a way and try to fix the sullied name of this character. But more than that, it's three friends, life lived. It feels like we've been friends for a lifetime now, getting to reunite in a place that we love and that we met and do what we do and I think that is super cool. So not only does John win in getting to come back and see his boys and Mary again and hopefully make some amends, it's just as cool for me, the actor, to be able to come back and see everybody.“

I'm sorry, but if Snape fans are allowed to be pissed about people suggesting Snape would've been creeping on Harry if he had been female and looked like Lilly, I can be pissed about everybody and their grandma in this fucking fandom painting John in the worst light possible.

JDM created such a great character with depth and who was interesting, even in season 4 and 5 they were still respectfull to his character, but the later seasons were just *throws up *

And I mean, I get it, I disregard canon too. Like, I disregard everything after season 5, that's Sam hallucinating in hell to me. Sometimes even after season 3, cause I don't feel like dealing with the angels, and cas and destiel and all that.

I get it, I get it, I get it.

But I too have the right to be pissed off about the way people like to shit on my fav.

Long story short, I love John and how complex and grey his character is and I HATE IT how simple and 'black and white' people wanna make him out to be. I wanna punch a bitch. I wanna throw hands right now.

#supernatural #spn #john winchester #john winchester defense #john winchester defense squad #I am heated #I literally wanna throw hands right now #I wanna be understanding of you guys #but yall are *tears at hair *#I don't get yall

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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House of Mouse: Mickey and the Culture Clash (Commission by WeirdKev27) or “What the Hell, Clarabelle?”

Hello, hello, hello... I wish I could say I was in good spirits but i’m tired, have covid induced chills running down my spine.. and oh yeah there was an armed insurrection i the captial last night that showed just how broken this country was. And while Monster Bash would still be relevant... I couldn’t do it. I admit to being unable to do an episode where the millitant racist nutjob who harms people runs off into the night, and does much worse in later episodes, while the people she harassed are arrested the night after a bunch of millitant, racist, sociopathic, selfish nightmares sieged the captial, killed a woman, raised the fucking maga flag over the buildling and took pictures like they were goddamn heroes. We got a stark reminder, not a wake up call, not an opening a REMINDER of just how badly broken our country is last night, and it wasn’t till this morning I found out just how BAD it was. The deaths, the flag, the fact josh fucking hawley, MY STAT’ES SENATOR and registered piece of shit, raised A FUCKING FIST IN SOLIDARITY, which gives me the crippling fear his stupidity and unabashed racisim and support of a cou could mean riots at best and attempted uprisings at worst and who knows what kind of hate crimes against those of color and those in my own queer community. I am afraid, tired, and I am pissed and I feel we could ALL use something wholesome, warm and far removed from the shit going on. And in my hour of need to figure out something like that to put on the schedule.. Kev brought up a wonderfufl idea. Every month this month till the end of it Kev is going to comission one episode of a show near and dear to both our hearts that has it’s 20th birthday this month. House of Mouse. He was intitally going to request Pete’s One Man Show, which is one of my faviorites, but was ironcially one I already planned to cover next month to celebrate both the show’s anniversary and Pete’s Birthday. But since he was happy to wait till then to comission it, he instead asked for another classic and one with easily my faviorite character on the show: Moritmer Mouse.

One of the best things House of Mouse did was bring back Mortimer Mouse. Introduced in Mickey’s Rival, Mortimer was an ex of minnies who showed up for one short to be a dick to mickey before running off and leaving Minnie at the mercy of a bull he pissed off. He also weirdly kept electrodes and a car battery in his pants. The short itself is.. not great mostly because Minnie dimissies Mickey rightfully being pissed someone is hitting on his girlfriend in front of him, making jokes at his expense, and generally being a pillock as being jealous... which yeah, yeah he is. Most of the time jealousy and supscison of your partner is ugly, gross and damaging to a relationship. You should trust them unless you’ve been given good reason not to, and if your paranoidly jealous about every friend she has she could be attracted to.. get some fucking help. Seriously, I need to, not for this for various other problems, but get some therapy to help with your trust issues or if your just being the kind of dick who naturally assumes men and women or men and men or women and women or men and nonibinary persons, or women and nonbinary peeps and so on and so on cannot be friends if they could possibly be togehter romantically... grow up. I say all of that because those are serious underlying issues and I didn’t want it to seem like for a moment I was supporting them... and because sometimes i’ts OKAY to be jealous, to either just feel a little jealous of someone, or to you know be irate because your girlfriend’s ex is hitting on her in front of you and she’s being entirely receptive to it.

So yeah i’ts really hard to feel bad for minnie’s bull attack or find the ending sweet after Minnie was you know, what ramona said for an entire short. However my point for this rant, besides giving out about the short again because I clearly didn’t enough in my Mickey Birthday Special, is that Mortimer is still pretty great. He’s a frat bro in the 40′s sense sure, but the idea of a local douche hoping to swoop in and woo minnie away, who has an oddly specific sense of humor and a bizzare, memorable and wonderful walk, seriously the short is worth watching for mortimier’s “I got two car batteris in my pants’ walk, is a good one. While he’d naturally show up in comics and what have you Mortimer just sort of vanished. But clearly someone on the House of Mouse staff, and Mousewerks before it, agreed because Morty was made easily one of the best and most recurring characters in the HOM, and often more prominent than Horace or Gus. While he still tried his old “I’m gonna do your common law wife act” a few times he was mostly there to be an annoying douche when the ep needed one and to be taken down a peg by everyone in the house. And that VERY MUCH includes Mickey. That’s also part of why I love this show bringing him back: It gives Mickey someone besides pete to give out too on a regular basis. He’s still his charming self about it but it’s lovelyt os ee Mickey sarcastically roast someone. And I honestly attribute the main factor of his sucess on the show to VA Maurice LaMarche. While his original VA, Sonny Dawson, was fantastic.. it’s Maurice who very clearly made the character his. While others like Jeff Bennet have taken over since i’ts Maurice who gave him his signature “ha-cha-cha” catchphrase, swagger and signiture voice. And no i’ts not lost on me that one of Maurice’s OTHER best roles is another cartoon mouse.. and I now very badly want him to meet Pinky and the Brain. But yeah, Maurice just oozes the smarm that defines mortimer for me, oozes condescinon and assholery and he, is., glorious. He was a faviorite as a kid, he’s a faviorite now, and Disney needs to use him more.. and also have Maurice voice him for wonderufl world of mickey mouse, though Jeff Bennett is not bad at all I just prefer the master at the role.

So obviously, after the nightmare of an evening america had yesterday, an episode not only about how wholesome mickey and minnie are but about Mickey teaming up with Mortimer was EXACTLY what i needed. So pitter patter, this is Mickey and the Culture clash. As always for house of mouse i’ll be chonking it up and since this one starts right with the wraparound, and sicnce you know I spent a godo few pagraphs going over mortimer and he’s only IN the wraparound this episode... let’s start there

Mickey and the Culture Clash: Don’t Go Changin, To Try and Please Me So we open the episode and the review proper with Mickey performing a banjo sernade for Minnie, their song in fact. It’s a really sweet scene.. that’s quickly ruined by Clarabelle being an asshole, who says i’ts a bit crude. Minnie counters that while “It’s not mozart”, it’s nice and she clearly likes it and the gesture. Instead of you know leaving it there like a good friend, like she’s SUPPOSED to be to Minnie in most continuities, Clarabelle.. takes the things she said and her having to run out to wrangle pluto out of context, painting it as her thinking he’s not sophisticated and then running out because of it. Oh and she tops it by pointing to a classified add from a MM looking for sophisticated companionship.

It just paints Clarabelle not as Minnie’s friend or a chatty gossip, but as a heartless bitch who has no trouble implying one of her best friends would cheat on her boyfriend TO HIS FACE, and is fine wrecking a perfectly lovely relationship just to have more to talk about. Seriously she starts gossiping to everybody on top of it just in case you thought Clarabelle was a decent person in any shape this episode. She’s the one thing about this episode that dosen’t work despite being integral to it.. well two but hte other thing is a small, end of episode gag we’ll get to. This.. this is an integral part of the plot. It also relies on Daisy and Donald being absent for the episode for what I can only assume is their annual sex decathalon because otherwise the second she heard about her friend doing this, before reassuring Minnie, Donald would be holdiing her while Daisy beat the absolute shit out of her for hurting thier closest friend and not bothering to take a look into anything when leveling such a rough accusation at Minnie. In a really stellar, really well paced episode, Clarabelle being so heartless stands out. It’s also, might as well get this out of the way, teh final episode not inlcuding the two holiday specials.. and it’s a good note to go out on otherwise, I just can’t ignore the obnoxious cow in the room.. in both senses of the word.

So yeah Mickey’s trying to be fancy, and Mortimer gets a good dig in about him reading “You having trouble sounding out the words”, but once he hears what’s going on, or rather once he realizes mickey things Mortimer’s personal add is in fact his girlfriend cheating on him, he decides to help Mickey. And to his credit for this con.. Mortimer actually thought things out on how to trick his rival, and his plan here is douchey as hell but incredibly genius: he offers to help mickey and while that’d normally be suspcious he offers a genuine, and very mortimer explination for helping him become a bit more sophisticated to win minnie back: if Minnie finds a handsome, sophisticated guy to date, what chance does MORTIMER have against that? At least with Mickey, in his deluded egocentric view of things anyway, he has a shot at beating him.

So Mickey classes it up a bit, taking some sopshitcated stances when announcing and trying to woo minnie by talking in ye olde english. When that fails, she just finds it silly but charming, Mickey finds Jose.. hitting on her.

Just.. I expect better from you man. Woo ladies all you like as long as your respectful but I expect better than to hit on someone else’s girlfriend.. which granted he has but given the last time we saw him do that, he nearly got stabbed a bunch and the last time he agressively hit on a woman he got punched in the beak as he should, you’d THINK he’d of learned something. Seriously once again Donald is only missing because this time Daisy would be holding Jose down while Donald hit him. Or possibly they’d take turns. Point is Jose REALLY shoudln’t be doing this and knows better.. marginally. But.. it is in character enough so ti’s not as bad as Clarabelle the homewrecker.

So Mickey tries being fancy and goes on to do poetry instead of letting O’Malley and the Alley Cats play.. which is a nice running gag the series does as they NEVER get to play.. which while funny is a shame since I love the Aristocats. So then we finally get what Mortimer’s been playing at, he swoops in, claims MICKEY dosen’t need HER, and uses the same personal add to trick her. See, while what Mortimer’s doing is vile.. unlike clarabelle I can repsect it at least. I don’t condone it and i’m glad he gets foiled.. but as a bad guy plan it’s pretty clever and for someone like Mortimer whose usually pretty incompitent.. it’s pretty suprising he could pull this off. It’s still pretty damn low and scummy, no question, but props to being able to outwit and nearly outplay two people who deal with your crap on a regular basis and still convincingly conning both. Thankfully while he tries to take Minnie out Mickey, in a great visual gag, puts two and two together, and busts out their song, with Mickey and Minnie heartwearmingly reuniting on stage as seen above. Then we get that gag I mentioned not liking: Mickey gets Morty back by planting a false marriage proposal from Moritmer to Clarabelle, again under MM and he gets carried off.. HAHA HE’S BEING FORCED INTO A MARRIAGE HE DOSEN’T. LAUGH. LAUGH AT IT. The gag just really hasn’t aged well, as otherwise it’s clever Mickey used Mortimer’s own trick against both him and the person who caused all of this but really.. Clarabelle gets no real compuance. At worse sshe finds out she was tricked.. but she again you know tried to break up her close friends relationship for shits and giggles. But .. it’s at the very end of the episode and very easy to ignore, so it dosen’t really bother me too bad, and compared to some gags of the type i’ve seen, it could be MUCH worse. Overall this wraparound is one of the series best and a good one to go out on. it has a simple premise, a brilliant antagonist plot, some great bits from all involved, and even a great Belle and Beast cameo. All in all a really good wraparound only hampered by a sexist and dated ending and Clarabelle being portrayed as ...

She’s the worst, in the world. Okay onto the shorts.

Mickey’s Piano Lesson: That was a Fun One

It really was. It’s a simple premise: Minnie wants MIckey to do a piano recital and he decides “I don’t need practice i’m mickey mouse. “ And it’s REALLY nice to have a short that has, rather than aw shucks mickey, shenanigans mickey. While thanks to the new shorts we’ve had tons, it’s still nice to get one in the House of Mouse era, and it’s just fun to see Mickey take the usual donald roll of letting his overconfidence punch him in the face> It fits both though: Both are everyman and while I lean towards the duck, to no one’s shock, Mickey is just as capable, and his lack of practice comes off less like the angry and hostile way donald would dismiss it and mroe just loveable procastination. And as someone who REALLY struggles with procastination I related to this short, as Mickey does everything else he’d rather do from bathing the dog to skydiving till Minnie, in a great bit informs him everyone from the president, to several dignitaries from other countries, to a televised audience will see. We then get two really great and really beatuifully animated bits as MIckey wrestles with the notes on thep age then fights with his piano as he performs, still pulling it off but destroying the thing and rightfully earning a glare form his girlfriend. Just a fun, slapstick short with a great premise.

Dance of the Goofys: Scary Children Set to classical music, this one has a bunch of goofys as Fairy’s, who are making the flowers go and the one who sleeps in ends up saving the king from a horrifing looking little brat. He reminds me of Montanna Max a bit.. speaking of which Creer Summer recnetly announced Elmyra won’t be in the reboot. And while this does make me fear actually good characters like Fifi, Montana Max, and more will be cut like the animanics reboot and I do feel for Cree not getting to be involved and hope they find another roll for her as, given her status in the industry she deserves better.. THANK FUCKING GOD. I’ll go into this in another review I have planned for the future but unlike the cuts made to animaniacs this was a REALLY good decision i’m really greatful for. Thank you crew thank you.

Back on topic, it’s just a fun, really beautifully animated short about the goofies and hteir shenanigans with a really great high concept.

Maestro Minnie: Brahm’s Lullabye: Simply Irresitable Another simple but clever and lovely to watch one, and one I like quite a bit more. Minnie is conducting some living violins to Brahm’s Lullabye to get a baby Violin to sleep, and we get some really beautiful shots of her as she does so.. only to get comically interuppted by other insteruments turning up the noise. Not much to say on this one as it’s short and simple.. but sometimes short and simple is just what you need and the fun premise nad really beautiful especially for tv animation at the time visuals really sell this one. ONce again, good stuff.

Overall: This was a REALLY good note to go out on. While as I said the Clarabelle stuff can eat my entire ass, everything else is really damn good and I highly recommend checking this one out. Next time, in about a month, we’ll be looking at Pete’s spotlight episode for his birfday. While you wait tommorow we have my first look at legend of the three cabs. But for now, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

#house of mouse #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #mortimer mouse #clarabelle cow #donald duck #daisy duck #goofy goof #mouseworks #maurice lamarche #mickey's culture clash

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woeismyhoe · 4 years

Note

Spill the tea, what's the deal with you and the BSG group (avatar-chang and her squad in particular)?

Ok anon, sorry for taking so long! I wanted to get everything right and honestly collecting the posts took a longass time xD

Anyways, the only ones I have a problem there are avatar-chang, hexful/dykesia/bizukos, catrademption, cardboardseagulls (never seen interacted b4) and bizulas (also never interacted b4).

I’m going to be really transparent about this whole thing so it’s gonna be long as there’s gonna be several links and I’ve included the dates so it’ll be easier to understand. Since I’ll be fully transparent about this, i’ll probably get hate or whatever. Honestly, I just want to put everything out there without being biased or hiding anything. I’m going to disclose everything here.

So, the whole thing between me and avatar-chang started off with this post I made last year on 10 March 2019. Afterwards, she PMed me on the same day and this was the conversation:

After that, I thought the argument was over because she blocked me lmao. The only ones I spoke to about this was nbw and my real life friends (who had nothing to do with ATLA lmao I just ranted to them).

And then the next incident I think was on 16 March 2019 when I made this post about Azula’s abuse of her friends. I was new and 16. I genuinely wanted to know why people labeled Azula as an abuser. It was dykesia who responded to me at the time.

Now, unlike avatar-chang, I had a few conversations with dykesia (who was bizukos then) that was generally civil. I first interacted with her when she made a post calling out Zucest shippers or something?? I was very new. Like fresh newbie baby ATLA tumblr fan new lmao so I thought what she said was too aggressive. I didn’t realize that there were actual Zucest shippers until after some time. And then she PMed me on 13 March 2019, saying that she doesn’t always agree on characters with me but I do write some interesting pieces on Azula— that she’s a huge fan of Azula but she just tends to stay away from her fandom. I apologized about the previous incident of the Zucest thing and it was fine after then. We talked about zuko, the fandom, the comics, Mai etc etc. I thought we were on fine terms.

And then I made a post about the cliff scene in the comics on 16 March 2019. Avatar-Chang made a post that was pretty directed at the post but it seems like she’s deleted it.

On 17 March 2019, I received an anon mail telling me that avatar-chang was talking shit about me behind my back. I censored her name then because I didn’t want to believe without any evidence. No one sent me any screenshots about it so I just dismissed it.

On the same day, avatar-chang answered an anon and talked about the 13 child post theory I made on 9 March.

On 23 April 2019, I received another anon mail about avatar-chang, asking if I’d seen the post she made about Azula. I censored her name again cuz I didn’t want to start any shit over having differing opinions. I’m assuming this is the post the anon was referring to.

On 28 April 2019, dykesia/hexful/bizukos PMed me to ask if I was talking shit about other people behind their backs, and her. I denied this because I hadn’t. This was how the conversation went:

Yes, I didn’t censor any name because as I said, full transparency. I have afp blocked because we’ve clashed several times and he’d still come for my posts last year despite already being blocked. If you’ve followed me long enough, you probably would’ve rmbered that time lmao

Anyways during then, I don’t think I realized that dykesia was actually being passive aggressive. It’d been barely a year since I started the blog and I just didn’t want to full out make enemies. Reading the messages now tho lmao she really was passive aggressive. But yeah then she said this in bsg so I don’t even know why she bothered to ask me if she wasn’t even going to consider believing me.

The 9th of June 2019 was the last time she messaged and it was to ask if I mind her discoursing this Zuko post while ‘hard and drunk’. It was the first time she could apparently agree with me so it was I quote a ‘Yay??’. Afterwards I don’t know when she did it but she blocked me lmao

On 17 July 2019, I received another anon mail telling me that avatar-chang publicly called me a bitch when she was answering an anon about me posting the scans of the EK Chronicles. She mentioned this in bsg again on 19 April 2020 lmao (she’s that petty) it seems:

On November 8 2019, an anon (one of avatar-chang’s friends actually) asked about my thoughts towards the allegations against Aaron Ehasz. I still believe in the system of ‘Innocent before proven guilty’, so I didn’t side with anyone. I tried to be as objective as possible. When I said that I hoped men would also come forward, I said that because I don’t want men to just sit on the sidelines and let the women get the heat if they were telling the truth. At the end of this whole thing, I concluded that Ehasz was a dick of a boss to the girls. Being called an abuser carries more weight than just being a dick. Everyone has been a dick at one point, but being an abuser is something else. Just because Ehasz was a dick doesn’t mean I’m going to stop watching TDP or dismiss his involvement in ATLA.

The next day, BSG brought the issue up despite both avatar-chang having already blocked me by then lmao

On 5 February 2020, after Legacy of the Fire Nation came out, I made a post calling out Iroh’s bs to Azula (guy literally blames Azula for everything that happened to Zuko (something which avatar-chang agrees with apparently, and Iroh even sees Ozai in a better light).

That’s so far what I’ve remembered that involved avatar-chang and dykesia.

Moving on to the next three attackers: catrademption, cardboardseagulls and bizulas.

I’ve seen catrademption around, but I don’t remember if we’ve clashed before. We must have though cuz she’s got me blocked lmao and I mostly only debate back to people when they reply to my posts. For cardboardseagulls and bizulas, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them them before but obviously they’ve seen my blog and misinterpreted everything I’ve written.

But according to them, I’m apparently a Azula apologist, extremist, irrational, toxic, coddles and woobifies Azula, justifies everything she does and invalidates abuse victims.

You can see the posts I’ve made to judge whether I actually am an irrational Azula apologist who blames everything on Zuko. One of the most recent posts I made about Azula’s character is this, and there’s still several more posts like that. Just search #meta or #analysis in my blog search and all of them will just pop up. I can assure you, I have never acted as if Azula has done nothing wrong or did everything right or whatever lies these people are spewing.

If anyone has proof that I’ve talked shit about people in the fandom to other people before, please, present your evidence. I highly think this is impossible because I actually don’t have many friends on Tumblr, nor do I usually initiate conversation because I’m awkward af.

I’ve also tried approaching those I recognized in bsg to find out more about the situation (and at least give my side of the story). Most of them have chosen not to speak to me LMAO but one of them who’s chosen to remain anonymous for their privacy, admitted that dykesia (hexful) forced them to block a blog before (after realizing they were interacting with said blog) and if not, they would be blocked themselves. I can’t post the conversation publicly because they’re afraid their speech mannerism will give away their identity. @space-sword has also shared his experience with avatar-chang on his blog and was pressured to cut off ties with ppb21 just to join the oh so magnificent Ba Sing Gay.

There’s absolutely no reason to judge someone based on their sexual orientation, race, color or age either. They rant about being discriminated against or being generalized or stereotypes but they’re the ones hypocritically committing these actions, and then justify their actions by saying ‘we’re oppressed, they’re not, so it’s not racism or discrimination’. And yet people still wonder why discrimination is still rampant LMAO

I can’t speak for the blogs they victimized in bsg, but I personally don’t agree with talking shit about them on a public server and then criminalizing them as if they’re actually predators. I also don’t agree with involving the blogs’ friends simply because of their association. I also don’t agree with demanding people to block blogs they don’t like because that’s just pure manipulation. That’s wrong and marginalizing people. Unless someone has actually been harassing or literally preying on people, then there’s no reason to actually go around warning blogs about them unless they’re asked about it.

If they feel uncomfortable about something? Then avoid that blog, filter their tags or even block that blog if they’re that uncomfortable—BUT they shouldn’t demand others to do the same just for their own benefit. It’s not up to them to decide what a person can or cannot see or who they can or cannot interact with. They’re not their parents, and they obviously have no right to pressure people into doing things they don’t want to. If they think it tactless that I shared the conversations? Oh honestly, a line was crossed when they spread shit about me so idc. If they actually feel terrible for being called out? GOOD. That’s what they should feel, because in no way was any of what they were doing right or justified. If they’re going to shit on me then expect to be burned because I’m not someone who’ll just shrivel in fear because they have a bigger following.

#ba sing gay #bsg

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lurafita · 4 years

Text

Canon is fanfiction’s little bitch

So, my friend wrote a fanfic for The Walking Dead. A kind of retelling of events, but with one very specific change to one of the main characters. And even though I haven’t seen the show, she wanted me to read it and tell her my opinion.

And, look, I haven’t seen the show, but my friend is the type of person that calls you after an episode that was either especially great, or especially upsetting, to rant to you about it. We all have that friend.

Anyway, due to those conversations, I knew that there were things and scenes and character developments in the show she didn’t like, that she wished had gone differently.

So, when I read her fic, I was pretty surprised that she kept those things in. And, I guess I don’t have to tell anyone who has watched The Walking Dead, that this is a pretty gruesome, devastating, depressing show at times.

And, again, I knew that my friend hadn’t liked a lot of the things that happened in the show.

So when I asked her why she wrote it like this, she kinda shrugged and said: “Well, it’s how it happened in canon.”

When I then told her that, okay, if you want to keep things like they happened in canon, that’s fine. But, you know you don’t have to, right?

She looked at me like she was a little lost in that moment. Probably how I look when I can’t find my fucking shoes, every morning!

We talked for a long while after that, and I can’t possibly repeat our conversation verbatim (my memory has never been and will never be that good).

But let me check off the highlights here.

- Canon is important, but it doesn’t have to matter. A Tv series, movie, book, comic, video game, whatever you want, is the doorway into a world full of characters and circumstances that you get to discover and fall in love with. However, the feelings you develop for these characters, are your own. Canon has no hold over those.

- Canon, (unless you are reading or seeing a documentary), itself is fiction. It is a fantasy dreamed up by one or more individuals, and brought to life in different forms of media. It’s makers (writers, actors, producers, etc) do deserve our respect and gratitude. But that does not mean you have to adhere to their vision completely, or at all.

- Canon can give you characters and worlds you adore. It can give you deeply intricate and developed nuances for both of those. And it can lead those characters and worlds in directions you don’t want to see them take. And you don’t have to be okay with that.

- Fanfiction is a way for fans to feel closer to their beloved characters and worlds. It can shine the light on things that aren’t focused on in canon, and can develop characters and relationships that canon doesn’t explore.

- Fanfiction is a way for fans to live and breathe and share their love for these characters and worlds with others. It can be a welcome handshake, or a long embrace. Or sometimes just an easy smile. It can give you a sense of camaraderie and belonging. It can be a plot point explored, or a dynamic exploited, or a different route taken. It can be that constant, burning question, that every fan has at some point in time, in the back of their mind: What if?

- What if that character did that? What if that hadn’t happened? What if things were different?

- Canon is for everyone, but fanfiction is for you and you alone. It is your creative outlet. It is every piece and plotbunny you ever dreamed of. It is your passion given life in the written word. You are the King and the Queen and the God of your story. In your fanfiction, these characters and these worlds are yours. And you should use them, to tell the story you want to tell.

- Fanfiction is self-indulgent. Each and every one. It is supposed to be. Because TV-series and books and movies and everything else is for entertainment and profit. But fanfiction is for you.

So you are the one who calls the shots in your fanfiction. If you want to follow the canon story line, with only some minor differences or added dialog, then that is what you do.

But if you don’t want that. If what happened in canon doesn’t sit well with you. If you wished it had gone differently. If you wished you could change it. Then you can. Then that is what you do.

It is your desire. Your passion. Your story. It is your effort put into writing it down, fleshing out plot, developing characters and relationships.

And you do it for you, because it makes you happy.

My friend wasn’t happy with canon. And she wasn’t really happy with her story. After our talk, she scrapped it. Started anew, went back to the beginning, got things rolling, and then completely derailed from canon. She has texted me about all the changes she has done, and still wants to do. All the things that will be different, and the things that now won’t work anymore the way they did in canon, and how she has to find ways around that, or think of something completely different from it now.

And this story probably isn’t gonna be some kind of master piece when she is done. From what I can tell, it gets a little out of character at times, and some of her resolutions in the plot seem a little too easy and perfect, and not at all in line with the general tone of the show.

But you know what? It doesn’t matter one fucking bit. Because I can hear her enthusiasm and joy for her story in every text and every phone call. Writing this story makes her happy. She is the goddess of her story, she calls the shots, and she made canon her little bitch.

Canon is for everyone, but fanfiction is for you.

#fandom stuff #fanfiction #canon vs fanon #canon vs fanfiction #the walking dead #you write whatever the fuck you want #and whatever the fuck makes you happy

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thestarsaroundyourscars · 5 years

Note

Can we get a part two of hanzier and the online meeting thing where Richie gets cut off before he finds out Mike also lives in Derry pleaseeeeeeee

It’s been a month but here it is! You can read part one here or read both on AO3 here

Richie’s phone started ringing the moment he walked out of the store, holding popcorn and other snacks in his arms. He struggled to grab the phone and brought it up to his ear in the final ring.

“Why the fuck aren’t you back yet?” Eddie asked in greeting, Richie let out a snort.

“Aw Eds do you miss me already?”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie snarked with no real bite. “But seriously where are you? Everyone’s here already, except you and Bev.”

“Eduardo chill. I just finished picking up the snacks, I’m waiting for Bev to come back with the movies.” Richie explained, searching the street for any sign of Bev. They decided to split up to make it to Bill’s house faster.

“Well hurry dude. We’re waiting. Hey did you get my⎯”

“Fucking disgusting lemon soda? Of course I did Eds.”

Richie could practically hear Eddie rolling his eyes through the phone. “Don’t⎯”

“⎯call me that, I know. Well guess what, fuck y⎯ Shit!” Richie’s sentence was cut off when he felt something collide against the back of his legs. He lost his balance and almost dropped his phone, managing to keep his grip. The bags he carried weren’t that lucky. “Son of a bitch.” Richie muttered under his breath, staring at the snacks scattered on the floor.

“Rich? What happened?”

Before he could answer Eddie, he felt something wet lapping at his hand, he looked down to see a dog, staring up at him, head lolled to a side. “Hey buddy.” Richie said, patting the dog’s head. He wagged his tail and forgetting about the snacks, he crouched in front of him and the dog started licking his face. “Woah okay, at least buy me dinner first.”

“Richie who the fuck are you talking to?” Eddie asked, voice small and distant coming from phone still in Richie’s hand.

“It’s just a dog Eds don’t be jealous. He pushed me. Yeah he did.” He said, scratching behind his ear. “But that’s okay because you’re cute, the cutest boy aren’t you?” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, studying the dog’s face. “Wait I think I know you, why do I think I know⎯”

“Mr. Chips!” A voice called and the dog perked up, Richie’s frown deepened.

He repeated the name under his breath, wondering why it sounded so familiar. He looked at the dog again and this time it clicked. “Holy shit!”

“Mr. Chips!” The voice called again, closer this time. Richie’s stomach tightened with nerves and excitement and he looked up at the guy the voice and the dog belonged to, confirming his suspicions. “Why did you run off like that buddy?”

Richie’s mouth fell open and he stared at the guy as he kneeled on the sidewalk and clasped a leash on the dog’s collar. His eyes darted from the dog to the snacks on the floor and he frowned. “Shit did he do that? I’m so sorry man, I’ll pay for⎯”

“Mike?” Richie cut in, finding his voice. The guy looked up at him for the first time and his eyes widened comically.

“Richie?” Mike asked, his face breaking into a grin. “Oh my god.”

That grin ⎯that Richie’s computer screen didn’t do any justice⎯ threw Richie for a loop. “I can’t⎯ fuck is this another dream?” Richie asked, shaking his head. It had been almost two weeks since Bev and him had tried the chat room, since he had met Mike. He never expected to see him again in his computer, let alone in real life.

“Another dream? You dream about me?” Mike asked with an amused smile.

Richie’s eyes widened when he realized what he had said and blushed furiously. He didn’t want to admit it but he had actually dreamed that he met Mike in person a few days ago. Before he had to lie about it though, his phone started ringing. “Uh give me a second.” He said to Mike, standing up and answering the call. “Hello?”

“You hung up on me asshole.” Eddie said annoyed.

“Oh sorry Eds. I ran into a friend.” Richie said. Mike grinned up at him and Richie’s stomach filled with butterflies.

“A friend?” Eddie asked sounding genuinely confused. “You mean Bev? Because we’re the only friends that you have.”

“Fuck you Eddie, I have more friends.” Eddie let out a snort. “I do. His name is Mike.”

“Wait Mike? As in the Mike you’ve been whining about for two weeks?”

Richie grimaced, hoping that Mike wasn’t able to hear what Eddie was saying on the phone but based on his slight blush and shy smile, he definitely could. Eddie always had a habit of speaking too loud. Richie huffed, and it was him their friends complained about.

“Shut up dude. Listen we’ll see you soon.” He said and before Eddie could whine and tell them to hurry up, he hung up on him, he knew he would hear all about it later but he couldn’t care less at the moment. Mike was staring at him and Richie tried to come up with something to say but his tongue got all tied up when Mike stood up and Richie had to look up at him. He had guessed Mike was taller than him but he hadn’t thought of how that would make him feel. He tried to gather his thoughts, running his eyes over Mike, blatantly checking him out. But that did the exact opposite. “Fuck man you’re even hotter in person.” Richie blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mike chuckled and Richie could feel his eyes moving over him, he fidgeted nervously wishing he looked better. He knew his hair was a mess, his glasses askew and he was lanky, no muscle where Mike was fucking built. He was pale and his teeth were crooked and⎯

And he had Mike’s thumb running over his cheekbone while he smiled softly at him, making Richie feel like he was melting from the inside. “And you’re prettier.” He said and Richie choked on his spit, cheeks flaring. “Especially when you blush.”

Richie let out a strained laugh. “You’re such a sweet talker Mikey.” He huffed, willing his face to cool down. “What⎯ What are you doing here?”

“In Derry?” Richie nodded. “I live here. My family’s farm is just outside of town.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that?” It would’ve saved Richie a lot of time that he invested in trying to get paired up with Mike again in the video chat website.

“I tried but then the connection fell through.”

“Oh right.” Richie chuckled. “Fucking internet man.” Mike chuckled too and Mr. Chips barked, attracting their attention. “Hey buddy.” Richie said, crouching again. “I knew you looked familiar. Do you remember me?”

Mr. Chips wagged his tail, nuzzling Richie’s hand. “He might. He never takes off running like that unless he’s after someone.” Mike said, watching them with a soft expression. “Sorry about your stuff.” He pointed at the snacks, still on the floor.

Richie shrugged, gathering them and throwing them in the bag. “Don’t worry man. I just won’t tell Eddie his snacks were on the floor or he’ll go on a rant about germs for hours.”

“Was that the guy on the phone?” Richie nodded. “Is he your⎯”

“Best friend since we were in diapers.” Richie said. “I told you I was single remember?”

Mike shrugged. “A lot can change in two weeks.”

“Well that didn’t. And neither did the fact that I’m really gay in case you were wondering.” Richie said, eyes moving over Mike’s chest and broad shoulders.

Mike grinned. “Good.”

“Rich! I have the movies, did you get the⎯ Oh hi.” Bev appeared next to Richie, coming to a stop when he noticed her friend was talking to someone else. Mike waved shyly.

“Hey Bev. This is Mike, Mike this is⎯”

“Mike? Chatroulette Mike?” Bev asked, wide eyes darting between Mike and Richie. “Holy shit.”

“That’s what I said.” Richie chuckled.

“Holy shit!” She said again, louder and slapped Richie’s arm. “Fuck dude, I know you said he was hot as fuck but damn.”

“He said that?” Mike asked Bev but he was staring at Richie, smirking. “What else did he say?”

“He whined and cried for two weeks.” Bev said, Richie glared at her but she shrugged it off. “He would go through a bunch of chats pretty much every day trying to get paired up with you again. He said he needed to find the love of his⎯”

“Okay!” Richie said, high pitched and alarmed, muffling the end of Bev’s sentence but the way Mike’s eyes crinkled at the corners of his eyes told Richie that he knew how she planned to finish it. Richie’s ears felt like they were burning. He fished the keys of his truck from his pocket and shoved them in Bev’s hands. “Here get in the truck, I’ll be right there.”

She rolled her eyes but accepted the keys. “Fine fine but if you get in that car and you don’t have Mike’s number with you I will kick your ass.”

“Go!” Richie said, Mike was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. Bev waved at Mike and walked away. “I’m⎯ sorry about that.” Richie said.

Mike grinned. “Did you really do that? Try to get paired up with me again?”

Richie scrunched up his face. “Maybe? It’s pathetic I know.”

“I think it’s cute.” Mike said. “I think you’re cute.” He smiled when Richie blushed even more. “I would’ve done the same if you hadn’t told me you were from Derry. I figured we would run into each other sooner or later. I’m glad it was the former.”

“Me too man.”

They stared at each other, smiling nervously until Richie heard a car honking loudly and recognized it. He scrunched up his face. “That’s Bev. I have to go, our friends are waiting for us.”

“Oh yeah of course.”

“Do you― uh. Would you want to see each other again? Maybe go out? With me?” Richie asked, wringing his hands together. He was nervous but he wasn’t going to let Mike go again without making sure they could see each other again.

“Like on a date?”

“Yeah.”

Mike grinned. “Definitely.”

Mr. Chips barked and Richie looked down at him. “Of course you can come too buddy.” He said, petting the dog.

He grabbed his phone and gave it to Mike. He watched as he typed down his number. Because Mike wanted Richie to call him. To see him again. To go out with him. Richie couldn’t keep the smile from his face if he tried. “Here. Call me Richie.” Their fingers brushed together when accepting the phone, making a shiver run down his spine.

“A video call?” Richie asked with a grin that Mike returned.

“Yeah.” He said, tightening his hold on the leash and starting to walk backwards away from Richie, pulling Mr. Chips along. “And if you’re lucky I will take my shirt off for you this time.” He winked and the words made Richie’s stomach coil.

“You can’t say stuff like that man.” Richie said with a strained laugh. “Now that’s all I’ll think about during movie night!”

Mike barked out a laugh, waving at Richie one final time before turning around and walking away. Richie kept his eyes on him until he disappeared. Then he started walking towards his car, wondering just how mad his friends would be if he skipped movie night, locking himself up in Bill’s bathroom to take Mike up on his offer.

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes @richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc @its-stranger-than-you-think @lemonaayyee @losers-gotta-stick-together @tinyarmedtrex @richiefuckfacetozier @sam-i-am2468 @richardtoz @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @constantreaderfool @thundercatseddie @captainbartholomew @mirandonsky @proton-disaster-blaster @alargedepresso @purplepoisonedgem @pan-ini @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @trashmouthnick @multi-fandom-wby @wheezyeds @nancynwheeler @did-someone-say-reddie@madi-personal @reddie-tozibrak @lover-mouth @atownofeggs @that-weird-girls-blog @appojoos @castielwinovak @fcngirltrxsh @spirited-marvel @fuck-the-sushi (if you want to be added, let me know!)

@inthebreadbinwrites I’m tagging you because you also requested a part 2.

#hanzier #mr chips is quite the match maker #mike flirts #richie blushes #that's basically it #part 2 #monse writes #monse answers #mike hanlon #richie tozier

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blackmissfrizzle · 5 years

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Truth Hurts

Title: Truth Hurts

Characters: Dean x black!reader, Sam, Chuck, and Castiel

Summary: Dean finds out that the reader knows he cheated on her with Anna.

A/N: a companion fic for A Match Made in Hell. I’ll be doing more of these to detail Dean’s and the reader’s relationship at different times. Also, no tags this time. I’ll probably update later.

Based off episode 4x18

“I’m full-frontal in here, dude.” Dean complained as he read the newly discovered books about your lives.

This was supposed to be a regular case. The three of you went to a comic book store, investigating for a case, when the clerk asked if you were LARPing and then proceeded to tell you about the ‘Supernatural’ books.

Now you were sprawled in the bed with Dean, reading about your confession of love to Dean before he went to Hell. Whoever this Carver Edlund guy was, he sure did have a way with words.

Sam was sitting at the table with his laptop delving into the ‘fandom’ of Supernatural. Dean took the laptop and to his pleasure he found out there were some Dean girls, but he lost it when he found out there was some Dean/Sam girls. Hey, to each their own.

Most of the feedback on you was positive. They loved that you were a total badass, but some were rightfully pissed that you lied about your family lineage to the boys. There were some racist trolls, because God forbid a black girl gains the attention of one of the world’s perfect specimen. Oh, if they only knew the truth about their precious Dean Winchester.

“Do people really think you and Sam make a better couple? This is blasphemy!” Dean slammed Sam’s laptop in annoyance.

You had to give it to Dean, he put on a good performance. He almost convinced you he was the perfect boyfriend, but you remembered that you caught him with Anna unbeknownst to him.

“Hmmm, I think me and Sam would make a cute couple.” Sam smirked at his older brother and Dean had to hold himself back from smacking it off his face.

Dean pulled you out of your seat and into his lap. He gave you a kiss, which you didn’t return with as much enthusiasm and it was becoming more frequent. After, you guys find Carver Edlund, Dean decided he would talk to you to figure out what’s going on.

Thanks to proving you were ‘super fans’ of Supernatural and a bit of oversharing from the publisher you were able to find Carver Edlund aka Chuck Shurley.

Sam, Dean, and you find yourselves knocking on the door of a cute little house. When Chuck first answered the door he thought you three were playing a joke when Dean introduced y’all. He still thought it was a joke when you showed him the arsenal in Baby’s trunk. It wasn’t until Dean said his last name and you switched your eyes to black did he believe you.

You found yourself with Sam and Dean, in Chuck’s quaint home that was littered with empty beer bottles.

“Oh, you’re still there!” Chuck jumped when he turned around to you three.

“Yup.”

“You’re not a hallucination?”

“Nope.” Dean popped the p while standing there irritated.

Soon, Chuck went on a rant that he was a cruel and capricious God. He kept detailing almost every awful thing that happened to the boys and then asked them if they truly lived through certain events.

“And you,” Chuck steered his gaze towards you. “All those nightmares about hell and then to find Dean cheating on you with an angel no less!”

You couldn’t stop Chuck from revealing your secrets, but the murderous look on your face told him that he made a big mistake.

“I’m sorry, I…I…I forgot he didn’t know yet.” Chuck immediately apologized. He knew your powers could get out of control if you were extremely emotional and he didn’t want to be a target.

Too bad for Chuck, you were embarrassed and pissed. The boys were looking at you with pity and you needed to get out of there fast. You stormed out the house, ignoring Dean’s pleas and when you slammed the door you sent objects flying off the shelves with your powers.

Dean gripped Chuck by the collar, upset with him for revealing his big mistake but more upset that he knew he just broke whatever he had with you.

Sam pulled him back, even though all he wanted to do was punch Dean himself. “C’mon dude, let him go.”

After everything settled down, Chuck explained what he was writing next. He told the brothers that he wrote himself into the book confronted by his characters.

You were pacing down the sidewalk, trying to rid yourself of the anger when the boys came out. Sam threw you an apologetic look before he got into the Impala.

Dean reached for your hand, but you moved to escape his reach and he knew right then he lost you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Not now. I just wanna figure out how Chuck is doing what he does and do a bit of laundry, ok?” You kept your gaze hard, you didn’t want Dean to know he had this much of an affect on you. He shooked his head yes and dropped the topic. Dean knew better than to push your buttons when you’re already pissed.

At the laundromat, Dean was reading the transcript that Chuck gave him. He was exactly describing the scene before you. It captured your irritated bitch face and Sam’s brooding shoulders.

Needing some space from Dean you exited the laundromat, but not too long after Dean followed you.

“What did Shurley mean by nightmares?” Dean asked barely above a whisper. He knew it was better to ease into his infidelity instead of jumping in.

Not making eye contact with your boyfriend, you fumbled with the bracelet he gave you. “When you came back, I started having nightmares. They started once we slept in the bed together. At first, I didn’t know what they were, but soon I figured out it was your time in hell. I saw everything, Dean!” Tears were streaming down your face.

“I saw how Alistair cut into you and tortured you. How he would use my face, Sam’s, and Bobby’s, to mess with you. I saw and felt everything! I felt your joy when you took Alastair’s deal and jumped off the rack to put bodies on and torture.”

Dean’s adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to contain his own tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You wiped away a tear and gave Dean a dry laugh. “Because I was trying to do the healthy thing and let you tell me on your own time. I didn’t want to make you talk until you were ready. But it turns out you just didn’t want to talk to me. I should’ve known better. Eventually, you couldn’t wait on me any longer and you would go back to your usual type.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Y/N I did not sleep with Anna because we haven’t had sex yet or because she’s supposedly my type.”

“Then why?”

Dean hung his head in guilt and licked his lips before he answered. “Because she got it. She told me she knew about what happened in hell and I shouldn’t blame myself. Y/N, I thought if I told you I would lose you forever and I can’t bear the thought without you in my life.”

This time you made no attempt to wipe away your tears. You looked at Dean through blurry eyes and replied with venom in your voice. “Well, great job Winchester, you just lost me.”

Each of you stared at the other, mourning the loss of your relationship. Sam came out the laundromat and looked guilty for interrupting the intimate moment. “Ummm, Chuck called he said there’s an emergency.”

Grateful for the interruption, you ran to grab your laundry and went to Baby. When you met up with Chuck, he told you that Lilith was coming and she and Sam were going to have sex in ”…throes of fiery demonic passion.” Ugh, disgusting!

It turned out that Lilith is not possessing a child anymore and was now a dental hygienist. Well, at least according to Chuck she was hot.

Sam laughed at the idea of him and Lilith together, but Dean didn’t find it funny. I’m fact, he took Chuck’s transcript as a ‘what not to do’. There’s was no research for Sam, no bacon cheeseburger for Dean , no fighting between the brothers, and no refereeing for you. But all that went to hell. The waitress accidentally gave Dean the wrong burger, the boys managed to argue in a calm manner, and you still ended up getting in the middle while scrolling through your phone.

All three of you had your own mission to avoid Chuck’s vision. Sam had to stay locked up in the motel room, Dean had to park his car to avoid driving around in it all day, and you had to stay away from your father, which should be easy.

After Dean left you and Sam in the motel room, Sam tried to get you to talk about your feelings and he even gave you the puppy-dog eyes, but you couldn’t do it. So, you left the room and somehow ended up at a park bench.

Suddenly you felt an unwanted presence next to you. You were about to pull out your gun, but someone gripped your wrist before you could. That someone was your demon father.

“How did you find me?”

“I was monitoring your power usage, since someone doesn’t call.” He nudged your shoulder.

Rolling your eyes, you scooted further away from him. “Maybe someone would call you if you didn’t murder their mother and try to make them lead a demon army.”

“You got a point. But I’m here to talk.” He gave you a fatherly pat on your knee. “Before Alistair untimely death due to your boyfriend and his brother.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame he died before his time,” you dramatically rolled your eyes.

“Anyway, before he died he told me that a certain Winchester slept with that fallen angel. And as a father, I’m trying my hardest not to rip his throat out.” Your father’s eyes flashed to black for a millisecond.

It must’ve been keeping your emotions bottled up, because you ended up sobbing in your father’s lap. Despite being a demon, your father was soothing and held you.

For a moment, you believed you two were a regular father and daughter until a ping from your phone brought you back to reality. Dean texted you, saying that you needed to come back to the motel room ASAP.

“Winchester calls and you just drop everything and go running, huh?” Your father was angry at how fast you moved for Dean.

“You has to ruin the moment. Just don’t bother contacting me anymore.” You were walking away when your dad left you with one parting statement.

“It’s inevitable, Y/N. We’ll break all the seals and you’ll be fighting on our side one way or another. Stop tricking yourself into thinking you’re a hunter or a conduit of good. Hell, Dean even slept with a literal angel before you. Maybe he knows deep down that someday you’ll reach your true demonic potential.”

Anxiety, fear, and tears suffocated your throat. Your dad said all the things you feared ever since you met the Winchesters. Not trusting your voice, you flipped the bird at your dad.

By the time you got back, Sam and Dean were arguing. Supposedly, Chuck was a prophet and everything he writes comes true. Oh, you guys were screwed. Dean was bent on leaving town before Lilith got there, but Sam wanted to take the opportunity and fight.

The fight was getting bad, Dean brought up how Sam’s been using his psychic powers to kill Alistair and you took that as your cue to leave the room. Sometimes it was best not to get in the middle of their fights.

Leaning against Baby and drinking some water, you were contemplating your life with the Winchesters when Dean came storming out the room.

“Sam’s stuck on staying?”

Dean wiped down his face in frustration. “Yeah. He’s just ugh.” Dean finally took in your demeanor and noticed the puffiness of your eyes. He reached to grab your hand and this time you didn’t pull away.

“I’m gonna take a guess here, according to Chuck, you should’ve met with your demonic daddy. How that go?”

“Surprisingly good. He threatened to rip your throat out and I might just take him up on that. Then, he had to rant on about my silly demonic potential. You know the usual stuff.” You waved your hand in dismissal.

Dean opened up hid mouth to apologize, but you stopped him. “I don’t need your apology. After this I’m gonna go to Bobby’s and help him find out how to stop the breaking of the seals.”

The fluttering of angel wings broke the uneasy silence between you and Dean after your declaration. Dean begged his angelic friend to find some way to interfere, but Cas claimed it was fate. However, in so many words Castiel suggested we get Chuck near Lilith and an archangel would come.

With the threat of getting shot, Chuck complied with the plan and you guys succeeded. Lilith smoked out of her meat suit and Sam was saved.

Immediately you grabbed your duffle bag and your car keys. You felt a tug on your bag before you could throw it in the trunk.

“I’m not gonna apologize again because I know you don’t want to hear it now and I’m not gonna beg you to stay with me, because you deserve better. Just please let me know when you get to Bobby’s.” Although, Dean didn’t say those words, his green eyes did. You could feel his apology but you didn’t want to accept it, you were still angry at him and yourself.

Swallowing back some tears, you gave Dean a head nod and continued to pack up. Once you got settled into your driver’s seat is when you finally replied to your boyfriend/ex-boyfriend. “Thanks. I’ll let you know when I make it. And umm,” you were fiddling with your keys to rid yourself of your nervous energy. “I’m gonna use this time to figure out want I wanna do with our relationship, k.”

Dean slowly smiled at his chance to earn you back. “That all I can ask for sweetheart.”

You pull out of the parking lot and kept your eyes in the rear view mirror to look at Dean until he disappeared from your view.

#black!reader #dean winchester x black!reader #dean x black!reader #spnfamily #spn fanfic #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spnfandom #spn #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #chuck supernatural #chuck shurley

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ramheavenandhell · 5 years

Text

The Worth of a Morty

AN: This story was actually inspired a long time ago by many, many fanfics where Morty gets terminally ill and Rick tries to cure him. However, I decided to make mine a platonic take of that kind of premise…and also give it a sad ending. So, you have been warned. Also, many, many thanks to @rickxoxomort for drawing this precious cover art <3 You're da best! Warning: angst, character death, OOCness, probably some spoilers if you haven't read the comics Summary: "It's okay, isn't it? I mean, it's not like it really matters, right Rick? Isn't that what you always say "nothing matters"? So, this is nothing. It's just a small blip on the radar of the universe. I'm just one Morty and you always keep reminding me how disposable I am. My life holds no worth. And Mortys die every day anyways, right? It's just infinite minus one. Doesn't really matter on the grand scale. Nothing does. I'm just another Morty, who didn't make it now…"

The Worth of a Morty Many things were said about death. Some say it comes swift and unexpected. Others said it would slowly creep up on you. Rick Sanchez was a man that wasn't thinking much about death. Or rather, he was thinking too much about it. The realization of his own mortality and the futileness of his existence on the universal scale. The knowledge that after his death, he would be soon forgotten and the universe will just keep expanding as if he hadn't existed to begin with. The thought that with death everything was just over and there was no paradise in heaven or fiery pits of hell. No afterlife and no rebirth. There was nothing. You just drop dead and that was it. It was these realizations – that his own existence didn't matter – that made him choose to drown his own thoughts in alcohol every so often. It was also the reason why he choose to live his life to the fullest every day while still abiding to the natural struggle of staying alive for as long as possible like every other living being. However, while the thought of his own death was something that he liked to avoid as much as possible (though in his old age, it was still constantly in the back of his mind), he didn't really feel bothered by witnessing the death of others. How could he, seeing, as he himself was often the demise of entire species, planets, even solar systems? As equally unmoving did he feel about seeing his own corpse, which also wasn't as much of a rare sight as one might think. Seeing, as there were infinite dimensions, one Rick Sanchez was just bound to stumble across one or two dead versions of himself eventually. And how could that bother him really? In the grand scheme, it didn't really matter anyway and there were still plenty of him around. It was just infinite minus one or two, really. So, he didn't feel anything when seeing himself die or dead. He also didn't feel anything when seeing other versions of his family finding their end. And the same went for Mortys. He had certainly seen as many dead grandsons as he had seen dead versions of himself. Sometimes, he was even the cause for their death. It meant nothing to him. After all, there were still plenty around. However, the question was if he would be equally unbothered if it was about his own grandson – the Morty from his dimension. He was constantly busy saving the boy from trouble that he brought upon himself (though in truth, Rick was the one, who would get him into that sort of trouble to begin with). And while the occasions were rare, he went out his way to even sacrifice his own life for him. However, while he was usually successful in his rescue missions, eventually there had to be one time that even Rick Sanchez had to fail. It all started slowly, so slowly creeping up on them that it hit them unexpectedly… "R-Rick… I don't feel so good…" Morty groaned softly as he stumbled to keep up with his grandfather's long strides. Rick didn't stop or even look back. "Quit your whining, Morty." He had important stuff to do and didn't care about whatever Morty was complaining about. If the boy really got sick, he would just make him a cure when they got home. At the moment, it was more important for him to get those rare crystals, which he would use as a new power source for his space car. He wasn't just going to stop because his grandson started to get a cold or something stupid like that. However, for as tame as their hunt after those mysterious crystals went even before their adventure ended, Morty was more exhausted than ever. "C-can we please… take a br-break… Rick?" the boy asked between panting breaths. "No way, Morty." Rick said, as he looked the crystal in his hand over to make sure that they really found the right ones. "These crystals don't harvest themselves. So grab a bag and start plucking." With shaking hands, he caught the big brown sack that his grandfather threw at him and started to collect the crystal that glowed in a turquoise color. Of course, it wouldn't be a real Rick and Morty AdventureTM, when things would have just continued to stay as peaceful as that. Their happy-crystal-harvest was quickly interrupted as Morty accidentally woke up the creature on which's back the crystals were growing and not soon after were they chased through the maze-like tunnels of the cave that they were in with a dinosaur-like alien on their heels. While they fled, Morty was slower than he usually was in a situation in which he had to run for his life. The monster was steadily gaining up on him. Worse came to worst, when the boy stumbled and fell to the ground. "Argh! Dammit, Morty!" Rick cursed as he, too, sharply stopped and dashed back to pick up Morty by the back of his shirt. "Will you stop acting like a virgin in a slasher movie for once, Morty? It gets really repetitive when you fall down every time that we're being chased." There was no comeback from the boy as he continued to hang limply in Rick's grasp. Rick only grunted in annoyance that he had to lug his grandson around while they were still being chased. Eventually, he managed to escape from the beast and opened a portal, which brought them back home – inside the garage and Rick's personal workshop. He let the boy finally drop unceremoniously on the ground as he started to ramble on about how Morty had once again managed to ruin everything as they returned empty-handed now. "Goddammit, Morty! I already had those crystals and then you-you-you had to wake it up and now I've got nothing." Rick kept on ranting for a while before he stopped. Something was weird here. Usually, Morty would protest back that it wasn't entirely his fault that their adventure had ended like this or he would complain about something or another, but he had oddly stayed silent through the entire time that his grandfather had been verbally ripping into him. "Morty?" Rick actually turned around to the boy to see him still laying on the floor where he had dropped him. "Morty!" He rushed over to the boy only find out that he had been so silent the entire time because he was passed out. It made Rick panic a little bit before he remembered that Morty had complained about not feeling too well before. He had been also trembling, panting and sweating a lot even though they hadn't really walked all that much. Maybe he had caught some sort of alien flu or something? So, Rick decided to cure his grandson – also for the sake that he wouldn't be a whiney bitch about this after he woke up again. He picked Morty up and brought him down to his underground laboratory where he placed him on an examination table. Rick took a blood sample and started to run several tests. However, the more he tested and looked over the results, the more confused he became. In the middle of the examination, Morty had come to again and looked quizzically up at his grandfather as he looked once more over the results. "Have you found out what is wrong with me, Rick?" he asked weakly. "That is the thing, Morty. There is nothing wrong with you." "What? But I feel so weak." Morty couldn't believe that it was true. Rick sighed. "You're probably just exhausted, Morty. You should go to bed and sleep." The scientist decided to give up and could only assume that the boy was just tired. Maybe he should avoid pulling him out of bed around 3 AM for a while, he figured. Morty still found it hard to believe, but followed Rick's advice and went to bed early. True to his word, Rick had avoided waking Morty up in the middle of the night to take him on an adventure. He didn't even bother the boy at school and generally laid off for a while. However, it seemed that over time instead of getting better, Morty's condition just got worse. The only things that he complained about was just being tired all the time and feeling nauseous though. When the boy eventually became too weak to even walk on his own anymore, Rick examined him once again… and once more, he was not able to find anything wrong with him. Being at the end of his medicinal knowledge, he decided that he needed professional help. "Oh c'mon! Just get your ass over here!" Rick practically yelled into his mobile phone while Morty watched him queasily from the examination table. "Haven't you sworn an oath to help all Mortys or something like that?" Whoever Rick was talking to, replied. Unfortunately, Morty wasn't able to hear what was said. "As I told you before, I can't bring him over to you. I'm pretty much sure that I'm not welcome on the Citadel anymore after destroying it and killing everyone in charge." He was silent for another moment as his conversational partner replied. Then, "Yeah, see you." With those last words, he hung up. Morty wanted to ask whom Rick had called, but before he could even get the first word out, a portal suddenly opened. "You better remember that home visits aren't cheap, C-137." The Rick who entered through the portal said as a greeting. He wore a blue-green top with inflated see-through plastic sleeves and a white smock. Teal-colored latex gloves were also adorning his hands. The white headpiece on his head kind of looked out of place on him though. It was something that Morty would have expected a nurse to wear, but not some kind of Rick doctor. The doctor, who was known as Surgeon Rick, also had a large briefcase with him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Will you just go and take a look at him already." Rick waved towards his Morty, not really caring about money at the moment. Surgeon Rick went over to the examination table. "Why, hello there, Morty. Where does it hurt?" "I'm not really hurting. I just feel really weak." Morty said, feeling a bit uncomfortable as he always did around doctors even if this one was a Rick…or maybe especially because this one was a Rick. Surgeon Rick hummed as he opened his briefcase and removed all sorts of tools that he had brought with him. The sight of some of them made Morty sweat and swallow heavily. Hopefully, the doctor wasn't planning on using all of those on him. Just like Rick C-137, Surgeon Rick began to run several tests on the boy. Looking with a frown at his results, he began to question the boy. "Morty, did you eat something before you started to feel like this? A plant or fruit or did you put anything else in your mouth?" The boy shook his head. Surgeon Rick hummed. "Did you get bitten by an animal or another creature or stung by something?" "No. Nothing like that. I just started to feel really tired from one moment to the other." Surgeon Rick hummed once more before he turned towards Rick C-137. "Where did you say again did he catch this?" "We were on planet Cyrumlon in dimension B-622C. Could you find out what he has?" "Gonna set that one on the red list so other Ricks won't bring their Mortys there." Surgeon Rick said as he made an according note on his tablet pc. "It seems your Morty's muscles are deteriorating by the way." "Yeah, I already figured out as much! I want to know what's causing it or preferably how to cure it!" Rick was pissed. He hadn't gone out of his way to bring this asshole of a professional medic here just to hear from him what he already knew. "See, that's the thing, C-137." Surgeon Rick started and moved a bit farther away from the Morty as if he didn't want him to hear the conversation even though the boy could still hear them. "Your Morty is a hopeless case. There's no way to cure him." "You can't be serious!" C-137 protested. "Just telling you as it is. There's nothing that I can do for him. You know as good as I do that at this rate, he's only got a few more hours or may one to two days at best. Just give up and get yourself a new one at the Citadel's Reassignment Center. Better get going soon 'cause, you know that they have long lines and it takes a while to get a new one." Surgeon Rick started to pack his stuff together. "Oh, if you like, I can put him out of his misery right now." "What?! No!! Get the hell out of here!" Morty felt queasy as he followed the conversation especially when the doctor offered to put him out as if he was just some pet. This was it though, wasn't it? If a Rick Doctor of all people said that there was no chance of recovery for him then he was really done for. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Though, he had never liked to imagine it, he had been thinking how it probably must be for people when they were diagnosed with cancer and were told that they only had a few more months to live. He'd always imagined that if it was him, he'd probably freak out, get really angry and start throwing things around or just break down and cry, but now he just felt numb. "Here's your stupid money and now get out you quack." C-137 practically shoved the money into Surgeon Rick's arms and pushed him through the portal. He didn't like to hear the news, but in the end it only confirmed his fears. Even the medic couldn't find the cause for the disintegration of Morty's muscles and therefore a cure for it. Rick knew there wasn't much that he could do anymore now. Sure, he could try to stimulate the boy's muscles with electricity and use some other stimulants on him, but in the long run the only good it would do was buy them some more time. Eventually, the muscles in Morty's body would completely stop working, which in turn would mean that his heart would stop pumping blood through his veins. It would just stop beating and the boy would die and even if he tried to give him a pacemaker, his other organs would also eventually fail to function. Completely bypassing the fact that Morty would be bedridden and not be able to take care of himself anymore… "Hey, Rick?" Morty interrupted his dark thoughts. "Since you lost the free voucher when I had been kidnapped by those drug lords, you'll probably have to wait a bit before you get another Morty…so you should probably do what the doctor had said and go to that reassignment center right now." Morty actually hoped that Rick wasn't too angry about that time. They just happened to forget the voucher there after all that chaos. The boy could still remember how Rick had handed him the piece of paper before he had been abducted. "Here." Rick said, as he handed him the slip that Morty quickly identified as the voucher for a free Morty that Rick had received after he had been falsely accused of Rickicide by the Council of Ricks. "While I'm on the toilet and produce something worthless, you can think about your own worth, Morty." "Wha-wha-what are you saying, Morty? You're not gonna die. I'll fix you back up again, all right buddy?" Rick tried to smile reassuringly at his grandson. "Grandpa's got this, Morty. I'll fix it. Ju-just like always, Morty." They both knew that it was a lie. "It's okay, Rick." No, it wasn't okay. It was anything but okay. But what could Rick do about it? There was nothing that he could do. He was the most intelligent man in the entire universe and yet there was nothing that he could do to save his grandson. "Morty…" Rick started, his tone sounding apologetic. Rick Sanchez never apologized. Morty interrupted him though. "Hey, Rick? Can you do me a favor?" "Sure, Morty. What is it?" At this point Rick would do anything for him. Well, maybe with a few limitations, but as long as it wasn't too whack, Rick would grant him his wish. "I would like to see Vensenulon 7 one more time." "Sure, Morty. Is that all you want?" That request sounded too simple. Rick would have expected that Morty might had wanted to do more than just that before he… Maybe eat so much of the best ice cream in the multiverse till he exploded. Or hang out in Blips and Chitz. Heck, he would have even understood it if the boy wouldn't have wanted to die as a virgin and asked him to bring him to a dimension where Jessica had the hots for him and would let him do the do with her. Because that dimension totally existed out there. "Yeah, I just wanna see it one more time." Morty nodded. Rick grabbed his portal gun and inserted the coordinates. Meanwhile, Morty tried to get up from the examination table by himself, but his weak arms failed to heave his upper body up. Trying the next best thing, he rolled over on his side and let his legs dangle over the edge before he placed his feet on the ground. As soon as he tried to put his weight on his legs though, he collapsed and fell on the ground. Rick quickly went over to him and picked him up, carrying Morty in his arms. It was sad to see that the boy was already too weak to walk on his own. As they went through the portal, the beautiful sight of a lush meadow, a violet sky and a giant mountain from which spewed sparkling water in the distance opened up in front of them. For some odd reason Morty could only remember this place fuzzily, but he didn't know why. It was almost as if he had forgotten something important about it, but he couldn't place his finger on what it was. Yet it still looked as paradisiac as he could recall from his murky memory. "Um, Rick? Could you bring me over there please?" Morty shakily pointed to a spot that was a bit closer to the river. Rick didn't complain and carried him over to where he wanted. "Here?" "Yeah, this is a good spot. Please let me down here." Rick let Morty down, who then sat in the grass and looked over the water. His posture was a little slouched as he struggled to maintain his seated position, putting more effort and energy in it than he ever remembered doing before. Even though it was still afternoon, it really was a good spot from which the sunset could be viewed perfectly. For a moment, neither said a word. "Well, you should probably go and pick up your new Morty now." Morty finally spoke up. "You can just leave me here." "But, Morty…" "It's okay, isn't it?" Morty smiled sadly. "I mean, it's not like it really matters, right Rick? Isn't that what you always say "nothing matters"? So, this is nothing. It's just a small blip on the radar of the universe. I'm just one Morty and you always keep reminding me how disposable I am. My life holds no worth. And Mortys die every day anyways, right? It's just infinite minus one. Doesn't really matter on the grand scale. Nothing does. I'm just another Morty, who didn't make it now…" Morty remembered the many dead Mortys he had already seen in his life. Whether it was his own corpse that he had to bury in the backyard, the countless bodies as his Rick had warped the entire Citadel of Ricks into the high security prison of the Galactic Federation or the Morty that he had shot as he was on his fascism hunt. He was just one of those Mortys now. As equally as important as all of his dead alternate selves who didn't amount to anything. Maybe, it was finally now that he understood Rick better than ever before, he thought. "M-Morty. I just can't leave you here." Rick protested. He wasn't just going to leave his grandson all alone in his last moments. Morty blinked back up at him. "Oh, if you have the need to bury my corpse or something, you can still come back later to do that. You don't really have to wait here." In Morty's opinion that made sense. Wouldn't it be even more efficient for Rick if he would just bring his new Morty and let him do the digging? He knew if he were the "new Morty", Rick would have made him do it. Rick suddenly knelt down behind him and wrapped his arms around him, hiding his face in Morty's neck and making it impossible for Morty to look at him now. The action surprised the boy. Rick had never done anything like this before. The scientist wasn't really one for cuddling and hugs were maybe not completely absent, but they were still pretty rare. "Don't you want to say goodbye to your family or something?" Rick mumbled against his neck. "Wouldn't it be weird if I did that when you're going to show up with a new Morty later on?" Morty argued back. "Besides they weren't my real family anyways. My family is in dimension C-137 and I don't think that they would care much if I showed up now. I've been probably dead to them since we left that dimension behind…" He remembered how they had acted the last time that he had seen his original family when he had brought his "current" Summer there. A sob rang suddenly through the air. "R-Rick? Are you crying?" Morty asked as he heard unmistakable sniffling. "Why are you crying? Did you get hurt or something, Rick? If you're hurt you should take care of it. Or-or-or go and see a doctor in case it's something serious…" "Will you just shut up, Morty!" Rick ground out angrily and pulled the boy even closer into his arms. Morty was confused by this behavior. Surely Rick wasn't crying because of him, right? No, he couldn't be crying over Morty because in a few hours, he would have already picked up a new Morty anyways. And then Rick would just continue to live his life like he had done before. He would probably not even think about him anymore or even remember him. And why should he if he had a new Morty at his side? The sobs had subsided after a while and both just sat there and watched the sun slowly set behind the mountain. Since it became too exhausting for Morty to even sit up, the boy just laid down on the soft grass while Rick continued to sit close beside him. They watched how one of Vensenulion 7's many moons rose and admired the night sky still in silence. Morty started to shiver. "It's gotten cold." His voice was barely audible, it was so weak. "Yeah, you're right." Rick said. It wasn't true though. It wasn't cold at all. The nice warmth from the day still hung in the air and radiated from the soil and the close by water. Still, Rick took off his lab coat and wrapped it around Morty. "Thank you." The boy mumbled and Rick merely shrugged it off. It was rare to see Rick being so nice to him, but Morty didn't mind it. It made him smile. Silence settled between them once again as they both continued to look up at the stars. They both thought about all the adventures they had shared together… and all the ones that they wouldn't be able to have together. Rick had always thought if one of them would have to die first, it would be him. Obviously, with his age and all. That was the natural order of things and no grandparent should have to live through the death of their grandchild ever. His zero risk-awareness would have probably also furthered the odds of him being the first to go, too. So why wasn't he? Why did he get to live while Morty had to die?

The universe could be so fucking unfair, cruel and unforgiving sometimes…

Morty thought somewhat similarly about the order of their deaths though he always thought that they both would die on the same day. He had always been expecting that Rick would die first and then leave him behind in some crappy, alien-related, dangerous situation in which he would die without Rick's genius and technology then.

To see it come to this felt almost ironic.

"I…feel so…tired…" Morty's voice was so faint that it was merely a whisper anymore.

"…then sleep, Morty. And tomorrow we'll watch the sunrise together." Rick also whispered.

Morty hummed in response though if it wasn't for the small vibration his body created with it, it would have gone completely unnoticed. The boy slowly closed his eyes.

Rick bit his lower lip. Of course, he knew that it was a lie. Morty wouldn't see the sun rise again.

Not much later Morty's breath became fainter before it was gone completely.

Rick checked his pulse, but there was nothing.

Morty was gone for good. He wasn't going to wake up again.

Rick hugged the body of his grandson close to himself and sobbed again. He had failed Morty.

He knew what he needed to do. He needed to let go and go to the Citadel to pick up a new Morty. There were so many rickless Mortys there that waited for a new Rick to pick them up.

But Rick couldn't do it.

He couldn't let go of Morty and just continue to live on as if this had never happened. Not again. This boy hadn't just been a Morty. He had been his grandson – his grandson from his original dimension. And no one – no other Morty – could replace him. Ever!

"What had happened to Rick and Morty a hundred years?" Rick mumbled against Morty's still body.

No, he wouldn't let go. Never!

He would never fail his Morty again!

A Rick and his Morty where walking around on Vensenulon 7, searching for one thing or another. "Wah!" unsuspectingly, the Morty stumbled suddenly. As he looked down to see what he had stumbled over, he shrieked loudly. "What the heck are you screaming like that for?" his Rick asked. "Th-th-there's—it's our corpses!!" Rick walked over to take a look for himself. "Yeah, that's a dead Rick and his Morty from another dimension." He commented nonchalantly. The Morty was still frazzled. "But why? What did they die from?" He looked around in a panic as if expecting to find what had caused their deaths to be still lingering around and attacking them any moment. Which was kind of stupid because if they had been killed by some kind of animal, it probably would have eaten them and not just let the corpses lay around untouched like that. "Hmm." The Rick kneeled down a little to look a bit closer at his dead self as he analyzed the possible cause of his death. "This Rick must have died from dehydration." The signs were obvious enough. "What? How can that be? There is a giant river right over there?" The Morty gestured over to the body of water as he said that, not feeling one bit better at the revelation. "His Morty seemed to have died a while before him." The Rick ignored his grandson as he stared at the dead alternate of the boy that was held in his own dead counterpart's arms. The boy's corpse had already started to decompose. "It's hard to tell what he died from though. There's no wounds on the outside that would suggest an attack. And if it had been poison there should have been some discolorations on his skin." The Rick stood up again. "Can't really tell without autopsying the body." "I still don't understand what has happened here." The Morty was as confused as he was in the beginning. "Well, I'd say after his Morty died this Rick just gave up and waited here for his own death." He already turned away from the bodies and resumed his walk. "Which is really stupid. He could have just gotten himself a new Morty on the Citadel. There's plenty around." The Morty still stood over the corpses and looked at the strange picture. A Rick holding his Morty close to him even in death. Despite the grotesqueness, the sight looked oddly sweet, showing a sort of affection that he had never felt between himself and his grandfather. "Morty! Hurry up if you don't want me to just leave you here and get a new Morty." The Rick reprimanded him. The boy hurried to catch up with his grandfather, knowing that he probably would make that threat true if he got lost here. After all, he knew how much he was worth to his Rick. His grandfather had made it clear for him often enough…

#rick and morty #ram #rnm #rick #morty #morty smith #hopesfanfictions #fanfic #fanfiction #sad ending #character death #angst #drama

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dyketectivecomics · 5 years

Note

I’m the anon whose setting the bomb off by asking why season six won’t happen

TL;DR- bc Teen Titans (2003) ended! It wasn’t canceled! It was brought to a conclusion, that fans weren’t super happy with obviously, but it was an ending nonetheless.

I’d really like to encourage everyone in the fandom to read the interviews gathered by TitansTower (2nd half of the page) during the time TT03 actually aired. David Slack, Glen Murakami, & the crew have said over and over again, the original order for the series was for 4 seasons. WB hadn’t expected the popularity of the show to last past that, but it exceeded expectations and by the time season 4 was wrapping up development, they were asked to pen a movie and move forward with development for s5.

They had LOTS of ideas for season 5 too! More side characters they wanted to explore! More depth to get into the Brotherhood’s plot! But unfortunately, when they pitched the idea of a Longer season/more episodes, they were asked to keep it at 13 eps, the usual order. There were Talks about a possible 6th season & the crew started prepping for it and pitching it because, hey! they were passionate abt the show they were working on too! But WB ultimately decided to move onto other projects and guess what? So did the crew! Because that’s just what happens! Things end and you have to accept it and move on. Huh it’s almost like Things Chan-

(The rest under the cut here, is very much getting more into a Rant that veers way off topic (the Bomb is above mostly, the shrapnel is below lmao) & it hasn’t been proofread for errors bc I am, as the kids say, Big Mad. so Beware. You’ve been Warned) (also tagged: long post, in case the cut doesnt work for whatever reason, sorry mobile users RIP)

[[MORE]]

Even IF, for whatever reason, against all logic & reasoning they decided to Greenlight a sixth season, 12 years after this series ENDED. I GUARANTEE fans would find SOMETHING to bitch about every single step of the way. Just look at Young Justice. Much shorter timeframe between s2 and s3 getting picked up and yknow what fans are still doing? Being the Same Old Fans that Fans who Fan will Be.

Misinformation gets spread around every so often too, and I just wanna be really fucking clear: No amount of Toy Sales success/failure had anything to do with the show. No amount of the Demographics they Targeted vs Ones they Hit, had anything to do with the cartoons perceived ‘failure’. Especially considering that, again, they got a movie+5th season that hadn’t originally been planned for. So from that, no amount of fan petitions or campaigns were going to ‘bring it back’ because WB & the crew, again, had moved on to other projects. Because the show, as a production, had reached a natural conclusion.

Now sure, let’s fast forward to 2011/2012? The DC Nation block gets dropped into a SatAM slot. Nostalgia hits Big as, alongside new eps of Green Lantern:TAS & Young Justice, they showcase a plethora of shorts! One of which, is the New Teen Titans, done in that ~*adorable*~ Super-D form but with more or less the same style as the first cartoon.

Fans lose their minds and there’s a resurgence of petitions and letter writing campaigns (ones that I will readily admit to participating in because I was 15 and we all do DUMB things when we’re 15) And through all of this. WB/DC answers our Monkey Paw wish.

But here’s the thing abt the monkeys paw: you’ll get what you wish for, but it’s gonna come with a Big Ass Catch

And that catch, while they gave us the same lineup and same voicecast, they also gave us a comedy-focused & fully super-d/simplified style. And “fans” were Outraged with that.

But here we are again, 7 years later. And there’s a whole generation of fans who have forgotten the mistakes of the past, thinking and hoping against any kind of logic & blinded by nostalgia, that maybe JUST MAYBE. WB will revive a cartoon that ended in Two Thousand and Fucking Seven.

I tutor kids now who weren’t even born by then! The only Titans they know are TTG! And when they tell me they LOVE them, I say “that’s AWESOME dude! Did you know that they’ve got comic books abt them too?”

I tell them about the new generation of TTG! comics, the ones based on the cartoon they grew up with, not the ones I did. I let them know that there’s even more kid & teen heroes beyond the titans. And if they have a certain fav I let them tell me everything they love abt them and I tell them a cool Fact that might encourage them to find out more later!

Some days I HATE TTG, but I will NEVER tell a child that I hate something they love. I saw too much of that when I was growing up and I’ll be damned before I turn around and do the same damn thing to these kids.

Cartoons are a WONDERFUL medium to introduce a new generation of fans to these characters. And we should be encouraging WB to take more chances on bringing more of them to life. Not asking for the same few characters or groups to be redone over and over again.

Give me a Birds of Prey limited series! Give me a Secret Six Adult Oriented action-comedy! Explore that Amethyst short, with all its 80s game tech+magical girl anime aesthetic! Explore more Obscure characters with a quick 5-10 min story! Put a fresh new spin on a golden/silver age storyline (bc lbrhh some of them got WILD)

Just for the love of fuck stop pretending that One cartoon was the absolute Peak of Achievement and is the only thing that deserves to be revived or redone to death. Teen Titans WILL get another cartoon eventually. It’s like Scooby Doo and Batman. Its like Sherlock Holmes or Star Trek. It’s just a little early in its journey but it WILL have another reboot, another reimagining, another chance to shine for an entirely new generation. Everyone will have their preferences.

Just sit down, have a juice box and popcorn and enjoy ur fan servicey nonsense movie that you asked for But Didn’t Ask For, until we get that brand new series again.

TTG is gonna have to end eventually. And when it does, WB will be rubbing their hands together just biding its time until they can reboot the Titans again.

#long post #asked and answered #anonymous asks #randywrites #randyvents #I'm using both tags for archiving/post blocking purposes #(just in case ppl want to block my vents. i Totally Get It ur valid)#but i want y'all to understand its ok to reblog but if you try to Enter a Debate i WILL kneecap u #well. just block really bc I'm not about to Debate this #theres NO DEBATE. the show ENDED. its OVER. we almost had a CHANCE in 2011/2012 but??? is it REALLY any surprise that they took it in a #difference direction when all they had to go off was that the shorts were doing WELL #and that they probably wouldn't have been able to get the exact same crew back together anyways? besides the voice cast at least?#i was PSYCHED when they got amy wolfram to write a few eps of TTG!!! that had be HYPED! but she wasn't brought on as a Regular writer! which #is understandable! she probably had other shows she was working with!#like!!! enjoy the stuff these writers and artists have GONE ON TO DO INSTEAD #theres a lot of the same Spirit of TT there!! its just in something Else instead!

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thenightling · 5 years

Text

Re: Castlevania drama

So apparently Confessavia decided to block me because they “looked through” my blog and saw “anti-SJW content” (SJW = Social Justice Warriors, for the handful who don’t know what that means) and the recent (and ironically 90% joking) feud with Cisphobia and I.

Edit: You know, if you’re going to block someone without just cause, you probably should check to make sure the incidents you reference weren’t from an event from twelve hours after the blocking. I and Cisphobia didn’t interact until after you blocked me and it ultimately ended in the meme equivalent of a playful dance off. But nice effort in seeking reason to justify mistreating someone who never wronged you.

The blocker also claimed that my response to their post was dramatic (that was the idea... It wasn’t an attack on them, it was just meant to be a little segway into a rant because of other crap I’ve dealt with here on Tumblr...) and they also said that there is... no one on Tumblr who calls Dracula Problematic.

(Ha-f---king ha!) REALLY!? YOU RUN A CASTLEVANIA BLOG AND NEVER SEEN THAT?!?

...HOW?!

There are Once upon a Time blogs that call Rumplestiltskin problematic, even now, even though the series finale literally had him ascend to Heaven!

There are people on here who call The Shape of Water problematic. And at least two people who called Daredevil problematic / Ableist (A blind character) for calling another character (who wanted to kill people) “Crazy.”

This is Tumblr! Don’t you know EVERYTHING is problematic on here?!

Ironic. Funny how someone who doesn’t even know me leapt to such incredible conclusions about me as a person and was so swift to judge and condemn me...

_______________________

My response to this:

Um…. okay….

Before you leap to conclusions about a person’s personality, you probably should have noticed Cisphobia and I were mostly just f–king around with each other and joking by the end of the “argument” and responding to each other with anime memes. And I never actually disagreed with their intent.

However if you had searched my blog and searched under “Fred Saberhagen” or “The Dracula Tape” “Dracula” or even “Castlevania” there are most certainly conversations from people who called Dracula, and depictions of Dracula problematic.

How the Hell do you search my blog and NOT find me defending depictions of Dracula against people who bashed the character?!

Here is a response I was forced to give after someone went on a long rant against The Dracula tape (a novel by the late Fred Saberhagen) and The Dracula series by the late Fred Saberhagen. This has happened at least three times but this was the first.

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/147441223978/addressing-issues-with-the-person-reading-the

(And that was immediately after the late Fred Saberhagen’s widow joined Tumblr so she had to read people bashing her husband’s book series because the narrator was “problematic.”)

There’s another post (which I can’t seem to find right now) where someone bitched about how it must contain the “Sexism of the seventies” in Saberhagen’s The Dracula Tape (because it was published in 1976. As if people forget when Interview with the vampire was first published...)

And at least one post talking about how “Creepy” it is he watches a teenage girl sleep in An Old Friend of the Family (also by Fred Saberhagen). Umm... He’s Dracula, it’s kind of supposed to be a little creepy. Even if he is narrating and trying to make it sound romantic, you’re supposed to read between the lines because he’s most the most honest of narrators.

Also check out this Casltevania post where this poor person who wanted a fan fic of Dracula and Lisa reunited in the afterlife was told by other “fans’ that he is damned and it’s never gonna happen- they can never be reunited, ever. They were bullied about it so I stepped in.

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/181241099958/he-will-never-alucardtepesfahrenheit-shame-on

There are other Castlevania fans who were asked to mark their Dracula posts with “Child abuse” . There are people who headcanon that Dracula was a very abusive dad in Castlevania because there are some Alucard fans as protective of their cinnamon roll as Marvel Loki fans. (Yes, I once got a request to tag an Odin post as “child abuse... just for mentioning Odin...).

Here’s my rant response I wrote in regard to some Youtube comments upset that Dracula in Marvel comics “is no longer straight.”

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/183667354468/draculas-bisexuality-in-pop-culture

There’s a Mina RPer on here who bashes anyone who happens to like the 1992 film Bram Stoker’s Dracula because she hates the idea of Dracula and Mina as a couple and tries to shame everyone who likes it, even if they know it’s not in the novel.

There was also someone who joined my Gothic horror group on Facebook (A man I’ll call a white knight) who was very protective of Winona Ryder’s Mina to the point of diminishing the character’s agency to “protect” her and insisted the Gary Oldman version of Dracula “took advantage” of Mina and in his protective / defense of Mina went on rants that made her sound like an idiot and damsel who didn’t know what she was doing or under a spell for most of the film and needed a “Good” man to tell her what to do and think, it was offensive in its sexism disguised as feminism.

Check out how many people comment on clips from the 1992 film or write essays about Dracula and how he’s going to Hell, completely ignoring the DVD commentary...

But sure, no one calls him problematic... ever... that never happens. Nope. (Sarcasm intended.)

And back in 2011 I started to do online RP depictions of Dracula on IMVU and I, myself, dealt with people coming into the RP room with characters who can “sense who is damned and who is saved.” Not only did I deal with people certain he would burn in eternal Hellfire but when I’d tell them that sort of power to sense eternal damnation or salvation was too extreme I’d get responses of “lol, he’s Dracula! It’s not like Dracula can be saved.” Arguing with me when I mention that the idea of his soul being saved / him ascending to Heaven was actually an aspect of Stoker’s original novel as Mina talked about saving his soul which brought the other heroes to tears. And so they were relieved by the look of peace on his face when they killed him (in the novel).

But okay…

Again, all this happened because I made the mistake of agreeing with the post on Confessionvania’s blog and going on a rant in my agreeing with them... Somehow they (and another person) drastically misunderstood I was being supportive in their stance. There was ...nothing to disagree with...

You (person who blocked me) made a lot of false and wrongful judgements about me but I don’t have the will right now to defend myself. So have a good day.

PS, let it be known I am pro-Trans rights and am a member of the LGBT community (Pan romantic demi). I’m a woman. I believe in true equality of the sexes as intended by Mary Wollstonecraft. I’m somewhere between buddhist and Wiccan in my spiritual beliefs. I am what is considered legally blind (poor eyesight) and have no clue what my paternal racial background is. But I really shouldn’t require a checklist to be considered a human being here on Tumblr. And yet here we are... again...

Funny how someone can read through my blog, decide I’m a bad person, and the reason for my rant was imaginary and miss all of that, as well as several posts that were in defense of Dracula...

Ah, well. I don’t like defending myself against strangers but I also loathe misinformation. So here’s the truth as I perceive it, for better or worse. Take it or leave it.

Edit: Note. I just checked the time stamps. The Castlevania Confessions blog blocked me BEFORE Cisphobia and I played our little trollish game. So nice try in attempting to use that as the excuse for blocking someone who never wronged you... I guess you searched my blog for justifications after the fact and didn’t check to see when things were posted when attempting to use them as righteous reasons to mistreat others.

That’s all right. I have no interest in liars. And now the world knows you to be one. That’s justice enough.

#Castlevania #Dracula #Count Dracula #Drama

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lupienne · 6 years

Text

Days of his Wives (15)

Negan X Wives (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14)

Chapter 15: I’ll Cut You a Deal (In which revenge is best served bloody)

A/N: Ok, with this snippet, it’s getting close to Issue #100 (Glenn’s death). Since my story is a bit AU, I stretch the time out between events. Amber’s been a wife for about a year.

In comic canon, a Hilltop delivery to the Saviors supposedly ‘goes bad’, resulting in Hilltop deaths and a woman named Crystal being captured by the Saviors. Another man involved in the delivery, Ethan, stabs Gregory saying it’s the only way to ‘save Crystal’ from the Saviors. In my version of the story, Ethan and his group may not be as innocent as they seem.

Other notes: despite never being harmed by Negan and the girls insisting he never would, Amber has always been slightly nervous around him. She’s a bundle of nerves by default. This snippet starts off with Amber heading to the Sanctuary storeroom to retrieve wax for a candle-making class she and Sherry run for Sanctuary’s children)

Warnings: (non-graphic in a sense) violence, torture, mutilation aka ‘don’t fuck with Negan’s people.’ Bad,bad Negan. Apologies if read-more isn’t working!

-----------------------------------------------

It'd be nice, if I had... a badge or something. To show I'm Negan's wife. Amber’s mouth twisted glumly. His property.

Everyone knew not to mess with Negan's stuff. She only hoped she was recognizable enough to traverse Sanctuary unscathed.

Her flats scuffed the floors, echoing in the long hallways of the factory's basement level. She stopped often, her breath sucked in, her ears open and alert. Swinging her oil lantern around her. Her circle of light was both protection and a hazard. She could see...but they could see her first...

There's no Walkers down here... there just aren't...

But there might be men, there might be hungry men who would see her as a devil-send, someone they could carry out all their lust and violence on, undeterred here in these dark corridors.

A small whimper escaped her...she shivered and walked onward.

Spiders, rats...there must be.

An unwanted memory surfaced – Mark's hand clenched around a large, squealing rat, beating it to death on a concrete wall. She remembered her tears at the sounds it made, her stomach clenching in both hunger and nausea as they cooked it over a weak fire. They had to choke down the half-raw meat.

She saw a hand-painted sign that read 'Storerooms This Way'; the same one Sherry had told her about. She turned left at the hallway's end, following another sign. Up ahead, the darkness was slowly lightening – someone must be down here. Soft wings brushed the interior of her stomach – her butterflies warned caution. She heeded them – turned her lantern off, stepped lightly.

Another turn, the light brighter still. She peered around the corner. The hallway dead-ended in a cul-de-sac of doors. Three doors closed, one half opened, spilling light. From within it, she heard someone cough, the sound of something sliding across the floor.

She had just slid her foot around the corner, when a barrage of shrieks and swears came from behind the closed middle door. The voice was female. Her heart neglected a beat and she clenched her hand over her mouth, melting back into the shadows. Rapid footsteps shuffled. She dared a peek. A man was opening the middle door, entering it. Something about his build made her nerves jump – and when he spoke inside...

"Ma'am, please... this isn't doing any good."

She knew the voice.

Mark.

"It's pissing you off, that's enough for me, you fucking asshole!" The unseen female was seething, each word bitten off viciously.

"I'm not pissed..." Mark's voice was soft, but the dead-end hallway, the concrete walls and floor...they carried the sound straight to her ears. "I'm just trying to help you."

The woman made a spitting noise. "Yeah, trying to 'help' as you help yourselves to our stuff that you stole from us!"

"It isn't like you guys aren't prosperous," Mark protested, "You have more than enough..."

"Is that what your High and Mighty Negan says? That's what helps you delusional idiots sleep at night, huh?" She laughed and it had the edge of hysteria. "When are you going to summon the All Mighty to come see me, anyway? Or are you just gonna kill me?"

There was a long sigh. "He's coming soon. Look...you can't be like this. You need to cooperate, don't make him angrier... he's already angry... but cooperate and he might let you live."

"Fuck you, Savior, fuck your stupid leader." A sound, vulgar and thick, the clear sound of spit being expelled. Mark let out a small cry of disgust.

"Fine..." His voice was hard, but he'd never been able to sound too menacing... he just wasn't like that. His heart was flowers and feathers, too bright and sweet for this world. She heard his feet shuffle; Amber moved her face to the very edge of the wall, keeping perfectly still.

He came out, closed the door and twisted a deadbolt. Blond head bowed, one hand wiping his face. He didn't look up, making his way to the room with the half-opened door. Her heart thudded over another beat, and she felt a rush of shivers down towards the junction of her legs, a tingle in her breasts. She heard the sound of something, a box maybe, sliding across the floor again.

She slid into the hallway, standing indecisively. Her sudden arousal frightened her... stop it, you can't think about him like that...

She shouldn't even be near him.

But...

I have to get the wax, right? And Negan's not around... no one is. It'll be fine...if I just... talk to him.

So, she approached the door with her heart banging hard against her ribs. Her butterflies flew, but it seemed a joyous flight when she looked in, when she saw him. He had cardboard boxes and milk crates in a half-circle around him. Things from the Hilltop's last drop, she assumed, seeing canned and boxed food. A whole crate of lettuce heads and carrots. A box brimming with health care items, shampoos and soaps. He appeared to be organizing the things, cataloging them into a large notebook. The room was filled with shelves already stocked with Sanctuary's goods.

"Hey..." she said.

He jumped, head whipping up. Blue eyes wide, his blond hair tousling across his forehead. His mouth dropped.

"A-A-Amber?" He set down a can of peas, stood up abruptly. "What...what are you doing here...?"

Her feet propelled her forward without thought, she was on him in an instant. Her arms locked around him, her breasts to his chest, but no... that was too much. She stepped back, cheeks flushed.

He drew in a breath. "Wow. Uh... hi." He smiled, and they both laughed.

She gnawed her lip as the silence fell back in, awkward and strange. "Well," she cleared her throat. "I came down looking for candle-wax." She looked around the room. "Um...is this stuff from the Hilltop?"

"Yeah. I'm usually the one who organizes it," he said. "Not a bad gig."

More awkwardness. "Who's that lady?" Amber asked, finally. "In that room?"

"From the Hilltop. It's uh...not good, Amber." Mark rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "They attacked us on this drop. Her and the group bringing the stuff...they put Walkers in the van behind the supplies. So our guys would get attacked when they opened the door and started taking stuff out."

"Oh shit." Amber grimaced. Negan was going to be pissed. She could already hear the profanity-laced rants coming from him; she just hoped he calmed down by the time he turned in for the night. Her stomach flopped as Mark voiced her sudden thought.

"Amber, look...I'm uh...happy to see you." He didn't sound happy, "But...he's coming down to talk to her. Negan. If he sees us together... You need to go. You have to go."

The redness drained from her cheeks. The imagery was too horrible if Negan were to see them. His imagination going off the rails, imagining her and Mark screwing in the storeroom behind his back, making a fool out of him... A hard shudder went through her.

He'd kill me...he'd fucking kill me.

"Ok.." she said. "Um... I'll go." She didn't move though, her eyes traveling his face. She'd forgotten how cute he was. That overgrown white-blond hair, the freckles on his nose. Luminous blue eyes, wide and meek, so unlike her husband's predatory gaze.

She touched his cheek with her fingers, then with her lips... no...she couldn't be doing this, but she was... she was pressing her mouth to his. He moaned and his tongue jostled hers.

She pulled back, gasping from the pain in her heart. Too much. Stupid idea.

"I should thank you for what you did," Mark said, low-voiced. "For your...sacrifice. But...I just can't."

"I know." She wiped the sudden tears from her cheek. "It's ok." He looked healthy and fit again. He had the color back in his skin. "Just seeing you alive...it makes it worth it."

He didn't say anything. He took her hand, looked at it, turned it gently. "Are you happy, Amber? Does he... hurt you...?"

She skipped pointedly over his first question; it was no use to answer. To ask for happiness in this hell of a world was greedy... to merely survive was a blessing enough.

I'm living the good life... compared to... compared to how it could be. How dare I ask for happiness on top of it...?

She had to shut those wishes down quick. She pulled her hand back, balled it at her side. Had to erase his touch, all the hazy, blissful memories that went with it. She shook her head. "He's not a saint, but he doesn't hurt us. I'm ok, Mark, really. I hope you are too." She hesitated. "And...if you find someone or already have, please...be with them, ok?"

He sighed. "Yeah. Sure, Amber." He looked back at the mess on the floor. "I should get back to work, and you really gotta go."

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Tears were crowding her throat and eyes. She blinked them away, feeling the air hit her wet eyelashes in a shock of cold. She had just left the room when the echoing hallways brought noises.

Footsteps. An English accent. The Savior, Connor. "You want to talk to the bitch first?"

And then, his voice.

"Yeah. I think so."

Oh shit. Oh shit! She scrambled back into the room. Mark was already rushing to a closet, throwing the door open. It was filled to the brim with blankets and he ushered her towards it. "Quick," he hissed. "Get in...be quiet...don't move..."

She did, and he shut the door in her face. Literally. She was nearly pressed up against it and the shelves dug into her back and buttocks. Her breath huffed in and out, loud, too loud. She locked her muscles down, only jumping slightly when Negan's voice filled the room she'd just occupied.

"At least tell me we got some good shit out of this. Please tell me we got some good shit. Huh, Mark?"

"There's...there's some good shit in here. Sir." Mark's voice was trembling, and Amber scowled.

Get it under control, Mark! Damn it!

If there was one thing Negan wasn't oblivious to, it was fear. He could suss it out as surely as a shark could smell blood in the water.

"Fucking hell...seven fucking men dead." Something was kicked over – it sounded like one of the boxes of canned goods from the horrible racket it made - and Mark gasped. "Oh, but we got some goddamn canned peas! Fucking fantastic."

"There's some meds in here," Mark tried to soothe his leader. "Prescription stuff. They must've gone into the city to get it."

"Yeah? Any fucking weed?"

"Um yeah. I think so." There was the sound of rustling.

"Hand it over." Negan gave a displeased grunt. "Meh. Nova will be happy, anyway. Still...this is fucking it?"

Connor's accented voice rang out. "Wankers had to have room to hide away the fuckin' Biters, eh? They put just enough shite in the back of the van to hide them."

"So fucking clever..." Negan's voice was dark with sarcasm. "And these fuckheads really think they'll get away with this? What are they hoping to accomplish, aside from getting themselves killed?" He snorted. "But Gregory hasn't proven himself to be particularly motherfuckin' smart. Still...I didn't think he was suicidal."

Mark's voice still had a clear tremor. "...you're going to attack the Hilltop, sir?"

"No. That would be stupid. But I've obviously been too fucking soft on them..." There was a slight pause. "Are you feeling all right, Mark? You seem flustered."

"It's just the woman," Mark said quickly. "She was yelling threats and things. When I went in to tell her to shut up, she spit on me."

"Ugh...thanks for the warning. I hate it when they do that...it's so fucking disgusting."

"Sir," said Connor, sounding impatient. "Can we go now? I want a crack at this fuckin' cunt-"

"Yeah. All right."

Amber's breath let out in a slow, quiet stream of air. She could smell the coffee she'd drank earlier.

But Negan hadn't moved. She didn't hear his feet clomping away, instead, he was quiet. She heard someone inhale. Her heart started to pound again – a quiet Negan was not a good sign. It meant he was thinking. She heard footsteps now, starting to pace the room, coming close to her closet. Every muscle went rigid. The breathing was louder now, another long inhale.

"Man," said her husband's voice, frighteningly close by, "I just noticed. It smells motherfucking good in here. Do you smell that, Connor?"

"Yeah, I smell somethin'," said Connor, increasingly impatient. "Flowers or some shite...but boss-"

"Yeah! That's it. Smells like..." Another sniff. "Fucking lilacs or something. Right?"

"Like I know what a fucking lilac smells like."

Amber's teeth were out, dug into the meat of her palm. Hard, wincing from the pain, but hoping it would deter the panic rising in her throat. Her butterflies were on crack, flying in mad circles. On her skin, she could smell it – the lilac lotion she'd slathered on this morning. She could feel Negan's arms around her – this morning too – when he'd embraced her from behind and kissed her neck, and then left for the day with her scent lingering in his senses...

He knows, he fucking knows I'm here, oh shit... Tears were welling in her eyes. She was locked up so hard that her muscles ached. She debated opening the door, spilling to her knees before him, begging him to forgive her, to believe her when she pleaded: Nothing happened, I didn't fuck him, I love you – don't kill me.

"Oh, you know what?" A laugh edged his voice, and his footsteps moved back towards the center of the room, where Mark was. "I'm probably just smelling myself." Another laugh, one of those dark ones, the kind Amber hated – the cruelty evident. "I got real close and personal with Amber and her sweet-smelling skin this morning. Like, skin-on-fucking skin, if you know what I'm saying."

"Nice, boss," said Connor, and Amber could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

"You could practically suffocate between those fucking titties of hers, and I couldn't imagine a better way to go," said Negan dreamily. "Her titties are fucking amaaazing. Shit, they're almost more than my big ole hands can hold."

Connor gave a quiet chuckle, but there was no sound from Mark. Amber's cheeks weren't pale anymore. She could feel the blood burning red.

Shut up, you damn kiss-and-tell, don't tell them this shit! Especially Mark... She bit deeper into her flesh.

But Negan didn't shut up – did he ever? Her anger was rising, eclipsing her fear. Now she wanted to burst out of the closet, but only so she could plant her foot straight into his balls.

He gave a snorty, derisive laugh. "She's not a bad lay, but she's atrocious at giving head." He paused for a second, then amended. "I'll give her credit though. She has gotten better."

She could taste blood now, anger spiking through like a solar flare. Oh, you just wait till your next 'atrocious' blowjob, hubby. I'm gonna suffer an unfortunate seizure. One that involves a lot of involuntary convulsions and teeth-grinding. The thought of him screaming and sobbing in agony made her feel better – but only slightly.

Mark still said nothing. What the fuck was he supposed to say?

She could practically hear him grin, as Negan laid the contriteness on thick. "Shit. What am I doing, Mark? Laying my problems on you? I'm fucking sorry about that. You don't have to deal with that shit anymore, do you?"

"Uh..." Mark gave a nervous laugh. "No, sir."

The anger-eclipse was fading, and the fear was shining its dark light once again. Negan's voice was so sweet...he liked to wrap his darkest threats in sugar and spice. This was it, his fun was over, and he was going to throw the closet open and punish them both-

"Sir, can we fuck off now – think about the boys. What that bitch did to them-"

"Ugh, yes," Negan growled, "Christ, Connor, don't get your fucking panties in a wad. We're going."

She felt weak, leaning her forehead against the door as Negan and Connor's footsteps exited the room.

In a moment, she heard Mark's voice whispering. "Amber, I'm opening the door. Sssh."

She stepped out, stretching her stiff muscles. Mark motioned her to stay, and he crossed to the door, peeping out.

She heard Connor. "Yeah, Mark?"

"Oh. Just wondering if you needed help."

"Nope. We got it, mate."

"Um. All right."

Mark ducked his head back into the room, shook it at Amber. He crept up to her, whispered in her ear. "Connor's standing right at the door where she is – he'll see you if you try to leave. Just get back in the closet. Until they go."

She nodded, and returned to her hiding spot, closing the door most of the way. She leaned back against the shelving, letting her head settle onto one of the soft blankets. She stood quiet, and listened – she could hear clear into the next room with the woman, she could hear almost everything.

She heard things she never wanted to hear again.

----------

The woman's voice rang out, sardonic and cutting. "Oh. More assholes! Hey you. Why don't you take that bat and shove it up your ass?"

The sounds carried so well...Amber could close her eyes and see everything played out on the black of her eyelids.

"Dearie me. That's no way to treat your hosts, ma'am. Hosts that are already motherfucking offended, I might add." Negan, all smiles, but his malicious eyes saying that was a lie – that you were fucking fucked.

"Screw you, asshole."

"Should we cut out her tongue? She doesn't really need it. I can always fetch a pen and paper for her to write on."

The woman was silent. He sighed. "Why don't we start over, huh? Hi! I'm Negan. And you are...?"

"You're Negan? So, you're a real guy after all?"

"Yes, I am a real guy after all. Am I what you expected?"

The woman laughed harshly. "A big ugly goon? Yeah."

"Ugly?" Amber could hear him pouting. "Connor," he said, highly affronted, "Does that mean you were lying all those times you said I was pretty?"

Connor chuckled. "Don't listen to this shite, boss. I still think you're hot."

The woman growled, dog-like. "What do you bastards want?"

"What do I want?" Amber shivered. Negan's voice had gone utterly black. "I want to smash your fucking skull like a ripe pumpkin. A fate that's far too fast for you."

Amber heard the woman make a small noise, like a squeak.

"...but that would be a waste of potential, and I have other things to consider than my own petty revenge. Right? And so do you, dear. We can help each other – and you can fucking live through this. How does that sound?"

The woman was silent. Thinking it over. Her response was an intake of breath and then the outtake, the clear sound of phlegm dislodging from her throat.

Apparently, Negan hadn't heeded Mark's warning; he gave a disgusted little shriek. "That was motherfucking uncalled for!"

The woman laughed.

"Nasty bitch," he growled. And then his voice, startled again: "Whoa!" - the woman screeched and there came a 'thlack' of something impacting flesh.

Negan's voice was increasingly annoyed, growling low. "Alright. That was a lucky shot, bitch. And I'll give it to you. But unless you want me to fucking hit you back – and I don't like hitting ladies...but I will - then I suggest you quit your little kung-fu act."

"I got her, boss." There was a scuffling sound.

"Why don't we all just fucking calm down for a moment, huh? Should we start over... again? Annoying as you are, I'm still willing to give you a chance."

"There's nothing to talk about," the woman said. "If you're going to kill me, then do it." Her voice was quivering.

"Do you want me to kill you?"

Silence.

"How loyal are you to Gregory? The motherfucker who set you up for suicide? He obviously doesn't give two shits about you, sending you on this asinine mission. Sure, it killed some of my fucking guys, but it's akin to killing a few hornets instead of torching the fucking nest. Right?"

Silence.

"You can return the favor. I don't want you all dead. That's counter-fucking-productive... but Gregory needs to be taught a lesson for fucking with me. I thought he had better sense than that, but apparently, even I can make mistakes. Crazy, I know." Amber could almost see his eyes sparkling, throwing a flirty little wink as he said this. "So...all you have to do... is go back there. And put a fucking knife in his goddamn throat. And we can call it fucking even."

"Gregory didn't have shit to do with it," she said. "I'm not going to kill him. It was our own plan."

"Really."

"Yes, really." Her voice was shaking again.

He traced his fingers along Lucille's barbs – or Amber imagined he did so – and hummed to himself. "You know, I don't really give a shit, honestly. That shit is semantics. Whether or not he planned it... good ole Gregory is still ultimately in control of you people. Or rather...he would be in control if he wasn't such a pathetic fuck. The responsibility still lies with him – he's gonna pay for it, for what you did..."

"I'm not doing your dirty work, Negan. You can go fuck yourself. Like I said, go stick that bat up your ass, and fucking spin on it for all I care."

"Nah...Lucille's not really into ass-play, but seriously..."

The woman gave a sudden gasp; Amber could imagine him holding Lucille out, pressing the barbed end into her soft cheek. Leering down the length of the bat, his voice going dark and tangled again, thorny with threat. "...this shit can go two fucking ways. Easy or motherfuckin' hard. Should I elaborate? Yeah, I think I should.

Either you go in and gut that fat fuck, shoot him, pop his head off, I don't give a fucking fuck – or I go in there, and I will kill every fucking person who gets between me and him... and I won't bother knocking, either. So what's it going to to be, you devious little cunt? Huh? You want it fucking hard?"

Mark looked over at her, knee-deep in his boxes, his eyes wide. She could only shrug at him. Whatever Negan was going to do to her – there was no way she could stop him, and that crazy bitch brought it on herself. What kind of idiot attacks him?

"I'll do it...if you let the others go. I have to see you let them go."

"The others? There's only one left, sweetie. One of your group escaped our truck but got caught by the Biters on our fence. Ate his fucking face off - Well, that's motherfucking karma for you...after the way you killed our fucking boys. Oh, and the other one? The big guy? - yeah, he got stupid. Thought he'd pull a fuckin' gun on us – took about eight bullets to the chest."

"They're... dead...?" The woman's voice was faint. "What...what about Ethan...? He's got brown hair and a red coat..."

"That's the one left. What, is that your boyfriend or something?" The Savior Leader sounded pleased with the information.

"You...you killed them all..." Now she was crying. And suddenly, mayhem.

She screamed. There came a thud, a sound of something wooden – a chair maybe, falling over. Connor yelled, "Fuckin' bitch!"

A scuffle of feet. A yell, startled and pained – it sounded like Negan, and then he was cursing, cursing a storm, and she heard a sound like fists colliding with flesh. Pained, choked gasps.

Negan snapped, "That's enough."

The sounds stopped, but the lull was short. Negan's laughter rang out, laced with incredulity. "That was your Hail Fucking Mary? You really thought that was going to work!? How fucking stupid are you?"

"Fuck you!" Her scream was more of an airy whistle. "Fuck you!"

A stinging smack of flesh on flesh rang out, and again Negan snarled, "That's enough, Connor."

"Boss, are you all right?"

"Yeah...watch her a second..."

Footsteps. Amber quickly shut the door, and Mark fumbled with some of the canned vegetables, dropping one to cover the sound of the closet closing.

"Oh, glad to see you rushed to our fucking aid," Negan sneered, and as Mark began to apologize, he continued, "Shut the fuck up, and just find me a fucking bandage or some shit..."

"You're bleeding," Mark said, "Are you ok, sir?" There came the frantic sound of him pawing through a box. "That looks bad."

"I can't really feel it...fucked up as that sounds."

"That means it's deep," Mark said. "You might need stitches."

"Fucking fantastic. Whoever frisked that bitch for weapons is gonna be hanging on the fucking fence."

"Ok. Just hold still, sir."

There wasn't any talk for a few minutes, just the sound of Mark ripping something papery, and Negan making a few noises of discomfort. Amber wanted badly to see what had happened, but she supposed she'd find out later. A cut or stab, she figured, the woman's desperate attempt to take him out.

"That's good enough for now..." her husband said, finally, "..all right, back to it." He paused. "Sorry you have to hear this nastiness, Mark. But if we let them get away with this...they'll think they can try anything. You know how important the Hilltop is to us, to our survival."

"I know," said Mark.

Footsteps receded. She heard the woman, her voice defiant still, but marred with fear. "Oh, you're still alive...that's too bad..."

"Like a fuckin' little scratch is going to kill me," Negan scoffed. "Gimmie a fucking break. Well, now that you got that shit out of your system, have you considered my offer? Even a little bit?"

"What the hell do you think, asshole?"

"I'd say no."

"I hope it gets infected," she spat. "I hope you get gangrene."

"What a lovely girl you are," he chuckled. "So very fucking pleasant. You know, you remind me of my first wife." His chuckle morphed into a full blown laugh; the woman was undoubtedly confused.

"Must be one desperate bitch to marry you," she said, finally.

"Must be..." He said. Grinning. Eyes dark. Amber could see it. He was laughing, but underneath he was a smoldering coal. Every word of hers was puffing him into flame. "But that was a compliment. She's feisty. Spirited. Hard to break. Not that I would want to break her – but you on other hand..." He sighed, a long, weary rattle of air. "I can see it's not going to fucking happen. You aren't going to break - just look at you. Tough as fucking nails, fuckin' tatted and pierced to shit."

Silence.

"Do you like that look, Connor? All those fucking piercings?"

"It's alright," said the Brit.

"Yeah. How many is that in each ear, sweetie? Six? A bit much, don't you think? You look like a fucking pincushion."

Silence.

"Sometimes less is fucking more. You know?"

Crystal gave a pained, abrupt shriek. "OH! You asshole! You fucking – NO!" Another shriek.

"Sorry, sorry," said the Savior Leader, a laugh edging his words. "Had to make both sides match."

Crystal was breathing loud, whimpering with each inhale.

"Heh. That was kind of fun. Like pulling wings off a fly. Right?" He chuckled. "I know what you're thinking, but I actually wasn't the kid who torched ants with a magnifying glass or any of that shit."

"F-f-fuck you." There was another whimper. Then Crystal cleared her throat and spoke in a stronger tone. "You piece of shit... yank them all out! If that's what gets you off!"

"It really doesn't. I don't enjoy hurting women." Negan let out a long sigh, and Amber envisioned him pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're not going to break. That's fuckin' clear. But we still have your little fuck-buddy."

Silence.

"Connor...go deliver these to that Ethan guy. Tell him we're gonna start with her fucking fingers next. Huh? Let's see if he's up for a little dirty work."

Amber heard the squeak of footsteps, and she quickly closed the closet door, peering out through the crack. A man passed by with the flash of a green mohawk; Connor heading off with something clutched in his fist.

Negan continued in a sweet tone. "You ever tried these kind of kitchen shears? Eh...you don't seem the cooking type. But whatever. These are fucking awesome. Did you know they can cut right through bone?"

There was fear in her voice now. "Fuck you...! You...you burn in hell, you son-of-a-bitch!"

"Hell's where all the cool kids go. So I've heard. I think I'll fit right in."

"You bastard...you... you shithead."

Negan shrugged, or Amber imagined it. He was probably leaning against the door frame, his hands smeared with blood, his face utterly impassive. "I gave you the choice to play nice...don't blame me for your bad decisions."

Horror was hard to hold in. Amber pressed the heel of hand to her mouth. Trying to quell her thoughts...the thoughts brought panic...but they scurried like roaches exposed to light.

Negan, you wouldn't really do that, would you? Oh my god.

Stories, visions, flashing through, a frenzied edit of light and sound. His deeds and misdeeds, all the things she'd heard...things the wives had confirmed...

He's stabbed, he's strangled, he's beaten-

Necks snapped like twigs, bones broken, the Iron, the fucking Iron,

-and kitchen shears on fingers is supposed to be a shock? He would do it, he's gonna do it...

And it wasn't even that he'd be removing her fingers, but that was just the point where he was going to start. And she would have to hear it, every damn part of it.

"You're insane."

"Yeah," agreed Negan, sounding distracted. "Hold that thought." There was the thud of a door, and the thump of footsteps. Amber shut the door fully, breathless in the dark confines.

There is nothing you can do. Nothing.

The only thing for you is to hide. Avoid discovery.

Nothing else.

She sipped air in like hot tea, just short gasps through her parted lips.

"Sir...? D-d-do you need my help...?"

"Nah. Well, yes, actually. There's fucking tools in here, right? Does there happen to be a blowtorch?"

"...uh...er...yeah...I think..." Mark sounded light-headed, like he might swoon at any minute. Feet walked, something banged. "Um...here...here you go, sir..."

"Awesome. Fucking perfect."

A hiss of air, a puff of ignition. The torch expelled its fiery wrath for a moment, then was shut off.

"W-w-what...what's that for...?"

Negan was perfectly calm. No inflection whatsoever, nothing rattling his cage. He said it like a weatherman would describe the blandest summer day. "Cauterization."

The other man seemed to be having trouble breathing – Amber pressed her hand hard to her lips, tried to shut her ears to it.

"Mark? You're fucking ghost-pale, man. Here...sit down. Yeah? You ok? Take a fucking breath. Do you need that fucking... thing? What's it called – inhaler?"

Mark breathed hard. "I'm...I'm alright." After a minute, he discharged his inhaler and his breathing evened out.

"I don't know why you're so upset...I'm the one who has to do this shit.." Negan growled. "Motherfucking bastards. Like this is how I want to spend my goddamn day... getting dirty."

"Sir." Connor's voice. "We got a wee problem. Fuckin' bloke didn't believe me."

"What do you mean, he didn't believe you?"

"About Ms. Crystal-bitch's earrings. Said we could've got them from anywhere. Said we could've just taken 'em out real gentle-like and rubbed blood on 'em. Or maybe it's ketchup! Nah, mate, he didn't say that last bit. Heh. But the rest, yeah."

There was a stretch of silence; Amber could only imagine the dumbfounded look on Negan's face. Eyes wide, mouth dropped. Finally, he sputtered something halfway between a laugh and a snort. "What. The. Fuck. Are you serious?"

"Bloody serious."

Amber heard them move away. Their voices dropped low.

Connor: "We ought to bring him in here. Make him watch us do her fingers, yeah?"

Negan: "No. I don't want to do that."

Connor: "It's the best way to break 'im."

Negan: "I don't know that it is. Look, the motherfucker obviously can't care about her that much...if he thinks we're just playing fucking games?"

Connor: "That's why we make him watch – he'll see we're serious."

Negan: "This little ambush of theirs... they didn't expect to get caught, did they? They thought the Walkers would finish our boys off... and I'd be none the wiser. I'd probably just fucking assume they got overwhelmed by a surprise batch of undead, right? But... they got fucking caught, and now the Hilltop is caught in the fucking crossfire..."

Connor: "Yeah...?"

Negan: "They don't want my wrath coming down on the Hilltop. They want to take the fall. They want to be fucking martyrs. For what... who the fuck knows. Maybe they think it'll inspire the Hilltop to oppose us... maybe they just have delusions of fucking grandeur and think dying for their shitty little cause is worth it. I don't fucking know."

Connor: "Yeah? What's that got to do with not makin' him watch?"

Negan: "All right. Picture this shit. We bring him in. We start on her, right...and she starts fucking screaming at him: 'Don't give in! No matter what!' You can picture that self-sacrificing bullshit, right? How fucking inspiring it is..." He laughed. "So...maybe it works. Maybe the guy doesn't fucking give in, just to honor her...she gives him the courage to resist."

Connor: "Either that, or he breaks anyway..."

Negan: "Of course. But I think it'd be more effective to keep him right where he is. Alone. Scared. In the fucking dark... his resolve crumbling. He doesn't know what we're doing to her... he doesn't know if he's next, and she's not there to bolster his fucking backbone."

Connor: "Ok. Yeah."

Negan: "You've got a point though. He should hear it. Open his fucking door, gag him too. We'll let him listen as we fuck her up real gentle-like."

A door in bad need of oiling creaked open. Amber heard a man yell briefly in protest, then nothing. Several moments passed.

Connor's voice returned. "It's done, boss."

Negan sighed heavily. She heard the hiss and flume of the blowtorch, on, off, on, off, like Negan was playing with it. Then finally he grunted... "All right... let's get this shit over with..."

Footsteps. A door opened.

"Hi-ho Crystal-O... miss me?"

"As much as I miss a yeast infection...and don't say my fucking name."

"Can't say I've had the displeasure, Crystal. But I'm afraid I've got some bad news – though you might already know it – your boyfriend is an asshole."

Silence.

"Or maybe he's just fucking stupid, or a coward, or all of the above... the thing is, he thought the earrings were a bluff. How do your ears feel, anyway? Painful, huh? It's only going to get worse for you if you don't give me what I want."

"You know what I want?" Crystal sneered. "For you to shut the fuck up."

Amber expected either a laugh or a backhand, but Negan was quiet a moment and then, "You're right. No more small talk. It's time for business." His tone was winter-chilled, hollow of compassion. "Hold her down."

Amber gathered her sleeve, and set her mouth upon it... Here it comes... I can't scream, I can't... oh God... I don't want to hear this-

There was a scuffle of feet; Crystal gave an indignant squawk.

"Got her?"

"Yep."

"Heh... aww..." Negan's voice went horribly sing-song, cooing, "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home-"

Loud gasping breaths. Crystal was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"-Oh, fuck it. Who needs pinkies anyway?"

Amber bit into the fabric, screwed her eyes closed.

The breaths turned into a whimpering cry. The cry to a wail. The wail to a scream. Over it, Negan grunted with exertion, snarling, "Motherfucking...goddamn it! Shit!"

Another wail, winding down like a dying ambulance siren. It morphed into ragged sobs.

Negan panted, "Oh fuck... shit... my fucking apologies. I thought it would be one clean snip, but these shears fucking suck."

"Shit," Connor said. "We got a spurter!"

"Fuuuuuuck..." An exasperated groan. "No no no no... that was my favorite fucking shirt... seriously?! Get the fuckin' torch over here... stat!"

Your favorite white t-shirt... out of the twenty identical ones in your drawer? Amber ground her teeth into her sweater sleeve, her chest shaking with a sudden rush of mad giggles. Her brow was slick with sweat. The closet was stifling hot, the air suffocating.

Crystal was still sobbing, weird half-shrieks intermingled. The familiar hot-air -whoosh- of the blowtorch came. "No..." She cried. "No, don't, don't!"

"You don't want to bleed to death, do you...? Hold fucking still..."

Another tormented scream, turning into agonized moans. A drop of sweat slid down Amber's temple, a droplet of tear down her cheek. I won't ever unhear that. I won't ever-

"Your hands don't match now... that looks kind of fucked-up." Negan gave a displeased grunt.

Crystal made a weird sound, a hiccuping sort of moan. She cried out weakly, and then her ragged voice rose back into another scream.

"...Gotta make 'em match. This'll only take a fucking second." Negan grunted. "Shit, can you tone it down a little? I'm going fuckin' deaf here!"

The screaming continued. Amber shivered in the closet. She heard the torch again. The moans. Her face was sopping wet. Tears, sweat, mucus flowing from her nose. Make it stop, make it stop, just kill her or something -

"Your boyfriend is such a numb-fucking-nuts, who knows if two little piggies will convince his dumb ass."

"...Fuck you," Crystal sobbed. "Fuck you, fuck you-"

"Yeah, how's that feel? Having parts of you taken off slow? Like you did to my fuckin' men? Karma's a motherfuckin' bitch-"

"Then you're gonna die the slowest of all, you sick fucking freak!" Crystal shrieked through her sobs, her voice so mangled Amber could barely understand her.

"Heh. Complimenting me ain't gonna save your ass, sweetie. Now where were we? Right. Cheer up, ya bitch. You've only got eight more to go."

"No, no. NO!" Crystal let out a pained, panicked scream. "No...no... STOP! Get away...!"

Negan laughed. "I'm just-"

There was an abrupt quietness. Amber's pounding heart filled the space. The rush of blood in her ears.

"-fucking with you. Shit."

"Oy...she alive?"

"Yeah...she just passed out. So much for that high female pain tolerance, eh? Two ought to be enough, anyway." A smirk in her husband's voice. Oh, he was horrible, horrible...how was she going to face him later?

Don't think too far ahead. I still have to get out of here alive. If he catches me... I'll be sitting right alongside her sorry ass.

"Watch her." Negan made a disgusted noise. "Ewwww..." He laughed. "I'll go bring Ethan his finger food."

Connor laughed too. Amber had to fight another wave of nutty giggles. Finger food?... ha ha... oh Hubby, you're so hilarious...

Footsteps. A door opened. She heard the elusive voice of Ethan. It was a squirrely sort of whine.

"Hey, there's my Doubting Thomas. Shit. We haven't been introduced. I'm Negan..."

Ethan made a gagging noise.

"...and I brought you a little pressie! Uno, dos... Crystal's most littlest of piggies!"

"What did you do...?"

"Exactly what I said I'd fucking do." Negan shook his head with his displeased, patronizing pout. "But don't worry...I took them off real fucking gentle-like. I think it still smarted a bit, but maybe she was over-exaggerating. I bet you could hear her screaming all the way in here! What a drama queen!"

Ethan made a pitiful noise, the most pitiful of all, according to Negan... the sound of man tears.

"You still want to play games?" No more jovial tone. This-is-business Negan was back. "Or do I have to take more off of her?"

More man tears. "How do I know you didn't kill her? I don't hear her."

"She passed out, the goddamn pussy. You fuckin' wimps could never make it here. We cut off fingers for mere fucking theft around here. The way I see it, your little bitch got off fuckin' easy."

"You're nothing but monsters. All of you."

"Enough of this shit." Negan was starting to lose his cool; Amber could tell by that weird, flat tone that was creeping into his voice. "Answer me, right fucking now. Are you going to cooperate, or am I going to go back in there, and continue carving up your girlfriend? Your choice. Fingers? I can do them all. Toes? I got all motherfucking day. Tits? This shit turns my damn stomach, thinking of cutting up a fine pair like that – and how would you even go about it? You'd have to get a good grip on it, I guess, maybe use a hacksaw? Something that could really tear into that soft flesh-"

Amber felt her knees go weak. His voice was so fucking hollow. Void of feeling. She'd never heard it like that before, not that flat, that inhuman.

"OK!" Ethan let out a shriek. "OK! Just... just stop! What... what do I have to do...?"

Negan outlined his plan, his voice coming back to life as he did. By the end, it was warm and vibrant again, but nothing could ease the chill in Amber's bones. "Kill Gregory. I don't care how you do it. As long as they get the message. This is what happens when you fuck with the Saviors. Couldn't be simpler. But don't you dare think you can just go back home and do nothing. We'll be watching. You don't kill him, we kill the girl."

You'll kill her anyway, Negan. Minutes were torturous hours in the dark closet. Amber was hot, faint, sick. Don't lie.

She wanted out, wanted the cool sheets of her bed...but the Penthouse was no longer a safe haven. Negan would be back home eventually, and she'd have to face him... she'd have to preform the best acting of her life.

No matter what he looked like, how much he cleaned up, she'd see him covered in blood, she'd know of the fragments of Crystal's DNA under his fingernails, etched into the whorls of his palm. She could place her ear to his, like a seashell, and hear the roar of screams echoing back to her.

Maybe I should just grab Mark and run. Just run from here.

But she knew she couldn't – they had barely survived the first time in the outside world. They could try to flee to one of the settlements...but...

It's a choice. It's an idea...if I have to... if it's too dangerous to stay... I will. I'll go.

For now, she waited. Placing her sweaty forehead to the door and closing her eyes.

Ethan was freed, escorted away by Connor. Amber didn't hear Crystal. But she was a dead girl, either way.

Negan apologized again to Mark: ‘sorry you had to hear that, don't worry about the girl, I'll get Wells down to look at her’ – And he left too.

She tumbled out weakly when Mark opened the door and wrapped his arms around her.

"It's ok," he said, to her sudden overflow of tears. "It's ok, it's ok."

Mark was a liar too.

Nothing is ok. Nothing will ever be ok.

----

A/N: OH DEAR. Negan was pretty mean in this one! Eh, those assholes deserved it for messing with the Saviors! XD Will Negan kill Amber when he finds out about her cheating? Will Sherry serve up chicken fingers for dinner? Will Amber ever get that wax? WHO KNOWS? (I DO ACTUALLY)

Also...this was my take on why Negan’s arm is bandaged in Issue #100. Unlike the TV version, Comic Negan only wears that bandage in his debut issue. So either it’s for looks or to protect his wrist from injury... or he actually had an injury. So my take is that Crystal sliced the fuck out of him. Bad girl.

#negan #comic negan #negan fic #comicnegan>#lups writing

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addicted-to-dc · 7 years

Text

Jason Todd/Red Hood X Reader- Stalker From Another Universe (Part 4)

I was about to post this, but then my mind got side tracked and then I fell into the void that’s named Tumblr. When I finally snapped out of my daze, I forgot that I was posting something..... This is what you do to me Tumblr!!!

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3

Warning: Swearing, blood. There’s nothing to worry about here....

Tagging: @cheyennethefangirl, @its-scarlet-witch-bitch

“It’s more awesome than I thought it would be,” you exclaimed, your eyes scanning the famous Wayne Manor. “I mean, it’s a huge mansion, but it’s so cool.”

Jason chuckled, placing his helmet on his motorcycle, “Just wait until you see the Bat Cave. I think I might need to take a picture of your awestruck face when we get down there.”

“Do you even own a camera?” you asked while adjusting Jason’s leather jacket you borrowed.

“Maybe,” he shrugged and joined your side. “You warm?”

“Yeah,” you replied, walking towards the manor’s front door. “This jacket really warm, comfy, too. How do you find these jackets? Back home, the only leather jackets I could find weren’t real leather at all.”

“I have expensive taste,” he shrugged once again. “Well, not expensive as in suits and sports cars. A good leather jacket is an expensive leather jacket.”

“How many of these do you go through?” you asked, wiggling your arms and showing him all of the stitched bullet holes.

“Not that many,” he said, knocking on the huge manor door. “I think I have only lost one, but that was after going head-to-head with Killer Croc. That was my favorite one, too.”

The door opened as soon as Jason finished, revealing the famous Alfred Pennyworth in all of his glory. He gave Jason a smile and a hug, welcoming him back home. When he let Jason go, he looked over to you, which you responded by raising your hand.

“Hi, nice to finally meet the real badass of the Batfamily,” you said, receiving a laugh from the man.

“I’m hurt, (Y/N),” Jason said, clutching his heart.

“You know it’s true,” you stated, bumping your shoulder lightly onto his chest.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/N),” Alfred greeted, shaking your hand. “Master Bruce has told me about your predicament, and I would like to say that you are welcome anytime at the Manor. This includes you as well, Master Jason.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Jason stated. “It’s always good to see you.”

Alfred nodded and opened the door wider, gesturing the two of you to join him inside. As you walked in, you saw the interior of the house you saw only in drawings, but in real life, it was stunning. The brightly lit room was littered with paintings and artifacts that you never really bothered to give a second glance while reading your comic books. The main staircase made you want to slide down its railing, but you forced that temptation down and stayed near Jason.

“Master Bruce is currently in the Cave,” Alfred said, knocking you out of your thoughts. “I believe that Masters Dick and Damian are also in the cave. I have other matters to attend to, but hopefully I will see you again soon. It was lovely seeing you Master Jason, and it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/N).”

“It was nice to meet you, too,” you said and followed Jason to a hallway. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

“Me, too,” Jason grumbled. “I usually stop by, but it’s when-”

“Only Alfred is home,” you finished his sentence. “I’m sorry for making you come here when you’re uncomfortable. Do you want to-”

“No,” Jason interrupted. “We’re already here, and I don’t want to stop you from finding out if you’re still you or not, well, biologically.”

You pursed your lips, “If you’re okay with it, then I am. It’s just…”

“What?” he asked.

“I feel like you’re doing all this stuff for me and I’m not giving you anything in return. I literally appeared from nowhere and asked so much from you and-”

Jason covered your mouth with his hand, making you stop your rant. You looked up and scanned Jason’s face, looking at every curve and scar that was etched into his face. It wasn’t really that hard to get lost in his eyes, but you weren’t alone in your room gawking at pieces of paper that had his glorious face on it.

“You really need to stop doing that, (Y/N).” he said. “You are not a burden, and I think it’s nice to finally have someone other than Roy to talk to, so please stop doing this to yourself. You didn’t ask to be taken away from your home, and I’m doing my best to make your stay here not seem as horrible as it is.”

He removed his hand away from your mouth and walked over to a door, opening it and gesturing you to go inside. You walked inside and looked around what you guessed was Bruce’s office. There were many adaptations of where the entrance to the Bat Cave was, but this was clearly the classic version where the Grandfather clock hid the entrance.

“Thanks, Jason,” you said.

“No problem, (Y/N),” he responded. “I know you’re overwhelmed by all of this, even after a couple months, but please don’t think that you’re a problem that I have to deal with.”

You nodded and walked over to the clock, “Is this the entrance?”

“Yup,” he said while walking over to the clock, messing with the hands on the clock until the correct code was put in.

He backed away, grabbing the neck of the jacket you borrowed to move you away from the sliding clock. You backed away with the jacket, watching the clock side away, revealing the dark stairway to the Bat Cave.

Jason walked over to the entrance, gesturing to the entrance, “Ladies first.”

“I’m good,” you said, tightening your hold on the leather jacket you wore. “I don’t want to trip and fall down the whole stairway.”

Jason chuckled, “You want me to be your cushion if you fall?”

You nodded, receiving a laugh from Jason. He shook his head, removing a piece of his white streak from his face before looking back at you.

“You’re lucky I’m doing this,” he said and started walking down the stairs. “Come on! Bruce isn’t a patient person when it comes to me.”

You quickly caught up with Jason without slipping on the stone stairs, which you thought would be damp from whatever type of conditions the cave would be in. The leather jacket you wore was now zipped up, shielding you from the dropping temperatures as you descended to the Bat Cave. You stuffed your hands into the huge pockets of the jacket, basically burrowing yourself in it until you started seeing brighter lights illuminate the stairs. You wondered why there wasn’t an elevator to take, but the slow build up was totally adding the dramatic effect of entering the famous Bat Cave. Once you finally reached the end of the staircase, your jaw dropped when you saw the Bat Cave with your own eyes. Everything was there, even the gigantic T-Rex and Joker card. You even saw the Batmobile and Batwing on display on the other side of the… room? Would this even be classified as a room?

“Wow,” you whispered while doing a 360 to see the whole Cave. “This is awesome.”

Jason smirked, “Told you I should have brought a camera.”

“Shut it,” you said, snapping out of your daze. “Remember, I’ve only seen drawings and movie interpretations of this, I have the right to nerd out.”

“Whatever you say, (Y/N),” Jason stated, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and leading you to the huge Batcomputer. “We’re here, so let’s get this over with.”

You were able to see three people by the Batcomputer, which you guessed were Bruce, Dick and Damian. They weren’t in their uniforms, making you slightly disappointed, but you were glad to meet them nonetheless. When you got closer, you recognized the two batboys instantly. Damian looked to be his usual comic book age, and shorter than you. You made a mental note to not get on his bad side. Dick was taller than you, but not as tall as Jason. He had the famous striking blue eyes and longish raven hair, along with the famous great ass of his. Even if Jason was your favorite, including his thighs, Dick was not that bad to look at.

“Hi,” Dick greeted, “nice to finally put the name to the face.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you said, holding out your hand.

Completely ignoring your hand, Dick enveloped you into a hug, making your feet rise off the ground. You patted his arm with your free hand, trying to tell him you couldn’t breathe.

“Can’t breathe,” you squeaked out.

“Oh, sorry!” Dick said and set you down, releasing your ribs from his cobra-like hug.

“It’s fine!” you panted. “I’m just not used to bear hugs like that.”

“TT.”

You looked over to Damian and smiled, holding out your hand once again, “It’s nice to meet the famous Damian Wayne.”

Damian’s frown slightly turned into a smile, “It is a pleasure to finally to meet your acquaintance. Father has told us about your predicament, and I say I’m very curious about what you know about all of us.”

“Only what I’ve read,” you admitted, “but I really only know the basics. I only got back into the comics when I got a library card so I could borrow the comic books.”

Damian raised his brow, “How many?”

“Oh, there’s shelves of them at the library-”

“This is unsettling,” Damian interrupted. “Our lives are used as entertainment for civilians? What world did you come from?”

“One where superheroes, aliens, gods, monsters and pretty much everything interesting in your world are fantasy, fake, and make believe,” you replied, making the boy’s eyes widen.

“I apologize for such an atrocious life.”

You chuckled, “That’s what the comics were for.”

Jason rolled his eyes, “So what are the results, Bruce?”

Bruce sat on the chair and pulled up your results on the huge computer screen. Seriously, that thing was larger than the walls in your room. When the results popped up, you had no idea what you were looking at.

“Your blood sample came back normal, but when I asked the League members who were accustomed to magic, they revealed some very shocking news,” Bruce explained. “Whoever brought you here, (Y/N), they have a strong protection spell cast on you, as well as other enchantments to hide what your blood sample currently looks like.”

Bruce pulled up another picture, but you couldn’t tell if it really was blood or not. The picture you were looking at was not normal. Instead of being red or purplish, the blood sample was literally glowing.

“What the heck am I looking at?”

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believe-that-you-can-my-friend · 7 years

Note

hey, i don't know if you write smut, but in honor of the leaked scene, could you write a established!bughead drabble, where he climbs her window and is all flirty? (doesn't have to be smut tho, just a hot make out).. i love your writing btw

(Okay, a little disclaimer. First of all, this is not full on smut, it’s just a hot, slightly smutty make out. Second of all, I didn’t make it full on smut, not because I didn’t want to (believe me Cole tempts me to sin and sin badly) but because I didn’t feel that Bughead’s first time would be like that and I didn’t want to write a random smut without first writing about Jughead not being sure about his sexuality and him and Betty generally testing the waters and all of the other normal things teenagers go through. I intend to write something like that because, asexual Jughead or not, Betty and Jughead are two teens that have a natural naivety and a mutual respect to one another so I believe that, as we saw in the kiss too, they would be timid and taking their time with exploring what they are comfortable with and testing their limits. So I left that for another one-shot. As for the part that Jughead might be asexual. I respect that and I’m not trying to erase anything of his (possible) character here. For what I have read and heard from other ace people and friends, yes, he can still be asexual. Asexuality is a sexual orientation, sexual behavior does not change that. Like every other sexuality it has subcategories; the “I dislike sex”, the “I find it ok, but I do not engage in it often”, the “I’m asexual but my partner makes me feel good” etc. In my mind, as I became older and kept reading the comics and understanding more about sexuality and educating myself on the topic, Jughead fell to the third category for me. That he was being somebody with maybe a lower level of sexual interest but with sexual drive nontheless. So that’s what I have in my mind while watching Riverdale and writing this one-shot and the possible others that will revolve around this topic in the future.

Sorry that was so long, I just wanted to set some things straight and by all means I’m not trying to offend anybody. Everybody ships what they want to ship and that’s perfectly ok! Ship wars are just tiring and pointless so everybody stay calm and respect everyone’s opinions. And if Jughead does end up being asexual with no need to engage in any sexual activities then sure, everyone should be again perfectly ok and not bitch and moan that he won’t get to have steamy scenes or anything. He is still going to be the most amazing guy in Rivedale either way!

End of my huge rant!! Hope you enjoy guys!!

Is your mom finally asleep?

I think so yeah. Why?

I’m coming up ;)

Betty locked her phone and shot up from her bed,abandoning her worn-out copy of Wuthering Heights pages first on the mattressand kicking her covers, a nervous excitement pouring down on her belly as sheheard the familiar crack of careful footsteps on wood. She gave herself a quickonce over on her vanity mirror, checking that her messy bun was intact andstraightening her plain white t-shirt, before kicking off her bunny printedfuzzy socks of her feet and throwing them under her bed in a hurry. It wasn’tthe fact that he wouldn’t appreciate them, he would and he would probably offerher that chuckle of his that set free a million butterflies inside her chest,but her toe nails were painted a lovely baby pink and it was a shame not toshow them off, even though his focus would be on other places, more importantones. She felt her cheeks heating at that and she quickly grabbed herstrawberry lip balm from her nightstand, applying some on her already soft lipswith her ring finger, knowing that this taste mixed with her own always drovehim crazy.

Since that day that Jughead had climbed up her windowso for her to complain to him about her parents and her family situation, itseemed that this became a thing for them. At first, he was just sneaking upbecause they needed a quiet place to discuss investigation plans and theories,the office hours of Blue & Gold proving not to be enough. Now, two monthsafter, the raven haired boy used that ladder almost every night to see hisbeautiful girlfriend, cuddle with her and watch movies and most importantly kissher like she was the heavenly droplets of water on his always thirsty lips.

His handsome faced popped into the window, smirkplayful and eyes shining with mischief, and Betty shook her head in amusementat his stubbornness and lack of survival instinct, while pushing up her windowfor him to slide in. He awkwardly brought his long limps over the window benchand his smile grew more, the boy leaning his head down to capture her lips withhis without a word.

Betty pulled back with a smooch sound. “I thought weagreed that you sneaking up is dangerous and we should lay low for the timebeing.” Truth was they weren’t very careful with those late night rendezvous,with the highlight of their goofiness being one of Jughead’s t-shirts being leftforgotten on Betty’s floor, one day that they heard a noise and the blonde girlhurriedly pushed him out of the window to leave. Betty hadn’t heard the end ofit from her beloved mother the next morning.

“You know I can’t really stay away from you.” Jugheadbreathed against her lips with a smile, dropping a hand on her waist andpushing her flat on him, before he angled his head to give her a deeper kiss.

She pulled back again, placing a palm on his wet lipswhen he blindly followed her lips so not to lose the amazing sensation. “Giveme a minute.” She whispered and fled to the door, Jughead groaning a small sighand throwing himself on her bed.

The girl opened the door lightly, flinching when thewood cracked, and popped her head out to check their dimly lit hallway, makingsure that her parents’ bedroom door was closed and her dad’s light snores couldbe heard from inside. Once satisfied, she closed her door and locked, turningaround to face her boy with a smile.

Jughead was already sprawled to her bed, combat boots carelesslythrown to the floor next to the white wooden frame and blue denim jacketabandoned by the end of the bed, resting his back on her comfy pillows andhaving his right leg bended by the knee, foot resting on the mattress next tohis outstretched left leg.

“Be with mealways - take any form - drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss,where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without mylife! I cannot live without my soul!” he read out loud like he was beingcasted for the part of Heathcliff, right wrist resting on his bended knee andholding the book up, Betty forming a smile at his theatricals. “Really, Betts?Again? Aren’t you tired of rereading about two people that did nothing good butdestroy each other?” he said in his apathetic tone, closing the book and givingit a push to slide over her nightstand.

“Regarding you and your love for dark things, I’mreally surprised that you have that response towards Heathcliff’s andCatherine’s romance.” She mused, coming closer and resting a hip on herbedpost.

Jughead just shrugged, taking in her comfy attire andher way too short bottoms, and he involuntarily licked his lips, beforefocusing back on her eyes and giving her one of those intense glares that onlyhe could master and turned her brain into mud. “I didn’t come here for a bookclub.” He said in a lower voice; they had discussed about that book in the pastand right now wasn’t a good time for a repetition. He just needed her close.

“What did you come here for then?” Betty fakedignorance, biting her lip at the excitement that coiled in her belly onceagain.

He gave her one of his boyish smirks and winked,opening his arms for her to jump into them.

She crawled over the bed and next to him, Jugheadenveloping her in his arms immediately, her giving him a chaste kiss. “So whatdo you have in mind?” she raised an eyebrow and he smirked cheekily beforeleaning down to join their lips in a slow kiss. Sweet and innocent wasn’t thecase today as it seemed, both of them opening their mouths in unison andletting their tongues dance heavily, sensual nibbling and licking each other’slips. Betty let a sigh against his opened mouth and rolled her chestdeliciously over his, Jughead fisting the material of her shirt at the small ofher waist, wanting to have her closer but the position proving to be awkward.

She rolled her chest again and angled her head more,lacing her arms behind his neck and letting her fingers roam inside his ravenlocks, his beanie dropping behind him on the pillows and being left forgottenthere. One of his palms came down her side, caressing from her hip all the waydown to her bare thigh before his hand got hold of her knee and pulled it overhis lap, indicating for her to straddle him.

“So, do you like my tonight plans?” Jughead askedcheekily, pulling back lightly with hair all messy and flushed cheeks, runninghis nails lightly up and down the back of her thighs that were now on each sideof his hips.

Betty smiled against his lips, dragging her tongue outto lick teasingly his down lip, making him leave a small sigh. “How come you’rein such a mood tonight, huh?” she raised an eyebrow at the rarity of thesituation and slightly rolled her hips over his, his hold on her hipbonestightening in reflex and his eyes flattered in delight.

“Well, sue me if my still functioning male brain findsyou hot.” He replied in a raspy voice and attacked her lips, Betty letting asmall whine at the intensity of the kiss, grabbing his cheeks and feeling hishands on the small of her waist urging her flat against him. She loved howgiving and comfortable he was with her now, long forgotten the tremblingfingers and sweaty palms when they had first started doing things a littlesaucier than kissing. Not that they had gone all way now; he was still unsureabout a lot of stuff – not her, she was amazing, just him and where he stood asa human being and a man – and they both wanted to take it slow, taste thewaters and experience things with their own pace and not going with the flow orsuccumbing to peer pressure. But they had done things beyond only taking off their shirts and there was a slowburning for even more.

She felt him run the pads of his fingers up and downher spine and she shivered in his arms, the boy knowing the places that madeher crack under his touch, before his hands were at her cheeks too, angling herface more and attacking her mouth with his skillful tongue, tasting the sweetflavor that was Betty Cooper. His slender fingers caressed down her neck andhis lips came to follow, Betty gasping for air and fisting the material of hisshirt on his chest at his wonderful ministrations. She felt him making his waydown her neck with open mouthed kisses and wet licks, her legs tighteningagainst his hips and her chest heaving with every small nibble of his chappedlips. Jughead just groaned at the delicious way her breasts were rubbing upagainst his chest and the sensual rolls of her hips, his slender fingersyanking her shirt down her shoulder, exposing more skin to him and a seductivebra strap against her collarbone. He attacked the base of her neck with rawerurge and Betty yelped, tugging at the roots of his hair, wanting to have him,closer, closer than ever before.

“Don’t leave a hickey.” She found a small piece ofsanity in her and whispered, the whisper turning into a long deep sigh as shefelt him lick sensually her abused skin.

Jughead pulled back momentarily, admiring his work.“Too late.” He smirked sexily at her and she bit her lip, not even a tad madwhen he was looking at her with so much fire and desire in his blue eyes.

She pushed back the strands of hair from the center ofhis forehead and Betty was the one to attack him this time, fingers lacing atthe back of his neck and lips demanding on his as she ate him out. She did thatswirl of her tongue that knew he loved and she was rewarded with a small moanand his hands in fists around the material of her t-shirt on her hips, beforeclosing his tongue inside of her luscious lips and sucking hard, knowing thatthis was his undoing. The deep throaty moan that erupted from his chest andvibrated through her whole body caused an instant pool of wetness inside her floralpanties.

“God, don’t do that…” he sighed desperately, closinghis eyes and pulling back to gain some of control, his down lip getting tuggedback by her teeth lightly and she just smirked, diving in for his long neck. Shestarted leaving butterfly kisses before she reached his ear and let her lipslinger there, feeling him stiffen and ground her more on his lap once shelicked the sensitive skin behind it.

“You are a menace, aren’t you?” Jughead shook his headat how good she was at teasing him and she let a breathless giggle, himhungrily joining their lips once again, the two of them kissing with frenzy andnot holding back now, sucking, nibbling, licking, tasting everything that theother had to offer. Betty hastily pushed his denim shirt off his shoulders,Jughead helping her and throwing it somewhere on the floor, both of them amoaning mess at this point. Her fingers trailed at the front of his t-shit,undoing the three little buttons and his own hands found her firm butt,squeezing once, before moving under her tiny shorts to caress it over the softlace of her panties. He urged her to roll her lips more over his now veryevident hard-on and they moaned again inside each other’s mouth, high on thefriction their bodies kept offering them.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Jughead whisperedas their lips danced to change their kissing angle, his hands leaving her butthalf-heartedly and going under her shirt, caressing up her back and bringingthe material with them, Betty pulling back lightly for him to push it off herbody.

He took a step back to appreciate her, having foundthat even though her legs were indeed a sight to see, once he had seen herbreasts he truly had been blessed with the most amazing view on the planet, andhe licked his lips with boyish appreciation, his thumps caressing lightly herskin on her ribs.

“That’s new.” He declared with a hoarse, sexy voice,smirking while taking in her gorgeous cleavage wrapped in a pastel violet lacybra.

Betty nodded, biting her lip. “You like?” she wantedto know and he momentarily looked up at her, all shiny doe eyes, flushed cheeksand swollen lips, thinking that after his kisses she always looked theprettiest.

“I love.” He corrected her in a whisper and leanedforward. “And I love you.” He captured her lips again, sweet for just a momentbefore the kiss turned hungry again, his right hand tentatively going to gripher breast lightly, Betty moaning softly inside the kiss. His other handcaressed up her waist with a desperate need to find the tiny clasp and have herbreasts in all their glory just for him, but the boy frowned when his fingerscame across nothing but lace.

The girl giggled breathlessly upon seeing his facefilled with a mixture of lust and confusion. “The clasp is at the front,Juggie…” she informed him with a lopsided smirk and he shook his head amused athis lame self and her torturing.

His pointer curled around the barely there clasp. “Youlike toying up with me, huh?” Jughead hummed sexily against her lips.

“Well, with some parts of you, yeah, sure.” Shewhispered sensually, Betty proven to be the one that dared to talk more and do newthings during their private moments, and rolled her hips directly over hisprominent erection, Jughead throwing his head back with a breathy “man” andBetty letting a light giggle while leaning to suck at his neck, next to his Adam’sapple, leaving her own mark there.

His need to feel more was up in the sky at this point,Jughead surprising himself every time he was this intimate with her because hehad never thought he would feel those kinds of things for a woman. But with hereverything was different; she had the ability to make him fall in love withjust a dashing smile and make him ignite with just the simple touch of herfingers.

He could feel the said fingers running feathery downhis chest and sneaking under his t-shirt, her palm caressing up again his soft skin now,Betty dragging her nails momentarily over his left pectoral once he delivered arather hard bite against her down lip, both of them moaning. Her tiny hand keptcaressing at the extent of his lean torso and dropped on his abs, Jugheadtaking a sharp intake of breath in reflex that made Betty smile satisfiedinside the kiss, daring her fingers to move even more down, dancing at thesmall patch of raven hair at his happy trail.

It was one of the rare times that Betty heard himgrowl, the boy grabbing her waist with urgency and turning them around so hewould be in control but the sudden movement felt unsafe and Betty instinctivelyraised an arm to get hold of something, only for her hand to knock clumsily herlamp of her nightstand, making it fall to the ground with a loud crashingsound.

The two teens broke apart instantly but stayed attheir tangled up position, Jughead huffing his locks off his forehead and Bettyhiding her face inside her palms in embarrassment, biting her lip and prayingthat her mom didn’t hear.

“Betty!” herprayers hadn’t been heard.

It was frenzy after that, the two of them quicklyshooting up from the bed in lightning speed, gathering Jughead’s stuff and Bettyhelping him out the window with all his belongings in a wrinkled ball againsthis chest.

“Hurry!” she kept instructing him, throwing terrifiedglances over her shoulder in fear that they would be busted any second now.

“I’m lightheaded and I have a small problem that makeswalking, let alone climbing down a window, a tad difficult!” Jughead hissed,sending her a look.

She just scoffed, her cheeks turning slightly red atthe naughty visual her mind created. “Don’t forget to hide the ladder in thebushes at the back.” She reminded him with a whisper.

“I won’t; I know the deal by now.” He assured her,finally out on the first step of the ladder, facing her. “You so owe me forthis.” His eyes playfully darted down on him.

“Just go!” Betty whispered – yelled and bit her lipnot to show her own amused smile.

“I’ll text you.” He promised and pushed his face up topeck her lips, before footsteps could be heard down the corridor and Betty gavehim another quick kiss before she pushed the top of his head down and slid herwindow close.

Unlocking her door, she returned in her previous seaton her bed reopening her book. She hoped her flushed cheeks and fast beatingheart didn’t give her away when her mother walked in the room to check on her.As for her smile, well, that stayed bright and blissful until she fell asleepwith Jughead’s texts still brightening up her phone screen.

#bughead #bughead fic #bughead fanfiction #betty x jughead #betty and jughead #riverdaleships #jet #anon #anonymous #ask #Anonymous #otp:sundaes & plaids #mywriting

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