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weeb-writor · 5 years ago

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Meeting Shouta’s parents on Christmas

Hello all you beautiful people! So here is the last part in the Aizawa mini series. I fell in love with all these Characters and this head cannon so I will probably revisit them! As usually the reader is neutral in every since of the word! I hope you guys enjoyed this series.

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Aizawa Shouta x Reader

After a month of preparation you meet Aizawa’s Parent over the course of a week

Words: 3,098

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

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“Ooh my goodness what are we gonna do!?” You said pacing around your living room. Shouta looked at you and chuckled at your frazzled state.

“We get in my car and drive to my family house as planned, pretend to enjoy ourselves so we can come home and cuddle with my fat cats.” He said, pulling you into a hug.

“You want me to show up to meet your parents without the gift I ordered for you dad? Shouta are you outta your mind.” You said to him with a pout.

“Well that's debatable but I do know my parents and they aren't even expecting anything so it's fine. You can just tell them we’ll get it to him when we get it. Now let's go!” He said trying to drag you to the car.

“Aizawa Shouta! I am not going anywhere unless it's to a store to buy your Dad a gift.” You said giving him a glare. He stared back as if to question if you were being serious. You cocked an eyebrow at him, challenging him to disagree.

“Were gonna be late to get there, do you want that?”

“Better to be late than to show empty handed especially when everyone else has gifts.” You said with a shrug. Aizawa laughed but nodded as you both went to the store. You wandered around the place for an hour before you found something you actually liked. Now you were in the car messily wrapping in as you pulled into the driveway of your destination.

“Okay goodness gracious we barely made it but we're here and I have gifts for all your siblings and their lovers and their kids! Didn't think I would pull it off but here we are in one piece.” You said mostly to yourself.

“Kitty Cat you start talking to yourself and I might leave you to enter the den of wolves by yourself.” Aizawa said as you both got out of the car. You let him take in your overnight bags and get help for the millions of presents somehow packed into your small car you didn't wait long as you felt as presence behind you.

“Hello you, perfect example of a gorgeous human being!” The voice said from behind you.

“Shinji, how nice to see you.” You said with a sigh.

“You know if you’re tired of sighing that way… I have a better way to make you sigh.” He said winking at you. You had to push back all the thoughts of murdering him and just smiled but before you could say anything another voice interjected.

“See I told you we had to come out here! Shinji stop hitting on y/n their dating our little brother you snake.” Saika said, hitting him over the head.

“Can't help it, sis!” He said with a laugh.

“Well for this week you absolutely will have better control overself or so help me God Shinji! Anyway y/n you’ve got me, Shinji and sora at your beck and call, what do you need help with?” Saika said with her graceful smile.

“Oh just this.” You said pointing to the car packed with presents. Sora seemed to choke on air at the amount of gifts.

“God, didn't Shouta tell you didn't have to buy everyone a gift, you poor thing!” Saika said hugging you.

“Well he did but I just really like you guys and loved getting to know you this past month so I wanted to.” You said waving her off.

“More like you wanted to impress our parents, huh cutie?” Shinji said teasing you before he started to grab presents as to avoid his sister wacks.

“Ignore him! My mom is dying to meet you, Shouta’s never brought anyone home.” She said as her and Sora grabbed some more presents. As they went in you pulled out the last two rounds of presents and waited for Aizawa who wasn't far behind.

“Hey love are you ready?” Aizawa said, picking up the presents you set out.

“I am totally not!! I barely remember everyone's name! We should just slip away right now!” You said beginning to pace some more.

“Babe i'm gonna go inside and wait on you, come in whenever you want but remember we are late.” He said with a light chuckle.

“Sho!! don't you go into your house without me!” You said picking up the gifts and following him like a lost puppy. That was that and soon you were inside the house with a lot of eyes on you. You followed aizawa while bowing and placed the toys underneath the huge tree.

“Alright now that that’s done let me meet the one whose stolen my baby’s heart so effortlessly!” A woman said coming over to you. You bowed deeply to her and she let out a melodious laugh.

“How cute, no need to bow so deep! I should be bowing to you, you who is able to make my stoic Shouta blush, giggle and pout!” She says grabbing your face and pulling it around as if to inspect it.

“Oh Honey, you stop it! They are just being polite, you know like Japanese culture requires them to be.” A tall man said coming over to you.

“I'm just saying! Anyway you can call me Mina and this is my parasite of 41 years Hirohito! Nice to meet you!” She said hugging you, you were a bit surprised by how informal and kind they were.

“Excuse my parents, they were born and raised in America! No less Japanese but they are a bit more informal and that does shock a lot of people.” Shojiro said scratching his neck.

“Oh hush boy! Don’t put a warning label on me and your mom as if we are damaged goods.” Hirohito said, knocking him over the head.

“Now it’s getting later we should all wash up and get ready to eat! I made something special for you all. And Sho I put a king size bed in your room since you’ve finally brought someone home. If you want to take advantage of that and make me some grandchildren then don’t worry we will hold up dinner for you!” His mom said kissing his cheek. He groaned and grabbed your hand and pulled you away and soon you were in his room.

“See, was that so hard?” Aizawa said with a flushed face.

“Ehh you look like it was, tomato paste! But I think it went okay! I can do this!!” You said hyping yourself up.

“Yes you can, kitty cat. After dinner only 6 more days to go.”

“WHY do you guys do Christmas gatherings for a week!” You whisper yelled at him.

“Because we have a doting mother who wants to smother us every chance she gets and a father who would do anything for her.” He said serious, you laughed and got ready for dinner. When you and Aizawa made it to the dining room, you were met with three huge dining tables. Almost every seat filled.

“Sweetheart, you and y/n come sit right here! I’ve got so many things to ask you!” His mom said waving you over.

“Thank you… Mina. Your way to kind!” You said with another bow. Dinner was pretty quiet at first but how quiet can you be with like 30 people in one room.

“Saika, dear, you were in charge of the schedule this year can you read it off for everyone.” Mina said.

“Of course! So on the 20th aka tomorrow it’s all about decorations and the tree! 21st is all about taking the kids to see Santa! 22nd is Family photo day! 23 is the gingerbread houses contest and reindeer games! 24th is sugar cookie making and movies! 25th is a grand breakfast and present opening! Bring forth the cup of straws!” Saika said giggling. Sora rolled his eyes but got the cup and passed it around, everyone taking a straw.

“Okay now blow into if red dust comes out you’re in charge of taking the kids to see Santa!” She announced and everyone did. Of fucking course red dust billowed from you straw. You looked at Shouta and he shook his head at you and your heart dropped.

“So then it’s me and you, how fortunate!” Shinji said waving at you. You couldn’t control yourself and your head dropped onto the table dramatically.

“Haha, Shinji y/n already knows what a pain in the ass you are! you must be losing your style dear! Not to worry y/n, Shinji will be on his best behavior won’t you?” Mina said as an ominous silence fell over the room. Shinji didn’t hesitate to nod.

“Okay then! Y/n, welcome to the Aizawa family. I hope you enjoy your first Christmas with us! With that let us begin the 6 days of chaos!” Mina said laughing lifting her glass, everyone joined laughing. Okay maybe this won’t be so bad you thought for a brief second.

20th - 5 Days till Christmas

“Dad I understand you like to hang lights up dangerously but do you have to drag y/n into it.” Aizawa said as he watched you nervously. You were on the roof helping his dad put up a few decorations and lights.

“Of course I did, if they’re gonna be an Aizawa one day they gotta learn all our trade secrets.” He retorted as if it was common knowledge.

“I’ve never seen my little Sho so worried. I can’t figure out if it’s because your kind and you love him so much or if you’ve got him by the balls or maybe even both.” Mina said with a slight chuckle. This made you warm in embarrassment and you lost your footing and began to fall, of course taking the old man with you.

“Shit!” Aizawa said as he quickly used his capture weapon to grab both you and stop your impact from being damaging.

“Yeah alright, me and y/n are opting out of decorations this year.” He said dragging you who was still in his captured weapon toward the door.

“Oh honey calm down it would have just been a small bump and maybe a sprain. Would you at least help Shinji and Sora with the kids, decorating the tree?” She said with a kind yet manipulative smile. Before either of you could respond yelling was heard from inside

“Damn it, Yukio stop breaking the glass ornaments and Maki stop recording and help me!” Shinji yelled.

21st- 4 Days till Christmas

“Shinji what the hell do we do!” You said pacing.

“Hold on stop talking I’m thinking.”

“Like hell I’m trusting your brain! We just have to ask them to let us take pictures anyway.” You said with determination. You see everything was going well until and elf said something to Haru that Jun took as bullying. A fire light in that boy like you had never seen he was on top of the elf giving him the business in seconds. After he just mumbled things like ‘Bakugou said you can’t let people bully you.’ And ‘gotta put bullies in their place.’. Then when you tried to get him to apologize he glared and said ‘no, I can’t let that bully win’ and just like that y’all were kicked out.

“No look let’s just disguise them! Tetsuya and Haru stitch clothing and Haru and Umi switch! Then Maki will take them and her pictures with them.

“What about Maki though they saw her!” You said not believing you were actually going along with his crazy plan.

“Oh I have a change of clothes, gotta be prepared when you’re going out with uncle Shinji!” She said cheerfully.

“That’s my girl! Now go do this thing!” He said giving her and high five. Someone how Shinji’s ridiculous plan worked and the parents didn’t even notice, they were all too drunk or tired.

22nd - 3 Days until Christmas

“There is no way I'm taking pictures wearing this.” Sora said as he pulled the clothes from the box.

“Yeah mom, why did you make Sho pick clothes this year you know he cant even dress himself! It’s because you babied him so much, you know.” Shojiro said, looking as equally as disgusted at the clothing.

“Hey now! I put my baby in charge of the clothing and you all are gonna wear it, end of discussion. Also if anyone babied him it was all of you so blame yourself.” Mina said, ending the discussion as Shouta wore a crazed grin.

“I like the clothes Uncle sho’ta.” Nozomi said rocking on her heels.

“They are pretty cute huh?” He said ruffing her hair.

“Ah ah ah! Don't you go infecting my kids with your bad fashion sense!.” Saika said, covering Nozomi's ears. At this you all broke out into laughs before heading to put on the outfits and prepare for maybe the most embarrassing photos known to man.

23rd - 2 days till Christmas

You were not an artist by any means but when you heard the winner got the honor of passing out presents you were purposely trying to lose. You knew them apart mostly but if they were all wearing the same pajamas with their hair tied back it was going to be a stuttering mess. However your plan of making a 3 out of 10 gingerbread house was foiled quickly. Aizawa wasn't really a competitive man or so you thought but when you to were paired against Shinji and Shojiro he went berserk! You looked at the gingerbread MANSION with a sigh.

“Shouta i’ve never seen you so invested! It's amazing.” Said Shizumi the resident artist in the house.

“Yeah uncle Shouta and L/N! You definitely got my vote!” Daisuke said smiling at you, you smiled back at him warily. The family all wrote down the people of their choosing and put it into the Santa hat. Now as names were being drawn you were biting your nails.

“Shouta and Y/n will be our Clauses this year.” Hirohito said with a small smile.

“Yay y/n wins.” Haru and Jun danced around you. You giggled before glaring at Aizawa in a way that said when we get home your sleeping on the couch, he just kissed you sweetly.

24th - 1 Day till Christmas

“Uncle Shouta stopped making so many cat cookies! Santa wants other shapes too!” Tetsuya said, hitting Shouta repeatedly on his legs. You laughed evilly as you formed another cat cookie and wrote Shouta’s name on the corner.

“I like your cat cookies.” Nozomi said, playing with her hair. Aizawa picked her up and spun her around.

“Okay, yep that's weird Baby brother! Why is Nozomi clinging to you? What did you do?” Shiori said looking back and forth from you and Shouta.

“Nothing.” Shouta said with a smirk. The family then looked at you hopeful.

“Well would you look at that! It's about time to watch the Grinch isn't it, Rei?” You asked the young boy. He eagerly nodded wanting to escape the situation.

“You got Rei too? What is happening!” Saika said as she grabbed Rei bringing him to her chest.

“Huh where is your DVD player? I got to put the disk in.” You said completely ignoring her.

25th - Christmas Day

The gift giving had been going pretty successfully. You only Stuttered a few times but you hadn't given anyone the wrong present and let Shouta take the ones with Nicknames you didn't know. But this right here was the moment of truth, the moment you had been preparing for. In your right hand you had a gift for Shizumi and in your left one for Saika. You looked at the two twin like sisters and handed the gifts to each respectful sister hoping you were right. They opened the gifts and smiled so you guessed you were correct had everyone's eyes not been on you, you would have done a happy dance.

“Alright last gift before Mom and Dads are for Miss Nozomi!” Shouta said signaling you to get the present you and him picked out for the young girl.

“Alright this is from me and Uncle Shouta!” You said to the girl handing her the blue box. She said a quiet thank you before tearing into the box. Inside the box was a note which she took out.

“Look at your favorite uncle.” She said before looking straight at Shouta making all the other brothers gasp. In Shouta’s arm was a cute 3 legged kitten which had the girl darting toward him but slowed when she got to him so as not to scare the cat.

“Thank you!” The girl said, rubbing at her teary eyes. You and Aizawa had been teaching her how to care for cats knowing she wanted one. In all honesty she knew she was getting a cat she just didn't know when. You had asked her parents as well but didn't tell then when either so as to have a bigger reaction from the family.

“No need to thank me! Just promise me to take care of him real well.” Aizawa thumbed away the last of her tears. She nodded rapidly before snuggling the kitten who seemed to enjoy the attention. The last arc of gift giving went well as did the extravagant breakfast you had all prepared together. Now you were all saying goodbye.

“Y/n dear I do have one last parting gift for you.” Mina said as you rounded the corner with your bags. You placed down your bags and went to her side.

“I know you and Shouta haven't been together too long but I want to thank you. He acts tougher than he is. He would rather bear all the responsibility and pain and suffer alone. Not to mention the way he puts himself in danger rather than ask for help. With you he seems different, and you put him in his place. You’ve made me feel at ease for the first time since he entered UA as a student. So welcome to the family, we're so glad to have you.” She said putting something into your hands. You bowed at her and opened your palm to see a key to this house and a few pictures taken over the course of the week. You waved goodbye to them all and got your bags and made the short trip to your car where Shouta was waiting.

“Why do you look like you're going to cry.” He said worried.

“Because there are 365 days till next Christmas.” You said to him smiling.

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MHA Masterlist

#bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa imagine #Aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa shouta x reader #mha x reader #bnha aizawa #shouta aizawa #domestic fluff #aizawa x reader

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alecmagnuslwb · 5 years ago

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Rent a Holidate

Read on AO3

Magnus is barely paying attention as his father blathers on about his annual Thanksgiving party. It’s the same as every year, food made by an overpaid chef, schmoosing clients and Magnus being expected to attend and behave.

They don’t even really celebrate Thanksgiving and it’s definitely not about family coming together to be thankful for the things they have and the love they share, it’s a way for his father to impress his clients with the size of his house and the happy little family picture that he, whoever his latest wife is and Magnus make. It’s a fake night, filled with fake rich people that Magnus loathes more and more every single year.

There’s a pause on his fathers end of the line and Magnus scrambles assuming he was asked some sort of question.

“Yes, of course,” he says hoping that’s the right answer. Evidently it’s neutral considering his father’s monotonous response.

“Fine then, I hope that he or she will be an acceptable date for the evening,” his father says. Oh shit, he thinks, did I just agree to bring a date to this thing?

For a moment he considers backtracking saying he won’t be bringing anyone, it’s not like he’s been on so much as a half decent date in over a year, but he knows his father, once you’ve said something you act on it, no turning back. So instead he grits his teeth and accepts he’ll be bullshitting his way through an emergency excuse to why his fake partner couldn’t attend the night of.

“He is very acceptable,” Magnus says faux cheery conjuring up a fake boyfriend in his head. Not that any partner of his could be deemed acceptable by his father, his father even finds his own career path teaching English at NYU to be an underperformance.

“It’s not Columbia,” he always says whenever Magnus talks about his work.

“Well, then I look forward to meeting him,” his father says not at all sounding like he’s looking forward to it. Which is good considering Magnus’ supposed boyfriend is a complete fabrication. “I’ll see you in a week.”

And just like that he hangs up, no goodbye, nothing.

Magnus sighs tossing his phone into the graded paper box on his desk and begins crafting a personality and profession for his fake boyfriend just in case he needs a more solid alibi.

***

Magnus laments his woes to Dot and Catarina later that night, it’s Thursday which means mimosas and movies.

“Part of me just wants to make up an excuse and be done with it, it’s not like he’ll even remember in a week’s time after the fact that I ever even had a supposed boyfriend,” Magnus says pausing to take a sip of his mimosa. “The other part of me just wants to bring the world’s worst date and embarrass him to no end.”

“You mean Camille wasn’t the world’s worst date?” Dot says curling up in the chair beside Cat with her own mimosa in hand.

“Camille was the world’s worst date, but she never was one to make a scene, she was quietly and privately terrible,” Magnus says moving quickly past the topic of his wicked ex. “I mean someone who’s not a bad person, just kind of a mess.”

“Why don’t you hire the guy Dot hired last year for her family reunion?” Cat says not even bothering to look up from her phone as she scrolls reading reviews for the movie they’re about to watch.

“Yeah he was great,” Dot says agreeing with Cat’s suggestion. “His names Alec. He can’t play straight to save his life which made it even better because my whole family was convinced I was not only dating a worthless degenerate, but a worthless degenerate gay man. Hilarious, honestly.”

She pulls up something on her phone and hands it to Magnus. It’s a Craigslist ad titled, Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? Tired of your family’s absurd expectations?

He takes the phone reading the post entirely.

My name is Alec Lightwood, I’m a 28 year old almost felon who went to college for three weeks before dropping out. I have a Thunderbird that’s only a year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen’s red guitar. It’s hideous and embarrassing and I love it. I can play anywhere between the ages of 23 to 32 depending on if I shave. I’m a bartender and occasional bouncer when the need requires, I haven’t been seen not in a leather jacket with a tear in the back since high school, I’m gay and very bad at hiding it and I’ve even got an eyebrow scar that’s sure to raise a few eyebrows (get it, raise a few eyebrows).

If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for a gathering of some sort, but have me pretend to be in a very serious relationship with you to torment your family, I’m game.

I can do these things at your request:

- Openly hit on other guests while you act like you don’t notice (of any gender, I may be gay but I can embarrassingly hit on anyone even if it’s not convincing).

- Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion (sports are off the table however unless your family are big into the Rangers or Islanders, then I can talk shit for days.)

- Propose to you in front of everyone and you tearily accept or you turn me down and I proceed to have a breakdown, but we resolve to work on our relationship much to your family’s chagrin.

- Pretend to be increasingly drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don’t actually drink anymore, but I used to. A lot. Too much in fact. I know the drill.)

- Start a screaming match with a family member, that could come to blows (but no one will be physically harmed, I promise) either inside or on the front lawn (if there is one) for all the neighbors to see.

I require no pay but the free food I will receive as a guest at any event!

We can meet prior to the event somewhere public and you can ask me any questions. And I mean any questions so that you feel safe.

- Do NOT contact with unsolicited services or offers. Email me at: [email protected]

“Um, he’s a felon?” Magnus says looking up from the phone when he’s done.

“Hey, don’t judge, you’re not exactly rap sheet free,” Dot says scolding him with a smile. Which okay, he does have a few arrests on his record, petty little things and pick-ups at a protest or two, but felonies are a bit above that. He says that aloud. “Also, as it says he’s technically an almost felon.”

“He’s not a murderer or anything, I had Raphael check out his history before I requested his services,” Dot continues on to explain, referring to their friend who’s a prosecutor. “He got picked up for aggravated assault after he caught the guy who got his sister hooked on drugs in her bed shooting her up, it was a bullshit charge from a snake of a man who deserved every hit he got. The charges were ultimately dropped and settled when the piece of shit he beat up got hit with about ten felonies himself. He’s a good guy, like a really good guy I promise.”

“Didn’t Raphael even stress that he never would have convicted Alec in a million years on the charges?” Cat says getting up from her seat and heading to the kitchen to refill her mimosa glass.

Dot nods taking a sip of her drink. “He did, he said any jury would have sided with him over the 30 year old drug pusher preying on an 18 year old girl. And even though we can’t tell him, because we don’t want him to smirk about it all the time and get a big head, we both know Raphael is the best judge of character and lawyer in America.”

It’s true, Raphael always knows what he’s talking about.

“Plus,” Dot continues on. “Alec’s very upfront about it, I didn’t even need to do the background check he told me exactly what went down when we met for coffee before the event, even brought his sister along to corroborate and make me feel comfortable.”

“Wow,” Magnus says genuinely surprised by the decency of a man on the internet.

“Also, he’s very cute,” Dot smirks over the rim of her glass waggling her eyebrows in Magnus’ direction.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “I don’t think it matters if my fake date is cute.”

“So you’re gonna do it?” Catarina says coming back in the room, a pitcher filled to the brim with mimosa mix in her hand.

Magnus bites his lip in thought as he looks down at the phone in his hand again. He does want to cause a ruckus, he’s tired of being the perfect little son when his father needs him to be. And Alec Lightwood might just be able to provide the exact ruckus he’s looking for.

“What the hell,” he mutters before tossing Dot’s phone to her. “Do I need to email him, or do you still have his number?”

Dot smiles in delight as she taps on her phone his own phone buzzing in his pocket a second later with Alec’s number.

***

Alec keeps his text exchanges simple, offering to meet Magnus the following afternoon after Magnus’ noon class for coffee. Alec lets Magnus choose everything, clearly dedicated to making the person contacting him as comfortable as possible. Luckily for Magnus Alec’s had no inquiries for this Thanksgiving, except for one that was definitely unsavory and he turned down immediately.

With such short notice Magnus thought for sure this might not work out.

He walks in scanning the shop looking for Alec and comes up empty based on Dot’s description of him. He gets in line and orders a drink finding a table off to the side where it’s not too crowded to sit and wait. He’s barely settled into his seat when the chime above the door rings and in walks a stunner with long legs and dark hair.

The man pauses scanning the room, then his eyes land on Magnus his lips tilt up just a bit and he walks over his way.

“Magnus Bane?” he says in question when he reaches the table. Magnus is speechless for a moment as the sun catches in the man’s hazel eyes and on the tiny silver hoops in his ears. He shakes himself from the trance he’s in, ignoring the way his eyes shine a little greener when he tilts his head and nods his own head in confirmation.

“Alec Lightwood?”

“That’s me,” the man says with a smile that crinkles at the edges just a bit, he reaches out a hand that Magnus takes shaking it instantly enjoying the contrast of Alec’s cold fingers to his warm ones. Magnus squeezes his hand once before letting go. “I’m just gonna go get a drink and then we can talk,” Alec says stepping back with a tentative, but dazzling smile.

Magnus watches him go enjoying the view of his long legs in motion. He spots the tear in the back of his leather jacket, just like mentioned in his ad, and smiles. Alec comes back moments later a mug of black coffee in hang.

“So you need a bad date for Thanksgiving,” he says tearing open an obscene amount of sugar packets and pouring them into his mug. “I’m guessing before we get into that though, you want to know about the almost felony?”

Magnus shakes his head and Alec looks at him quizzically for a moment, before the puzzle pieces in his mind clearly fall into place.

“Dot,” he says in understanding. “She must have told you everything.”

“She did,” Magnus confirms taking a sip of his drink. “And for the record it sounds like you were in the right.”

Alec smiles a small uncertain smile almost like he’s not sure that’s the truth, but takes the words as a compliment anyways.

“It wasn’t my finest moment, I guess I’m just overprotective when it comes to people I love,” he says running his fingers along the rim of his mug.

“Getting a drug predator away from your sister isn’t just being overprotective, it’s doing the right thing,” he says genuine. He remembers when they were in high school and Raphael had his run with a bad crowd, it never came to it, but he would have done the same thing Alec did if the situation had presented itself.

Alec just shrugs looking off to the side. Magnus sees the uncomfortable set in his shoulders and shifts the conversation.

“You come highly recommended, Dot says you put on one hell of a show at her family reunion,” he says with a bright smile.

Alec’s shoulders ease and he turns back to Magnus with a smile.

“Dot barely needed me, she put on a performance just as stunning, I’ve never seen a woman so small body tackle so many people during what’s supposed to be a friendly game of tag,” he says with a chuckle.

Magnus has heard all about Dot’s deadly game and seen the bruises she proudly displayed from her somewhat violent performance first hand.

“Believe me it’s not the first time she’s tackled down a full-grown man,” Magnus says with a laugh fondly remembering a frat party, an unsuspecting frat boy and a fateful game of beer pong from many years ago.

“Somehow that does not surprise me,” Alec says rubbing a hand across his dark beard. The conversation shifts from there, Magnus giving Alec the full rundown about his father, his current stepmother and the all too haughty evening they’ll be subjected to.

Conversation flows easy between them, Alec seeming to understand a lot of Magnus’ struggles with his family life and Magnus finds himself wondering if there’s more to why he does this bit of charity for people in need.

“So, why exactly is it you do this?” Magnus asks, clarifying quickly when Alec raises his eyebrow in question. They’ve covered the felony yes and it’s clear that Alec just simply cares, but that’s not a full reason why. “I mean I believe that you’re just a genuinely good person who wants to help people, but it’s deeper than that isn’t it?”

Alec pauses for a moment rubbing the back of his neck nervously, Magnus is about to tell him he doesn’t have to explain if it’s an uncomfortable topic just as Alec starts to talk.

“I’m gay,” he says and Magnus smirks, the obviously on the tip of his tongue. Alec picks up on it smiling back. “Obviously, but for a long time I couldn’t be, or at least not at home. My parents are kind of rich, they’d do these big to do holiday parties every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas. When my siblings and I were little they were just big boring adult parties that we’d steal food from. Then we all got old enough to date and to have plans for the future.”

Magnus hums in understanding. That’s how his father’s parties had been, one day he was a kid just stealing cookies and hating the droll grown ups and the next he was a man expected to present himself in certain ways, ways that weren’t remotely who he was.

“By the time I was 21 I was still in the closet, and already on their shit list for dropping out of college, and I never dated and my parents were just determined to find me a wife. Every year it was so and so’s daughter is lovely and has such a strong education or so and so’s daughter is coming and I can’t wait for you to meet her,” he says twisting the coffee mug between his hands. “I’m pretty sure those holiday parties are how my drinking got so bad, forced heterosexuality and an open bar do not mix well together.”

He chuckles and Magnus takes that as an invitation to do the same. Again he gets it, he’s taken his fair advantage of the open bar at his father’s parties many times.

“And then one year my dad was going on about some girl who was at Thanksgiving dinner, I don’t even remember her name, but she was standing there and the whole time he’s talking about how she’s so pretty and so ready to start a family and I should make a move before someone else did. And I was losing my mind internally and evidently I’d had just enough to drink that I just screamed at the top of my lungs that I was gay.”

He pauses taking the last sip of his coffee.

“And then I just left after my mom was trying to talk to me about causing a scene. Then Christmas rolls around and to my extreme shock I get the invite. I thought for sure I was in for the lecture I’d been avoiding for a month, but instead they just acted like Thanksgiving hadn’t even happened,” he shakes his head. “They invited some other poor girl to try and marry me off to and just went on like I hadn’t had a big, gay outburst. My outburst was a lot bigger that time, after that I didn’t get any more party invites, they just cut me out entirely.”

Magnus reaches out resting his hand on Alec’s that’s drumming on the table. “I’m so sorry, Alexander,” he says trying out the full name for the first time guessing that’s what Alec is short for. He likes the way it rolls off his tongue and judging from the way Alec doesn’t correct him he ventures he got it right.

Alec just shrugs with a sad little smile on his lips. “It’s okay,” he says. “I mean it wasn’t back then, but I’m okay now. I don’t need my parents or their money, my siblings are still in my life and I’ve got a whole life outside of that. I can have my gay outbursts in peace now.”

Magnus laughs squeezing his hand once before pulling back, he’s been resting it there much too long now.

They talk logistics after that, establishing a plan for the holiday dinner. Alec immediately offers to bring his Thunderbird to drive to Magnus’ father’s place upstate.

“I don’t have the car not to be embarrassing about it,” he says and Magnus smiles insisting he pays for the gas then.

He spends almost three hours and four coffees with Alec and eventually finds they’re not even talking about the dinner in question, but they’re just talking instead.

It’s an unexpected development.

***

Coffee with Alec goes all too well and by the end of it they have a carefully cultivated story about how they met and how long they’ve supposedly been together all set in stone. Alec ensures him he’ll be the ultimate, best bad boyfriend for the night, and frankly Magnus is having a hard time believing it.

Alec is sweet, kind without even realizing it and looks like the living embodiment of tall, dark and handsome. If Magnus is being honest he’d love to take him out sometime as a real date more than a bad boyfriend for the night.

He calls Dot after they’ve said their goodbyes, walking to his apartment not far from the coffee shop.

“So how’d it go?” Dot asks immediately upon answering the phone.

“He’s incredibly charming without trying to be and cute is a fucking understatement, Dorothea,” he says looking both ways before crossing to the other side of the street.

Dot chuckles wildly on the other side.

“I’m serious, if I was given the opportunity to craft a man based on looks alone I’m pretty sure he’d be what I’d create, he’s gorgeous,” Magnus says as he reaches his building going inside and heading for the elevator.

“I may have undersold him slightly,” Dot says sounding all too innocent.

“And was there a reason for that, my dear?” he says. He’s starting to feel like he’s being set up.

“Perhaps,” she says and he can hear the gleeful smile in her voice. “You can thank me later, for now just enjoy your bad boyfriend.”

***

Five days later on the last Thursday of the month, Magnus waits outside of his apartment for Alec and at three o’clock on the dot Alec’s truly ridiculous car pulls up. It’s even better in person than he described.

The black, red and white lines are exactly like Eddie Van Halen’s infamous guitar and the ’93 Thunderbird is just on the right side of beat up. The left taillight is busted, covered in see through tape and there’s a sizeable dent in the passenger side door.

Alec steps out of the car, a vision in his signature leather jacket, black jeans with far too many tears and dark eyeliner around his eyes. It’s not neat like Magnus’ though, it’s messy. His whole look from his disheveled, but neat hair, to his trimmed beard to his scuffed boots is just on the right side of acceptable, but screams of a wild side as well.

Magnus isn’t as black tie as he knows his father would like him to be, wearing a deep red shirt and tight pants with a line down the side, his perfectly styled hair, curly and soft with matching red streaks running through it. They make a pretty attractive pair if Magnus does say so himself.

Magnus can’t wait to see how the evening plays out.

Alec smiles at him coming over to open the passenger side door, it takes a couple tugs to get it open.

“It’s a little finicky,” he says playfully bowing and gesturing for Magnus to get inside. “Your chariot awaits.”

Magnus smiles stepping into the car. Alec shuts the door tight rounding the car and falling into his seat.

“Ready to cause a scene?” Alec says with a devilish smile that Magnus finds hard to resist.

“Absolutely,” he says with his own answering smile as Alec turns the key and peels out onto the road.

***

The ride up takes about two hours all told with holiday traffic and every minute of it is delightful. Alec tells him more about himself, outside of the surface stuff they’d covered to make sure Magnus was comfortable with this whole night.

He learns Alec loves archery, has an affinity for trash shows like the Bachelor and has a vicious little cat he adores named Church. Magnus gives his own tidbits in return about his work at the university and his love of bad horror movies, laughing when Alec suggests their fiendish cats might just get along.

Magnus laughs just as they pull up outside of his father’s home, “Chairman doesn’t exactly play well with others.”

Alec shrugs. “Neither does Church, that’s why it’d be fun,” he says with a smile pulling his eyes away from Magnus looking up at the sprawling house before them. He slows the car to a stop pulling into a spot that makes the car perfectly visible from the wall of windows that line the living room where all the guests won’t be able to miss it.

“Damn,” Alec says as he steps out of the car, Magnus joins him where he’s leaning back against the front of his Thunderbird. His car looks amazingly out of place and perfectly hilarious parked between a silver Porsche and a sleek black Lamborghini. “Your father’s in real estate you said?”

“Amongst other things,” Magnus grumbles looking at the house that was always too big, that always felt hollow and empty to Magnus when they moved here after his mother skipped town.

“It’s way too big,” Alec says with a grimace looking it over one last time before offering his arm to Magnus. Magnus takes it guiding him to the front door. “And there’s way too many fucking windows.”

Magnus chuckles as they reach the door opening it automatically and walking in. The space is gaudier than the last time he was there, the walls where once his father and stepmother number four’s portraits used to hang now feature the latest wife and sadly the one of him that his father had commissioned years ago. It’s the last time he’d agreed to sit for one of his gaudy paintings, he’s young, barely 20 wearing a stiff suit and barely any makeup, he doesn’t look like him at all.

“Well that’s a painting,” Alec says looking at it. “I like this you better,” he says eyeing Magnus up and down. Whether he meant to or not there’s a lingering in the look, Magnus likes it. “That looks like somebody trying to be something they’re not.”

And just like that with one look at a painting, Alec nails him right on the head. Like he can read Magnus easily, a thing that just about no one can do.

“Come on,” Magnus says pulling Alec along down the garish hallway that leads to the large expanse of the living room. There’s a new chandelier hanging in the hall, riddled in way too many gems. He bets it’s a feature added by the new wife.

“Maggie!” a woman’s voice yells, speak of the devil, he rolls his eyes at the nickname no matter how many times he’s told her to drop it she just won’t. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

His stepmother comes bouncing over their way, her ridiculously high heels clacking against the hardwood floor. He can hear his father sigh from the other side of the room, more concerned with his precious oak floors than anything else in the world.

Magnus braces himself as she barrels into him hugging him tight, she releases him with a smile before turning to Alec and doing the same.

Alec’s eyes go wide in surprise, no matter how much Magnus described her to him there’s no preparing for hurricane Marissa. She pulls back adjusting her very not appropriate for the setting tight pink and black strapless dress with a smile, her fake tan looks a little lighter than usual and he’s weirdly proud of her for that.

“And who is this?” she asks reaching out to adjust Magnus’ shirt collar that she crumpled when hugging him.

“This is my boyfriend, Alec,” he says gesturing his way. “Alec this is my father’s wife, Marissa.”

Marissa playfully pats Magnus’ cheek, “Stepmother.” She says it pointedly holding out a hand to quickly shake Alec’s. He will never refer to her as his stepmother out loud, much like the past four wives Magnus bets Marissa will be gone in five years’ time tops, his own mother hadn’t even stuck around that long. Also, she’s 25, five years younger than him, and there’s no way he’s referring to her as anything remotely close to a mother.

“It’s lovely to have you in our home,” Marissa says to Alec gesturing to the room at large. Magnus looks around at the room full of people, most of whom he doesn’t remotely recognize. A few seem somewhat familiar in the most unmemorable sense. He’s sure they’re constant clients and rich cohorts of his father’s that have attended before.

“That it is,” his father’s voice says coming up behind his wife. He rests one hand on her shoulder and holds out another Alec’s way. “Asmodeus Bane.”

“Alec Lightwood,” he says a perfect gentleman returning his father’s handshake. They’d agreed to keep it civil for at the least the first introduction and then let the evening escalate from there. Magnus can tell just from looking at it his father’s grip is tight, commanding and borderline threatening, but Alec doesn’t even flinch.

“Lightwood, hm?” his father says eyeing Alec up and down frowning and Magnus can tell he already disapproves of what he sees. “Any relation to the Lightwood Consulting company?”

“Yes,” Alec says and Magnus smiles when he sees his father’s lips uptick in an impressed smile that immediately falls at Alec’s next words. “But they cut me out and off years ago, I’m the black sheep of the family if you will.”

Asmodeus just hums disappointed. “Well, that’s a shame,” he says. “So, how did you meet my son?” he asks not bothering with anymore small talk now that he’s already decided Alec’s no good, just jumping right in to the things he can criticize.

“Prison,” Alec jokes and Marissa titters delightfully. She quickly stops when Asmodeus looks at her disappointedly. “Just kidding,” he says. “I did my time there years ago, no we met at a bar.”

Asmodeus bristles at the prison mention, which is technically a lie, Alec only spent a few hours in a cell back when he was arrested, but his father clearly buys it as more. Magnus can tell he’s tuning out the rest of their crafted meet cute story, all about how three months ago Alec had a few too many drinks and almost got into a fight and Magnus had been his stalwart knight in shining armor.

“Love at first sight,” Marissa sighs clearly enjoying their made up tale. “Isn’t it sweet, Asmody?” she coos tugging on his father’s arm.

“Yes, quite sweet,” Asmodeus grimaces gripping his wife’s arm and pulling her away. “We’ll talk later.” He says looking directly at Magnus, essentially and completely dismissing Alec’s presence all together before stepping away. Marissa grins wide waving at them as she goes her long pink acrylic nails clicking together as she does so. Marissa may not be the brightest or subtlest bulb, but at least unlike many of Asmodeus’ past wives she’s nice enough.

“Well damn, do I even need to do anything else? He seems disappointed enough already,” Alec says shaking his head in disbelief.

“Now, where would the fun in that be,” Magnus says with a smirk, shrugging off his jacket. Alec follows suit and Magnus admires the view of his arms in a short sleeved well-fitting white button up shirt. His love of archery has made for some nicely toned muscle.

***

They mingle for a bit after Magnus deposits their coats in one of the coat closets, Magnus putting on his best son of the year smile while Alec downs glasses of water that everyone thinks is vodka at a fairly speedy rate.

It’d been his first task when they’d rejoined the party walking over to the bar with a smile.

“I need you to fill a bottle or two of vodka with water and keep serving me all night,” he said to the bored and disgruntled looking woman behind the counter. The rest of the hired help for the night must have been sequestered away in the kitchen until dinner judging by her being the first one that Magnus had spotted.

“You planning something weird tonight?” she questioned sliding Magnus a glass of red wine.

“Not weird, just disruptive,” Alec said so kind and so believable that the girl perked up.

“Well I love to see rich people who call me barkeep unironically disrupted, so you got it,” she said with a smile discreetly pouring out a bottle and refilling it with water before handing a glass to Alec as he dumped a sizeable wad of cash into her completely empty tip jar. God, rich people were cheap.

She’s been steadily serving him since.

Now they find themselves with a man who has to be bordering on 200 years old and it seems Alec decides it’s time to truly get to work.

“All that glitters,” the old man says talking about something that they’ve clearly both been tuning out.

“Glitters?” Alec says a little too loud, just enough so that everyone in their vicinity can hear. “You mean the place on 5th? My ex used to dance there, maybe you saw him, man knew how to work a pole if you know what I mean?” he winks at the old man and Magnus just barely stifles his laughter as the old man steps back in shock. He mumbles something unintelligible looking suddenly ill and paler than he had before and slips away.

Alec tosses back his drink and hands it to a passing woman in a truly hideous pantsuit that is definitely not a server, dragging Magnus along to the table of appetizers. He tosses shrimp into his mouth not bothering with a napkin, rubbing his hands on his ripped-up jeans making direct eye contact with a young woman, no doubt another trophy wife, as he does so. She scrunches up her nose and steps away.

Evidently despite his fairly small work so far he’s made just enough of a scene to garner Asmodeus’ attention once again.

“So, Alec, I assume that colorful vehicle outside is yours?” he says walking up beside the two of them. Their bartender and conspirator comes up just then handing Alec a fresh glass.

Alec smiles at her, before turning to Asmodeus. He’s not acting drunk yet, but he’s bordering on behaving tipsy.

He slings an arm over Magnus’ shoulder and brings him in close. Magnus settles a hand at Alec’s waste enjoying the proximity.

“Yes, that is my sweet Cherry,” he says naming the car on the spot. “Won her in a poker game when I was 18, crashed her three days later and have been patching her back together ever since.”

“A poker game?” Asmodeus questions, clearly becoming more disappointed by the minute.

“Yup,” he says cheerfully popping the p in the word. “Well, I wouldn’t say won directly, more cheated a guy and then fought him for it,” he pauses gesturing to the little sliced scar that runs through his left eyebrow. “That’s how I got this.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many tire irons a high school principal is carrying around,” Alec continues with a snort tossing back half of his drink.

Magnus just nods along in agreement to Alec’s concocted tale. He actually bought the car from his sister’s ex-boyfriend when he was nineteen for 200 bucks, but this story shocks far more.

“You mean to say you fought your principal for your car?” Asmodeus says judgement so very clear in his voice.

“High school, am I right?” Alec shrugs with a chuckle smiling down into his drink. Asmodeus looks appalled.

“Oh, come on don’t look like that father,” Magnus says placing his free hand on Alec’s chest and patting there lightly. Magnus can’t help but notice how solid the chest under his hand is. “I got up to some trouble in high school myself, surely you remember.”

Asmodeus just hums, clearly finding Magnus’ occasional wild parties without permission a dull comparison to the tale Alec just told.

“Never forget the time I streaked and jumped from the guest house roof to the trampoline and right into the pool, nearly broke my arm in the process,” Magnus says with a smile. Alec leans over burying his face in Magnus’ hair, careful not to mess it up, whether it’s to play up the PDA or stifle a laugh Magnus isn’t sure.

They’d had a whole conversation about PDA, Alec promising to respect his boundaries, no kissing and never a hand wandering beneath his waist.

“How could I forget,” Asmodeus says sharply embarrassed by his son’s antics. He turns towards the large windows and looks out to where the porch patio lights illuminate Alec’s car.

“It is so sexy that you did that,” Alec says ignoring Asmodeus and turning towards Magnus. He downs the rest of his drink and meet’s Magnus’ eyes, a question and idea brewing clear in them. Magnus smirks tugging at Alec’s shirt.

“You think so?” he says teasingly.

“Mm hmm,” Alec says biting his lip and Magnus knows this is all a part of the show, but god are those lips tempting.

Magnus catches Asmodeus turning his attention back to them looking outright furious. Magnus pulls away from Alec’s eyes and smiles a bright smile like they’re doing absolutely nothing wrong.

“I’m gonna give Alec the tour,” he says leadingly pulling Alec along by both hands and rushing away from the living room and down the hall before Asmodeus can say a word. He can see Alec’s smirk as he notices the stares of the other guests in the room.

Magnus doesn’t even pay attention to where they’re going as he pulls them into a room just off the right side of the hall.

“How’d you actually get that scar?” Magnus asks once they’re inside shutting the door behind him, no doubt convincing everyone they’re about to get down and dirty.

“Took a hockey stick to the face when I was 17,” he says pulling himself to sit up on a desk. A desk that Magnus now recognizes as his fathers. They’ve pulled themselves into his father’s office and if they get caught in here he’ll never hear the end of it, he loves it.

“You played hockey?” Magnus asks lifting himself up to sit beside Alec on the desk ignoring the papers he accidentally topples to the ground.

Alec nods in the affirmative. “I did, that’s why it’s the only sport I can start heckling fights about, everything else is boring.”

Magnus snorts at that, he’s never been partial to any sport himself.

“Did you really do what you said out there?” Alec asks picking up a notepad and flipping through it mindlessly.

“I did,” Magnus smiles and Alec’s eyebrows both go up. “Don’t look so surprised, you’re not the only one capable of mischief.”

“Oh, I see that,” he says with a smile tossing the notepad back to where he found it. “That is kinda sexy you achieved a jump like that and didn’t get hurt.” He says it with his voice low and all sorts of New York around the edges. He freezes his hand stopping over the spot where he’d been about to pick up the ugly green and bronze sphere shaped paper weight beside him.

Magnus freezes too, Alec saying something like that while they’re alone makes it real, not like the fake flirty way he’d said it out in the living room.

“Sorry, that’s not, I’m sorry, I never cross that line when I do these things, we’re alone and,” Alec runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Magnus shakes his head reaching out and tentatively laying his hand atop Alec’s where it rests on the desk between them.

“It’s okay,” he says and Alec looks at him ready to argue the point. Magnus jumps in stopping him before he can say a word and taking his own leap into making this far more real than fake. “Really, it’s okay. You, uh, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Alec huffs a laugh opening and closing his mouth a few times like he’s looking for the right words to say. The space between them feels a little charged now that they’ve floated out the simple fact there’s a real attraction here. Alec closes his mouth and bites his lip looking determined like he knows what to say finally when the door busts open.

“Oh, my apologies boys,” Marissa says standing in the doorway her hands on her hips and a pleased little smile on her lips. “But dinner is served.”

Magnus and Alec pull away from one another quickly hopping off the desk and stepping towards the door.

“You two are just too cute,” Marissa says when they reach her. She loops each of her arms through one of theirs and tugs them down the hall happily. “Don’t listen to a word your father says.”

Magnus meets Alec’s eyes over her head only to find Alec already looking at him, a soft smile on his lips.

***

Magnus takes his proverbial spot on his father’s right at the head of the table, Marissa doing the same on his left. Despite Asmodeus’ clear attempt to keep Alec as far away from him and Magnus as possible by seating him at the far end of the long table he fails. Luckily one of Marissa’s friends, just as airy and tight dressed as her is seated next to Magnus and happily swaps spots with Alec.

Alec lifts his drink to Asmodeus in a faux toast that Asmodeus doesn’t even feign interest in as he takes his seat.

Dinner is served and it’s to be expected. The sweet potatoes are divine none of that weird marshmallow bullshit in them, the mac and cheese is literally to die for and the homemade bread hits in just the right way. The turkey is terrible, but that’s not at the fault of the overpriced chef that’s just simply because it’s an indisputable fact that turkey tastes like napkins.

Alec eats so much Magnus is concerned, he can tell from the tight fit of his shirt that Alec is in impeccable shape so he doesn’t really know where he puts it all as he goes for his fourth serving of mac and cheese.

But long before his fourth serving of cheesy goodness Alec starts up at least three debates that would be deemed far too impolite for their supposed polite company. Each fresh serving he corners someone new into a debate; first it’s an old lady in a pantsuit pulled into a debate about the existence of god, then a forty something who looks like he’s never seen a rainbow without feeling threatened into a talk on the merits of teaching queer history to children and finally a woman who can’t be much older than them who looks like her name is Tinsley or Ainsleigh or something equally as nauseating into a tense bordering on yelling match about the importance of safe abortion access.

He sounds a little more drunk with every conversation and he’s damn good at faking it. He sounds just the right amount of inebriated not slurring his words too much or fumbling around with his silverware, it’s practiced, a master class in being drunk without being drunk. Most people overplay it acting far more outlandish than a drunk person sitting at a table would, but Alec has it down pact.

Magnus watches him not a care in the world, acting like he doesn’t even notice the disruption Alec is causing. The only person aside from Magnus that doesn’t look increasingly more uncomfortable by the minute is Marissa who looks like she’s having the time of her life watching these stuffy rich people squirm.

Asmodeus of course does not look delighted, he barely eats, just scowls over the rim of his wine glass and attempts to deflect any conversation Alec purposely instigates another way unsuccessfully.

The only time he seems to look like he’s not about to have a coronary is when everyone’s plates are finally collected, Alec still shoveling the last bit of mashed potatoes on his plate into his mouth as one of the waiters lifts the plate away from him, and it’s announced that dinner and coffee will be served in the living room.

Alec stands stretching his arms up over his head and Magnus admires the ripple of his muscles as he does so before standing beside him. Alec reaches over the table picking up yet another glass of water and tossing it back with a loud unnecessary thirst quenched sound before holding out his hand to Magnus. Magnus takes it instantly with a smile following along as they head for the living room once again.

***

A waiter takes their dessert requests, a choice of six different types of pie as they file out of the large dining room.

Magnus selects the pumpkin pie, while Alec chooses the chocolate pecan.

“Pecan, gross,” Magnus says as they work their way over to one side of the room a little bit away from everyone else to have just a moment of reprieve.

“How dare you, pecan pie is delicious,” Alec says sounding outright offended.

Magnus rolls his eyes and crosses his arms making a face that screams Alec is insane to have that opinion.

“It’s all sugar, no substance,” Magnus says. He really shouldn’t be surprised Alec’s favorite pie is one as ridiculously sugar based as pecan considering the amount of sugar he witnessed him dump into his coffee a few days prior. Alec doesn’t even deign him with a response, he just gives him another affronted look like Magnus has insulted his entire being, not a pie.

Moments later a waiter hands them each their requested pies. Alec takes a bite of his pointedly making eye contact with Magnus as he does so and making a pleased obnoxious yum sound. Magnus just rolls his eyes again, amused as he takes a bite of his own pie.

“So, are you enjoying yourself so far this evening?” Magnus asks after a few minutes of companionable silence.

Alec pauses grabbing a coffee from a passing tray and taking a sip, he grimaces a bit at the black coffee before answering Magnus’ question. Out of the corner of his eye Magnus sees his father watching them, almost looking excited to see Alec drinking a coffee, probably hoping it will sober him up.

“Well, your father is kind of terrible, and all these people are exhausting,” he says gesturing with his fork to the room at large after he sits his coffee on the floor next to him. “But despite the fact she may be a little air headed Marissa is lovely and I get a kick out of making rich people as uncomfortable as possible, so it’s been a pretty good night thus far.”

He pauses taking a bite of his pie and looking at Magnus from underneath his thick dark lashes. “Plus, you know, you’re pretty good company as well,” he says tapping his fork to his lips.

Magnus slow blinks at him and smiles.

“You’re pretty good company as well, especially when you’re just being you, like right now, not the overstated bad boy, even if he is a good time,” Magnus says. He reaches out his empty fork and boops Alec on the nose with it, just because. Alec scrunches up his face adorably at the action.

“Well I like you being you too, though it’s kind of fun you’re playing into my whole act, most people just play the none the wiser partner,” Alec says before leaning down and drinking another glug of his coffee. He makes the same cute displeased face again as he swallows.

“Really? No one’s made it seem like you’ve turned them into a crazy bad boy too?” Magnus says surprised. He’s been having a pretty good time being a little more instigative around his father than he usually would be.

Alec shakes his head. “Not really, Dot tackling her family members was a bit of an outlier, and honestly they’re almost never guys.”

“So I’m your first fake boyfriend then, huh?” Magnus says oddly flattered about the possibility.

“Second actually, but still most of the time I get hired by women, there’s a comfort in knowing that your fake date won’t try to make a move,” Alec says taking the last bite of his sickeningly sweet pecan pie.

“I guess I didn’t have a problem with that prospect,” Magnus says smiling around his fork looking right into Alec’s pretty hazel eyes, all dark rimmed and intent on him.

“I guess you didn’t,” he says with a smile putting his empty plate and mug on a passing tray and leaning back comfortably.

Magnus joins him leaning over by one of the sprawling windows casually finishing off his pie looking up to see one of his father’s political friends, a 30 something councilman of some sort, staring at them nearby. Alec, the little devil, winks at him slow and seductive. The councilman bristles and his wife beside him gives Alec an evil stare.

Magnus laughs a little, thinking that’s it for that interaction when suddenly the click of heels approaches them.

“Did you just wink at my husband?” the woman all but screams at Alec causing him to jump up from his slouch against the windows. Her head shakes as she speaks, her clip-on earrings wobbling.

“I,” Alec starts, but she doesn’t let him get in a word before she’s tossing her glass of white wine right at him.

“Oh, shit,” he says surprised and laughing a bit as he scrubs at his face his already messy eyeliner getting even messier in the process.

“Listen, lady I had no intention, your husband was the one staring,” he shouts back sounding a little more drunk than he did at the dinner table, they weren’t planning on Alec picking a fight tonight, but it seems he’s rolling with the one presented to him.

“Why you little, you little-“ she basically shrieks her husband pulling at her arm trying to stop her from taking this any further. Magnus steps in in front of Alec, a stern look of shutting shit down that he learned from his father on his face.

“You will want to watch your next words very carefully, wouldn’t want your husband’s constituents hearing any bigoted language coming from his already,” Magnus pauses surveying her bejeweled dress that looks like she’s going to a bad 80’s themed prom. “Tacky wife.”

She looks angrier at that, but Magnus’ stern look seems to usher her away, allowing her husband to pull her from the room.

The room is dead silent all eyes on them.

“Alright,” Asmodeus’ voice booms, everyone turning his way. “Show’s over, nightcaps will be served by the barkeep in the library shortly why don’t you all head in there,” he says gesturing to the way of the library. He steps over to Magnus and Alec as does Marissa who instantly hands Alec a towel.

“She’s always been a stick in the mud with bad taste,” Marissa says showing her own dislike for the councilman’s wife. “You didn’t do a thing wrong.” She smiles at them both apologetically before linking her arm in Alec’s and pulling him the way of everyone else. Magnus moves to follow, but is stopped by a hand on his chest from Asmodeus.

“We need to talk,” he says leaving no room for argument. Alec looks back at him from where Marissa is still chattering happily to him, a clear question of if he needs to cause a scene to stay with Magnus in his eyes. Magnus waves him on, watching as they go.

He barely waits until Alec and Marissa are out of ear shot to start in on Magnus.

“I know he’s faking it,” Asmodeus says and that is not what Magnus was expecting. He plays dumb though raising his eyebrows in question.

“Don’t act like you don’t what I’m talking about, I’d venture to say from the looks you two share you know all about it as well. You just brought him here and put on this whole show to embarrass me,” Asmodeus continues with a disappointed sigh. “That man hasn’t had a drop of liquor tonight, every action he’s taken hasn’t been some alcohol fueled mistake it’s been purposeful. He’s probably the most sober person here tonight. As far as I’d guess aside from truly being the black sheep of his family name and that truly atrocious car nothing that’s happened here tonight has been real.”

And alright, yeah Magnus definitely wasn’t expecting this. He expected his father to rail on his choice of partner, to knock Alec’s character and behavior and maybe Magnus’ to boot as well. He didn’t expect him to know exactly what’s been going on all night.

“And before you ask how I figured it out, you really should have made sure your date kept better track of his finished glasses, after dinner he left one behind and it didn’t smell of the vodka we’ve all been convinced he’s been downing all night,” Asmodeus explains. “From there a quick search told me the name was at least true. His family really did cut him out judging from his complete disappearance from all events, not that I can blame them, anyone who behaves this atrociously without influence of alcohol just to play a game probably deserves to be cut off.”

Magnus huffs out an unamused laugh at the underlying implications of his statement.

“Is that a threat?” Magnus says steely eyed.

“It could be, if you don’t get him out of here right this instant and promise to never try anything even close to similar to this charade again,” Asmodeus says just as steely eyed and Magnus hates that he learned the look from him.

For a moment he considers just leaving, hightailing it out of there with Alec and not saying a single other word to his father, but he’s tired. He’s 30 and he’s been putting up with his father’s vague threats if he doesn’t play the good little son role since before he could talk practically and he’s just done.

“No, we won’t be leaving,” Magnus says holding his ground. “And as for this charade well I guess I can promise you nothing like this will ever happen again, because I’m done. I’m done playing some perfectly crafted son that I’m not, I’m done acting like we’re a happy little family, like you won’t get bored of poor, sweet Marissa in no time and there’ll be a new wife on your arm who you’ll pay just as little attention to.”

“You’re right, I did do this to embarrass you, to show those fucking fakes in there that you are the fakest amongst them, even more so than all of them combined. Alec may have been playing a role tonight, but he’s ten times more real than you could ever dream to be. Don’t worry about having to cut me off and making a whole big show of it, I haven’t needed you or your money in years,” Magnus says. He straightens out his shirt and stands with his head held high turning on his heel to join Alec in the library.

***

Magnus is frankly riding high on truly stepping up to his father for the first and likely last time in his life when he saunters into the library scanning around to find Alec. He spots him in the corner chatting with Marissa.

“There you are,” Alec says sounding genuinely concerned. Magnus just smiles at him hoping it looks more assuring than it feels.

Marissa reaches out patting him on the cheek lightly. “Don’t listen to whatever he said, he’s just jealous he’s not as outstanding as you,” she says with a smile.

Magnus is struck in that moment with how much his father doesn’t deserve her, she might be a lot to take sometimes, but she is a genuinely kind woman.

“Nor as outstanding as you,” Magnus says with a smile and she blushes at the compliment. He’s ready to follow that up by telling her that she should leave his father’s ass immediately before he gets the chance to toss her to the side, but someone calls out her name and she’s pulled away smiling at them as she goes.

“Ready for the grand finale?” Alec says as soon as Marissa steps away. The grand finale, right, Magnus and Alec had discussed giving one last show before they left for the night if they managed to make it all the way through dessert. And they have, everyone’s nursing nightcaps ready to exit for the evening, but clearly all lingering around to see if Alec does anything else embarrassing or outlandish before they go.

Mere moments ago Magnus was ready to just storm out of here with Alec at his side and maybe ask Alec if he fancied going on a real date for a late-night drink somewhere.

But now with his father storming into the room after him, glaring and judging, looking quite possibly the most upset he’s ever been with Magnus he can’t seem to find a reason to go just yet.

“Let’s do it,” he says and Alec smiles tossing back his water and acting as if there’s a nice vodka burn to it. He grabs a discarded fork from a table nearby and taps it on his now empty glass so hard that it chips just a bit earning everyone’s attention.

“Could I have everyone’s attention please,” he says sounding a little bit like he’s sobered up after the near fight with the councilman’s wife. Most of the room looks their way eagerly like they can’t wait to see what happens next, while a few others apprehensively turn their attention.

“I met this stunning man not all that long ago,” he says laying his hands lightly on Magnus’ shoulders. “But in that short time, I have realized that undisputedly there will never be another for me. From the moment we hooked up in the back of Cherry the night we met,” he says not elaborating at all on that sentence, earning the shocked gasps and confused looks of many. Marissa giggles, Asmodeus seethes not loving this new addition to their fake meet cute story even if he knows it’s all a ruse now. “I knew you were the one, so, Magnus Bane,” he continues on getting down on one knee he pulls the plain silver ring he’s been wearing all night on his middle finger off and presents it to Magnus. “Will you marry me?”

Magnus pretends to be shocked covering his mouth with a gasp. His eyes flit up to where his father stands, looking like he’s about to make some move to physically stop Magnus from answering Alec’s question, like he won’t survive the embarrassment of this room full of people knowing his sons engaged to a degenerate in messed up jeans even if he knows it’s not real. Magnus doesn’t give him the chance immediately looking down at Alec with glassy eyes.

“Yes, Alexander, yes,” he says no longer hiding his amused grin as Alec slips the ring on his finger and lifts up from the ground pulling Magnus into a crushing hug. The room claps tentatively, enthusiastically in Marissa’s case who it seems does not care how insane something is she just loves love. How she ever ended up married to his father, who only truly loves himself, his hardwood floors and his hair is a continual mystery.

“Wanna get the fuck out of here?” Magnus mumbles into Alec’s ear. Alec pulls back from their hug and nods enthusiastically.

“Do I have your permission to bridal carry you out of here?” Alec says lowly ensuring no one can hear him.

“Oh, hell yes,” Magnus says delightedly as Alec lifts him up and makes for the door.

“We’re gonna go celebrate in the back of Cherry again,” Alec announces proudly to the room as he goes. Magnus pats him on the shoulder guiding him to the coat closet where he quickly grabs their jackets, Alec never losing his grip on him.

Asmodeus shouts after them as they head out the door, Alec pausing at his car and planting Magnus down on the ground gently. He tugs at the door three times before it opens gesturing for Magnus to get in as he ignores his father’s bellowing shouts. Alec playfully salutes Asmodeus and slides over the hood of his car bumping into the Porsche beside him setting off it’s car alarm as he lands and slips into the driver’s seat quickly.

He starts the engine peeling out of the space just as Asmodeus reaches the front of the car. Magnus just blatantly ignores him only catching sight of Marissa standing in the door waving their way as they drive off.

***

The ride back is quiet for the first twenty minutes or so, music playing softly as Alec drives drumming his fingers along the steering wheel to the beat.

“My dad figured out you were faking it,” Magnus says with no preamble looking out the window as they go. The roads are mostly empty now people celebrating the holiday into the late hours with their families before waking up at 5 a.m. to Black Friday shop.

“Shit, there goes my Oscar,” Alec says eyes flashing to Magnus quickly with a laugh before focusing back on the road. Magnus chuckles in response.

“Well, it’s an honor just to be nominated,” Magnus smiles tilting his head towards Alec.

Alec snorts a little laugh then turns his head quickly to Magnus once again.

“Did your dad give you a lot of trouble about it?”

“He did, I don’t think I’ll be getting a Christmas invite after I railed back at him,” Magnus says. “But it’s okay. I think it was just a long time coming, bound to happen. Better to get it over with now before I wasted more years trying to seem like I’m something I’m not just to please him.”

Alec comes to a stop at a red light and turns his attention fully to Magnus.

“Are you okay? I mean shitty or not, having a parent cut ties isn’t easy, trust me I know,” he says. Magnus watches him enjoying the way the red of the stoplight cuts through his dark hair.

Magnus takes a deep breath and gives Alec a small assuring smile.

“I will be,” he says, truly meaning it. The fallout with his father is a lot, but he will be okay. He’s lived without his father being truly present in any form since the day his mother walked out on them, this new world where he’s likely all cut off isn’t anything new really. He’ll manage, hell he might even thrive without the chains of his father’s expectations weighing on him now.

The light turns green and they lapse back into comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, Magnus completely endeared as he listens to Alec mumbling the lyrics to every other song that comes on the radio under his breath.

When they pull up to the curb outside of Magnus’ house Alec steps out first ever the gentleman helping Magnus with the finicky passenger side door.

He holds out a hand helping Magnus out and smiles when he drops it shutting the door tight.

“Well, thank you for the free meal and the fun night of mischief,” Alec says leaning back against his Thunderbird. His eyeliner is a mess and there’s a faint dried spot along his white shirt stained from the wine incident, he looks beautiful under this streetlight and Magnus wants more night like this. Well maybe not exactly like this one, it’s been a bit of rollercoaster for him emotionally, but nights with Alec all the same.

“Go out with me,” he says not even framing it as a question. He knows Alec is interested too has seen it in the moments where he was just being himself and the appreciative glances he’s given Magnus all night that clearly weren’t just a part of the show he was putting on. And that doesn’t even cover their coffee the other day, the easy way they’d talked and just clicked right off the bat.

“For real, not a fake date or a bad boyfriend show, a real date,” Magnus clarifies when he notices Alec’s surprise.

“I’d like that a lot,” Alec says pushing off the car. He steps a little closer to Magnus leaving just a bit of distance for Magnus to clear if he wants. Magnus does want so he steps up not quite touching Alec, but close enough all he’d have to do is raise a hand. It feels almost like when they were in his father’s office tonight, but even better because they’re alone for real now, there’s no show and no chance of interruptions.

“I need the record to show that I literally never do this, not once, I haven’t even been interested, let alone made any sort of action to make something real out of one of these fake dates,” Alec says low and sincere keeping his eyes on Magnus’ the entire time making sure the words are clear. “You are entirely the exception.”

“Entirely exceptional, actually,” he adds on with a smile. Magnus smiles reaching out his hands to rest on Alec’s chest.

“So are you,” he says patting his hands twice where they rest. “And I believe you aren’t just doing this to pick up hot guys, no worries.” He says with a chuckle and Alec rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Alec asks.

“Nothing, no classes until next Tuesday and most of my friends are out of town for family dinners and what not. I’m as free as a bird,” he says blinking his eyes just a bit flirtatiously at Alec.

“Good, we should get dinner, no family, no bullshit, just us,” Alec says tentatively resting his hands on Magnus’ waist.

“I like the sound of that,” Magnus says lifting up to kiss Alec on the cheek softly just once before pulling back.

“I’ll text you with a time and place in the morning,” he says slowly stepping backwards holding Alec’s steady gaze as he goes. He turns just for a moment putting his key’s in the door and pushing it open before turning back. “Goodnight, Alexander.” He says and watches as Alec smiles a dazzling smile before rounding the car and opening the driver’s side door.

“Goodnight, Magnus,” he says before slipping into his car. Magnus watches with a smile as he pulls away from the curb, his bright red ridiculous Thunderbird speeding away. The smile doesn’t leave his face as he makes his way all the way up to his apartment, so much so that he’s pretty sure his cat is judging him all the way to bed.

***

One Year Later

Magnus’ phone buzzes insistently his ringtone blaring on the nightstand.

“Stop that,” he says weakly reaching out an arm to silence it, his hand falling to the nightstand and coming up empty once, twice, three times while it continues to ring. It’s far too loud and far too early on a holiday with no responsibilities for this.

A chuckle comes from above him and warmth reaches over brushing his fingers before gripping the phone and pulling back.

“Magnus Bane’s phone,” Alec answers his voice a little lower and rougher than usual from sleep. It’s a very nice sound. Magnus can’t hear who’s on the other end of the line, but when he flips over he sees Alec smile and perk up a bit leaning back against the headboard.

“Yeah it is Alec, it’s good to know you remember me, Marissa,” he says and Magnus raises an eyebrow he’s only heard from his father’s wife once since last Thanksgiving, an apologetic text on his father’s behalf. His father on the other hand hasn’t so much as sent a sternly worded email in that time.

“Yeah, he’s here, hold on sec,” Alec says, he lowers the phone offering it to Magnus who grumbles a bit lifting himself up and leaning against the headboard next to Alec.

“Hi, Marissa,” he says clearing his throat a bit.

“Magnus!” she shouts into his ear and he jumps back a bit, from the both the volume and from shock hearing that she’s finally dropped her terrible nickname for him. “I was glad to hear Alec answer the phone, I knew you two were a good match, even if it was all a show that night.”

“Ah,” Magnus says. “So father told you.”

“He did, but it doesn’t change that you two are the cutest,” she says. “Which speaking of your father,” she starts and Magnus is ready to shoot down any attempt at reuniting she’s trying to pull here. Marissa is a nice woman, but his father’s silence in the past year has spoken volumes, he’s not playing into a reconciliation he can’t even make the call for.

“I left him,” she says finishing her sentence. Magnus huffs out a little surprised laugh that Alec raises an eyebrow at, well good for her. “About a month ago and I know it’s incredibly short notice and you might have other plans, but I’m having a little Thanksgiving dinner of my own with a few friends this year and I’d love to see you. And Alec too, of course!”

Magnus smiles, they’d had a Friendsgiving slash one year anniversary celebration over the weekend with Raphael, Cat, Dot, Ragnor and Alec’s siblings, tonight’s plans were likely going to consist of Chinese takeout on the couch and making out. And while Marissa can be a lot she was always kind, and he can’t help but recall how supportive she’d been that night a year ago. He can’t find it in himself to turn down her offer because of it.

“We’d love to,” he says and Alec looks at him again in question. Magnus just waves a hand signaling he wait a moment for explanation. On the other end of the line Marissa claps excitedly.

“Yay!” she says. “I’ll text you my address, I’m in the city now so Alec might have to leave Cherry at home.”

Magnus laughs. “Oh, he might bring her anyways.”

He chats idly with Marissa for a few more minutes before disconnecting and promising they’ll be on much better behavior this year for dinner.

“Marissa left my father,” Magnus says as soon as he’s hung up and tossed his phone back on the nightstand. Alec smiles looking just as oddly proud for her as Magnus feels. “And we’re having Thanksgiving with her and some friends tonight.”

“Good for her,” he says flipping back the covers and getting out of bed. “Should I get out the eyeliner and torn up jeans for tonight just for old times’ sake, or no?”

He smirks standing gloriously naked in front of the dresser rustling through one of his drawers. His drawers. Magnus isn’t quite used to the lovely novelty of the fact that Alec lives with him now. It’s been about two months since they made it official and just seeing one of Alec’s crappy romance novels on the coffee table or his shitty leather jacket hanging in its permanent space in their closest still makes him feel all sorts of tingly.

Magnus hums in thought rising up from bed and moving to lean against the dresser beside Alec. He’d pay good money to get Alec to wear eyeliner more often frankly.

“I think you should bring both of those things out as often as you’d like,” he says reaching out a hand and cupping Alec’s cheek turning it towards him. The feel of Alec’s soft, shaven skin is something he also isn’t quite used to. For the first time in their year together he’d shaved off his beard entirely, completely out of the blue and for no other reason than he’d had a day off and was bored. He’s as handsome as ever, but Magnus had quite literally had to do a double take when he came home and saw Alec sitting on the couch.

“Do try and leave the illustrious tales of our sexual escapades at home this time though, darling,” he says with a smile. He’s mostly joking, but now that their sexual escapades are real and not fictionalized he’d like to keep them just between them.

“Damn, well there goes all my dinner conversation topics,” Alec says with a wicked little smile.

“Menace,” Magnus says as he slides his hand down from Alec’s face to his chest with a shake of his head.

Magnus runs his fingers lightly through the hair on Alec’s chest stopping to rest on the stark black tattoo on his lower abdomen. And boy hadn’t it been a blissful discovery to see that ink when he finally got Alec’s shirt off for the first time. He trails his fingers over the shape of it lightly, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“If you keep doing that we’ll never leave this room,” Alec says his lips tilting up in a little pleased smirk.

“Doing what?” Magnus says innocently still moving his fingers over the shape of the tattoo lightly.

“And you say I’m the menace,” Alec says leaning in to kiss him on the lips once hard and bruising. “We need to shower.” He says stepping away from Magnus. Magnus’s hand falls and he pouts laying it on a bit thick. Alec pointedly attempts to ignore it.

“Together?” Magnus says with a hopeful smile.

Alec rolls his eyes. “I feel like despite having literal hours to get ready we’ll end up late somehow if we do,” he says eyeing Magnus’ bare form appreciatively. “But there’s no way I can say no to that.”

Magnus smirks pushing himself off the dresser and right up against Alec.

“Damn straight,” he says before leaning in to lay a teasing, promising kiss on his lips.

“There is absolutely nothing straight about this,” Alec says with a toothy smile once he’s pulled back already tugging Magnus into the bathroom for their shower. Magnus laughs loud and bright as he’s dragged along.

***

Impossibly despite literal hours, Alec’s right, showering together does prolong the entire process of getting out of the apartment when showering becomes shower sex, which becomes another round on the bathroom counter which results in needing to shower again, separately this time much to both their dismays.

Eventually though, they’re dressed and ready. Magnus finishes up the last touches on his hair, adjusting the bright almost golden streak at the front of it which compliments the golden chained pattern of his shirt. He picks up the ring Alec fake proposed to him with last year and twists it onto his right-hand ringer finger with a smile. They obviously aren’t actually engaged, but increasingly lately Magnus finds himself thinking about making it real.

He gives himself one last once over in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom to find Alec sitting cross legged on their bed and Magnus is nearly sent back in time to a year ago.

He’s wearing the jeans and boots just like he had that night, his eyeliner is in place a little less messy but still unpracticed and his hair is its usual tussled self. The shirt is almost the same, this time it’s one Magnus gave him with subtle lines of shiny black at the collar and cuffs, the little black loops in his ears are a gift from Magnus as well.

It’s a perfect combination of that first night when they were a fake couple out to cause mayhem and the couple they are now, a royal we couple that are so deep in love Magnus has to just take a few breaths in sometimes to remember this is all real.

“Ready to go?” Alec asks looking up at Magnus with a smile. Magnus nods as Alec stands throwing on his leather jacket with the hole in it he refuses to fix. Magnus follows suit grabbing his own jacket and following Alec out as he grabs his keys and wallet scratching the heads of both cats curled up on the back of the couch as he goes.

“We could take the subway you know?” Magnus says once they’re in the elevator, Alec twirling the keys to his Thunderbird around his finger.

Alec scrunches up his face adorably. “No way,” he says gesturing for Magnus to step out first when they reach the lobby. “Cherry helping us fight through Thanksgiving traffic is gonna be a lifelong tradition for us.”

Lifelong Magnus likes the sound of that, but he is dubious that Alec’s precious car will last anywhere near that long.

Alec rushes to the car parked proudly and loudly right in front of their building unlocking it and pulling four times on the passenger door before getting it open.

He smiles at Magnus gesturing with an overstated bow for him to get in and Magnus rolls his eyes but can’t seem to hide his smile and Alec knows it. He shuts the door once Magnus is in and in a move reminiscent of their escape from his father’s last year slides over the hood before slipping into his own seat and starting the car driving off to a much better Thanksgiving than the year before.

#my fic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec fic

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talesfromatabletop · 5 years ago

Text

RP Headcanons: DC Edition, pt 1

Batfam

Bruce cares, tries, and fails, but generally keeps trying for his kids.

Baby Terry McGinnis is the cutest thing ever and his dinosaur t-shirts reinforce this.

Slade Wilson - terrible person, great assassin, loving (if strict) parent.

Dick and Bruce fight constantly! Once Dick gets mad about something, everything makes him more angry until he and Bruce eventually resolve the first problem. It's sometimes big stuff... sometimes really petty shit.

Steph loves waffles. She will trade Tim for a 4-stack with chocolate chips.

Everybody wants to pair with Bruce on Gotham patrols. He gets the best fights and he brings snacks in the belt - it's a 50/50 if it's protein bars or trail mix, though.

Nobody wants to pair with Bruce on Gotham patrols. He won't let you make Social Media posts or stop for a hotdog at Rico's corner stand.

Jason and Dick actually fight a lot, still. Jason knows how to push Dick's buttons and he uses that as a self-defense tactic when he doesn't want to talk. ("Get Dick mad and he won't ask if I'm okay!")

Cass loved Steph before Steph loved Cass. Stephanie figured it out... eventually.

Lucius Fox only helps with the really weird shit because Bruce trades him Alfred's secret holiday recipes sometimes. Alfred's recipes are the true treasures of Earth.

Duke does his best not to get swept up in the weird, wild lives of his batsiblings tbh.

Tim doesn't babysit, he gets babysat.

Ace is the Good Boy™ but he will try and take Krypto down.

Titus is trained, we swear, but he's goofier than a ferret on drugs sometimes. 10/10 derp.

Sometimes Dami gives Batcow walks through the garden to help her relax.

Every Batfam member will stab the other for the last piece of Ma Kent's apple pie. Even Alfred.

Superfam

90s Kon and YJ Kon both deserve to exist. What better combo than the Insta-famous, outgoing showboat and the blunt, introverted buffbaby?

YJ Kon is way more of a "Conner" than 90s Kon. 90s Con is now "Carter."

Carter + Tim = Flashy Disaster Couple

Conner likes Wally's freckles.

Ma and Pa Kent accept any and all grandkids, time-travel or dimension-hopping be damned because "They're our boys, now, Clark, of course we want to see them!", and there are family trips to the farm.

Clark will bribe his friends and teammates with his mother's cooking. He can't bribe with his own, though, because he's terrible at it.

Jon would happily fly to Gotham for dinner before eating what his father burned made for them.

Krypto would probably go, too.

Clark doesn't know what to do with all of his sons but at least they aren't like his cousins.

"It's not about whether the boob window would look good or not, guys! It isn't happening!" is still something he's had to say before, though, and Clark's mildly ashamed of it.

With three superboys up to bat, the real issue is that none of them want to share the name. Jon had it first and that's fine with his brothers, really. Conner looks and feels like practically an adult, so he's meh about it. Carter wants something catchier to say. The result? Superboy, Kon and Rao.

Jor-El had a conniption when Carter named himself "Rao" as a hero. "You named yourself after OUR GOD?!? You disrespectful little-!"

Lex thought it was hilarious.

The boys are constantly in the background of Carter's posts and there's a few Insta vids of Lex trying and failing to hide that he's mildly amused by his son's shenanigans.

Flashfam

Barry is face-blind (has prosopagnosia). He can gradually memorize specific elements of a person's face ("Uh... Ollie's hair is like mine, right? So he's blond! And I know he has facial hair.") but has trouble associating them together unless he's had long periods of exposure to the person.

Wally is a nervous bundle of anxiety. All of the time.

Barry is practically incapable of looking on the dark side of things, and tends to believe the best of people - this extends to his villains.

Cisco is his bro, Caitlin is like the ditzy aunt, and Harrison is the exasperated father-figure that just wishes his kids didn't drink so much coffee.

Speaking of coffee - Barry doesn't drink it on the job. It makes him antsy.

Captain Boomerang - Digger, to his friends - is always on the edge of getting out of the game. Raising Owen ("Little Diggs") is a higher priority than his Rogues work. He waivers between retirement and always that "last" job that'll set him up to take care of his son.

Little Diggs is too pure for this world, and a fan of Flash even though he knows his father is a villain.

Wally isn't as forgiving with the Rogues as Barry is. This is especially true for Heatwave, Glider and Cold, since they've all double-crossed the Flash before.

Cold isn't fond of Kid Flash. Barry earns his respect and, in some ways, his admiration - this doesn't extend to Flash's smartassed sidekick.

Lisa and Mick are a surprisingly functional duo despite their dysfunctional dynamic. Lisa is generally in charge in their relationship, and Mick knows Len would ice him if he ever raised a hand to Lisa.

Len and Mick are best friends, despite the friction from their clashing personalities.

Lisa keeps pushing Len to either date or pick a favorite hooker - anything to get him laid and chilled out for once.

Len is practically addicted to puns. Not even just cold- or ice-related puns, either! He will make puns out of anything when given an opportunity, and genuinely is amused by them.

Arrowfam

Oliver is never in control of his daily life. He's barely in control of his personal choices most of the time.

Felicity runs it all - the team, the company, organizing his assignments from the League... everything other than doing the hard stuff herself.

Ollie really is a capable hero, but he doesn't believe it. He also doesn't particularly believe that the League needs or wants him there, but couldn't tell you why exactly they keep him, then, if questioned about it.

Roy has totally given up the flash and mystique of heroism tbh. Trucker hat? Check. Bow, arrows, and backup guns? Check. Flip-flops? All the better to chase people with. The slapslapslap of justice will strike terror in the hearts of muggers everywhere.

Oliver spoils Lian relentlessly.

Artemis is glad to avoid the weird shit that Roy and his clones get up to when Ollie isn't paying attention. She's never been more thankful that she isn't one of the adopted sidekicks.

Jim: Big, friendly, easily guilt-tripped, the pretty one.

Will: Mature, down-to-earth, does the guilt-tripping, the mom/dad friend.

Roy: Trash, amger!!!, can't be guilt-tripped but can be blackmailed, has no clue what he wants in life yet.

Lian will either murder you in your sleep or you are now a member of her family. There is no in-between.

No pets. Ever. They will get shot with an arrow by accident and nobody in the house is willing to deal with that emotional burden.

Oliver wants exactly 0 people in the "Arrowfam" but will kill you and/or himself over losing any member of his Arrowfam.

#dc comics #headcanon #dc headcanon #there is so much more #snippets with Azzy

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back-and-totheleft · 4 years ago

Text

“I’m not sure I’ve modified my thinking”

“It’s a strange place, England,” Oliver Stone informs me at the start of our Zoom call. “You’ve managed to make it worse than it was,” he says, speaking from his home in Los Angeles. “You’ve turned it into World War Two with your attitudes over there. The English love punishment, it’s part of their make-up.”

You sure know how to break the ice, Mr Stone. It’s a slightly galling accusation, given that he has hitched his wagon to Russia, hardly a paragon of enlightenment. The New York-born writer-director has never shied from ruffling feathers, though. Stone has taken on the American establishment to thrilling effect in his movies, from Platoon to Born on the Fourth of July, JFK to W, Salvador to Snowden, and still emerged with three Oscars. And he has admiringly interviewed a string of figures whose relations with Uncle Sam have rarely been cosy, including Fidel Castro, Hugo Chávez and Vladimir Putin. Those had more mixed receptions, as has his support for Julian Assange.

Yet at 74 he is still a thorn in the side of the military-industrial complex and is set to remain one for some time, having just had his second shot of Covid vaccine. This being Stone, he got his jab in Russia. A recent trial showed the Sputnik V vaccine he was given to have 92 per cent efficacy and he’s palpably delighted. Angry too, of course. “It’s strange how the US ignores that. It’s a strange bias they have against all things Russian,” he says. “I do believe it’s your best vaccine on the market, actually,” he adds, sounding weirdly Trump-like.

If his bullishness is still intact, Stone reveals a more vulnerable side in his recent memoir, Chasing the Light. The book, which he discusses in an online Q&A tonight, goes a long way to explaining his distrust of government, society and, well, pretty much everything. There are visceral accounts of him fighting in Vietnam, and fighting to get Salvador and Platoon made. “The war was lodged away in a compartment, and I made films about it,” he says. “Sometimes I have a dream that I’ve been drafted and sent back there.”

The crucial event in the book, though, is his parents’ divorce when he was 15. Stone realises now that his conservative Jewish-American father and glamorous French mother were ill-suited. Both had affairs. What really stung was the way he was told about their split: over the phone by a family friend while he was at boarding school. “It was very cold, very English,” he says. “I say English because everything about boarding school invokes the old England.” He’s really got it in for us today.

With no siblings, he says, “I had no family after that divorce. It was over. The three of us split up.” His world view stemmed from his parents being in denial about their incompatibility, he writes in the book: “Children like me are born out of that original lie. And nobody can ever be trusted again.”

That disillusionment took a few years to show itself. “All of a sudden, I just had a collapse,” Stone says. He had been admitted to Yale University but his father’s alma mater suddenly felt like part of the problem. He felt suicidal and sidestepped those thoughts by enlisting to fight in Vietnam, putting the choice of him dying into other hands.

The Stone in the book was described by one reviewer as his most sympathetic character. “It’s true probably because it’s a novel,” he says. Well, technically it’s an autobiography, but it’s a telling mistake. Fact and fiction can blur in his work, from the demonisation of Turks in Midnight Express (he wrote the screenplay) to the conspiracy theories in JFK.

Writing the book allowed him to put himself into the story, something he says he’s never been able to do in his films. He has tried. He wrote a screenplay, White Lies, in which a child of divorce repeats his parents’ mistakes, as Stone has. “I had two divorces in my life [from the Lebanese-born Najwa Sarkis and Elizabeth Burkit Cox, who worked as a “spiritual advisor” on his films] and I’m on my third marriage, which I’m very happy in.” He and Sun-jung Jung, who is from South Korea, have been together for more than 25 years. They have a grown-up daughter, Tara, and he has two sons, Sean and Michael, from his marriage to Cox.

White Lies is on ice for now. “It’s hard to get those kinds of things done,” Stone says wearily. Will he make another feature? It’s been documentaries recently, the last two on the Ukraine. “I don’t know. It’s a question of energy. In the old days, there would be a studio you’d have a relationship with, and they’d have to trust you to a certain degree. And that doesn’t exist any more.”

He thinks back to the big beasts of his early years. Alan Parker, who directed Midnight Express; John Daly, who produced Salvador and Platoon; Robert Bolt, who taught him about screenwriting. “Those three Englishmen had a lot to do with my successes,” he says. I think he feels bad about all the limey bashing. “John was a tough cockney, but I liked him a lot.” He liked him more than Parker, whom he describes as “cold” with a “serious chip on his shoulder.” He smiles. “Sure. Alan did a good job with Midnight Express, though.”

You wonder if Netflix could come to Stone’s rescue. They have given generous backing to big-name directors, from David Fincher to Martin Scorsese, Stone’s old tutor at NYU film school. Surely they would welcome him? “Well, that’s why you’re not in charge! Netflix is very engineering driven. Subject matter such as [White Lies] might register low on a demographic.”

Isn’t he also working on a JFK documentary, Destiny Betrayed? That could do better with the Netflix algorithms. “I’m having problems with that too. Americans were so concerned with Trump, I don’t know that they wanted to hear about some of the facts behind the Kennedy killing. They don’t recognise that there’s a connection between 1963 and now, that pretty much all the screws came loose when they did that in ’63.” He smiles. “I know you think I’m nuts.”

Well no, but you do wonder at his unwavering conviction that there was a conspiracy to murder Kennedy, probably involving the CIA. JFK is a big reason why a majority of Americans believe in a conspiracy and, according to Stone, led to the establishment of the Assassination Records Review Board, which he claims is “the only piece of legislation in this country that ever came out of a film.”

Yet several serious studies, including a 1,600-page book, Reclaiming History, by the former prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi, conclude that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. That book accused Stone of committing a “cultural crime” by distorting facts in JFK. “I feel like I’m in the dock with Bugliosi. I didn’t like his book at all,” Stone says. “Believe me, you cannot walk out of [his forthcoming documentary] and say Oswald did it alone. If you do, I think you’re on mushrooms.”

Stone knows whereof he speaks regarding psychedelics. On returning from Vietnam he was “a little bit radical” in his behaviour, he says: drugs, womanising, hellraising. He recently took LSD for the first time in years. “It was wonderful,” he says. He hallucinated that he was “moving from island to island on a little boat”.

What was radical in the Seventies can be problematic now. He has been accused of inappropriate behaviour by the model Carrie Stevens and the actresses Patricia Arquette and Melissa Gilbert. “As far as I know I never forced anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do,” he says. Has he modified the way he behaves around women? “Oh sure, no question.”

At the same time, he is disturbed by “the scolding going on, the shaming culture. I don’t agree with any of that. It’s like the Chinese Cultural Revolution. It scares the shit out of me. I do think the politically correct point of view will never be mine.”

He’s not a slavish follower of conspiracy theories — QAnon “sounds like nonsense”, he says, as was the theory that Donald Trump was “a Manchurian candidate for the Russians. That was a horrible thing to do and it hurt that presidency a lot. I’m not an admirer of Trump by any means, but he was picked on from day one.”

What does he make of Joe Biden? “I voted for him, not because I liked him, but as an alternative to Trump’s disasters. He’s got a far more merciful humanitarian side. But he also has a history of warmongering.” Fake news, he says, has “always happened”, in the east and west, on the left and the right. “I mean, back in the Cold War, the US was saying Russia was lying and Russia was saying the US was lying. Each one of these wars the US has been involved in was based on lies.”

It sounds as if Stone has been on the Russian Kool-Aid himself. He is making a documentary, A Bright Future, about climate change that advocates pursuing nuclear power in the short term, and has visited some Russian nuclear plants. They are “very state-of-the-art,” he says. “The US is not really pursuing the big plants, the way Russia and China are. I believe in renewables, but they’re not going to be able to handle the capacity when India and Africa and all these countries come online wanting electricity.”

Putin liked the interviews Stone did with him in 2017, he says. “I think they contributed to his election numbers.” Wasn’t he too easy on the Russian leader? “That’s what some say. But I got his ire up. I did ask him some tough questions about succession. ‘I think you should leave’ — that kind of stuff. The pressure that Russia is under from both England and the US is enormous,” he adds. “Unless you’re there I don’t know that you understand that. Because you take the English point of view, and they have been very anti-Soviet since 1920. You talk about fake news — I feel that way about MI5 and MI6.”

You can’t help but admire Stone’s conviction. If he’s modified his behaviour that’s probably a good thing, but as he says, “I’m not so sure I’ve modified my thinking. I express myself freely. I don’t want to feel muzzled.” Whatever you think of him, be grateful he hasn’t been.

-Ed Potton, “You talk about fake news. I feel that way about MI5 and MI6,” The Times of London, Feb 8 2021 [x]

#oliver stone #chasing the light #the times of london #ptsd #the vietnam war #russia #Trump #joe biden #politics #vaccine

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my-one-true-l · 6 years ago

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the wammy boys(besides beyond) turning evil for tragic reasons? I'd love you to try writing microfics of this! ^^

Hello Dear Anon! I am so sorry these took so long! I Hope you enjoy! 🖤

CW: guns, drugs, violence, murder, betrayal…it’s all in there.

L looked out the window at the snowflakes drifting heavily to the ground, coating everything in white. He kept the lights off to assure no glare would interrupt the only calm he was able to find.

The manilla envelope lay on the desk, mocking him with its contents sprawled across the cold, hard surface.

The words “Insufficient evidence” and “unreliable witnesses” stared up at him, as well as “suspects released” and “no arrests made”. But there were two words, ten simple letters that taunted him the most. “Case closed”.

The photos of the crime scene were like a dream he couldn’t quite remember, familiar yet distorted. They brought him right back to the day he convinced himself never happened, that it was nothing more than a memory of a child’s overactive imagination.

The once comforting click of dress shoes alerted him to Watari’s presence.

“L, why are you sitting in the dark?” Watari’s smile faded as his eyes landed on the envelope. “Where did that come from?”

“It doesn’t matter how I obtained it.” His voice, angry and hollow. “This entire time you knew who they were and you kept it from me.” His tones, biting and accusatorial towards the man he had grown to love like a father.

“You were just so young and when you were old enough…I didn’t want you to ever have to think about it again.” The older man stumbled over the words as they left his mouth.

L scowled at him. “It was all a lie. I trusted you. I trusted you and you betrayed me.”

“I didn’t betray you, my boy. I couldn’t tell you.”

“No, Watari. You chose not to tell me.” Turning his back to his once trusted guardian, L headed towards the door.

“Where are you going? L, please. I will tell you anything you want to know. Just stop. Please.”

L slowly turned to face him.“So now you decide I deserve the truth? This wasn’t a traditional lie adults tell children to manipulate their actions, Watari. You knew who killed my parents. You knew and didn’t tell me. All this time…I could have found a way…”

“You can find a way to catch them now. I will help you. Every resource I have will be at your disposal.” Watari pleaded.

“My resources are already at my disposal. I’ve already located them and rectified the situation. They will never see the sun rise again.” The shadows under his eyes became a physical manifestation for the darkness that had attached itself to him.

“L, just promise me you will come back once you’ve made peace with this.”

“Heh, You will never see me again, Watari. I’ve already erased myself from the system. Attach yourself to one of my ‘successors’. I can’t trust my identity to you anymore. L is dead, as is Coil and Deneuve.”

“But you are L.”

“No, I am Justice.”

Near

“Nathan River released from prison on a technicality.”

Near raises the remote and aims it at the screen. With a simple push of a button, he eliminates the image. He doesn’t need to rewind it. He doesn’t need to ever see it again. Every bit of it was burned into his mind.

The coverage was all over the news, although all he needed was a tip from Gevanni that it had happened.

Near, a living apparition in grey and white tones, was now painted in black.

“Rester?” Near summoned his handler. “Initiate the procedures I had you put into place in the event this day ever came.” His words, calm and focused as always, were now laden with a cold-bloodedness that neither man had ever witnessed before.

“Near…are you sure?” Gevanni cautiously questioned him.

“Yes.”

Rester left and returned momentarily with a small treasure chest. It looked like nothing more than a child’s toy, a prop used when playing pirate.

But it was much more than that.

Rester hands it to Near.

“The key please.” Without looking up from the locked box, Near holds up a hand and waits expectantly for his request to be fulfilled.

It was Gevanni’s turn to leave and return with the required object, dropping it into the young man’s hand.

Without hesitation, he unlocks the chest and removes a small piece of paper and a pen. It all looked so harmless unless you knew what it was.

“Near, are you absolutely certain? You cannot undo it once you write his name.”

“Yes, I’m certain.” Near scratches his father’s name onto the small and unassuming piece of paper. “Just like he couldn’t undo killing my mother.”

Mello

“How did you get in here?” Roger Ruvie demanded into the atmosphere of his office.

Mello turned in Roger’s desk chair to face the old man. In his hand he gripped a file marked “Mihael Keehl”, a name that felt like it belonged to someone else, someone that never existed.

“You bastard!” Mello exploded at him as he slammed the file down on Roger’s desk.

“Mello, the records at Wammy’s House are not for-“

“I don’t give a shit who or what they’re for. Did you do it just to keep me here? For me to be competition for Near?”

“What are you going on about?”

“My parents are alive, you fuck. Alive.” Mello pounded both fists angrily on top of his file. “And it says here that they wanted me back, but you wouldn’t release me to them.”

“Mello, you have to understand, when a child is surrendered to Wammy’s, they are legally our responsibility until they’re 18.”

“Don’t give me this shit. You let me leave at 14! Why? Why didn’t you let me go back home?”

“Because they were unfit. Always in trouble. The entire reason you ended up here was because they were put in jail. You were rebellious enough without their influence. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Were you also protecting me from the money that you were getting from the “pretend” cases you had me and Near working on?”

“That money is used for the orphanage.”He was quick with his explanations and it was push Mello to his limits.

“Well, Roger, while you were busy running an orphanage and concerning yourself with my well-being, I could have been with my family instead of ending up like this.” Mello dragged a leather-gloved hand down his scar. “and now to make up for it, you’re going to tell me where they are.”

“I can’t do that. You willingly left Wammy’s. We are under no obligation to disclose anything to you.”

“Ok, have it your way.”

Mello got up and headed towards the door, but to Roger’s surprise, he shut and locked the them inside the room. Mello slowly stalked towards him.

“What are you doing?” Roger backed away from Mello until he was against the office wall.

Mello reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his 9mm and wrapped a finger around the trigger. “The information.”

“It-it’s over in th-that cabinet,” Roger stammered, suddenly terrified of the young man as he should have been all along.

Mello shot the lock off the cabinet causing Roger to flinch at the clang of metal on metal. Within minutes, he had the file he need.

“Thank you Roger, now let me repay your kindness.”

With an unwavering conviction, Mello aimed at Roger and pulled the trigger.

Matt

“Stupid fuck.” It was an understatement of gigantic proportions, but Matt had no other words for him. He crushed the cigarette butt into the dashboard as he stared out the window at the rundown apartment building. It looked like where he imagined he would have grown up if he had not ended up at Wammy’s.

He had been staking the place out for hours now, but never getting a glimpse of his target. Matt knew he wasn’t giving him a second thought, just like he didn’t when he was small. After all, he wasn’t Matt’s father. Why would he have ever given a shit about what would have happened to him? He was just an annoyance to be ignored.

Matt understood this. He could even forgive this to some extent. He learned a long time ago nothing was owed to anyone and there was no such thing as a guarantee.

But what he couldn’t forgive is that this bastard watched as his mother overdosed, too concerned with himself to get the help she needed. He wasn’t just high. He supplied her with all the heroine she could ever want as long as she let him hide his product in her crappy little apartment and lie for him if the cops ever came around.

None of it mattered. When they found her, needle still hanging from the flesh just below the bend of her arm, they searched from top to bottom and found everything he was hiding there, the only thing in that apartment he ever cared about. He was charged with possession of a narcotic with intent to distribute and involuntary manslaughter.

He had let her die for nothing. The value the jury put on her life? A mere 14 years without parole.

Now Matt was less than 50 yards from him.

He didn’t care that he served his time. He didn’t care that he had paid for her death. There was no price that was high enough.

Except for one.

Matt reached into the glove box and pulled out the Glock 19 he had hidden there. He checked the clip one last time before stepping into the streets. With a determination never before known to him, he approached the apartment. Wrapping his knuckles hard against the door, he raised the gun to chest level as he heard the doorknob turn…

#Death Note #L Lawliet #Nate River #Mihael Keehl #Mail Jeevas #L #Near #Mello #Matt #DN #Ask #Answered #Anonymous #death note headcanons

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niiwa-angel · 6 years ago

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Late At Night

// Authors Note. mentions of child abuse, bed wetting, and hospitalization, if this offends you this story isn’t for you. also I’m not law major nor a doctor so take any medical or legal things in here with a grain of salt. This story also has a same sex couple, if this is going to make you scream at me, kindly piss off. requests and feed back are always welcome.//

The house was quiet, the street outside ethereally silent except for the distant sounds of the busy city still wide awake despite the hour, somewhere between very late or very early and entirely dependent on who was asked. A lone car driving on the empty suburban street broke the silence as the driver slowly took the curve, watching for any neighborhood pets that may be patrolling the area. While the outside was quiet, the inside of the car certainly wasn’t, as the driver’s music was turned up to fifteen while Queens “We Will Rock You” blasted from the speakers of the small car. Hal Jordan mouthed along to the lyrics of his favorite song, removing a hand from the wheel to massage his left eye as he slowly backed into his driveway, shutting the music off before opening the door. “The last thing I want is to wake the neighborhood.” He muttered to himself, pulling his military bag out from its place in the backseat. He knew that Ms. Earwood across the street would lecture him for hours if he were to let the sound of his music escape the confines of the car, her white hair pulled into a severe bun and her hobbled gait always reminded Hal of the old lady who always protected tweedy bird in looney tunes, is that woman was a busy body who found his “lifestyle” a detriment to society as a whole. Hal flung his bag over his shoulder while he fumbled with his keys, finally finding the one that opened the front door and pushing his way into the dark entryway, careful not to trip on the shoes littering the floor.

“I thought I told Wally to keep his shoes in the closet.” he whispered to himself with a quiet chuckle as he set his bag on the floor near the door. ‘I’ll fix that at a decent hour, right now I need food, a shower and my bed!’ he thought, making his way to the kitchen. There wasn’t much in the fridge, which wasn’t much of a surprise with two speedsters with accelerated metabolism living in the house and one of them was only eight, so he was always hungry. ‘And a real pain to keep up with.’ He mused, remembering how many times he almost lost his adopted nephew at various public locations, but he managed to find a bowl of pasta, which he tossed in the microwave and grabbed a glass of water to wait for the food to be warm. As an afterthought, he decided to check on the sleeping patrons in the house, heading to the master bedroom first, pushing the door forward a little to peek in at the disheveled mess of blond hair on the pillow before moving to the red door down the hall. Hal made sure to step lightly near his nephews room, Wally was a very light sleeper, an unfortunate left over from his time in his parents care. Hal didn’t know entirely what went down in that house only that his husband had gotten a call from his sister, Iris, that Wally was in the hospital and the doctors needed his closest relatives there.

//Flash Back//

He had thrown together an overnight bag for himself and Barry before driving the hour long trip to the hospital in Kansas City from Central in about 45 minutes, probably breaking every traffic law in the state to get to the little boy that meant to such to both men. Hal had been expecting a car accident, or a random kitchen disaster that had put the whole family in the hospital, instead they saw little Wally, dwarfed by the large hospital bed, in a medically induced coma to try and reduce the swelling in his brain from a blow to the head from his own father. It had been a hard day until the doctors brought Wally out of the coma, and then Barry and Iris had to have a serious discussion about who would take care of Wally, as no one was letting their sweet, kind hearted nephew go into the harsh treatment that is the American Foster Care system, Iris stressed that because of her job, she would be an unreliable guardian, so it was Barry and Hal who had adopted Wally into their home. Currently, Rudolf West was serving a fifteen year battery and assault charge as well as a twenty year attempted murder, which their lawyer had gotten tacked on and was able to convince the jury of, their lawyer was an anonymous gift from a not so local bat, as well as making sure that Hal and Barry won the custody case.

It had taken months to get Wally to adjust to their home, random things seemed to set him off into a panic, he wouldn’t eat unless given expressed permission even if the food was placed right in front of him, and any time either Hal or Barry raised their voices even just in a joking conversation the boy would start to get twitchy. After speaking to a specialist, they learned that these were likely knee jerk reactions that had probably once been the difference between getting hit and being safe, and given that those were his only tools he knew how to use, he was still using them, so Hal and Barry had to learn to look a little closer to see what spooked their nephew. For Barry, it was easier, he looked closely at things for a living, and soon recognized that Wally reacted to hand expressions, raised voices and the garage door opening and had started to work on reconditioning these things from bad to good.

Hal on the other hand, had some difficulty, it had often seemed like Wally had liked Barry better then him. It wasn’t until he noticed that there were some similarities between them that to an adult might not seem like much, but to a child were crucial. Hal liked to have a beer when he came home, Wally’s dad had often been drinking before or during a beating, Hal hooked his right thumb in his belt as his comfortable standing position, Wally’s dad stood like that before using his belt as a weapon, Hal raised his hands when he was passionate about what he was talking about, Wally’s dad raised his hands to do harm. It had taken a lot of time and patience before Wally had even spoken above a whisper to his uncles. The first time Wally asked to be held had been eight and a half months into living with them and Hal had let Wally see his tears, let him see how it wasn’t shameful to show emotions, and had sat with Wally in his arms for a solid hour, just holding him to his chest, tucked firmly under his chin.

//Back to Present//

The nest of red hair mixed well with the bright red of the room, Hal could see that Wally was curled onto his side, facing away from the door and knew that his nephew likely had his batman plushy tucked into his arm. With a soft smile, Hal closed the door and went back downstairs to eat his pasta. Fifteen minutes later, Hal made his way up the stairs and was about to push his way into the master bedroom when he saw a light coming from down the hall. Slowly making his way to the door from which it was coming from, Hal could make out soft sobs from behind it, knocking gently, he heard a scared gasp and a quiet “yes.” Hal slowly opened the door to see Wally sitting up, tears streaming down his face and his bedside lamp turned on, making his way over to the young boy’s bed. “Hey Hot-Rod.” He whispered, taking a seat on the edge of the foot of the bed. Wally bit his lip. “Hey Uncle Hal. I uh, I didn’t know you were home.” “I wasn’t till about half an hour ago.” “Oh.” Wally mused, looking down at his hands. Hal knew that look, it was the “I’m really uncomfortable and would like you to either skip to the point or leave me alone” face. Deciding on the primary, Hal bit the bullet. “Why are you awake Hot-Rod?” he asked, making sure to look authoritative but not intimidating. Wally squirmed a little and the muttered. “I, I had a bad dream.” “What about?’ Hal asked, despite having a pretty good idea what about. “About dad, he was yelling,” Wally sobbed, hiccuping slightly, “He was saying I was a, a mis- mistake. And that no one would ever want me, and that I’m a bad kid!”

Hal inhaled deeply, he wanted to rant, to tell his kid that his father was a piece of shit alcoholic whose brain was too destroyed by his own habits to have an intelligent thought. But that wouldn’t help Wally, so instead he put his hand on his boy’s shoulder, ensuring he had his full attention. “Listen to me Wallace West, you are not unwanted. You’re Uncle Barry and I love you so, so much. It would break our hearts if we ever lost you. And you may make mistakes from time to time, but that does not make you a bad kid, everyone makes mistakes, very few of them make people unlovable.” Hal really wished that this conversation were happening at a better hour because his brain was basically pudding, but the message seemed to get through to Wally because the kid nodded.

“Anything else on your mind squirt? Anything you need off your chest?” Hal pushed, and instantly Wally went pale and started to stammer.

“Promise you won’t be mad?” he asked, knowing on his lip again.

“I promise kiddo.” Wally seemed to relax a little and took a little breath.

“I, I wet the bed. I’m really sorry Uncle Hal, it was an accident, I won’t do it again, I pro-“ Hal raised a hand to cut off Wally’s rambling.

“It’s alright love, it was an accident, it happens to everyone at some point. Let’s get you cleaned up okay?” Wally nodded, and Hal slipped his hands under Wally’s arms, hoisting him up onto his hip, before grabbing a fresh pair of pajamas from his drawers. Hal took Wally to the bathroom and drew him a small bath, just around three inches of warm water.

“Okay kid, if you get yourself cleaned up, I’ll get your sheets in the washer and they should be okay for tomorrow, Okay?” Hal asked, receiving a small nod from the young redhead.

Hal quickly stripped the bed, throwing everything into the washing machine and setting a timer for it before returning to the bathroom. He knocked to announce himself, and slowly stepped in. Wally was wrapped in a fluffy towel on the floor, eyes half shut and his head drooping, Hal laughed and went over to support him

. “Hey Hot-Rod. Let’s just get you into some PJ’s and then you can sleep in okay?” He got a small nod in return, and helped dry the child off and step into some warm Flash pajamas. Scooping Wally up, he carried him to the master bedroom, which dismayed Wally a bit.

“But my room is over there.” He slurred, his arm moving lazily to point to his door. Hal smiled and rubbed his back. “I know kiddo, but it’s late and I really don’t want to have to make a bed, so I was thinking we could just have a sleep over. Alright?” Hal didn’t get a verbal response, just Wally curling closer to him, which he took as a yes. Hal turned to use his back to push open the bedroom door, quietly walking to the bed and drawing the covers back and placing Wally against Barry, before tucking both of them in and turning to the on suite bathroom. “Where are you going?” Wally rasped from his place in the bed, big green eyes peeking out from the pearly comforter. “I just gotta shower and change Hot-Rod, then I’ll be right there.” Wally nodded and laid his head down, while Hal went to take a shower.

//Ten minutes Later//

Hal exited the bathroom while shaking out his damp hair, he had changed from his civvies into a pair of boxer shorts. Looking into his bed he almost laughed out loud at the sight of Wally, curled into Barry’s arms, while Barry had a protective hand on the back of Wally’s head. Hal carefully slipped into the covers just as Barry opened his eyes. “Hey.” “Hey yourself.” Hal whispered. “There’s a Wally I our bed.” Barry teased, bringing the hand that wasn’t on Wally’s head over the boy to latch onto Hal’s. “There is a Wally in out bed.” Hal agreed, pulling his lover and their kid closer to him, tucking Wally beneath his chin, and touching his forehead with Barry’s. “Is he okay?” Barry whispered, his breath teasing the red locks of hair in front of him. “He will be Love, it’ll take some time, but he’ll be okay.” Hal pressed a kiss to the top of Wally’s head and pressed another to Barry’s forehead, wrapping his arms around them and hugging them tight, falling asleep to the sound of the Scarlet Speedster and his young nephews breathing. The entire family slept on.

#Wally West #Barry Allen #Hal Jordan #child abuse #HalBarry Family #Fluff #Angst #Cuddles

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expshared · 5 years ago

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this season was kind of whack, but at least we had Eizouken

Heya Camp is just kind of a lazy reminder that Yuru Camp exists, and will continue to exist in the future. You remember these characters?? OK good, just making sure. That said, did I immediately feel the tension release in my entire body when I heard the OST? Duh. Did I sing “it’s coffee time” to the ending not knowing these were the incorrect lyrics? The entire time.

I don’t know what to do with Isekai Quartet because like, objectively, I should hate it. I do not enjoy like 2.5 of the shows involved, and the addition of Shield Hero was not a welcome one. Turns out it doesn’t matter anyway because it was just Isekai Quartet and also Naofumi is Sometimes Scowling in the Background and that’s about as much of him as I want to see anyway. And yet? I do enjoy this Disney Channel Original Crossover. There’s something inherently fun about watching these characters from disparate shows interact with each other, and no matter what the original stakes were in their respective series, they’re all just doing homework and getting part time jobs and that shit’s funny when a big skeleton man is doing it.

After its first episode, Asteroid in Love was kind of a slog. This is your typical seasonal CGDGT show, and apart from that, I really can’t think of anything to say about it. I didn’t learn anything about the Extremely Niche Topic these girls are doing, and it wasn’t even that gay. Disappointing.

I was really looking forward to Toilet Bound Hanako-kun because I am a big fan of the source material, but I was pretty let down by this adaptation. It seems that they prioritized the art style and the color scheme above everything else, but that essentially just meant the entire project ended up being colored manga panels. I wanted to see them move around! There was not a single moment of animation that justified it being an anime. You might as well have been watching a PowerPoint. I can’t think of anything nice to say. Let’s move on.

Bofuri is my power fantasy. I want to play a video game so cluelessly I break it into tiny pieces and bumble into being the most powerful player in the world’s nicest MMORPG. Maple turns powercreep into powersprint. What Bofuri lacks in character development or plot, it makes up for in outrageous Maple feats. She holds the entire world in the palm of her hand and she doesn’t even know it. She named her OP pet turtle Syrup and then turned into an alien abomination unknown to the world and went on a killing rampage. This anime was Maple Crossing Online. Love you, Maple. Wreck shit, Maple.

If My Favorite Idol Got Into Budokan, I Would Die walks a thin line and what separates it from being a slobbering idol otaku engine preaching how Cool it is to Be an Otaku and an Idol Show Watamote is the fact that Eripiyo is a girl. That’s it. If you took her and replaced her with your average Joe Schmoe-san, this show would be insufferably creepy. Every time I was waiting for it to topple over, Jenga-like, it managed to right itself and straddle the tightrope. It’s not a particularly subtle piece of media, nor does it do what I was hoping it would do and engage in any sort of conversation about the obsessive nature of idol otakudom, but you know what it does a good job of doing? Portraying being an idol as a job. Just some adults putting on underground shows and selling the same CD of like two songs over and over again. I was also hoping it would address what happened to Eripiyo, maybe talk about why at the beginning she’s dressed like an office worker and apparently gives that all up to follow this kinda-shitty idol group, why this fanatic escapism is preferable, or even maybe address how gay it is? Not in the cards, though. Honestly Budokan was, despite itself, pretty enjoyable? There are some great background lesbians. Also can we talk about how consistently good the production values were on this show? Why did this have such great dance sequences? Why did this look better than Love “Has More Money Than God” Live? Actually no I take everything back this show was kind of just Idol Otaku Watamote

Hey, let’s talk about the other idol show airing this season: the completely unhinged 22/7. This show is Whack. This show operates on an entire different plane of reality. I know nothing about the actual band, so I came into this blind and oh my god. Hey guys, the plot of 22/7 is that a Wall tells some girls to form an idol unit. A sentient Wall whose orders absolutely must be followed. Why? Dunno! What happens if you don’t follow its orders? Never elaborated on. (Actually, is this a reference to Pink Floyd? I have no fucking clue.) In any case these eight girls, summoned by a letter from the Wall, are all invited to become an idol group, and then they’re magically an idol group. It’s unclear how they become successful, how they book gigs, who’s keeping the lights on at the agency, how they’re getting paid, who HR is, how their gorilla man agent found this Wall and determined that all its directives Must Be Followed, but shit, man. What follows in 22/7 is a one-member-per-episode serial that quite frankly stumbles far more often than it succeeds. One girl’s grandma died and that’s why she came to Japan. One girl had a traumatizing experience where she got lost in the woods for a week and it broke her family apart and now things just suck forever. These things are equal. One poor girl’s entire episode was about how she didn’t want to put on a bathing suit for a photo shoot and how uncomfortable she felt about it, but in the end she was made to apologize for dragging her feet for so long and takes her photo for a pin up. Yuck. Gross. Bad. The only valid girl is Jun, end of discussion. None of this even holds a candle to the finale-- wherein the girls are directed by the Wall to disband, and, defying an order for the first time, the girls return to their agency and throw shit at the Wall until it breaks down. It’s revealed that the Wall isn’t supernatural-- behind it are tv monitors, photos of the girls as children, records of their activities. A person or people are behind this. Why??? Are they being groomed?? Is the Wall a metaphor for the Industry? I’m so concerned. The girls aren’t, though, because after a little side eyeing, they ascend a staircase and wow! A Stage! Our fans are all here for our reunion tour! And then they’re fine and I guess their idol group is back together or something? Did I mention the stage where they perform? It’s at a zoo. I can’t tell if this is the most scathing condemnation of idol culture I’ve ever watched or just completely oblivious. The characters don’t engage in any sort of thought about what they’re being put through, but they are performing their final song, the lyrics of which are about how life is just too hard to keep on living, at a zoo and I don’t think you can have that sort of thing happen unless you’re trying to make a point. Right??? RIGHT?!? Dance and sing, monkeys.

Smile Down the Runway was another show completely divorced from reality. So you got your main character, Chiyuki, whose thing is that she’s Too Short to Be a Model at her father’s very prestigious modeling agency. Which, like, is valid! Let’s see some variation in the modeling industry. Let’s shake it up. Let’s lead the charge for alternative models with bodies outside of the very narrow requirements of the fashion industry. What’s that, Chiyuki? You have no interest in that? You want to be a Hypermodel? I don’t know what that shit is, I think you made it up. Our other protagonist is Ikuto, the destitute, put upon, bobcut boy with a dying mother and 3 younger siblings who is trying to pursue his dream of becoming a fashion designer. Are you beginning to sense the problem here? There is a fundamental imbalance in the presentation of these characters’ goals and situations. Also? Emotions are at an eleven, always. Characters are always acting as if they’ve just seen someone get murdered in front of their eyes even when it’s like. There’s a messed up seam. They are constantly being mortified, crushed, and having their dreams ripped away. One time, two different assholes offered Ikuto magical mom-fixing blood money when he was struggling to come up with funds to pay off his medical debt at the cost of giving up his spot in the fashion show. Wildin’

Haikyuu didn’t exactly come in like a lion, but I’m sure it’ll be more organic upon rewatching. We were laying the groundwork for much of this season so I’m expecting it to payoff later, but the beginning definitely lagged. Every time Haikyuu hints at a women’s volleyball tournament, I want a volleyball anime with girls. Man, those ten minutes we got with Kiyoko? Those were great.

I don’t have too much to say about Somali and Forest Spirit. Abe’s “Make Children” agenda feels at least a little more like a narrative choice in this anime, and I enjoyed Somali and the Golem’s relationship and their travels were in equal turns harrowing and heartwarming. And I did tear up at the end so you got me there, anime.

In/Spectre has some balls being an anime. It’s existed as a light novel and a manga and those are both superior mediums for it because let’s put all our cards on the table here-- In/Spectre is a show about talking. Five whole entire episodes take place in a car. The finale is winning an argument in an anonymous 4chan chatroom. That said, I have such a fondness for In/Spectre. I think Kotoko rocks. I think a show willing to do nothing but talk at you for two hours is badass. Sitting through this anime is like watching a podcast. I think the show engages in some great dialogue about human nature and how we prefer stories that are theatrical, narratively-driven, and have a logical cause-and-effect, instead of the truth, which is more often than not grim, and disappointing, and illogical. I like that Kotoko’s only function, in-story and out of it, is to bullshit so hard she invents alternate realities. Anyway In/Spectre is good.

There’s no praise I can lavish on Eizouken that hasn’t already been said. It’s powerful, it’s strange, it’s energetic, and it’s packaged with such love. It’s repurposed the CGDCT template into something deeply affecting. It’s an anime for people who love animation. I hope everyone watches Eizouken.

#animoose and mango #chitchat paddywhack #long post /

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in-tua-deep · 6 years ago

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Does Reginald ever get ahold of Five in your Responsible Luther AU? And how does he plan to stop Five from causing the apocalypse once he does? I just really want to see a scene where the siblings team up to save their little brother and stop their father once and for all (and possibly the commission by extension).

good question!! i haven’t decided lmao but I mean probably?? Reggie has four years to try and get at Five after all and Hazel and Cha-Cha are professionals (though at some point Hazel defects and is probably adopted as the weird murder uncle who on at least one occasion babysits bodyguards Five while the sibs are off doing stuff - Agnes things he’s a sweet young man while Hazel has vivid flashbacks of the time Five consumed a boatload of sugar and made his powers go on the fritz right before a kidnapping attempt which was,, not pretty to say the least and Hazel is somewhat traumatized)

awful bold of anyone to assume i actually have this au mapped out when it’s literally a bunch of asks duct taped together whenever inspiration hits my fragile muse with a sledgehammer and tbh just typing my way through asks helps me figure out things like later on in this ask lmao

While the most intelligent thing for Reginald to do is hire Hazel and Cha-Cha to assassinate Five, this is also the man whose grand plan to stop the apocalypse was a task force of superpowered children that he abused so i’m not assigning him any brain cells at all BUT he does think that he’s all powerful with his plots and tends to assume everything is going to go according to his plans and overestimates his own intelligence so

he thinks he can contain Five which probably would involve using the same drugs (or a modified one because idk if it would affect all the kids the same) that he used on Vanya since that’s a more long term solution that just restraints after all and then?? probably a lot of mind games and messing with Five’s reality to try and make sure that Five is not going to be ending the world

of course, given the chance Five would probably point out that his power is jumping and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t know how to end the world with that power?? unless he like? managed to jump himself into some place he could use,,, idk,,, nuclear launch codes or something?

though now that I think about it, it’s entirely possible that Reginald isn’t the one who wants Five alive. It’s entirely possible that it’s the Handler who smiled with too many teeth as she told Reginald that Five was the catalyst for ending the world. After all she’s with the Commission who help the timeline. Of course they don’t want the apocalypse to happen. Why, then there would be no people to help! But if Reginald handed Five over to her, over to the Commission - well. He’s young, he’s already half-trained, he knows how to survive, and he has the ability to jump through time without a suitcase which is very interesting to the Commission.

and Reginald doesn’t really want to kill anyone and get his own hands dirty otherwise he would have disposed of Vanya years ago so he’s down to grab Five and do some gentle experimentation regarding drugs and then hand a Five (with an off switch) over to the Commission and save the world! yeah that makes sense to me we’re going with that because it also gives the Handler a dog in this race so we get to see her

honestly probably the culmination of everything is Five getting finally Officially Kidnapped and handed over to the Commission and finding out at the Commission about the apocalypse, the Commission’s role in it, and probably the Handler monologues about it not being the end of everything and Five getting in the way but with him removed the family will fall apart and Vanya causing the apocalypse will be back on track blah blah blah all they have to do is pull some strings, get Harold Jenkins released from prison right on time, and bam we’re back on schedule ladies and gents

(plus some general weirdness a la the handler plus a deeply uncomfortable and not-inclined-to-be-very-cooperative Five who might not have his powers but he doesn’t exactly need them to be dangerous thank-you-very-much)

and the squad 100% run down weird-sort-of-honorary-uncle Hazel who is in possession of one (1) suitcase that is capable of taking the whole squad on over to the Commission building with a sort of reluctant Hazel because Agnes is attached to the kid now (Agnes is the best honorary aunt and you can’t change my mind) so he guesses he has to help out

someone send me an ask about weird uncle Hazel and aunt Agnes that is 100% an avenue I need to explore at some point

but yeah team up to invade the Commission and wreak absolute havoc and Five probably ends up worming his way into some air ducts because he’s a skinny little thirteen year old with narrow shoulders and then no one has eyes on him including the Handler/Commission agents so just picture a really comical series where the squad are trying to find Five and keep only just missing him while Five isn’t really sure why all the alarms are going off but he’s trying to figure out more info about the apocalypse as well as figure out a way to get home (find the suitcase room??) while also having a panic attack at the same time!! fun times!

eventually what probably happens is they catch the Handler and try interrogate her and she’s giving them non answers and then Five literally falls out of the ceiling with like, a whole bag of files that just scatter around and everyone just stares at each other for a solid minute before Five is pulled into a frantic “YOU’RE ALIVE” hug by the closest person who isn’t Hazel

but Five ALSO has a whole bunch of explosives and weapons that he may or may not have obtained from the Handler’s office because he’s a secretly petty little shit and he’s been using them to take out Commission agents along his way but the point is the whole squad blow the Commission sky high?? or perhaps Five discovers another aspect of his power

after all, the Commission sits outside of time. It’s a pocket, and Five is capable of tearing through space and time, but most importantly he closes that tear after him. It’s not an aspect of his power that he thinks about often, in fact no one thinks about it. He doesn’t just make tears, he also repairs them. And what is this pocket but an open wound in time, sitting outside the time stream as it is? The Commission is not supposed to be and Five has the power to fix that

(he’s been on edge since he arrived, a crawling feeling under his skin. he assumed that it was because of the kidnapping, because the Handler kept touching him and making comments, because he just saw his father who scares him more than even the apocalypse, because his power is out of reach and reminding him of when he pushed and pushed amongst the rubble and there’s an itch under his skin from the drugs. there’s a million reasons for him to feel off that he doesn’t realize that it’s the wrongness of where he is, the rip carved into the world that begs for him to close it, to heal it)

so i think that might be a cool climax, destroying the Commission and then making sure it can never return ??

Vanya would absolutely fuck up the entire commission first though looking for Five it would be hilarious and mildly terrifying and Klaus is just behind her like “yeah i’m going to say training her powers was a good thing otherwise we (the other hargreeves plus Hazel) would probably be paste right now” while Ben frantically zips through the walls trying to find Five while the other losers are limited by walls (of course, Ben probably doesn’t think to zoom up in the vents whoops)

and then, when they go back with the one remaining briefcase (that they probably all destroy as the last remnants of the commission idk) they get a confrontation with Reginald

because I really liked Klaus’s whole thing with Reginald (“We were just little kids.”) and feel like the rest of the family?? probably needs that closure as well tbh

and i mean,, also the general spite of them informing Reginald (with proof a la the documents Five obtained) that it was Reginald’s fault the apocalypse happened in the first place due to his abuse and drugging of Vanya which caused her to have no support network and be influenced by Leonard Peabody/Harold Jenkins and that lmao Five was never the reason the world ended and in fact there was a lot riding on removing him from the equation so that it could happen in the first place

the satisfaction of telling the man behind the curtain, the man who thinks he holds all the cards, the man who thinks he’s the puppeteer, that he was played like that’s satisfying

(Reginald, verbally eviscerated and pale as milk in the face of the kids accusations and revelations

Five: hey so like if we’re all saying our piece then uhhh I want mom in the divorce. the disowning? whatever this is

Diego: seconded

Five: and also dad?? i never want to see you again

Luther: also seconded

Five: also i want us to be able to get our stuff like luther’s records ‘n stuff

Vanya: you know what let’s just put Five in charge of the official family split seems like he’s got all the right stuff in mind)

but yeah this is all vague story climax stuff that I haven’t gotten anything down in concrete yet?? i should probably put together a timeline since it seems like i’m eventually going to be actually writing this au and probably making a whole ‘verse to do little side stories for as well goodness

so yeah keep the questions and suggestions coming y’all i’m slow at responding but they do very much help me figure things out and since nothing is concrete by any means i’m always open to suggestions on what people do and don’t like about any directions I take or suggestions on how to make it better/make more sense ;3c

#responsible luther au #far tua long #i'll add tags later #i'm very tired rip #which makes no sense bc i napped most of the day with the foster cat oof #ask me #anonymous

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cromulentbookreview · 5 years ago

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Werewolves of Florida

I saw a werewolf with a parrilla menu in his hand /

Walking through the streets of Miami in the rain /

He was looking for a place called Novecento /

Gonna get a big dish of entraña /

Aaoooooo /

Werewolves of Florida /

Aaoooooo /

Sorry.

(I’m not sorry. Aaooooooo!)

And by that, I mean: Lobizona by Romina Garber!

Well, if you’d expect werewolves to show up in America, where else but Florida?

Ha. Florida. The butt of so many jokes. It’s easy to make fun of Florida (fun, too!), so as a lifelong resident of the Pacific Northwest...I’m going to continue making fun of Florida, a state I’ve never been to and will likely never visit as I have no intention of being eaten by a gator or a python or a python gator or whatever insane creatures live down there.

I kid, I’m sure there are places in Florida that are perfectly lovely. They just happen to coexist with the insanity that is the rest of Florida.

Anyway! Werewolves in Florida! It sounds possible. Seriously, could you imagine the headlines? “Florida werewolf brings drugs to a drug bust, gets himself busted”? “Florida werewolf charged with assault with deadly weapon after throwing alligator through Wendy’s drive-thru window”?

In this case, however, there aren’t just werewolves in Florida, but Brujas as well! Both sound like people you would find in Florida. “Florida Bruja drops pants, licks man, dances naked in Waffle House parking lot”?

Where was I? Oh. Yes. Lobizona by Romina Garber!

Seventeen-year-old Manuela Azul (she goes by Manu) and her mother, Soledad, have been living in Miami illegally for most of Manu’s life. Manu has a strange eye condition, in which her pupils and irises look like stars so she has to wear sunglasses 24/7 to avoid freaking other people out. Though I’m certain if she walked into an optometrist’s convention with eyes like those she’d immediately be the most popular girl in the whole room, but since she and her mom are in the country illegally, that sort of attention would be very, very bad.

Soledad had to flee Argentina because Manu’s father, Fierro, was supposedly high up with some bad people who disapproved with his relationship with Soledad. So much so that they killed him, sending Soledad into hiding. If they knew Soledad was alive, and that Manu even existed, Fierro’s people would kill them both.

And, as if hiding from Fierro’s people were bad enough, Manu and Soledad are on a constant lookout for ICE. If their apartment building is raided by ICE, they could be deported, back to Argentina where they’d be sitting ducks for Fierro’s murderous family and friends. So Manu has lived a sheltered life within a tiny apartment with her mom and their elderly friend Perla, who has sheltered them for years.

And! As if being an undocumented immigrant with freaky-eye syndrome forever anxious that the next car might be full of ICE agents while stuck in a tiny apartment was bad enough, Manu also - also! - suffers from horrible periods. Joy. Every month, her mom gives her a special pill that puts her to sleep for three straight days just so she sleep through the pain. That’s shit makes PCOS sound like a walk in the park. (Note: do not go for a walk in the park right now and if you do remain 6 feet away from everyone else at all times). Also, where can I get a hold of a drug that can let me sleep through my period? I like the sound of that.

So Manu has spent much of her life dreaming of escape and a life without fear. Currently, her only hope is the knowledge that her mom is doing her best to get them both legal status. Then one day, Manu notices some strange people hanging around her apartment building. Then Perla is attacked and hospitalized. In a panic, Manu rushes off to find her mom...only to find that Soledad has been lying to her for quite some time. Soledad isn’t a maid for some rich lady - she works at an underground Miami clinic. And she never intended to apply for legal status for her and Manu.

Just as she’s reeling from this revelation, ICE raids the underground clinic. From here, the story takes a weird left-turn. On the run, Manu leaps into the back of a truck, and, after a long ride that sounded way more comfortable than a long ride in the bed of a truck should sound (seriously, there’s no jostling, no being flung about, no wind burn...I get that Florida is pretty flat, but aren’t there potholes? Rocks? Also, isn’t it illegal for someone to ride in the bed of a truck? How did no one else not see her and call the cops?) she ends up deep within the Florida Everglades. After somehow hopping out of the guy’s truck without him noticing that she was ever in there (again, how??? I drive a truck and would absolutely notice if someone were hitching a ride back there. Hey, how come I’m fishtailing significantly less than I usually do? Oh, wait, there’s a human back there) Manu stumbles upon...

A secret school for brujas and werewolves. In the Florida Everglades. And she meets people her age who have eyes just like hers. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces start fitting together - her father must have been a part of this society, not some criminal organization. Manu is half magic. She’s living the ultimate Harry Potter dream! And, somehow, without paying tuition or applying, Manu is allowed to join the school. Finaly, Manu has somewhere that she belongs, and even begins to make friends. She even starts making eyes at a hunky werewolf named Tiago.

There’s just one problem, though. The society that Manu has found herself in has some pretty strict gender roles. Girls are brujas, guys are werewolves. Period, end of sentence. But, even though she definitely belongs among this magical society, Manu doesn’t really have the powers of a bruja. She’s something else.

And there is one thing her mom wasn’t lying about - Fierro’s people are still pissed. Brujas and werewolves are not supposed to have relationships with humans. It’s forbidden. Like, really forbidden. Ultra forbidden. If Manu is found to be half-human, she’ll be killed.

So Manu has traded living forever in fear being an undocumented immigrant in America...for living forever in fear being half-human in a world of magical creatures who think hybrids are evil.

Good luck with that, Manu! Also, there’s still the question of the whereabouts of her still missing father. Is he dead? Alive? And what is Manu, if she’s not a bruja?

(If you speak Spanish, the title is a dead giveaway. Let me give you a hint: Manu’s hair is perfect. Aaooooo!)

Despite a couple of hiccups in the beginning - the book starts pretty slow before taking that weird left-turn into the Everglades and Bruja Werewolf academy. And, as is typical in the first book of a series, much time is spent establishing everything, and less on giving us closure or answers to the big questions. Like, for example, the fate of Mimitos. See, Manu has one friend in the apartment complex, an adorable cat named Mimitos. Mimitos’s owner is a bit senile, so Manu takes care of him...only after Manu flees after Perla is attacked, Mimitos disappears and is promptly never mentioned again. What happened to Mimitos? Is he OK? Is someone feeding him or giving him water and pets and cuddles and WHAT HAPPENED TO THE MIMITOS, ROMINA?!!?! I demand answers.

Maybe he went off to live in the Cat Kingdom from The Cat Returns? Maybe? Probably? Hopefully?

Ahem. Well, my ability to render a serious and well-thought out book review in the time of COVID-19 has gone to shit, so I’ll be brief. Lobizona is gorgeously written and a fascinating blend of YA contemporary and YA fantasy. I also love the warring gender dynamics within the magical society of brujas and werewolves - not everyone loves the strict binary, or the fact that they’re not allowed to hang out with humans. Ultimately, Lobizona is a brilliant story of a girl looking desperately for a place to belong within not just one, but two worlds that don’t want her - that have deemed her wrong. Illegal. And Manu is tired of that bullshit. If the human and magical worlds don’t want her, damn it, she’s going to go off and find a place that does.

Go forth and kick ass, Manu!

Another aspect of the book that I really liked (your mileage may vary, depending on how big of a language nerd you are) is how Garber discussed how there are many different dialects of Spanish. Argentinian Spanish apparently has a sing-song quality which makes me wonder if the English dialect equivalent of Argentinian Spanish would be Upper Midwest English, you know, like in Fargo. The Upper Midwest was settled heavily by Scandinavian immigrants and the Scandinavian languages do have a sing-song quality to them, then, well...

I'd love to know more about the different dialects of Spanish. If only I'd learned Spanish. I didn’t. I learned German, Schwachkopf that I am.

Which brings me to my rant, because I do love to rant. This does have something to do with Lobizona. Kind of. Anyway:

One of my biggest pet peeves in fiction is untranslated dialog. For some reason it really irks me, mostly because it reminds me of how dumb I am and how I should have learned more than just one other foreign language. I mean, seriously, I should have learned Spanish. I never did because I was that contrary moron who, upon seeing that everyone else was taking Spanish said, “screw you, I’ll take German!” Ultimately a bad idea, but, hey, Deutsch ist eine Wunderschöne Sprache. I don’t mind bits of untranslated stuff, so long as there are context clues as to what they might be saying.

I also find it annoying to have a sentence in a different language, and then have the sentence immediately after translate the preceding sentence. For readers that are fluent in both languages, you just made them read the same sentence twice, unless there’s a bilingual bonus in there. For readers out there who don’t speak that language, their eyes just glaze over and they skip the dialog entirely, in favor of the translation. Why not just say they were speaking in [insert foreign language here] then continue on?

I mean, I get wanting to show off your foreign language skills, or make the reader feel good about their language skills, or give a nod to fellow native speakers who also have had to master the cluster fuck of a language that is English (seriously, one of the best descriptions of the English language I’ve read is that English is basically three children in a trench coat pretending to be an adult, but as a language). Still, I find untranslated dialog super annoying. Because I dumb.

The worst example of this that I’ve ever encountered (and probably what soured me for any other instances of untranslated dialog ever in the future) was in this terrible translation of Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain that I read in college - you’d think an English translation of a German book would be entirely in English...yeah no, 3/4 of the way in, I found myself facing pages - multiple pages! - of untranslated....French.

French!

In a book that had already been translated from the German.

Damn it, translator, was there some sort of contract dispute in which you said, “well, they’re paying me to translate the book from German to English, so I’ll just leave these several pages of French conversation untranslated.”

Rrraaaage.

I was already frustrated with that book (it’s not great) but slogging through several pages of untranslated French with zero footnotes or even a translation provided in the afterward made me want to set the book on fire.

What does this have to do with Lobizona? Very little, except there are a few instances of untranslated dialog that, even if you speak zero Spanish, you’ll be able to figure out pretty quick. It just gave me awful Zauberberg flashbacks that brought back all that rrrrrage.

Fuck it, guys, we’re in the middle of a pandemic, and I promise cromulent reviews, not good ones.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone looking for an amazing blend of YA contemporary lit and fantasy that features kickass werewolves living in the Florida Everglades.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Bigots, assholes, people who use the word “illegals” to refer to other human beings, werewolves who hate brujas, brujas who hate werewolves, non YA fantasy fans, anyone who objects to YA fiction containing actual real world problems.

RATING:4/5

RELEASE DATE: May 5, 2020

WEREWOLF RATING:

HOW TERRIFIED I AM OF COVID-19 RIGHT NOW:

Ahahahahaha I’m scared you guys. I still have to commute via public transportation to work downtown in a major city.

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masonhcrrison · 6 years ago

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(gavin leatherwood, cisfemale) MASON HARRISON, the PARADOX, is 21 and a SENIOR. HE is majoring in POLITICAL SCIENCE. They are not part of the Imperium Society and from the outside, they think it’s JUST ANOTHER CLUB FOR THE SOCIAL ELITE. I often see them around campus CAMPING OUT AT THE CAFE. They remind me of WORN LEATHER JOURNALS, LATE NIGHTS IN FRONT OF A LAPTOP, THE VIBE AFTER A DEBATE, COFFEE CUP RING STAINS ON A DESK. (sav)

*screams at the top of my lungs* HI Y’ALL please allow me to introduce my angel, the oldest character i have besides june, my son and love of my life....mason. he’s gone through a lot of revamps and this is probably my favorite so PLEASE like this if you’re interested in plotting with him !! underneath is a bit about him, i promise i won’t ramble much !! love y’all xx

(( TRIGGER WARNING: murder, mentions of gangs. ))

BASICS:

name: mason nicholas harrison

birthday: march seventeenth

zodiac: pisces

sexuality: heterosexual, though he experiments here and there

okay here’s the gist !!

mason is the oldest son to jennifer fowler, a teen mom who’s baby daddy kept leaving out the revolving door of their broken home ( that’s so poetic wow go me ).

said baby daddy gave mason two younger siblings as well, twins michael and melody.

being that he was seven years older than them, mason took over the role of being a father figure, despite not having a father to look up to himself.

they were a close knit family, jennifer got a grip and moved her family to london after finding a job with a travel agency as a representative.

remember mr. baby daddy? he was apparently the leader of a gang, who was subsequently charged with murder after the death of his long time rival.

but, before he was captured, he found the fowler-harrison household in their little apartment.

he wanted a place to hide, but instead only found his young son michael at home.

when michael tried to call the police, the man took his life, leaving mason and his family broken to almost undefinable pieces.

mason, trying ever so hard to be nothing like his father and wanting to avenge his little brother, worked his ass off in school and was granted a scholarship to ashcroft university.

he kinda hates being so far away from his mother and sister, but he’s working hard and is applying for an internship for an american embassy in order to kick start his career in politics.

hes a pretty quiet guy, unless he’s drunk or high or in a debate. he has a lot of love for his family, a total mama’s boy.

he’s pretty well rounded? when he’s not studying he’s playing guitar, sketching random people in the courthard on a sunny day, he’s lowkey kinda artsy even though he won’t admit it.

wanted connections !!

best friends: generic i know. but he usually has a hard time finding friends? he’s just closed off and i wanna see someone find there way through his shield.

exes: again, generic, but important. he’s bound to break a few hearts, i can’t help him.

flings: mason is not afraid of sneaking around in the most unconventional of places and taking out his frustrations on people he fancies....i’d also like to see him with a few males, as he’s trying to figure himself out in the sexuality department.

political/academic rival: he’s very serious about his coursework, so challenge him in anyway and make sure you brought drinks and popcorn: this shit is an experience.

#class:intro #/ can we talk about this gif really fast #/ this is so unorganized but pls love my sadboi

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almostafantasia · 7 years ago

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Lancelot (13/14)

Lexa Woods, an impeccably dressed British secret agent for the covert Kingsman organisation, whose latest mission sees her sneaking through the corridors of the White House in the middle of the night, finds herself having to seduce the daughter of the newly elected President of the United States in a bid to save the world. It’s a surprise to Lexa when she ends up falling for her target as fast as she does, meanwhile Clarke doesn’t expect her gorgeous date for an international political gala dinner to drag her into a world of thrill and danger where one wrong move could cause a global disaster.

a clexa kingsman au | chapter 13/14 read on ao3

Lexa doesn’t know where her jacket is.

It’s clearly not the most pressing issue at the moment, not when there are doctors checking up on each guest, not when there are armed members of the secret service with body armour and riot shields swarming around.

It was a very nice jacket though. The fit was just right and the red velour a striking colour that filled Lexa with confidence. Lexa will be disappointed if she can’t find it and ends up leaving it behind. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have another one like it, not unless she asks the tailors at Kingsman to make another one identical to it, but that would mean having to admit that she’s been careless enough to misplace the first.

Clarke would look good in Lexa’s jacket. It would suit her much better than the oversized men’s jacket she still wears over her dress. Lexa shudders even at the thought of Clarke wearing something that belongs to Roan Azgeda, when there is a perfectly good jacket belonging to Lexa that would keep her just as warm and make her look twice as good.

If only Lexa could locate it…

“Lexa! There you are!”

Lexa’s head snaps up as she hears her own name, to find Anya striding towards her with purpose in each step.

“Have you seen my jacket?” asks Lexa. “It must be around here somewhere.”

“That’s your biggest concern right now?”

Of course it isn’t Lexa’s biggest concern. Lexa is worried that one of the guests will have slipped away without being treated for the poison, she’s worried that she’s going to get arrested and tried for murder even though she only shot Ontari to save everybody else, she’s worried that Clarke won’t forgive her and that she’ll have to live the rest of her life with the knowledge that she’s betrayed the one person she’s allowed herself to truly care about. But it’s easier to suppress all of that and pretend that it’s all about a jacket.

“It’s a nice jacket,” shrugs Lexa. “It would be a shame if I didn’t get to wear it again.”

Anya reaches out and rests her hand on Lexa’s arm.

“You’re allowed to feel things, Lex,” Anya tells her, voice full of concern. “It’s not a weakness.”

Lexa can’t help the way that her gaze flicks across to where Clarke sits next to her father across the room, still huddled up under Roan’s jacket.

“Look where feeling things got me,” Lexa mutters bitterly.

Anya must sense Lexa’s resentment because she swiftly changes the topic.

“Anyway, they’ve arrested Nia Azgeda on her way to JFK to flee the country. She and her son are both going to face charges of treason, attempted murder, and attempted assassination of a President, to name a few.”

“So that’s it?” asks Lexa. “Job done?”

“I think so,” nods Anya.

Lexa pauses, looking around the room at all of the lives she’s saved tonight and wondering why she doesn’t feel better than this about such an accomplishment.

She voices this to Anya.

“Somehow I don’t feel as good as I should about that.”

“Me neither,” admits Anya.

“I think it’s pretty close call as to which of us is Kingsman’s worst agent,” jokes Lexa, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Bullshit,” snorts Anya, shaking her head in disagreement. “It’s very obviously me, by a long way.”

Lexa tries to protest, knowing that this mission has had its fair share of hiccups that have been a direct result of mistakes that she has made.

“But I…”

“Saved the lives of hundreds of people while I was too busy shagging Raven to care,” interrupts Anya, completing Lexa’s sentence before Lexa has the chance to say something self-deprecating about her own involvement in the mission.

Lexa considers Anya’s words and, realising that she doesn’t have the energy to protest, concedes half-heartedly.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“You needed me and I wasn’t there,” says Anya. “And I can only apologise for that and promise you that it won’t happen again.”

“It’s all fine now,” says Lexa. “We did it. We saved all these lives.”

Lexa gestures around the room, to the masses of guests that could have ended tonight as corpses, had it not been for a Kingsman intervention and the quick-thinking and hard work of Lexa and Anya. Lexa shudders even at the thought of it. All it would have taken is for one thing to have gone differently over the last couple of weeks, and there could have been a death toll of more than one here tonight. Lexa doesn’t want to imagine what would have happened if things hadn’t played out like they did, if she hadn’t agreed to go to that bar with Anya and bumped into Clarke again after Merlin specifically forbade them from leaving the hotel.

It’s a dark thought, and Lexa tries to swim away from it by lightening the mood.

“Jesus, I can’t believe I saved the life of a Tory Prime Minister,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically as she watches the British Prime Minister across the room, talking rapidly over a phone.

Anya doesn’t laugh, and Lexa glances up at her oldest friend to find anxiety written all over her face.

Lexa tries to put herself in Anya’s situation and imagines how she would be feeling if it was Clarke who ended up in the back of an ambulance with a bullet in her leg. She knows that she would be beside herself with worry, unable to do anything at all until she had the physical proof that Clarke would make a full recovery. Hell, Lexa is already worried about Clarke’s wellbeing, and the girl only sitting across the room, unharmed by bullets or any other weapons.

“Is Raven going to be okay?” asks Lexa, unsure how Anya is staying so unaffected by it all.

“I think so,” nods Anya. “I wanted to follow her to the hospital but she told me to stay here and make sure that everybody else was okay too. But I phoned the hospital pretending to be her mum and they told me that her condition is stable.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Lexa says truthfully. “You could probably go, you know. I think there’s enough people here to have everything under control. I’m sure Raven would appreciate a familiar face at her side.”

“I don’t know,” shrugs Anya. “I don’t want to abandon you here again. I would die if something happened while I was gone.”

Lexa shakes her head and rests a reassuring hand on Anya’s shoulder.

“Now who’s the one hiding from their feelings?” asks Lexa, shooting Anya a teasing grin.

“Oh, piss off!”

Lexa wakes up to a knock on her hotel room door. A quick glance at the screen of her phone tells her that it’s just gone four thirty in the afternoon - she’s slept for nearly ten hours, but Lexa’s eyes are still heavy with tiredness.

Lexa is far too exhausted to give a shit about her appearance. She still wears the clothes from last night, or at least the shirt and trousers, both crumpled and a little blood-spattered and not at all appropriate for answering the door in. But the list of people who could be at her door is only three: Anya or Merlin here to update her on the arrangement for leaving America now that their job here is done; or one of the hotel’s maids who, Lexa reasons, has probably seen some much weirder stuff than a little blood on a guest’s shirt.

The person outside knocks again, and Lexa reluctantly hauls herself up onto her feet and trudges over to the door, where she unlocks it with a click and turns the handle to open it.

“Um, hi.”

It’s Clarke. Not Anya, not Merlin, definitely not a maid, but Clarke. Lexa wishes now more than ever that she had taken the time to shower and change her clothes before she fell asleep. In comparison, Clarke looks as clean and as fresh-faced as she would if she hadn’t had the night that she did at the gala dinner.

“Clarke,” says Lexa, trying not to show how surprised she is to find Clarke outside her hotel room. “I … uh, I fell asleep as soon I got back here. I was completely wiped out.”

Clarke glances down at Lexa’s attire and nods once.

“I can see that. Can I come in?”

Lexa steps aside immediately and Clarke takes hesitant steps past her and into the hotel room. Clarke hovers near the door, not quite making herself at home, and Lexa is left feeling only even more awkward about the way they left things last. It seems strange to be this careful around each other, especially given the memories they made in this very room just days ago after their date, but Lexa has to remind herself that Clarke has every right to still be angry at her.

“Clarke, I just want to start by saying that I’m so…”

“No,” Clarke interrupts her. “You don’t get to apologise yet. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this - thinking about you - and I’ve practiced ten different versions of what I want to say to you, so you don’t get to say anything until I’ve got this out.”

Lexa closes her mouth and nods obediently, waiting for Clarke to say her piece.

“I’ve been trying to get my head around why you lied,” admits Clarke. She lets out a sigh, then continues animatedly, “Like, it frustrated the fuck out of me at first. I thought we had something special and how dare you think you could play me like that? But also, how could I be stupid enough to fall for that?”

Lexa wants nothing more than to interject, to tell Clarke that they do have something special, that she hasn’t been able to think about anything but Clarke since they first stumbled into each other in the halls of the White House. But she knows that Clarke still has so much more to say, and Lexa forcibly keeps her mouth closed and saves her apologies and explanations until Clarke gives her permission to speak.

“If you said to me that you needed to be at the dinner because of your mission, I would have invited you in an instant,” continues Clarke. “You must have known that!”

Though she stays silent, Lexa gives a little nod in response.

“And that’s when it hit me,” says Clarke. “You wanted that date. You wanted an ‘us’ that was more than me just being a girl you met on a mission.”

Lexa’s eyes start to prickle with tears, and an uncomfortable lump forms in her throat, making it difficult for her to swallow.

Clarke continues, her voice softer and more thoughtful than before, and her blue eyes boring into Lexa.

“Our date and that night we spent together felt incredibly real and I don’t think it would have happened like that if you’d just asked me to take you to the gala dinner. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. Because the only other option that makes sense is that you saw an opportunity to play me and get laid, and I really hope it wasn’t that.”

Lexa shakes her head and wipes at the tears in her eyes before they have a chance to spill down her cheeks. This conversation is important and it’s going to be difficult enough without having to force the words out past wave after wave of tears.

“I told you that I don’t do this often,” confesses Lexa. “I don’t do feelings.”

Lexa’s knee twinges in pain and she grits her teeth as she mentally wills her old injury to go back to sleep, before she continues talking.

“There have been girls on missions before, but that’s always been easy,” Lexa tells Clarke. “There’s things that you can say to make a girl swoon, things you can do to push the right buttons and get what you want, and that’s easy because it’s a routine that I’ve practiced before. It’s easy because I have no personal investment in those girls.”

“But you do in me?” asks Clarke, her eyebrows raised.

There’s something that looks like hope in her eyes - a glimmer that reignites something within Lexa’s chest, a feeling that maybe there is still a chance to make things right with Clarke.

But of course there is still a chance. Clarke wouldn’t have come here if there wasn’t at least a small part of her still holding out for Lexa. It would have been way too easy to ignore Lexa, to let her fly back to England and forget about her entirely. The fact that she’s here says as much as any words could do.

It’s especially important for Lexa to get this right. Clarke has been kind enough to give her a chance to explain herself, and Lexa will berate herself for a long time if she takes that opportunity and fucks it up beyond repair.

“From the very second I first saw you, I knew I was in trouble,” admits Lexa, recalling their first meeting and the fluttering in her chest she felt when she first laid eyes on Clarke. “I don’t want to call it love at first sight, but I could feel some kind of connection straight away.”

Clarke is quiet for a few seconds, and she takes a seat on the end of Lexa’s bed, before she finally concedes, “I felt it too.”

Lexa’s heart flips just like it did that very first time, in inexplicable rush of excitement in her chest at Clarke’s admission that their first meeting had the same effect on her too.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this yet, but I was wearing an earpiece that night,” says Lexa, smiling to herself at the memory. “I had Anya howling with laughter in my ear the entire time I was trying to make an impression on you, because even she knew that you were going to ruin me. And then ever since, I’ve had the real Anya reminding me that this is a mission, that you weren’t allowed to be anything more than another mark.”

“So really, Anya is the one I should be mad at right now?” asks Clarke.

“No,” says Lexa, shaking her head. “Because if it weren’t for Anya, I never would have been in the bar that night, and I wouldn’t have asked you to get me into the White House again, and I definitely wouldn’t have asked you out on that date. Without Anya, I would have run away from my feelings and never spoken to you again.”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrow together in thought.

“So should I be throwing a drink in Anya’s face, or buying her a thank you card?”

Lexa blushes a little bit at the reference to last night, remembering the feeling of the cool drink hitting her face and the betrayed look on Clarke’s face right before she stormed away. It doesn’t quite seem like that was only less than twenty four hours ago. So much has happened since then that Lexa feels as though an entire lifetime has passed since.

“I guess it depends what happens next,” answers Lexa, shrugging her shoulders.

Lexa knows what she wants to happen next. And if she gets her own way - if Clarke agrees that she wants to put things behind them and try to move forward together - Lexa thinks that maybe she will be the one who owes Anya and thank you card.

“When do you fly out?” asks Clarke.

“In the next couple of days, I think,” replies Lexa.

She hasn’t yet spoken to Anya or Merlin since she returned to the hotel very early this morning, but Lexa doesn’t think that they’ll be staying in America long. The events of last night will likely be plastered all over the media and it’s unlikely that Merlin will let them stick around for long enough to get their faces associated with it all. Besides, now that their mission is over, there’s no longer a reason to stay over here.

(It’s a lie. There is a reason, and her name is Clarke Griffin.)

“And I’m supposed to return to college tomorrow afternoon,” Clarke adds. She lets out a disheartened sigh, and then says, “It feels a lot like the universe is working against us.”

Lexa’s heart catches in her throat. She almost doesn’t want to believe what Clarke has said, wants to think that it’s just a product of her own hopeful imagination. Because it sounds a lot like Clarke has just admitted she wants to make things work with Lexa.

“Am I forgiven?” Lexa dares to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clarke pushes herself up into a standing position and her hands reach out to seek Lexa’s hips, fingers gripping tightly as soon as she makes contact like she never wants to let Lexa go.

“You idiot,” exhales Clarke. “Of course you’re forgiven.”

The way their lips crash together is inescapable, like the opposite poles of two magnets unable to stop themselves from flying together. Lexa nearly starts crying right there - she thought she had lost Clarke, thought that her own actions might have pushed Clarke away for good - and the noise that slips from her lips as she suppresses those tears ends up sounding like a choked whimper.

The noise seems to encourage Clarke. She takes two steps backwards and sits on the end of the bed again, and the hand on Lexa’s hips cling impossibly tighter. Lexa finds herself leaning forward as Clarke sits down, lips still unwilling to leave Clarke’s even for a second. There’s a moment where Lexa thinks that she’s free-falling, a split-second in which gravity seems to take over and the only thing tethering Lexa to reality is Clarke’s touch on her hips and on her mouth, but it’s over in a flash. Lexa finds herself sitting in Clarke’s lap as Clarke pulls her forward even further, until Lexa’s full body is pretty much covering Clarke’s on the bed.

It would be so easy to get lost in each other, to keep kissing until long after hands wander and clothes come flying off, but Lexa knows herself well enough to know that there’s a high chance that she’ll either burst into tears or pass out within moments of orgasming, and she isn’t ready for that just yet.

They still have a lot left to discuss.

“Wait, wait, stop,” Lexa mumbles against Clarke’s lips, forcibly lifting her head and rolling off Clarke’s body to the side. “We should figure this out first.”

“Buzzkill,” says Clarke, rolling her eyes and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand as she sits up. “No, I’m kidding. You’re right.”

Lexa moves to sit on the edge of the bed, putting a little bit of distance between them so that Clarke and her distractingly kiss-hazed eyes aren’t right there in Lexa’s immediate vicinity. She needs a clear head for this next part of the conversation, and that won’t happen if she and Clarke are practically on top of each other.

“I have something else to tell you,” confesses Lexa. “I don’t work for MI6.”

Clarke’s mouth falls open and she frowns at Lexa in confusion, before she asks, “You don’t-? But if you’re not a secret agent then-”

“I work for an organisation called Kingsman,” explains Lexa. She laughs to herself, then adds, “I don’t know if I’m even allowed to tell you this but I’m fed up of lying to you. Actually, I think Kingsman is probably so secret that it wouldn’t even count as treason to tell you about it.”

“What’s Kingsman?” asks Clarke.

“A secret intelligence organisation based in London,” clarifies Lexa. “Most of what I told you is completely true. I really did join the army straight out of school but had to drop out because of injury. Then Anya, who I had known since school and was already working for Kingsman, put my name forward for the recruitment tests. I passed and they offered me this job. I became Agent Lancelot.”

“So you’re a secret secret agent?” asks Clarke, a trace of awe in her voice.

Lexa nods, her lips twitching up into a little smile.

“I guess so. And I’m sorry for lying to you. About this and about the dinner.”

“Lucky for you, I really like you,” smiles Clarke, reaching out to take one of Lexa’s hands.

“Are we going to make this work?” Lexa asks hopefully. “It’s a five hour time difference when I’m back in London.”

Clarke shrugs, and then says, “Could be worse.”

Lexa laughs softly under her breath, because it most definitely will get worse than that.

She tries to explain this to Clarke.

“Of course, there’s no guarantee how long I’ll be in London for, or even where I end up going next,” says Lexa. “Or if I would be able to contact you at all. When I’m really deep undercover it sometimes isn’t safe.”

Clarke’s face falls a little bit, apparently having been so caught up in the excitement of making up after their disagreement that she had forgotten the nature of Lexa’s work and the fact that she might be constantly travelling all over the globe.

“That sucks,” admits Clarke dejectedly. She glances up at Lexa, a glimmer of positivity in her eyes as she adds, “But I’m not the kind of person who needs to be texting somebody I’m into all the time.”

“No, me neither.”

Clarke grins and holds one of her hands up in the air, palm facing Lexa.

“High five to maintaining healthy relationship boundaries.”

Lexa can’t help the bubble of laughter that leaves her throat, and she awkwardly lifts her own hand to press a soft palm against Clarke’s.

Clarke blushes, realising what she’s just done, and mumbles, “Sorry, that was weird. Carry on.”

“Right,” says Lexa, trying what they were talking about before the high five. “We wouldn’t be able to talk all the time, and we definitely wouldn’t get to see much of each other.”

“I could come and visit you,” suggests Clarke. “I get three months off for summer. I could spend some of that with you.”

“And I’ve been working a lot this year,” adds Lexa. “I’m due some time off this summer.”

Clarke reaches for one of Lexa’s hands, much less awkwardly than the last time their palms met, and laces her fingers through Lexa’s.

“We’re actually doing this,” says Clarke, with the air of a giddy child about her voice as she speaks. “We’re going to make this work.”

“I have no idea what’s going to happen in the long term,” confesses Lexa, “but we’ve got the short term figured out. The rest we can work out as we go.”

Clarke pulls on their connected hands, encouraging Lexa to come closer again, and Lexa is too weak around Clarke to do anything but comply. She settles on top of Clarke again, this time with Clarke’s legs wrapped around her waist and locked at the ankle behind Lexa’s hips, effectively trapping her in place. Not that Lexa minds. It’s a very nice place to be trapped.

“As for the super short term…” says Clarke, tipping backwards until her back hits the mattress and bringing Lexa with her.

“Oh, you have some ideas about that too?” teases Lexa, her face just inches from Clarke’s as she uses one of her arms to prop up her body weight.

“First of all, we’re going to take a shower,” says Clarke, rocking her hips up so that her pelvis grinds against Lexa’s lower stomach.

“We are?”

“Yeah,” says Clarke, curling a hand around the back of Lexa’s head and drawing her closer so that she can whisper into Lexa’s ear, as if she’s imparting some big secret that needs to be kept from the rest of the world, “and then I’m going to take you to bed and fuck you stupid. Then you’re going to let me take you out to dinner, and after that we’re going to come back here and have sex again. And probably again after that.”

Lexa’s brain short-circuits at the phrase “fuck you stupid” and she barely registers the content of the rest, only Clarke’s husky voice and the obvious implications of her words from the way that her hips slowly move and seek out contact from Lexa’s body.

“I really like this plan,” says Lexa, her voice breathy with arousal.

Clarke grins at the admission.

“Why don’t we move this to the shower and you can show me just how much you like it?”

“Is Raven okay?”

The question comes to Lexa’s mind when she’s naked in bed, tangled around Clarke and the bedsheets, some time after round three has reached its conclusion. Somewhere along the way, the idea of Clarke taking Lexa out to dinner became forgotten, and a cart once laden with room service stands at the foot of the bed, now carrying plates of half-eaten food and an empty bottle of champagne that Clarke insisted on ordering to celebrate saving the world.

“That’s the first thing you have to say after I make you cum?” asks Clarke, propping herself up on one elbow while the fingers of the other hand brush stray curls out of Lexa’s face.

“I mean,” admits Lexa, “I’m feeling guilty that I’m here enjoying this - enjoying you - and she’s stuck in a hospital bed with a bullet in her leg.”

“They took the bullet out in surgery,” Clarke tells Lexa, her hand still absently playing with Lexa’s hair, curling loose strands around her fingertips. “Last I heard, she was high on pain meds and trying to persuade Anya to dress up as a sexy nurse.”

Lexa snorts to herself.

“I bet Anya loved that.”

“I think if Raven hadn’t just come out of theatre, Anya might have been less sympathetic,” grins Clarke.

“I’ll try and visit her before I leave for England,” says Lexa, voicing her thoughts aloud. “It’s mostly my fault that she got shot.”

“When do you fly back?” asks Clarke, a trace of sadness in her voice.

“I don’t know,” confesses Lexa, nestling her head against Clarke’s shoulder and draping her arm across Clarke’s bare stomach beneath the cotton sheet that shields their sweaty bodies from the chill of the hotel room. “Within the next day or two, I would guess. And you go back to college in the afternoon?”

“Mmm.”

Lexa lifts herself from Clarke so that she can reach for the phone on the nightstand, unlocking the screen to check the time. It’s just gone midnight, and time is passing much faster than Lexa would like.

“But,” says Clarke, rolling Lexa onto her back and covering Lexa’s body with her own as she nuzzles her face into Lexa’s neck and sends a hand lower, “I don’t plan on sleeping tonight until I’ve had you at least twice more…”

“Clarke, I’m not sure I can go again,” protests Lexa, even as her legs fall open to let Clarke’s exploratory fingers dip into her folds, still wet and sensitive from the last round.

“Sure you can,” sniggers Clarke, sucking the skin of Lexa’s neck between her teeth as her fingers tease and probe.

Clarke, Lexa quickly decides in that moment, is going to be the death of her.

Lexa can’t wait.

#clexa #clexa fic #clexa fanfic #kingsman au #clarke griffin #commander lexa #can you believe this fic is almost over?#the last chapter is just an epilogue #the plot is basically done now #i'm so unbelievably nervous about posting this #i think my anxiety increases with each chapter #i hope you like it

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painfulstitches17 · 7 years ago

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The Fires of Spring

5. What could've gone wrong ?

What could've gone wrong ? You were just an undercover cop in a dangerous gang in sweet, sweet Hannover. What could've gone wrong Dominic ? You were just as good as a criminal, making every step of your game count. You were playing them like chess pieces and they ate your words. You weren't in charge, no, and you liked it that way. They trusted you enough and you could do your goddamn job, you even took some kind of pleasure to it in a way, a sick, fucked up way. You've seen fights, torture, rape and murder. You knew that some of them would get it back and you couldn't wait for that day to come. You loved seeing most of them suffer, they were cockroaches and you couldn't wait to crush them underneath the soles of your boots. You weren't always that extreme, seeing it first hand had changed you, being a part of them had shook you to your core. It was the beginning of who you would become.

You didn't, however, expect to see your own goddamn brother show up before your eyes, tied down to a chair, the other members pressuring you into explaining why that goddamn cop looked so much like you, didn't you ? Everything was crumbling down and you had to react fast, two lives were on the line right this instant. You knew these were your last days in Hannover but you didn't expect it to end this way, especially not with your brother. Everything was going so fast, you were surrounded, everyone ready to jump on you. They were onto you, they knew, both of you were going to die and somehow, it was your goddamn fault- But he wouldn't allow it. Once the cloth in his mouth was removed he played that game with you, he pretended to try and save face, in some sort of ill fated miracle it worked. It worked too well. You were pretty good at lying, the both of you.

You still see him before you, the words he spoke hurting you like they were meant to take you down. You don't even want to think about what you had to tell him.

"What's wrong ■n■■■a■ ? Can't even look your brother in the eyes ?" You were ashamed

"I knew you couldn't be trusted" he was putting his life into your hands

"C'mon ■n■■■as, are you afraid of your own brother ?" You were afraid for him

"Mom always said you were a disappointment" this is what dad used to say

"Maybe I shouldn't have tried taking care of you" you took care of me our whole life

"Mom was right to kick you out" we left together when dad lost his shit

"I hate you ■n■■eas" *but we loved each other so much*

"You disgust me" me too

"Kill me already" don't say things like this...

He said so much more but you can't stomach it, they come back to you in fractions, it's too much to handle, you can barely put it back together.

They wanted you to torture him, to prove yourself.

"Do it An■■eas" you'd hear them say.

"Come on, what are you afraid of ?" Everything right now.

"Get your revenge An■reas" There's nothing to punish him for.

A car battery, a taser, jumper cables. It was cruel, it wasn't supposed to be used on innocent people, especially not him.

"Get it over with Andreas." Were the last words Cedrick told you before you started doing the unthinkable. You were almost 36, he was too young. Maybe so were you ?

You wonder how you didn't outright lose him, you did enough to do lasting damage but not enough to kill, you were supposed to get informations out of him anyway. You remember the screams, as much as he managed to let out. You remember his pleading eyes, but there was nothing you could do without getting both of you killed on the spot. You remember the laughter of the people around you, sickening, fueling your anger. The lights flickering, the music so loud in your ears, was it you ? Were you loosing your mind ? You remember suppressing your tears, distancing yourself as much as you could as to not crack open. Andreas was your ticket to survival. Dominic didn't exist anymore, he got pushed down, deep into your heart. That's what you lost in Hannover that night.

Everything.

Sharp pain in your left arm, looking down you could see the bloodstain growing, a numbness taking over. You weren't in the club anymore, the halls were dark. Was it night or were the windows boarded shut ? Roaming mindlessly, your grip tightening on your sidearm, your left hand had become useless by now. It felt so similar, like you've been here before. A school, that school, the barricaded door in front of you, the C4 exploding with a magnificent sound. One, two, three... Many more shots, yours, your teammates, the enemies. White masks tainted in red lying amongst corpses. There were losses, students who hadn't seen past the night or day. Your teammates taking care of the survivors before you. Everything was suddenly red, the splatters were growing, where had everyone go ? Looking down, searching, droplets falling on your visor, a lone bag in the middle of the room, blood rising around you. Unzipping it, revealing a face you didn't wish to see, not like this, lifeless. Marius. You were chocking now, it was getting harder to focus. It was a nightmare, it couldn't be real-

And then he woke up, lungs aching for air. Where was he again ? It didn't look like the base, it didn't smell like Monika's spare bedroom, it didn't feel like Elias' couch... Marius. A wave of security washed down upon him, he could calm down. He was sleeping in Marius' bedroom, on a small matress on the floor. It was coming back to him now, he insisted to let Bandit take the bed and he refused. They had visited his uncle the day before, delightful as always. Nothing had happened. In fact, nothing had happened since they had kissed. It somewhat felt awkward, they hadn't acknowledged what had happened and what was said afterward, trying to go back to normal. They'd exchange looks, Marius would stand and sit closer to him but nothing more, much to Bandit's chagrin.

He got up with difficulty, his muscles tense. He had a nightmare didn't he ? He felt sweaty, he could use a shower right now. As he got into the living room, he could smell something good, Marius was there cooking breakfast. Dominic bent over the tiny bar, the apartment was small but it felt like home in the way it was decorated. Marius standing there, making arranged platters, bread and toast, fussing with cereal boxes, cutting fresh fruits... Why was he putting with his shit so fucking much ? It was anxiety trying to take over with any concerns it could find, he reckoned.

"Good morning Dominic, Happy Birthday ! How are you ? You look terrible." concern in his voice, Jäger was otherwise beaming.

"I'm alright, thanks. How was your night ?"

"Fine, uneventful. Are you stressed out ?" Bingo

"Guess I can't hide it, right, schnuckiputzi ? I need a shower, do you mind ?" Bandit left for the bathroom once he got the all clear, leaving him to deal with his blushing.

Small, just like the rest. Everything in the apartment was decorated in pastel colors to contrast the white. It was soft, like a safe haven, Bandit understood why Jäger felt so much better when he was there, it felt like a dream once you left the mostly gray streets. He set his fresh clothes on the nearest surface, he couldn't help but find the touches of blue endearing as he was looking around getting naked, the attention to details was nothing unexpected. Perhaps Glaz could learn a thing or two from Marius.

The hot water was working at his sore muscles, washing off the anxiety a little along with the filth. Oh how he wished a special someone would suddenly come and share this moment, it wouldn't stay catholic for long but he shouldn't dwell on those thoughts, he was using Marius' shower, he wouldn't dare desecrate it unless it was with the man himself. Could he even reciprocate his feelings ? He was coming from years of closeting himself, sure, but Bandit would swear to take care of him as much as he could, show him how normal it is.

He had to prepare himself for the unthinkable. He was visiting his own family, his parents. Bandit felt nausea at the thought of sitting at the same table as them again. He had promised Marius and a week later, here they were, leaving for Berlin in the morning. It was their birthday, his mother had wanted him to visit on that date. He loathed it but Marius pushed him to accept, "it's now or never" he said, he was on forced leave for his own health. There was one condition however : he refused to see his brother.

Bandit was patting himself dry, now dressing himself, the fresh clothes felt nice. Should he had put on a more formal outfit ? Probably not, they were his parents, not the president of the United States. Blue canvas pants, a white t-shirt, he'll put on a short sleeved shirt later on, leaving it open. His father would hate it, that's why he thought about doing so. It was summer, he was 42 and he could do as he well pleased, the man be damned. He liked poking the hornet's nest sometimes, that's how they used to call their father as kids.

Looking at himself in the mirror, the stubble, messy hair, tired complexion, a few strong wrinkles, how did his brother looked like now ? Last time he heard about him, he was in a wheelchair undergoing reeducation. He learned the few bits of informations from unsolicited advice. "Maybe you could make up ?" Like it was that easy you little bitch or something he said along those lines. Bandit preferred not thinking about it when he could, but admittedly, he thought about him a whole damn lot.

Back in the living room the table was simple yet inviting, with everything you'd expect from a German breakfast.

"Careful, hot !" He heard Jäger say, suddenly coming towards him with a pan, serving him a good amount of scrambled eggs before putting the pan away. "C'mon, let's eat, I'm starving." He taped Dominic's shoulder as he passed by.

"Didn't know you were a great little housewife." Bandit said with a grin.

"There's a lot that could surprise you." Everything about Jäger surprised him, in a good way. "Is there anything I should know before meeting your parents ?" He asked before digging into his food.

"Putting it like that it sounds like I'm presenting you as my fiancé. Hm, good idea." Marius was blushing again, containing a smile. Let's not acknowledge it. "My father doesn't talk much, never has, He had other ways to show his emotions. Just don't mind him, he won't care either way. My mother is a people pleaser, especially to my father, expect her to go to the moon and back to get my praise. If she doesn't outright hate me now, that is."

"She wouldn't invite you otherwise, would she ?" Jäger was hopeful.

"She would if my father was behind it, I wouldn't be surprised." Jäger felt increasingly confused and worried, if he got the few hints Bandit was dropping correctly...

"Will your brother be there ?"

"I hope not. I asked her to not invite him while we're over. Maybe she'll keep a promise for once, or maybe I'm asking for too much."

Bandit felt in a sour mood all of a sudden. Being reminded of his childhood, everything looking like a trainwreck and he was dragging Jäger into it. He kept eating, nodding to wathever Marius was saying, whom was increasingly becoming quieter as he realized something might be wrong.

"Looks like we're finished. Let me get all of this in the dishwasher." Jäger got up, Bandit closely following to help him out.

"There's still time to cancel if you're worried, you know. I'll be here either way." Marius was speaking softly, like he was walking on eggshells.

There was hesitation on Dom's part. "No. It's fine, I kind of want to see my mother after so long. I just need courage."

"Alright. Let me know if you're not feeling up to it. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Bandit was now taking him in. How did he miss the way Marius was dressed, his fitting shirt, slightly oversized sweatpants ? He was cute today, especially with his bed hair. He got close, resting his hands on each side of Jäger on the counter, facing his back. Jäger didn't move, putting leftovers away like it was nothing, or so he was pretending. There was tension, they could feel it. Dominic wanted to bend him over, forcefully, that's how cute he was, he wanted to dirty him. The anxiety was making Bandit aggressive in that department, he couldn't lie, it was always this way when he had stuff on his mind. He got closer, bodies touching. "Have I ever told you how lovely you look ?" He started kissing Marius' neck, sliding a hand under his shirt, caressing his stomach.

Jäger was shivering under his touch, he decided to turn him around, not as gently as he expected however, making the other jump. He pressed against him, one hand against his back to bring him close, the other around his jaw pulling him into a kiss. He was being rough, stealing a few moans out of Marius' throat. He felt hands grabbing at his arms tightly. Bandit broke the kiss. "Is this too much ?" He loved the way he looked now, hot and bothered, unsure of the steps to take. "N-no." Bandit was about to get back to it when Jäger stopped him. "Dom, I l-love it, I really do, but we're going to be late."

Right. Fuck.

Brushing their teeth, waiting for Jäger while he took a shower, snooping around the apartment for 'blackmail', watching him get into casual clothes through the crack of the door like a creep, picking up their bags and finally getting out of the apartment. It would take a four hours trip by train to reach Berlin from Düsseldorf.

Really, what could go wrong ?

___ Chapter Index.

#rainbow six siege #r6s jager #r6s bandit #r6s #bandit/jager #bandit x jager #Fanfic #fanfiction #PainfulStitches17 #the fires of spring

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borrovved · 7 years ago

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Another Side

Word count: 3,988

yoongi x reader

Disclaimer: mentions of depression, and suicide

Min Yoongi. Min Yoongi wasn't really an outside person, meaning- he just didn't go outside. Except for photography or the occasional outing with his friends or to play basketball, but that's it. So when it was summertime he didn't party almost everyday and get hangovers, he hunched over his computer screen and dwelt on what to write. Fresh out of college, majoring in English and literature, basic writing stuff, and minoring in music.There wasn't a lot of stability in finding jobs. Jobs that can be careers anyway. He just wanted to write stories, do his hobbies, and enjoy life. “Be the better you than you were yesterday” he likes to say. Which is fucking tricky, when he has depression.

College stressed him out so much. He always had blue rings under his eyes, a slight slouch from bending over his desk late at night to finish those damn essays, falling asleep on his desk, wondered if he should drop out, wondered if this was worth it.

Now a man with a degree, he doesn't know if he's the one that is worth it. He has those pesky thoughts linger in his mind. And tonight, they wouldn't leave. It's pissing him off, with each thought clouding his mind as he's lying on his couch. "Your stories aren't going to fucking sell. They're filled with shit." He tells himself. The music he plays and writes himself just feel like sounds with no meaning behind them. These thoughts are driving him mad, so he gets up, says "fuck it" and is on his merry way to drink his sorrows away.

1:13 am, June 12th

You're driving around aimlessly on a summer night, and it's drizzling. You got into those moods again where you're bored, alone, hella fucking sad, and need to get out of the your place because you've become a hermit. Summer is your absolute, favorite time of the year. No school, no deadlines, no stress. Shorts, tank tops, off the shoulder blouses are totally appropriate to wear. Sun's out, buns out, right? Fucking wrong.

It's been raining for a week straight. Your mood changes when the season changes. (Drastically, too.) You love summer so damn much, but it's probably the worst you've ever felt each time in the year, for the past two years. It's because you don't have a routine to stick to. You get out of bed whenever, eat whenever, get off the internet, whenever and however you want. This unfortunately leads to awful sleep schedules and a lethargic body. Unhealthy, tired, lonesome even. Plus, you hate the rain. You got out of your apartment, showered, ate, and even got dressed up a little for no reason, because pampering yourself is self-care. That small inkling of happiness builds, which brings you closer to a better routine.

Blasting music and driving in solitude was so exhilarating, and liberating to you. You're more of a walker than a driver, but people shouldn't really be listening to music with headphones in at night, walking alone at 1 am. So the car, it shall be. No direction to really go to, but you pay close to mind on where you're going, because you get lost easily. You never really venture out unless it's work, home, the store, or a friend's house. You're not all good at reading maps either. Driving at night at this hour isn't practical, but who said you led a practical life?

You don't venture far, just drive around in circles, take a turn here and there, and suddenly you're driving past a bar and realize you drove a little too far from home and never heard of these street names before. You turn around, and try to retrace your steps, because you can't be that far off from home. You drive slowly and see a man with his thumb up pointing in the air. He doesn't look menacing looking, just..a tad tipsy by the way you look at his stance. He's actually kinda cute when you look closer, with the way the little drops of rain start to gather and roll against his nose, his sleepy eyes making him more innocent, the way he's doing the sweater paw thing while his thumb is in the air and holy shit your car is parked right in front of him now.

He looks more wide awake now, with the loud noises of your windshield wipers swishing around. He blinks once or twice. You blink twice or three times. He's walking, you have your eyes on every move he makes, and he gets in. He just casually clips his seat belt and looks at you.

You've picked up a hitchhiker before. You saw a grown man holding his little son's hand. The little boy was wearing a backpack, and the father had his thumb in the air. Of course, you were scared it was some sort of sick scam and that you might get your car jacked because it was the slightly less nice part of town, but you figured you would give this a chance. You parked by them and immediately got your pepper spray out as a warning because you really can't afford to be naive. You drove the boy to school, and his father insisted on walking himself home. This is a different situation, because you left your pepper spray at home. Also, this is even more shady, because it's night time and why the hell did this guy just not get an Uber? God, you're really stupid for letting this guy in.

All this time you were staring at him and letting your thoughts run wild, when you hear him say "You're not a serial killer, are you?"

You've always had a smart mouth, to which you answered, "The chances of two serial killers in the same car is astronomical." He's unfazed by this response, and he just smirks. He really can't be a murderer when he's sporting sweater paws in his lap, can he?

"So uh..where are you heading?" You ask sheepishly.

"Home. I can type in the address into your phone if you want." He's a soft talker. You turn down your music.

"Yeah, you can do that. Here." You hand him your phone, and he's staring at it blankly.

"Hey, is there something wrong?" You ask.

"...this is an android." Jesus. Christ.

"Is that a problem sir?" You deadpan.

"No, simple observation. First time I actually hitch a ride, and my driver is an android user. This is a lot to take in." This time he's smiling, and it's noticeable.

"Are you sure you're not a serial killer? This much boldness and conversation on your end is freaking me out." You say as you start driving. The destination is approximately 16 minutes, not bad.

"I swear. Whenever I get drunk I'm just this outgoing." He chuckles.

"Because I have a complete stranger next to me now, I gotta interrogate you. Why didn't you just call an Uber? Or a friend?" You say.

"My phone died. I don't like the music that plays at the bars so I brought my ear buds, and I didn't charge my phone before I left my place. I was at the bar drinking for a couple hours. I'm one of the oldest out of all my friends, so they're still living on campus at the opposite end of town, any other friends aren't close around here, nor family. So no one can take me anywhere, and I'm not dumb enough to drink and drive regardless of how clear the roads are." He says that relatively fast for someone who's not sober and articulates it in a way that throws you off a bit.

"You just answered all my questions and I haven't even asked the rest of them yet. Are you sure you're not drunk? Or is this just a creatively weird way to pick up girls?" You inquire.

"I've figured I owed you a good explanation because you're practically my savior at this point. Plus, I'm not into chicks who picks up guys on the side of the road. I like cautious, sensible girls. No offense." This guy sure has the balls to be this mouthy at you.

"How are you going to call me your savior when you also just insulted me in one go, man? Gimme a break. I wasn't even planning on stopping for you, I was making a u-turn while slowing down and I stopped without thinking." He turns his whole body to face you.

"So you're telling me you didn't even think about letting a stranger in? You just..let it happen? This really is a fortunate day for me." He leans back in the seat, closing his eyes with yet another dumb smirk. It's not that you weren't thinking at all, you were just checking him out. No way in hell does he have to know that though.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me now. You gotta make sure I'm going the right way." You nudge him with your right elbow lightly. He opens his eyes and now you feel them on you. You grip the steering wheel a little tighter because his gaze is making you tense, you can just feel it piercing you.

"Well, what about you? Why are you driving into the night like this? Getting home from a party?" Part of you is contemplating whether to overshare or tell him to mind his own business. Seeing as you are on some sort of high after picking up a hot stranger and most likely never seeing him again, and you can't possibly push him away or turn him off by your upcoming venting session because it's not like you guys are gonna screw, and he's in your car, so he's forced to listen. Plus, spilling it to someone you'll never cross paths again is better than venting to a friend that will just end up worrying about you and just saying the same thing again: it will get better.

"I needed to get out of my place. Depression has been kicking my ass so I'm just trying to piece myself together again by going out for a drive and fixing myself up. I've been in bed all day on my phone swiping and typing away, barely eating. My apartment is barely recognizable. There was so much shit going on in my head, I needed to get out. I'm not going anywhere, just driving in circles really. Then my dumb ass got lost and I found you." For a moment he doesn't say anything, but just sighs and says,

"That's a decent way of coping with it. On rare occasions I drink to forget about my depression." A soft "oh" escapes your lips.

"I was about to say sometimes but then I figured it would make me sound like an alcoholic. I swear I'm not." He says. "It's just been a really bad couple of weeks. So bad, I kinda don't care what happens to me at this point. That's why I decided to hitchhike tonight. Things like this happened before, if I walk to my place it will take about an hour and a half. I sober up, think more clearly, and go back to bed."

"You already sound like you're sobering up. I think you're halfway there to feeling better. Even if you feel better temporarily, it's still good." You say.

"Oh babe, I'm most definitely not sober right now." Even in the darkness you're worried he saw you blush after saying that. The conversation is flowing nice even though you literally met less than twenty minutes ago. You don't want it to stop yet, and try to talk as much as you can.

"What are your coping skills for when you feel like this? Do you like music? Maybe you could play it and drive like how I'm doing." You said.

"That's a nice idea, and I love music. It's one of my hobbies. Although I don't like the idea of wasting gas, I'm not really made out of money to do that. I write in a journal about how I'm feeling. Maybe play basketball. I try to surround myself by people who love me, but it gets overwhelming when they see you like that, like this." He points at himself. You notice how he has earrings. Pretty silver hoops. Always had a soft spot for piercings.

"I get it, I usually pace around my room with earbuds in to listen to music. Or outside and do that..but seeing as it's late I can't really do that. Also, your happiness matters. Nothing is ever a waste if it will make you feel better." You say, eyes still straight ahead.

"I like your way of thinking, I wish I was more positive. I'm actually way better compared to how I was a few years ago but sometimes you have a shit day. Or month. I'll keep that in mind, though." He says, sounding a little defeated.

In your car you were playing a pretty mellow playlist. It's all songs that you liked recently. A lot of them were sad though. Some old favorites here and there for added nostalgia too. What you forgot what you usually did though, was adding one song that was incredibly energetic and random from the rest of your playlist, so you wouldn't be sad the whole time it was playing. One minute you're listening to a symphonic ballad, and then you hear Super Bass blasting from your speakers. You're about to change it when you hear him laugh, pretty hard too.

"Oh god. This song reminded me of a really funny story. In high school I had a bad episode where I came pretty close to offing myself but then fucking SUPER BASS came on shuffle after my sad music ended, and I just remember laying on my bathroom floor thinking 'I can't kill myself to this song, it's Super Bass' so I just went to sleep." He finished saying while holding his stomach, not trying at all to contain his laughter.

You were about to ask what "offing yourself" meant and then replayed the story he told you in your head, and almost swerved the damn car from laughing so hard. After the laughter simmers down, you ask,

"So you said music was your hobby, what did you mean by that?" You ask.

"Well, I write songs. I make music, I produce. Just a bunch of underground stuff. That doesn't really pay the bills so I work a side job too." He says.

Not much is said after that. Words exchanged here and there like, "this is a good song." There was one moment where both of you said it at the same time and laughed some more. You want to pat yourself on the back in your choice of clothes and doing your makeup on a whim, because you're almost sure he was checking you out too.

You don't know why you haven't realized this before, but this person lives in the same apartment building as you, as you start parking in your spot. You were so caught up in the conversation that you didn't realize you ended up driving here on your own without really looking at the map on your phone. The stranger unbuckles his seat belt and turns to you.

"Hey uh, thanks for the ride. I hope you don't live too far away or anything." You turn off the car and unbuckle your seat belt, which makes him a little apprehensive.

"Calm down, I live here too." You start getting out of the car and walking towards him. You can see how flushed his cheeks are under the streetlamp.

"I've never seen you around though." You said.

"Well, I've never seen you around either. Maybe we are both serial killers." He has a very lovely smile.

"Thanks." Well, shit.

"Oh god you weren't supposed to hear that." You start playing with the hair tie on your wrist and looking down on the ground, seeing yourself in a little puddle separating between the two of you. He just starts smiling wider, and changes the subject. Thank God.

"We should get inside, before it starts pouring." It's almost 2 am, and you can feel yourself get worn out. Both of you walk inside the building and go into the elevator.

"What floor are you?" He asks.

"Third."

"Maybe that's why I never see you, I'm on the second." He says. You lean back on the wall and evaluate how your day went. You did the dishes at least. The whole place is still a mess. You took a shower, that's good, right? And you brought someone back to their home safely. Good karma is always needed. Your attention is on him now. He's about to step off on his floor.

"Later, stranger." You say. He's out of the elevator now, and says,

"Yoongi. Min Yoongi is my name." The doors start closing but before it does, you see him getting into his apartment. It feels good opening up your feelings and leaving your home for once. You finally get on your floor, and get inside your place. You head straight for your bed and stare at the ceiling. You remember all the dumb stuff you did tonight (and said) and remember the words exchanged between that guy, Yoongi. Now, you could just let this guy be and remain as acquaintances, or scheme ways to run into him more. It doesn't take long to try to find ways to run into him though. You have no choice because it's him, that runs into you.

Part two, coming whenever the hell that is

#yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #jesus this is literally my first time writing in two years #suga scenarios

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seenoevil-ff · 8 years ago

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7 ✝ A Funeral

“It is * * * Death alone that can suddenly make man to know himself.” –Sir Walter Raleigh, The History of the World (1614).

Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morieris

Now this bell tolling softly for another,

says to me, Thou must die. – John Donne, Meditation 17 (1624)

XAVIER

The stifled sobs of my mother rang in my head repeatedly.

She screamed and pounded her balled fists against my brother’s chest, outraged. Her arms flailing, the stench of blood permeating the air. While I was just unable to move from my position, I stared blankly at the lifeless body of the man I knew to be my father.

That he was dead. Carver Brown was deceased.

I wasn't all sure what I had just done but apparently it was enough for my mother to be as broken as she was. My eyes watered, I could feel my heart rate quickening again but this time I was in a state of panic. There were sirens surrounding us when my mother finally wandered over to my father’s body. Cheeks stained from her tears, she palmed his face as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her body shaking while attempting to form a coherent sentence.

I did this.

I clenched my jaw tightly as tears fell down my cheeks, my brother silently crying out. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I stood to my feet to walk to the front doors of the headquarters. Even though it was understood that jail was never an option again, I was prepared to surrender. The past two days have been turbulent – while I had a lot to be thankful for with the birth of my son there was so much to follow afterwards. A big event followed by a series of crippling and impactful events.

“Yo..Xae what you doing man?” Maddox questioned, lifting his head. His eyes widened when he noticed exactly what I was planning to do.

“I’ve fucked up.” I mumbled while staring at the numerous police cars parking in front of the building.

“Don’t say that shit bro, you snapped…you fucking snapped.”

As hard as he tried, there was no excusing my actions. He knew it. Murder was the most serious of the crimes I’ve committed, never getting caught there was a rush but the victim was my own blood. I didn’t feel he would be served any justice unless some kind of punishment was delivered to me. I had barely any fight in me to go against the system built to kill men like me.My mother was so broken by her grief and guilt, she didn’t even realize the reality of the situation. Her husband was dead, her only child was going to be imprisoned.

“You really are unrecognizable with this weak shit at the moment.” I heard Zane comment.

“You did this….�� I whispered back to him.

“It was rightfully so, you heard with your own ears yet you want to be blind to the truth. Go ahead and kneel.” His words echoed until I could no longer hear him.

The police burst through the doors with guns drawn. “NYPD! On the ground now!”

The SWAT officers stormed in to restrain me as one pinned me against the wall, giving the others a chance to handcuff me. Detectives that I recognized and knew on first name basis walked right past me to my father’s body. When Maddox protested he was threatened with jail time and a murder accomplice charge, there were no questions asked because they couldn’t wait to book me for the crime. They had a win. When we arrived at the 19th precinct, I was processed and held after my rights were read. I chose not to speak so for all they knew I was mute. Even when the detectives threw out photos of Carver’s carcass I was still unbothered or appearing that way. The entire time I was held in that small cell there was only time to think about what was said. My thoughts also drifted to Rakim along with his purpose for initiating this. There were ample of ways to kill my father but he chose this route.

Revenge was now my goal.

For now I simply utilized some of the solitude to grieve my father that had raised me. Over the years, Carver was a difficult man to live with sometimes but he did have his moments as a loving parent. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to reminisce, back to when I was only four years old.

“So you really are just going to give up like this? What the fuck did we talk about yesterday?” I heard Belial speak.

My eyebrows furrowed as I opened my eyes, “How did you get in here?” That was all I could ask, keeping as calm or normal as possible. She stood with her body leaning against the wall, arms folded with her lips pouted. A chuckle left her lips as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“So your father is dead and you decided to take the wrap for it, never thought you would kneel for Rakim…” Belial decided to sit on a bench, crossing her legs.

“I killed him…” I mumbled. “I killed him because something in me had to do it, he told me something… and I just lost it.”

“Damn right you did. I don’t fucking like the guy that much but why take liberty to stab him anyhow? He was shot, you could have done nothing. Remember you have son, nobody will be able to bail you out of bullshit constantly.”

“I really don’t need you preaching right now, Reina.” I added heavy emphasis on her former name, the name that had long since been shed from her. A scoff then a cackle left her lips, her movements became paces. When her heels stopped clicking in the small space, her head turned in my direction.

“Far from a preacher, but wasn’t it you promising or wanting to not make the same mistakes that you supposedly left in the past?” she inquired.

“I did.” I remarked.

“Then stop fucking up.” With those words she turned on her heels and was gone again, disappearing to whatever circle of Hell she had come back from.

Much time had already passed since my imprisonment. Apparently it had gone so quickly that I found myself meeting the morning sunrise. The holding area had become busy and noisy so sleep was no longer achievable. I chose to sit in my cell to await my time while thinking of my last move. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that Rakim would feel the vengeance for my father. If he didn’t know death or destruction before, he would know it now. I guess one thing his mother didn’t fucking teach him was manners—better still she hadn’t taught him the consequences of not respecting your elders. He will know my name and my wrath in every degree. That was my promise.

When the cell doors opened with a loud clank, the deputy called out my name. “Brown! You’re free to go. Someone loves you enough to pay that big ass bill on your head.”

Someone loves me enough is right.

MADDOX

In just twenty four hours, my entire family begun to fall to pieces.

Shiloh nearly lost her life giving birth to my nephew, my brother goes missing only to appear again at a meeting, our father is murdered, and now my mother is completely inconsolable. This was an eventful couple of days and now I sit outside of the precinct awaiting my brother to exit the front doors. My eyes darted on occasion while I closely observe my surroundings—at this point we had to remain alert. Rakim had gotten the upper hand just like he wanted. Lucifer’s death would weaken us or just maiming him would. Never would I have thought my own brother would finish the act but there was way more to this story.

All we needed was answers.

The first words I could hear from Xavier was him cursing out the officers as he exited.That brother of mine, my blood, you couldn’t help but love him. There was a slight tension between us because of what occurred, he felt he needed to isolate instead of closely analyzing the situation without ripping himself to pieces.

I watched him and the continuous bickering until I stepped up closer to the front entryway to grab the back of his shirt. With a gentle tugging, I pull him to my side in a headlock.

“If you didn’t already pay attention, the entire precinct and task force have a hard on for you. Quit while you’re ahead.”

“Everybody hates Xavier, everybody…the list is growing bro. I breathe and it’s an issue.” He chose to find humor in the situation but I knew him very well.

I closely studied his demeanor.

He was more quiet than normal so the remaining question was what exactly was happening inside of his head. I didn’t know what to say or do because I was grieving myself. But I didn’t blame him for what happened, because our father had already been badly wounded… there was no way of knowing if he’d make it if the stabbing didn’t occur. Always have I been the one to comfort and protect my brother — in this situation I didn’t know how.

Once we pulled up to our mother’s home, he hasn’t budged from the passenger side door. Recognizing his stubborn nature, I chuckled then stepped out to leave him to his devices. He’d eventually enter the house on his own. Scarlett immediately met me at the door with her eyes bloodshot red.

Her voice was solemn as she called for Xavier and for a brief moment I saw that connection. Mother and son were in an emotional war. She loved him, he loved her and hated himself, apart of her was uncertainty as to who he was.

“Mama... you both need to talk. You both need this...” I urged.

“Yeah… you’re absolutely right.” Her voice cracked as more tears threatened to fall.

She was indeed trying her best not to cry again. Scarlett gathered her strength and began walking toward the car. Xavier opened the passenger door to immediately pull her into an embrace, causing her to sob once more. After a brief moment the pair walked back toward the house. It was time to prepare to bury our father. It was indeed a funeral of the century..

AMANI

I had definitely lost track of whether it was day or night.

The cold beads of sweat that had formed on my forehead caused me to shake slightly. Lately I had been having a lot of those, nightmares, I couldn’t exactly remember or understand what they were about but it was something about today. Today was the day I felt my life was going to change drastically. I breathed in the smell of marijuana smoke, huffing as I curled my naked body under the covers. I was waiting to hear a voice, to hear some familiarity. If it had been Rakim — I would have rather played dead.

“You do know… your bourgeois ass can’t sit in the bed all day.” A voice I recognized stated.

I turned my head while clutching the sheet close to my body to cover my breasts and the rest of my frame.

“Who said I would sleep all day? Maybe I want to be fucking left alone?” I shot back. It was the attitude of “I’m supposed to keep watch over you.. take that up with my brother.”

It was Terrell.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. A soft smirk appeared on my face as he began to swallow hard, it was always fun to watch these niggas sweat over a woman like me. I dropped the sheet and began to run my fingers through my messy tresses.

As a captive and Rakim’s alleged guest, I may as well put on a little show. I strutted toward the bathroom with my hips swaying ever so seductively.

“So you’re going to watch me get dressed as well?” I purred.

His expression was priceless and a bit of a turn on as I twirled in the mirror. My fingers brushed against my puffy folds, sliding them against my clit.

“Uh... nah.. Ima let you handle your shit. I’ll be outside the door, we can’t be late.” Terrell’s face turned beet red as he rushed out of the room, leaving me to wash myself in peace.

My daily routine was that I would awake to someone watching me as though I were a child. So why not have a little fun in the process and taunt my “babysitters”? Rakim has his work cut out for him if he thinks I’m not going to defy him. He isn’t my father nor my man but that sense of having control apparently strokes his ego, my defiance excites him for some reason. I can only imagine that’s why he keeps me alive..

A black some what form fitting Vera Wang dress, a large black hat to sport with matching heels seemed approapriate enough for church. It had been years since I can recall setting foot in one but the process of a funeral I knew all too well. When I exited the bedroom, I saw all of the men gathered in the hallway. They were definitely good looking, fine as wine despite the attitudes they carried. Rakim flashed a bright grin, revealing his pearly whites as he wrapped his arm around my waist firmly.

“As my date, I have a proposition for you...”

“And that is?” I replied.

“To look just as beautiful as you are... you’re going to make someone a very happy man.”

The statement somewhat confused me, my brow lifted and my face twisted. There had to be a reason for this feeling I was having. We arrived at the church to see an entire line of cars. The turn out for a man named Carver Brown was indeed grand. When we stepped out of the car, it was Rakim who coached us to remain incognito. I refused to put on shades because these people didn’t even know me or anything about me. Once my eyes fell upon whom I believed was Carver’s wife, I lowered my head to walk toward the church, her cries growing louder.

The closer I stepped to the church, that feeling began growing and the visions that clouded my head wreaked havoc within me. There was a little boy, with bright eyes, a smirk, a man draped in black with skin as pale as the moon...terrifying eyes. There was this laughter and an infant that I didn’t recognized. I had ran face first into someone which caused me to stumble.

“Oh... I’m so sorry!” I spoke.

When I looked up into those eyes..I felt weak.

“I...I...uhm... excuse me.” I mumbled.

“You good.” He replied.

When the doors of the church were opened to those who remained after the family. I no longer wanted to sit with Rakim. I was much too curious. The pastor began the ceremony, the choir singing their hymns but I noticed that the man I bumped into began to fidget and shake. The outbursts of cries from his family and some close friends caused me to feel something that I was truly unable to feel since my mother had died. The shredding sadness, that same pain resurfaced—I felt grief for people I didn’t even know.

When it was time for eulogies, everyone was broken down and the funeral soon came to a benediction. It was time for them to bury... as everyone stood and it was time for the pallbearers to lift the casket, there was gunfire. I ducked and covered myself as everyone in the pews behind me scrambled. The moment my body hit the floor, my eyes made contact with an infant, with those eyes... the same eyes as the man I had bumped into prior before entering the church.

Before I could even move, I felt someone sheild me from the barrage of bullets that came flying toward me.

ZANE

Back to reality.

I didn’t even know this girl....but I wanted her. I dove head first into the gunfire just to save her which was something I never truly cared to do. I roughly shoved her into the pews with the other bystanders to fire back at Rakim and his goons. Maddox was hot on my trail as others followed my lead, little did he realized he had entered the church out manned and over powered. The disrespecting of Carver’s homegoing indeed sparked an outrage. It was my family that was in danger, my family being disrespected.

There was no other choice but to fight back.

“Yo pull back man!” Rakim barked as they began to take cover and run from the church. No one was leaving until I put a bullet in them. The last bullet to discharge had pierced whom I assumed to believe was Rakim’s shoulder.

“Ah!” The smell of his poisonous blood filled the air, I definitely got him but there was no way this bullet would kill him.

Until next time...

I finally turned to face the beautiful woman I saw behind me, but she was already gone. My eyebrows furrowed as I finally ran from the church to see if she would be spotted in the streets.

Nothing.

“Fuck....” I mumbled. Something in me said I would see her again but I was still curious...

“Who was she?” Xavier and I finally spoke aloud in complete sync.

#chris brown #chris brown fanfic #chris brown fanfiction #ASAP Rocky #high end #heartbreak on a full moon #yaris sanchez #yaris sanchez ff #asap rocky ff #asap mob #Cassie Ventura #michael b jordan #team breezy #august alsina #trey songz

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diyunho · 8 years ago

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The Joker x Reader - “The Promise” Part 2

The Joker never saw it coming; he left his guard down for a moment and it all went to pieces. Nothing to hold on to now except his son and the memory of you. But maybe there is something else that won’t let him go either…

Read Part 1 here: http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/164072432286/the-joker-x-reader-the-promise

“You’re my prisoner for the night,” you would hold his hands above his head. “I’m not gonna let you go anywhere,” and you kissed his neck painfully slow.

“I don’t wanna go anywhere,” J would growl, admitting to the truth. “Unless Kase wakes up, crying…but we can always start all over, hm?”

“Ohhh, I don’t mind that,” you whispered in his ear and backed up on top of him just enough to take your lacy nightgown off. “Don’t look at my stretchmarks, ok?” you used to plead, self-conscious about them.

“ Stretchmarks? Nahhhh…” J would trace them on your tummy. “These are battle wounds, Y/N. And you’ve clearly won the battle: we have a very cute baby.”

“He is cute, huh?” you would giggle, tossing the garment somewhere behind you.

“Yeah, thanks to me,” The Joker used to taunt, pinching your thigh. “Obviously.”

“Are you calling me ugly?” you frowned, slapping his chest.

“Nope… you’re a very pretty girl, but don’t tell anybody. I don’t want someone to steal you away.”

“Wow, did you just say that loud?” you let your head fall on his shoulder, laughing.

“No, I didn’t,” The Joker would pucker his lips, antagonized he actually uttered such words. “You’re hearing things, Y/N.”

“Probably; I’m getting old,” and you reached over to kiss him, smiling.

That smile of yours…

“Daddy, daddy…” the shy voice wakes him up. “Daddy, you’re talking in your sleep,” his son touches his arm, placing a small plate on the side of the bed.

J blinks, reality settling in. Sometimes he doesn’t want to wake up. At all. He wants to dream about you, uninterrupted; at least that.

“Hey, kid…,” he moves up on the pillows, yawning.

“I made you breakfast,” Kase shows him the plate with some burned toast and a bit of grape jelly on top.

“That’s nice…” The Joker sighs. “Did you eat?”

“U-hum, Frosty brought a lot of food over.”

He always does. All the henchmen take turns to make sure nothing is missing from the penthouse. They are a bunch of jerks, but they know the kid needs food and J told them to take care of it so they obey. Their boss is out of it, even more than before; God knows for how long, and they all feel they are walking on eggshells. The King of Gotham is lost since you were murdered 4 months ago.

He has no idea on how to be a parent on his own. You were the one that seemed to know more than him about that kind of stuff. He is just… somehow winging it. And it makes him even more enraged since you are not there to help. It’s not that he is neglecting his child; it’s more like he is trying to ignore him. Why? Because Kase reminds The Joker of you. He struggles with his demons so much there is no room for too much more.

“You like it?” the boy inquires with big eyes, nervous to hear the reply.

“It’s so good,” J sadly smiles taking a bite of the extra crunchy bread. “I don’t remember having such a perfect breakfast in a while.”

Kase snickers and bites on his nails, watching his father munch on that “yummy” food he made.

“Mommy says I have to take care of you; you don’t eat enough.”

The Joker can’t swallow that last bite.

“Please stop talking like this, yes?” he messes his son’s hair, frowning.

“Daddy…” the little one hesitantly gets up on the bed, sitting on J’s knees. “Are you going to say it?”

“Say what?”

“Happy Birthday,” Kase sulks, sliding up his father’s knees even more. “It’s my birthday today.”

“Shit,” J closes his eyes, tossing the plate on the night stand.

He completely forgot. Definitely not winning the Father of The Year award.

“Happy Birthday, kid!” he pulls the boy in his arms and kisses his temple. “How old are you now?”

“Six,” the quiet answer is fast to follow.

“That’s right, I knew that. You’re growing so fast… Your mom would have…” and he stops, sensing that ache biting at his chest, sharp blades cutting through his heart. A deep breath, then silence for a few seconds. “Anyway, we’ll do something, alright? And I will get you anything you want.”

Kase gasps, suddenly full of energy.

“Really?! Really daddy?”

“Yes, we’ll both take a shower and get ready, then we can go.”

“Yayy!!! Yayyyyy!!!! “ the kid leaves his father’s lap, jumping up and down on the bed.

J finds himself smirking, immersed in his child’s excited outburst.

“Thank you, daddy! You’re the best!!!” he shouts, gives The Joker a kiss on the cheek and runs screaming towards the master bathroom.

You’re the best… J mumbles, finally getting out of bed. What does that even mean?…

He’s been moping around for so long he finds it hard to get ready and leave the penthouse. As he takes a shower and his son is in the other bathtub taking a bath, he seriously contemplates cancelling the birthday plans. But something won’t let him.

“I’m done, daddy! I’m going to get dressed!” Kase announces and J peeks from behind the heavy shower curtain.

“I’ll be done soon too. We’ll dress the same, OK?”

“Hooraaaayyy!!!!” J hears the door being slammed and stomping up the staircase.

The two of them have a lot of matching outfits. Since today is a special day, might as well wear one.

– You would get so emotional when you saw both wearing identical clothes.

“Look at my handsome boys! If I die right now, I would die happy,” and you got teary, making The Joker roll his eyes.

“So much drama for nothing, Princess.”

Kase would cover his mouth with his hands, giggling when his father winked at him, grinning at your silly reaction.

“What would you know about that?” you sniffled, wiping your eyes, feeling so overwhelmed when J squeezed you in his arms, kissing you so you would shut up.

“I know enough,“ he would purr in your ear. “Want me to prove it tonight, after the kid goes to sleep?” the low tone unexpectedly got you all lightheaded.

“Yes, prove it, “you breathed on his lips and Kase would run over, pulling on your dress.

“Mommy, I want a kiss too!”

J grunts at the painful memory as he buttons up his son’s purple shirt.

“Does something hurt, daddy?” the little boy asks, seeing the painful grimace on The Joker’s face.

“No, nothing…” and he gets up, being done with the task. “ I think we look dashing,” he distracts his boy from the real issue. Or is he distracting himself?

He notices Kase staring at him, then to his left, then back to him again. And suddenly the little one bursts into tears, crying so hard it scares The Joker.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” J bends one knee to kneel in front of his son. “What is it?” he cups his face, actually worried.

Kase keeps on staring to The Joker’s left again, not being able to quit bawling.

“No, I-I don’t wanna tell him that…” he seems to be answering to someone else’s question.

“Hey, knock it out! What’s going on, hm?”

“Mommy…” and his son takes a deep breath, whimpering and trying to talk. “Mommy says you should get a new girlfriend. She doesn’t mind; she understands. I-I…” and the crying intensifies so badly the little face gets super red. “…I don’t want another moommmyyy!!! I want MY mommy!!!” and he charges at his father’s neck, hugging him so tight it makes the Joker cringe. “P-please daaaddyyy, I don’t want another mommy!!!” Kase keeps on begging, unaware of his father’s own heartache.

J can’t move. Where is this coming from?! He wants to get mad like he usually does when his son says things like that, but it’s almost as he can’t find the strength to do it.

“Ssssttt, stop crying. You‘re not getting a new mom, alright?” The Joker surprisingly goes another route in order to calm his child’s hysterical behavior. “ Who the hell had time to even think about that?” he mutters the last sentence mostly to himself. “Hey, look at me,” he continues to caress his son’s back. “You can’t cry on your birthday, that’s the rule. Do we understand each other?”

“Y-yes…” the small body shakes in his arms, finally letting go.

“We need to clean you up now; your face is a mess. It’s ok, you’re not getting another mom, alright?”

“U-hum,” the 6 year old agrees, feeling better since his father reassured him. “You promise daddy?”

“Yeah, brat, I promise,” J is fast to answer because the strange episode needs to stop.

“Mommy says she loves you,” Kase pecks his star tattoo, sniffling, then goes inside the bathroom, turning on the water in the sink so he can wash his face.

The Joker can’t even get up yet; he feels so drained and exhausted. He can’t understand why Kase continues to talk like that. J refuses to acknowledge the obvious: that THERE IS something happening with his kid. The stuff he says sometimes…Things he couldn’t possibly know about.

“I’m done, daddy,” and that makes The King of Gotham to finally get up on his feet.

– J took his son to different toy stores owned by people he does business with. Some of them use the upfront venture for money laundering, some conduct less than legal affairs behind closed doors. No matter. Just one word from The Prince of Crime and the chosen location closes under 10 minutes. Like somebody would dare saying no to him.

Kase runs all over the place, picking toys he likes to take back to the penthouse.

“Daddy, can I have this one too?” he barely pushes the huge box with a tank inside in front of J. “ Sure, whatever you want, as many as you want,” a bored Joker answers, absent minded. He is sitting on a lather couch, displeased with the color. The pile of toys next to him is getting bigger and bigger.

The cake resting on a glass table nearby has 6 candles waiting to be lit. J ordered Frost to bring it over here, since “Rascal’s ” is the last stop for the day. Kase takes the mini-silver jacket off, tired from all the hard work he’s been doing and crawls in his father’s lap.

“That’s it,” he huffs, bouncing his legs, impatiently eyeballing his favorite chocolate cake.

“Are you sure?” J double checks, leaning over to light up the candles.

“Yes,” he rubs his eyes, getting ready to blow the flames.

“Make a wish,” The Joker urges, wanting to head back home soon.

His son innocent request strikes a chord within J:

“I want my mommy back,” and he blows in the candles, the flickering lights dancing in frenzy before disappearing in thin air.

“Great job, kid!” he gets praised and they are both silent before the cake gets cut. Kase gets a piece and J doesn’t want any. He didn’t have anything today except that toast in the morning, yet he’s not hungry. No appetite since you’ve been gone.

“Here, Daddy,” the little boy offers a bite to his father and J nods a no.

“You eat it, I’m fine.”

“Huh?” he glances over The Joker’s shoulder, carefully listening. “Mommy says you should eat, she doesn’t like it you’re skinnier.”

“Not again…” the complaint is following the remark. “Can you take a break from this? I really don’t want to put up with your…”, J is shouting without realizing it.

“Mommy doesn’t like it when you yell at me…” Kase interrupts, startled.

“YOUR MOM IS DEAD!!! Do you hear me? SHE’S DEAD! Why are you pushing me, hm?” The Joker yanks the plate from his son’s hand, slamming it on the floor. “ Shut up! And don’t cry either! We’re going home! No toys!!!” he yanks the little hand away, furious again, incapable of controlling his temper.

The poor kid can hardly keep up with his father, trying so hard not to cry because he’s afraid J will get angrier.

“Daddy…daddy…” Kase pleads and The Joker snaps at him one more time.

“What?! What is it now?!”

“Mommy says that if you don’t stop, she’ll hate you even if she said she never will,” and tears follow while J slows down then halts. “My hand hurts,” Kase sobs and J releases his strong grip, the words making him aware of what he’s doing.

Fuck, he thinks, trying to cool down.

Why is he taking it on his kid? Probably because there is nobody else around. No you, no one else to tell what’s going on inside his head. That uncanny feeling he lost something he can never get back becomes stronger with each passing day. The restlessness is unbearable, the pain ever growing. He misses you so much it physically hurts most of the time. That’s why he finds it hard to even get out of bed. All he wants is to be left alone.

He’s a goddamned lunatic, completely gone and lost for the world, just like that old Arkham report stated. Why pretend to be something else? And yet…

He gazes at the small child without seeing anything.

“Daddy, are you mad at me?” Kase hugs his legs, getting him out of trance.

The Joker lifts his son up, carrying him in his arms towards the exit.

“No, I’m not. How’s your hand?” he grumbles, kissing the tiny fingers.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore,” the boy admits, already forgetting about it. There is nothing more he wants than his father’s attention. Since your death, J seems so far away, in his own world. Kase needs somebody to take care of him; he’s just 6. It doesn’t matter that the infamous Joker is his dad, the kid loves him regardless. To a child, his parents are the center of the universe. And right now, The Joker is the only one feeling up that space.

Certainly not winning the Father of The Year award.

“Frost will bring all the toys and the cake to the house, OK?” J makes amendments, almost out of there. “Can you…can you tell your mom not to hate me?” he suddenly articulates, mostly on a whim.

“I don’t have to, daddy. She can hear you,” Kase smiles, not crying anymore.

That smile of his…

– J got so many more presents for his son. He watched Kase open all of them, and that crazy laugh of his finally echoed in the Penthouse after so long. But when the night comes, all alone with his devils again, tossing and turning, unable to rest until he takes his sleeping pills. But they take about 15 minutes to kick in.

He’s facing your side of the bed, sensing Kase against his body behind him. His son really wanted to sleep in there and J didn’t object. He has to make up for being so out of control right on his kid’s birthday.

The Joker gets under the sheets, just like he used to when you were there, anxious to share plans and secrets with his girl but she’s not there. He whispers anyway.

“I was thinking to plan a heist in 2 months or so. What do you think? Should I go sooner? I really don’t feel like it, because I miss you…” and he brings your pillow to his chest. “I don’t feel like doing anything…”

No answer, of course.

“Daddy,” Kase stretches, half asleep, snuggling more towards his father.

“Mommy says she loves you.”

“You’re just dreaming…” J extends his arm behind to hold Kase close to him, not getting pissed for once.

“She’s right there,” his son lifts his head up from the pillows, eyes almost closed, pointing towards your usual spot. “Can’t you see her?” and the little one sighs, falling asleep again.

“No, I can’t see anything, “ he answers, smelling your perfume on the fabric. J always freshens up the scent from the tiny vial you kept on the night stand.

The eyelids are getting heavy, the medicine reacting in his body.

He feels a tender pressure on his lips, just like a soft kiss.

“Hey, handsome,” he hears your voice.

“Hey pretty girl,” he mutters, waking up for a moment.

He opens his eyes, so used to dream about you and losing the connection. The Joker shifts so he can wrap his arms around Kase, almost dozing off again.

“Tell your dad I love him,” he faintly discerns. “ Honey, wake up. Tell your dad I love him.”

Kase yawns, gently shaking his father.

“Daddy…mommy says she loves you.”

“I know, I heard it,” he replies, not realizing what he’s saying. The medication is strong, makes one totally out of it. “Tell her I love her too.”

“She can hear you, dad,” his son repositions himself in his father’s arms, tired since he keeps on being woken up.

“That’s good, I want her to know…” and the last trace of consciousness is lost, enslaved by the effects of the medicine.

“She knows,” his son buries his face in J’s t-shirt, even if his dad can’t hear him anymore.“And she says she’ll always come back because she promised.”