#I am not tagging anyone else their tags deserve to be Bat-Free

[azol-otl]

Random Jason Hijinks I either wish would happen someday or find amusing to think about.

Rose and Jason break Eddie out of hell and steal his soul back from Neron. Jaime is dragged along by Rose because he and Eddie were “friends a few reboots ago”. Jason asked Roy who sent him Connor who is suffering™.

Pre-Red Hood Jason and Pre-Green Arrow Connor first meet up back when Jason was part of the All-Caste hunting a demon. It’s a one-shot adventure and the things you have to know are:  

a) this is before Jason’s growth spurt so he’s over a head shorter than Connor.

b) Connor isn’t a cape so excuse him for not understanding demons and fucking up hilariously a few times.

c) When Jason tries to kill the demon who is possessing the human, he and Connor fight about it. The fight ends when the demon explodes out of the person like the Pus of Man from Dark Souls 3.

d) Talia is the one who finds and picks up Jason from the adventure (Connor thinks she’s his mom and Jason just didn’t inherit the melanin) and is also the one who gives Connor contact information for Jason because she wants him to have some sort of friend.

e) They never actually learned the other’s name so anytime they’d hear about Red Hood or Green Arrow they literally don’t know it’s that guy they met as teenagers.

Jason decides to actually dust off his mystic training when Dick walks in and Jason gets hit with so many bad vibes he’s genuinely worried something is wrong with Dick.  

Jason: “Did they not fix the Brother Blood mind control thing fully? Did Raven miss something? Isn’t Dick friends with a million people? How have they all missed this????”

It ends with bringing Danny Chase back to life and the only person remotely happy about it is Jason and even that’s a stretch.

Rose, why are you part of the Wild Hunt?!!!

What do you mean Biz got taken by the fae?!

Roy, why is this werewolf saying he’s your husband?!

Eddie, why didn’t you tell me you were a prince of hell? What do you mean that one of Trigon’s sons is buried in Gotham?!!! No wait, you still haven’t told me how you’re a prince of hell!

Jason and Talia's road trip where Jason comes to the uncomfortable realization that he views Talia as a mother/aunt figure.

Bonus Artemis suffering Jason’s Mom Has it Going On.

Jason gets a new dog named Ellie and he loves her and Dog very much. What do you mean she’s a Blue Lantern!?

Ellie is short for Elpis and she’s absolutely Hope Corgi.

Roy finds out that he has a whole-ass checking account under one of his aliases that he never knew about. Turns out Jason created it for him years ago and Roy’s actually under W.E.  employed as an independent contractor and he’s been making 6 figures for years because Jason never bothered telling anyone that he still owns Wayne R&D.

Jason slowly but surely claims Park Row and the surrounding areas as his territory. It has the unforeseen consequence of magical folk moving into the neighborhood because Gotham is a nightmare to live in normally, Magic Gotham is even worse and the only people who can survive are big hitters like Blood, Zatanna, and Ivy or small fries like the kitchen witch near Leslie’s. Welcome to the big leagues, Jason.

Jason keeps getting mistaken for Jason Blood and it is annoying. One day some demon hunters threw something at Jason and did anyone know Jason used to be in heaven because he sure didn’t and these angel wings are a fucking nightmare.

Rose busts a gut laughing because she somehow became friends with the least demon-y demon Eddie and Jason as an angel.

Jason, Ivy, Sideways, and Impulse (Impulse voice: “Why am I even here?”) vs the Madness Wavelength in Arkham.

Jason kills Joker and finds out that he cannot. Not as in “He doesn’t die” or “There will be a new one” but a secret third option, “The universe literally resets the day every time he’s killed.” Instead of being a tragedy, it becomes a comedy as killing Joker slowly becomes Jason’s go-to when shit goes wrong/killing him is good stress relief. Stephanie discovers what happens because she’s had to write the same essay nine times once. Instead of being horrified they (and then Helena, Tim, Duke, etc.) make killing Joker a gag. The only ones not allowed to kill the Joker are Dick and Bruce because then the universe decides it’s the bad timeline instead of just resetting again.

Tim: *drops his latte on a hot guy and then embarrasses himself in public trying to apologize and becomes a meme.*

Tim: I guess I have to kill Joker now.

Jason and Kory remeeting and wow it’s really awkward that we only got close because of a universe meddler and then you dipped and never contacted me again even though I was a hundred percent serious that you were one of my first friends and are very important to me.

Oh no. Not the talking. Not communication! Kory take mercy on me and just drop me like a bad memory don’t have us open a dialogue where we reconcile all of the bullshit that happened to us and the fact that we did genuinely get close at very low points in our lives and be willing to try and be friends again!

Give! Kory! All! The! Friends! She doesn’t care if you think it’s a bad idea, it's her life!

Gotham Vigilante Tabletop Club (GVTC) featuring Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Duke, Helena, and Harper. They each get a turn as dm and every one of them brings in a different game.

Why is Damian’s friend (Colin) asking me for love advice? I’m a gay disaster ask anyone else please. ??? I guess I can try to help??? Who’s your crush?

It’s Lian and Jason regrets agreeing to help because Roy is going to murder him.

Countdown 2 Electric Boogaloo. Except for this time they were all shoved into the dimension separately and by separate events and there is no danger. It is just a multiversal road trip with the people who vexed you greatly but are slightly grown up now.

Bonus scene includes Jason’s gleeful face when he realizes he understands what all of those words Donna keeps muttering under her breath mean because Artemis was a bro and taught him Themysciran Greek.

[starlight-library]

writing smut about real people is so weird wtf

well this wasn’t something i was expecting to wake up to so good morning to you as well anon. you can find it weird and not like. that's fine but here are a few things.

first and foremost this is RPF: Real-person fiction. It's just like the name states! It's fictional.

second i don't exclusively write smut. I know you're probably side eyeing like "that's a lie" but I don't! I actually have some SFW things in the works to come out this month as well.

last thing is (and can be controversial take but) i'm not doing anything harmful. it is harmless writing. im not shouting it from the rooftops or anything. i'm not shoving (or trying to anyway) it down anybody's throat. I am on here writing into the void because it's harmless fun.

also another hot take: they probably don't even bat an eye. they are probably super busy with everything else they got going on to really care about it or even know that it exist. now if someone--like a driver for example-- came forward and said they're uncomfortable with this existing or would like boundaries place about what is and isn't written guess what?

I WILL BE RESPECTING THAT SHIT

'okay so this driver doesn't want any fics' delete. 'okay so this driver made some boundaries' cool i know what i can and cannot write. do you know what has happened? neither of those things! why? because they probably don't know this exist or have the time to bat an eye about this shit.

again it’s fiction at the end of the day. it is harmless fiction i am just writing. if you like it, you like it! if you don't, that's cool too! you don't have to read! i'm posting this shit for free just for fun! nobody has to read my shit!

also hey. psssst: you are responsible for your own media consumption btw!

your media consumption does not fall onto me. i ain't the one. i make sure my shit is tagged. you may not like it but if you clearly skip over the tags - the whole warning portion i put BEFORE the fic - then i don't know what else to tell you dawg fr.

it's like a friend suggesting a book and informing you that there are trigger warnings. they send you the list of triggers. you ignore the list and read then turn around like "why didn't you tell me about this??" ???? like???? uhhhh no.

also to anyone else who reads my things: please read the warnings. for the love of god that's all i ask. i'm begging.

but anyway. yeah. you can find it weird and wonder wtf is going on but this ain't what we doing. curator your dashboard for yourself. i ain't changing my shit. never had never will idc if i'm weird for it. i know i am weird, always have been always will be. mute the tags, mute my blog, block my blog for fuck sakes idc but this? is not what we're gonna do.

anyway, i'm gonna go finally have my energy drink and go write and vibe, have the day you deserve anon ✌️

[angelbluediary]

My favorite characters growing up were always sex workers. Courtesans, strippers, whores. Burlesque dancers. Scantily clad waitresses. Anyone who knew how to bat their lashes and smile in a way that made men trip over their feet, hands reaching in pockets for wallets.

I always recognized there was a certain sadness associated with these characters. They might be sweet and warm, or fiery and witty, but one thing they all had in common was a deep and untouchable melancholy, the sense of something locked tight deep, within them. Something that ached to be free. And this aching melancholy is what I related to most of all, because when all you want is to belong somewhere, and to be loved, it’s second nature to romanticize that sadness. It becomes a part of you as much as the glamour and allure of sensuality.

I have time now to sit and reflect on being an adult. To recognize that I’m at a crossroads. My teenage years feel more real than anything I’m experiencing now, but they’re also a million miles away. I’ve sunk into a routine of spectacle. I make a performance of my sexuality. It all used to be so fun—“liberating” is what I called it. And now I’m just tired.

Just last year I was still wide eyed and amazed at what other people—men—were willing to do for me. The money they’d give me just for sitting pretty and talking to them, laughing at what they said, giving tiny pieces of myself away all the while. I felt giddy and guilty. Like I didn’t deserve their tips. Like I wasn’t doing enough or wasn’t enough in general, so none of it made sense to me, but it felt so good.

My attitude has been changed this year by people and by circumstances. The tips I receive aren’t just pocket money anymore for clothes and makeup—it is all gone the second I pay rent. And the people are no longer charming and generous. They demand more, take more liberties. Give me dimes until I fall down exhausted and still want more.

I never wanted to be cynical. Even if it makes me closer to my childhood favorite characters—maybe it’s simply a rite of passage, an unavoidable thing when this immersed in the industry. I never wanted this to lose its spark, but I can feel myself becoming smaller—my feelings with putting on explicit shows these past few years turning from excited, to anxious, to numb.

A man feeds me quarters while bragging about his promotion and his $300 pillows and yet another festival that he’s just gone to, and when I mention a thing, anything—ice cream or tea—he’ll show me price tags that I’m not used to seeing, says he’d treat me, take care of me if I flew out to see him. And all the while my stomach is growling because I can’t afford groceries and we both know it.

A man openly stalks every social media account I have and sees the full extent of my end-of-month desperation, that I can’t make rent, that I’m hungry. He uses this as an excuse to talk to me, since I’ve ignored his other messages. “Is it true you’ve been skipping meals?” He asks, from a comment I’d slipped in somewhere, details I’m never proud to share. He waxes poetic about how his conscience tells him to help me. Asks how that might be possible. I politely remind him where I’ve outlined the exact ways to do so, my multiple payment options, easy and familiar clicks. He mysteriously vanishes and the pay period ends.

A man love bombs me for weeks, then revokes all support because he’s in a bad mood, but still expects me to talk to him daily, to listen to 10 minute long audio messages (I don’t).

A man says I’m perfect, like nothing and no one he’s ever seen before. He loves that I’m not cold and cynical like everyone else, because he doesn’t know that the light in someone’s eyes can be faked. He leaves forever and I don’t see a cent.

How can someone run so hot and cold at the same time? I am terrified that my friends find me fake. I don’t mean to be. My warmth is genuine—I love and I want and I crave connection. But every day, my core feels icier, and every day, the walls go up a little bit more. My own friendliness starts to feel like desperation. My loneliness simmers into resentment. I’ve forgotten how to navigate easy intimacy, or how to touch and be touched without calculations.

Like I’ve forgotten even to feel real, true gratitude for the rare big tips I do receive, because I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Another contract signed. I owe you now. How will you hold this over me?

Many of the things that frustrate me, I expect. But something I’ve seen in this past year that never fails to surprise me is how many men fake sympathy on such a grand scale. Even offline, in small, mundane exchanges, they find a way to make me a fantasy object—they see my very real struggles as a chance to play out the thrill of saving a young, innocent and yet debauched woman from ruin. They want me to elaborate on my “trauma.” They want to hear about the sacrifices I’ve had to make just to keep a roof over my head. The scummier ones outright proposition me, say maybe they’ll lighten my burdens if I pleasure them (and I will tell them, “I am not an escort. I am an online model,” to which they encourage an immediate career change). Mostly, I am pumped for details and strung along with vague indications it’s leading to support, to be met with: “I’d like to, but I haven’t been paid yet.” “I hope someone gives you the help you need.” “You’re a pretty girl, so I’m sure you have plenty of options.”

I expect to be ignored when someone is not willing to intervene, but that’s rarely the case. It must be exciting to watch beautiful girls squirm with uncertainty over their futures—to turn to you with hope in their eyes.

I am tired.

[sunshells]

Pick  one  of  your  muses .

Fill  in  the  questions/statements  as  if  you  were  your  muse  in  a  new  post .

Tag  five  people  to  do  this  meme

Tagged  by  @andiaberto​

1.  What  is  your  name ?   Gabry !!

2.  What  is  your  real  name ?  Uh  ..  you  mean  my  full  name ?  It’s  Gabriele  Capasanta.

3. Do  you  know  why  you  were  called  that ?   No ?  My  parents  just  thought  ‘Gabriele’  was  a  nice  name,  and  they  were  right.  I  prefer  to  be  called   ‘Gabry’   though .

4.  Are  you  single  or  taken ?  Hehe .. mind your damn business.

5.  Have  any  abilities  or  powers ?  I  don’t  know,  is  shapeshifting  considered  a  power?  I  think  it  is!  I’m  a  sea  monster  so  i’m  pretty  good  at  swimming,  but  i  can  also  shift  into  a  human  whenever  i  want  ..  and  as  a human  i  am  great  at  parkouring  !!  Wanna  see  me  do  some  free  running  on  a  rooftop  ?!   It’s  not  dangerous .

6. Stop  being  a  Mary Sue.  Who  the  hell  is  that ?

7. What’s  your  eye  color ?   Brown  as  a  human  and  turquoise  as  a  sea  monster .

8. How  about  your  hair  color ?   Blonde ! But  uh  ..  as  a  sea  monster  my  fin  thingies  are  teal.

9. Have  you  any  family  members ?  Yeah,  there’s  my  mom  Serena  and  my  dad  Vincenzo,  mom’s  a  craftswoman  and  dad  is  a  biologist.  I  lean  towards  my  mom’s  artsy  side  though but only  because  my  brain  shuts  down  at  the  mere mention  of  science  and  maths.

10. Oh ?  What  about  pets ?   Not  really,  the  only  pet  i  ever  had  was  this  one  fish  i  won  at  a  fair  when  i  was  8  years  old,  but  it  died  the  day  after  i  got  it.   My  man  really  just  looked  at  me  and  said  ‘ nah  boy  bye ’

11. That’s  cool  I  guess,  now  tell  me  about  something  you  don’t  like  People  who  use  their  wealth  and  ‘power’  to  manipulate  others  into  doing  whatever  they  want,  i’ve  seen  plenty  of  people  like  that  at  my  school  and  for  some  reasons  everyone  keeps  looking  up  to  them  as  if  they  were  some  kind  of  heroes.  All  i  see  is   parasites  with  no  skills  who  wouldn’t  be  able  to  do  shit   without  mommy  and  daddy  giving  them  whatever  they  want.

12.  Do  you  have  any  hobbies / activities  you  like  doing ?  I  already  told  you  about  the  parkouring  and  free  running  so  i  suppose  in  can  tell  you  i  really  love  drawing,  to  be  specific  .. i  prefer  painting !  got  tons  of  unfinished  art  and  tools  scattered  all  over  my  room  but  that’s  what  happens  when  you  get  so  many  ideas  but  never  have  time  to  actually  finish  it  or  uh  ..  tidy  up  your  room  ..  but  yeah !  Sculpting  is  also  a  great  passion  of  mine  and  i’m  hoping  to  turn  this  passion  into  my  profession.

13. Ever  hurt  anyone  before ?   Mentally  or  phyisically ?  Because  i  always  do  my  best  to  always  be  careful  with  words  and  avoid  hurting  anyone’s  feelings  ..  and  if  i  do  i  always  apologize,  physically  though  ..  uh  ..  let’s  just  say  all  those  times  were  self  defense.  Those  punk  ass  bitches’  faces  deserved  to  meet  my  bat.

14. Ever …. killed  anyone  before ?  Nah,  i  am  not  looking  to  go  to  jail  man

15. What  kind  of  animal  are  you ?   .. FISH ??

16. Name  your  worst  habits.  When  i  feel  nervous  i  constantly  twirl,  curl  and  pull  on  my  hair.  And  ..  uh  ..  i  guess  i’m  always  getting  myself  in  trouble  or  dangerous  situations .. 

17. Do  you  look  up  to  anyone  at  all ?  My  parents,  absolutely.  Look  at  them,  they’re  thriving !  I  am  proud  of  them.

18. Gay,  straight,  or  bisexual ?  Don’t  care,  just  be  a  decent  person

19. Do  you  go  to  school?  Yup !  Art  school !

20. Do  you  ever  want  to  marry  and  have  kids  one  day ?  I  can’t  even  take  care  of  a  fish  man  you  think  i  can  care  for  a  little  child ?

21. Do  you  have  any  fanboys / fangirls ?  What ? No,  i  don’t  want  people  idolizing  me.

22. What  are  you  most  afraid  of ?  The  human  and  animal  remainings  i  find  in  my  school’s  old  ass  clay.

23.  What  do  you  usually  wear ?  I  don’t  really  follow  trends  because  most  of  the  time  they’re  all  ugly  as  hell  so  i  mostly  just  like  to  wear  overalls  or  anything  that  feels  comfortable  enough  for  me  to  move  around  in.

24. Do  you  love  someone ?  I  love  my  family,  my  friends,  and  .. someone  else  i’m  not  gonna  tell  you.  Shut  up. 

25. When  was  the  last  time  you  wet  yourself ?  The  fuck  man  that’s  disgusting  and  i’m  not  answering

26. Well,  it’s  not   over  yet!  Uuugh,  can  we  hurry  up ??

27. What  class  are  you ?  11th grade ..

28. How  many  friends  do  you  have ?  I  only  have  a  few  trusted  friends  and  i  like  it  that  way.

29. What  are  your  thoughts  on  pie ?  I  love  it  just  like  i  love  any  other  kind  of  food  existent  on  planet  earth

30. Favorite drink?  Coca Cola,  drink  it  night  and  day,  dip  it  in  ceral.

31. What’s  your  favorite  place ?   Bari  is  a  beautiful  city,  but  the  sight  of  Portorosso’s  landscape  from  my  room’s  balcony  is  truly  something  else.  It  never  fails  to  inspire  me  and  relax me.

32. Are  you  interested  in  someone ?  I  am  not  telling  you  his  name  ..  but  he  is  a  cute  brunette.

33. Would  you  rather  swim  in  the  lake   or  the  ocean?  I  wanna  swim  in  Coca  Cola.

34. What’s  your  type ?  Of  focaccia ????  I  love  those  extra  oily  ones  with  a  bunch  of  tomatoes  on  top

35. Are  you  wanting  the  quiz  to  end ?  Yes  please  go  fuck  yourself

36. Now  it’s  over !  Tag  five  people:  @qucintly​ @arrhythmiiia​ @prettiestmoon @blackstardiopside​ @pvach​​   anyone  who  wants  to  do  it

[montosmadman]

I was tagged by @soy-celeste ages ago. This was hard but also super rewarding because I really got to take a deep dive in the murky depths of my own music library. Thanks for thinking of me, Cata💕

Task: choose TEN SONGS that describe your personal aesthetic / how you see yourself. Bonus points if you write a little explanation for each song, that‘s not a must though.

List under a read more because it turned out really long and includes some very personal and possibly triggering mental health stuff.

I'm tagging @capitanogiorgio @hendos @furiousflamewolf @checoswin and @diegoalvesisgod

1. Nakashima Mika - 僕が死のうと思ったのは

The title loosely translates to "The reason I thought I'd die" or "The time I thought I'd die". Yes, I went there right off the bat.

Let's get something straight: I'm not suicidal. I have never been actively suicidal, despite struggling with depression and anxiety most of my teenage/adult life. However, what this song captures for me is the feeling when you're not actively thinking about killing yourself, but you do have this empty feeling when you think there's no point for you being alive. And that's something I'm very familiar with.

There are a couple lines I wanna highlight, even though the whole song hits me very hard whenever I listen to it:

その木漏れ日でうたた寝したら、虫の死骸と土になれるかな

If I lie down beneath the sunlight streaming through the trees, will I become like the dirt and insect remains?

あなたのような人が生きてる世界に少し期待するよ

If people like you are living in this world, then maybe it’s alright to hope a little too.

The first line does what I talked about to above: it's the feeling when you just lie down and wonder if anything would change if you just disappeared. The second line -- last one of the song -- has more hope. It's when you find a reason to believe in the future and realize there is still a reason to live. Personally, I'm trying to hang very hard on that last thought even when the world seems to be against me.

(Full translation in a pinned comment under the Youtube video)

2. The Ark - Little Dysfunk You

No essay here. I just needed to have The Ark on the list because they're the official soundtrack of my life, the first band whose album I bought myself, and who taught me it was okay not to fit in. I even have a tattoo that says "a little dysfunk" because my best friend and I have been relating to this song long before either one of us realized we weren't neurotypical. It's the very dysfunctional ode to our friendship, and I love it.

3. Elton John - Rocket Man

I feel like this might be a universal experience growing up neurodiverse and/or an outsider. You spend years feeling like you're alone in space, on another planet, and you want to connect with people but at the same time know that once you come back, you still won't be the person others want or expect you to be. The challenge is to accept that and realize it's okay and you don't need to change yourself for others. And it really is hard when you're raised in a society where the odds are stacked against you.

4. Sanni - Jos mä oon oikee

Look, I'm giving you something in Finnish too!

Sanni is one of the Finnish artists whose breakthrough I originally missed because I was living abroad. I only properly discovered her a couple years after moving back, when I was driving a lot for my work and hence listening to the radio much more than I used to. Her songs just kept standing out from the rest: her lyrics had this amazing depth even when she was singing about mundane stuff -- like, she was finding these painful truths I hadn't ever spoken but felt very clearly.

That said, I had to choose the one song that's actually very upfront with this idea of being an outsider and not feeling like a part of this world. The title translates to "If I am real" and that pretty much sums it up. It's a song about feeling lonely in the middle of a crowded room, feeling like no one sees you or cares what you do. I personally have this habit of taking a step back and observing people rather than getting involved -- and even when I do, it rarely feels like it's really me out there, because I'm so used to masking and acting like everyone else just to fit in, you know?

I'll finish this off with my favourite verse, translated by yours truly. The last line especially hits home super hard no matter how many times I hear it.

Rautatieasema maanantaina ruuhkaisa Kaikilla tuntuu olevan kiire ja suunta Mä oon ulkopuolella vaik seison sisällä Jos oon jo kotona miten voi olla koti-ikävä

The railway station on Monday is crowded Everyone seems to be in a rush and have a direction I'm outside even though I'm standing inside How can I feel homesick when I'm already home

5. Shobha - Last Exit To Freedom

Full disclosure: Degrassi has been one of my comfort series for many, many years. When this song was first introduced in Next Class, it hit me really hard because it was woven into this whole storyline about depression and suicide, which at the time spoke to me a lot. I repeat, I have never been suicidal, but I do get the headspace that could drive people into it.

However, listening to it again now, it's mostly the message of hope that shines through to me. It's a song that can take two very different readings depending on what your own baggage is. And the series actually acknowledges that later on, which I think is not only beautiful but also extremely important.

There's empty places in my life and I need to breathe There's empty spaces on the map waiting there for me

I've never felt more free than when I actually drop my responsibilities and just go where I want to go. I need that space to breathe, and that's why it has always been such a relief when I could just pack up and start over in a new place. Some might call it running away from my troubles -- and they wouldn't be completely wrong -- but that doesn't change the fact that I've always valued my own freedom above any arbitrary societal norms.

6. Scandinavian Music Group - Näin minä vihellän matkallani

SMG is another one of those bands I grew up on and have seen live several times, so they needed to be here. This song is more on the "aesthetic" end of scale than how I see myself. In fact, I've many times hoped I could be like the narrator of this song. I'll give you a couple of verses to explain:

Kun minulta viedään kaikki Autan kantamaan Ja kun lopulta kaadun Teen sen näyttävästi

When everything's taken from me I'll help them carry it And when I finally fall I'll do it with a flair

Minä vihellän matkallani Näin minä vihellän matkallani Jos sen on oltava niin Olkoon sitten niin

I'm whistling on my journey See how I'm whistling on my journey If this is how things have to be Then so be it

It's this carefree attitude. Laughing in the face of hardship and controversy. There's another amazing line about getting back to the saddle after you fall and swearing you'd do it all over again. I've never been able to do that, because I carry all my old failures and pains so close to the surface, and could never just shake them off with a shrug, no matter how minor.

But on another level, I keep hearing from people who I thought knew me that I don't seem depressed. And who can blame them: on the outside, it probably looks like I bounce back from hardships really fast, because I'm so used to masking my issues that the moment I'm physically capable of doing it, I will. So you might say this song is a picture of my outer self, though it hardly mirrors what's really going on.

7. Queen - Don't Stop Me Now

I'm a firm believer that if my life was a teen movie, this is the song I'd have playing in the final scene where I'd just go "fuck that" and started dancing with @mirkwoodstock in the middle of the parking lot of something. It's my ultimate party anthem, the one that always has me dancing and singing along no matter where I am.

Back when we were at the university, Nanna and I used to go to this rock'n'roll club in town and they'd always play Don't Stop Me Now close to the end of the night, and it really became our song. Like, no matter how shitty I felt, when it came on, I'd be there, and so would she. And that's why it also deserves to be on the list.

8. Blind Channel - Died Enough For You

Throwing a rare newer song into the mix. The moment I heard this song, I knew I'd be listening to it a lot. There's also an acoustic version if you're not a fan of the genre or if you just wanna have a different perspective. Blind Channel is also representing Finland in Eurovision next week, and I'm living for it.

Advertising aside, Died Enough For You takes me to some really dark times in my life. I've been in relationships, both romantic and not, where I've been carrying the other person and giving so much of myself, risking my own mental health (which was not that good to begin with) and not getting much in return. There comes a point where you have to prioritize yourself and admit that dragging yourself into the same abyss is not going help anyone. Unfortunately, usually it takes more strength to admit that and leave than to stay in the relationship that's hurting you.

I'm still talking to some of these people, but I've learned to give myself a permission to sign off when I notice that by helping them I'm only hurting myself more. Someone else's wellbeing cannot be my responsibility when I'm struggling to keep myself afloat. And I truly hope everyone who is supporting me also knows that.

9. Aqua Timez - 真夜中のオーケストラ

Title translates to "Midnight Orchestra". Yes, it's from Naruto. I discovered it back when I was still more involved in anime fandom stuff, and fell for it again year ago when I binged the anime when to lockdowns started, because I needed an escape.

And what an escape it was. Have you ever heard a song and immediately went "I need a tattoo of this", or is that just me? I'm probably not going to get a tattoo because I don't trust non-Japanese artists to get the kanjis right, but the song still captures something very real about loneliness that's not really visible but still very much there. Like, the moment when you meet a person you can truly relate to and for the first time realize you'd been feeling lonely all that time. That's what this song describes to me.

Below are a few verses towards the end of the song. I've bolded the one that first caught my attention (and which I still have as the title of my Japan sideblog).

真夜中の詩が叫んだ「僕ほんとうは独りが　嫌いだ　大嫌いだ」 独りぼっちで　生きてゆけてしまうなんてこと

The song of midnight cried out "I truly hate being alone more than anything" I hate to go on living completely alone…

幸せなんて　小さなスプーンで掬えるくら���で充分なんだ 分け合える人がいるか　いないかだけ

All I need is being able to scoop happiness with a tiny spoon so long as I have someone to share it with

(Full translation)

真夜中の詩は叫ぶよ「僕ほんとうは　僕ほんとうは　淋しかった」 太陽の眩しさに　かき消されても

The song of midnight cried out "I was truly, truly… lonely" Even if I were to be erased by the sun's radiance

10. Jenni Vartiainen (Apulanta) - Mato

This song, named "Worm", was originally released by Finnish rock band Apulanta in 1997. The lyrics, while they might make sense as individual statements, are basically gibberish when you combine them into one piece and try to understand the meaning. There is none. Anyways, the version I chose is a remake by another artist, first performed on the Finnish version of The Best Singers format. It doesn't make any more sense, I just like it better because Jenni is hot and she made it so much fun.

And the reason it's on this list? Welcome to my brain, folks! Sometimes, especially when I'm overwhelmed by lots of external stimuli, my mind tends to just wander wherever the hell it pleases and make connections even I don't get. It also likes to forget the stuff I said just a second a go, so I can switch subjects on the go without even noticing. It's very soothing to have music that doesn't require me to make those connections when that happens.

And now, I shall close this massive post with the first verse of this masterpiece:

Minä tahdon ulos, tahdon ulos kattilasta Minä tahdon pelastaa vielä sinutkin kiehumasta Minä tahdon lentää ulos vessan ikkunasta Minä tahdon tietää kaiken teidän karkkimaasta

I want out, I want out of this kettle I also want to save you from boiling I want to fly out of the toilet window I want to know everything about your candy land

Stay safe and take care of yourselves my dears💕

[flightfoot]

“maribt is an innocent ship and yet people sent hate comments to the authors of the fic” is something that I found on twitter yesterday and I have this like dislike feeling with this statement because a) it's a ship created out of spite b) the story centered around that ship is mostly about bashing other character and demonize them c) the OOCness of all the character is cringe at best d) I feel sorry for the author but at the same time I feel they should've know what they'll risked in the end to create such fic. Kinda remind me of the my immortal fic back in early 2000 in hp fandom

I don’t think sending hate comments to the author of a fic, even if you personally find it atrocious and appalling, is appropriate. I do not think that the author should have to worry about people sending hate comments to them personally on their fic. There is such a thing as internet etiquette here, and I think one of those is not to barge onto someone’s fic, no matter how horrible you think it is, and berate the author. 

That being said, I AM gonna laugh at Mari//bat being called an “innocent” ship. Hell, while a lot of people including myself certainly have criticisms about the ship itself (well, the main ship everyone knows anyway. Mari//bat is an umbrella term, but generally people are referring to Damien//ette specifically), it’s not what I despise about that whole fandom; if it was JUST the ship, even with as butchered as the characters are, I’d merely find it annoying, but ignorable easily enough.

It’s the bashing that I CANNOT stand. 

I strongly suspect that a lot of Mari//bat fans don’t actually engage with the source material much beyond maybe watching Chameleon. There seems to be a widespread lack of awareness of how baked in bashing is for even a lot of the “salt-free” fics for it I’ve been recced, and how while the main point of a decent amount of them may not be the bashing nowadays, it’s still engraved into the background of it a LOT of the time.

Might be why Mari//bat fics are ALSO plagued by another issue; not tagging their bashing. It’s why even though I was interested in the crossover itself, I gave up looking for fics for it in disgust.

Anyways, any sort of premise for those fics that involve:

A. Marinette being bullied by her classmates (aside from canonical bullies like Chloe and Lila; if they recruit anyone else for the bullying, then it’s some pretty heavy classmates bashing)

B. Marinette believing that her friends or family have wronged her in some way.

C. Someone ELSE (who the audience is supposed to think is correct in their assessment) believing that Marinette has been wronged in some way by her friends or family, often then wanting to either “rescue” Marinette from the situation by getting her out of there, or to take revenge on her “oppressors”.

These premises rest on a foundation of character bashing, of making characters who canonically are kind and sympathetic, who love Marinette and who Marinette loves back, into different characters entirely for the sake of demonizing them.

Doesn’t help that it also tends to fall afoul of some particularly foul stereotypes along the way, like making Alya - who is Black - cruel, abusive, and dangerous, saying that everything good in her life and everything she’s accomplished is because of Marinette’s efforts, and using that to punish her cruelly - when canonically she’s very supportive and kind towards Marinette and people more generally, and while she can have a one-track mind, she is NOT malicious or violent, plus she worked hard to make her blog what it is and writing that off as all being due to someone else’s efforts is just wrong.

I suspect that the root of this has more to do with this vendetta people seem to have against best friends who in any way “fail” the protagonist than anything else, but it’s still not a good look.

I just feel like there’s this fundamental misunderstanding of the ways that common tropes in Mari//bat fics butcher the source material in ways that are bound to make people upset. The people participating in it still don’t deserve to have hate sent directly to them, but there IS good reason why it’s hated. As it is, I’ve got about twenty tags blocked for the ML AO3 page, mostly to try and block out bashing (not just for Mari//bat, though it’s a major offender), and some STILL gets through.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Hi! Can you do let's fall in love for the night by FINNEAS with calum? Specifically the lyric "you won't stay with me I know but you can have your way with me until you go" and can the reader be that one saying or feeling that lyric? Thanks and sorry to bother, love your work!

Thanks for your suggestion and much gratitude for you patience. 

Please stay safe during these uncertain times. Drop a sweet message to your favorite blogger. Reblog your favorite fic. Recommend a fic to me if you want! We need to spread some joy.

If you feel so inclined, here’s my Ko-fi. But please know that I am making this content because I want to help you all through these times. 

Enjoy my masterlist!

Feel free to send me a song + a boy or small blurb request. 

_____________________________

Let’s Fall

Everyone told you not to fall for Calum. Everyone told you that he was sweet and he was thoughtful but that was something he extended to everyone. You had witnessed it with your own two eyes, helping someone get a box off the high shelf in the grocery store, stopping for the gaggle of kids crossing a good foot from the crosswalk. He bought lemonade for a kid’s stand at the end of the block once. The man oozed a softness that could melt anyone’s heart. 

But he couldn’t melt his own. And not for a lack of trying. Not for a lack of wanting love. But situations just never worked out. It seemed like with touring and his own lack of communicating sometimes, things kind of fell apart. 

it’s a dangerous game. To play with your own heart. But you are playing it, at bat with all bases loaded. Whenever Calum calls, even if it’s just to have someone else’s voice and life and even problem fill his own head instead of the bullshit he usually spiraled down, you pour your heart out. If Calum mentions doing even the most mundane things, grocery shopping, taking Duke to the vet, you ask to tag along. 

Tonight’s no different of a game. Calum’s sick of the four walls of his house, so he asks if he can crash at yours. “My apartment is tiny and you have a whole ass house.”

“I just wanna hang out for a little while. Maybe take a stroll around your block.”

You want not to flutter and squeeze at the thought of watching the setting sun in front of you guys as you wander down the block, watching birds fly overhead. Praying to the heavens none of them take your hair as a place to shit. But still enjoying the cooling breeze and possibly stopping at the convenient store not too far out of the way to stock up on cheap fruity wine and all the snacks that are no good for either of you.

But you swallow down the dream. “I don’t want you have to jostle around bringing Duke along and everything. I can just come by your place.”

“Nah, it’s not that much of a hassle. Please? I’m so bored,” he whines. And you can almost imagine him reclining into his couch with Duke in his lap. His head resting into the cushions and he’s grinning just a little knowing that soon you are going to crack. 

“Really, Calum. I can just come to you.”

“What part of me asking if I can come over to your place do you not understand?”

“Alright, smart ass,” you huff. 

“I’ll be there in 25,” he returns. 

The call ends and you’re left blinking at your phone, staring at your call list where you’re call with Calum now rests. “That wasn’t a yes,” you sigh but clean off your sofa, vacuum quickly and straighten out the kitchen table.  

When Calum turns up at your place, with a backpack, Duke on his leash and a few extra bags hiked up onto his shoulder you know immediately that it’s not just a few hour thing. But you say nothing. You let him inside and turn your attention to Duke. “Your pops is a very stubborn man, you know?”

“Oh but you love me,” he hollers as he treks down the hallway to the bedroom. 

You roll your eyes though your throat quivers. You had hoped it wasn’t obvious. You tried to tell yourself you weren’t falling. You were holding onto the edges of hope, hoping it wouldn’t push you over the edge. But it seemed it would. He returns, a baseball cap on his head. 

“Let’s go for a walk, yeah?”

“Wine and snacks?”

“Of course.” You take Duke’s leash and your keys. The sun’s hasn’t quite started to set. The hint of spring and summer allowing you more light for longer. A few neighborhood kids are laughing into the skies, a group. And for a moment it reminds you of your younger years. When after school, you hung out in groups and even if you had no money or knew you had to be studying for a test, it was a lot more fun to linger outside and laugh over some video, or story that was being shared. 

It reminds of when feelings and crushes were the biggest thing in the world and when Duke pauses to sniff out the base of a bush, you glance up to Calum. The cut of his jaw can’t be hidden by any hat, and you nearly gave. You nearly give in and stroke the scruff that’s not quite a beard. 

Now love feels like a gamble. This person could break your heart. This person could crush you. And it won’t ever be permanent. You won’t be permanently hurt. But the time frame for healing doesn’t make anyone want to jump head first into heartache. The other side of that gamble is that they could be the perfect person, they could be the person to restore your heart. 

But do you take that gamble with Calum?

And it’s not until after toting Duke around the convenient store and pointing out the bottle of wine you’re going to split and the snacks that will be shared begrudgingly and you’re laying on the floor in your living room with the TV playing whatever programming is set by the station that you’re giggling at the feeling of Duke’s snout sniffing at your face, that you think to yourself this is something you could get used too.

You haven’t had much of the wine and neither has Calum. A less than a third of it still rests inside the glass bottle and your glasses sit empty next to it on the coffee table. Your head is resting right next to Calum’s, but you’re feet point towards the fan and his feet are pointed down almost towards the hallway. You can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks, hearing the exhales.

“I want a garden.” The thought cross his lips so quietly that you don’t think you catch it. “Mum always wanted one and like, I don’t have a green thumb for shit, but I want her to smile when I hand her a bouquet of the flowers in my own garden.”

“Forget-me-nots are pretty,” you say, helping Duke up onto your stomach and he settles his head right under your sternum.

“I’ll plant you some. A whole corner.”

“That’s too much for me.”

He scoffs. “No, it’s not. You deserve more than a corner if I’m honest.”

While your fingers stop their work in Duke’s fur, you turn your head to look at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling. “That’s the wine talking,” you laugh. But when he turns to look at you, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours and you see the pulled down brow, you know it might be more serious than you estimated.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” The smell of the strawberry whine fills the space between the two of you. 

“Why do you always reject me?”

“I’m not rejecting you, Calum.”

“You didn’t want me to come over.”

“I didn’t want you having to uproot everything especially with Duke. I was offering to come over to you,” you correct. 

“You don’t want me to plant you flowers,” he continues on like you haven’t just spoken. 

“I only said I didn’t need a whole corner in a garden.”

“I like you but you keep acting like you’re not good enough or something. Like you’re waiting for me to go find someone else.”

Your ears are not hearing this. You’re sure that you’re hallucinating. All you can do is blink, mouth slightly agape. Calum could never like you like that. You weren’t even supposed to be in this game at all. You were supposed to just be friends. “Are you going to like me in the morning? Are you going to like when there’s no wine in your system? Are you going to like me when you wake up to my morning breathe?”

“Yes.”

It’s such a simple answer. Three letters. One syllable. One fucking word but you’re not sure if you can fall. “You’ll leave before morning,” you start, turning and looking back up at your ceiling. And with a thick swallow, your throat starting to close up on you because you want to believe, you want to give into the words but you know it’s Calum. The man who’s sweet to everyone. You’re no one special. 

“I won’t.” Calum reaches across, just to trace the side of your face. 

You should be cursing yourself for turning into it, rooting into his palm. “Want to know the crazy thing?”

Calum pushes up. It’s with a small grunt and he spins on his bottom to face you, one leg tucked up the other resting extended behind your head. “I’m down for crazy.”

“You could have whatever you wanted. And I know if it were just for a night, that would be fine by me. Like literally whatever you wanted from me, I think I could give it up in a heartbeat. No questions asked. And it just hurts, it could only be for a night.”

Calum’s careful as he collects Duke and settles the old man onto his lap. HIs fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you up. Now you’re sitting cross legged in front of him and he’s staring at you. His big brown eyes look so earnest across your face. “I don’t want just a night with you.”

“Then what? What do you want?”

His smile is soft and his palms are warm against your cheeks. “All of it. All of you. For as long as you’ll have me. I wanna call you mine.”

Hope, you think, wasn’t pushing you to your demise. The first tear stings and then slips down your cheek. “Okay, like I know wine makes me emotional but I swear not this bad.”

He laughs, a soft exhalation. His palms press down a little and you know your cheeks give to the pressure. “Can I kiss you?”

“Hmm-mhm,” you hum unable to nod in his grasps. The first one is soft, barely a kiss and you’re still registering the way his lips fit against yours before he’s kissing you again. And then a third time.

-H

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Curious Case of Dean Winchester: Part Three

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,258

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

In order to find out where Patrick keeps his chip stash, you needed to stake him out to determine when the best time to strike was. He was currently waiting outside of a bar, checking his watch every two seconds before finally walking onto the road. There was a car that was speeding towards him, and before he could react, the car slammed into his body. The driver freaked out, got out, checked on Patrick, and ran to a construction crew to get help. It didn’t look like Patrick couldn’t have survived the impact at all. However, another car passed by the scene, and Patrick was gone from the ground and into the car perfectly healed up.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath. Patrick drove the car passed the confused man and the construction workers, honked his horn, and sped off.

“I got to say, I kind of like the guy,” Dean laughed.

“Just drive,” you sighed at the younger brother.

Sam followed your instructions and kept Patrick’s car in sight at all times. Patrick went home, and you knew this is where his chips were going to be. It was a while since he left again, but when the coast was clear, you all got out and headed inside. Opening the door, your eyes landed on the note taped to the elevator doors which meant that the stairs were the only way to get to Patrick’s apartment.

“Well, I'm out.”

“I can use my magic, if you want. It might be a bit bumpy, but it works,” you offered.

“No, go without me. I’ll just slow you down.”

“Stay safe,” you whispered and kissed his head.

Your father nodded just as you and the two men left. Due to your more limber bodies, you and Sam moved up the stairs quickly with Dean lagging behind. He was out of breath, leaning against the railing, and rolling his eyes whenever he saw how far you and Sam were.

“Dean,” Sam said when he stopped on the second-floor landing.

The much older brother looked up and Sam pointed to the sign that informed people that it was only the second floor. He smirked lightly before continuing, and you walked on without a second glance at dean. He deserved this for what he did. Dean sighed, glared at the sign, and then continued with a determined look. Patrick loved on the third floor, so it didn’t take long to get to the room. You and Sam worked on picking the lock just in time for Dean to join you two. He was panting loudly as he limped over to you.

“I hate this,” he whispered when Sam got the door open.

The three of you headed inside and you quickly took a hard right to search one of the rooms while Sam and Dean went into another room. This was going to take all day, but luckily, you had another idea on how to find some poker chips. Your hands moved around each other just as a buildup of blue magic swirled between them. When there was enough magic, you let it loose around the room as it searched for you. If it got a match, it would hover over the spot.

The magic searched the entire room, but you weren’t getting anything. Just when you were about to lose hope, Dean called you and his brother into the room he was in. Your magic dissolved as you left, meeting Dean in front of a safe that was hidden behind some normal items.

“Dime-store model. Piece of cake,” Dean grinned.

He turned the dial, but he squinted his eyes because he couldn’t see the numbers. He leaned further and closer to it just in case it would help, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“It's like Mission: Pathetic. Watch out,” you scoffed, shoving Dean to the side.

You flicked a wisp of magic at the dial which unlocked it for you. The dial turned to the correct numbers before bouncing open.

“I could have done that,” Dean pouted.

“Yeah, right,” you shook your head.

Sam leaned in to grab handfuls of chips when you heard a throat clear from behind you.

“What are you doing?” a woman asked.

All three of you turned around to see a blonde woman standing there with a not-so-amused looking face.

“Aren't you the chick from the bar?” Dean asked, squinting at her.

“I'm a lot more than that,” she commented, throwing up a hand and closing it into a fist.

Sam and Dean double over in pain, but it was like her magic only affected them and not you. Probably had something to do with Amara and her magic running through your veins.

“What the hell are you doing to them?” you asked just as Patrick rushed into the room.

He put a hand on her arm to halt her movements.

“It's alright, Lia. It's alright. They're harmless,” he assured her.

She put down her arm, and Sam and Dean were fine just like that.

“Why didn’t it work on her?” Lia asked herself in confusion.

“You folks want chips? Take 'em. They're just chips, Einsteins. It's showmanship. This may come as a shock, but the magic does not lie in a pile of crappy plywood or in any phony abracadabra. It's in the nine-hundred-year-old witch. You folks want years? Score 'em the old-fashioned way. Texas hold 'em,” Patrick spoke as he chewed on his toothpick.

“Fine. Let’s do it,” Dean nodded.

Patrick pulled out a card from his jacket pocket and held it up to face Dean. It was the eight of hearts.

“What card am I holding?” he asked. Dean squinted but looked away in shame. “That’s what I thought. If your eyesight's that bad, what about your memory? I'm not a murderer. You, on the other hand…”

“No, Sam,” Dean sighed, already knowing where this was going.

“What, Sam not much of a player? What about you, darling?” Patrick asked when he looked at you. After none of you said a thing, he just smiled. “Okay, well, happy trails, Dean. Enjoy the twilight of your life. Should have taken better care of that ticker, though. You’re free to go.”

“Come on, Sam,” Dean sighed, leaving through the door that Patrick opened. You and Sam both followed, but Patrick stopped the taller Winchester at the door.

“Oh, but, Sam… your brother's situation—that's punishment enough, but I can't let you leave without a small parting gift,” he winked as he clapped three times.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Let's get out of here, Sam and Y/N,” Dean said.

“You wonder why your magic doesn’t work on me?” you said to Lia as the brothers left your side. “I’m a much more powerful witch than you thought. Don’t take it personal, it’s not just your magic that doesn’t work. It’s everyone’s.”

“Have a good day,” Patrick smiled as he closed the door.

Sighing, you left the apartment building and headed over to the three men waiting for you. Grabbing the handles of your father’s wheelchair, you wheeled him up the incline on your walk back to the motel room.

“You know, I still think I should play,” Sam started.

“No, no, no. You're not good enough. I'm better. Bobby's way better. We both lost,” Dean argued.

“Exactly.”

“So, what? So, I don't get a say in this anymore?”

“Sammy, when you get to be our age—”

“You're thirty, Dean! Look, I've watched you hustle plenty of poker—”

“Knowing the game is not enough, Sam. It's not about playing the cards.”

“It's about playing the other guy. I know that.”

“Well, hooray for you. All I'm saying is, I played this guy. I know his style. I can take him.”

“What about me?” you asked after you gave it some thought. The older men looked at you in silence.

“You’re not going in there,” Dean said.

“Come on. How many times have I beat you? Have I beat my dad? I can win. You don’t get as good as I am by not playing you. I learned a few things.”

“No, look, no one is playing him. We have to come up with something else. Plus, Bobby, you don’t have enough years in the bank.”

“I got enough.”

“You’ll die if you lose, dad.”

“So, what if I do, huh? What exactly am I living for, huh? The damn apocalypse? Watching men die bloody while I sit in this chair, can't take a step to help 'em?”

“Dad,” you whispered.

“No, no. It's the facts. I'm old... and broke down... and I can't...” he took a moment to breathe before speaking again. “I ain't a hunter no more. I'm useless. And if I wasn't such a coward, I'd have stuck a gun in my mouth day I got home from the hospital.”

You didn’t know the tears were rolling down your cheeks until you tasted the salt. It hurt you a lot to hear him say this.

“Bobby, you are not playing again. I'm not letting you do that. There's another way out of this. There's got to be, and I'm gonna find it,” Sam declared as he walked off. Dean noticed how sad you got after your father’s confession, and your dad saw it too.

“Y/N—”

“No, Dean!” you exclaimed, leaving their side. It was a nice day to take a walk, to take a break from all of this emotion and drama.

You didn’t know where you were going, but it felt nice to be away from the men for a while. You were able to think about what was going on without anyone else’s input. Your tears had dried on your cheeks, making the skin a bit tighter than usual. It was getting late, so you started to head back to the motel when your phone rang. Seeing it was Dean, you answered it immediately.

“What?”

“You still want to play?” Dean asked.

“Really? You’re going to let me?”

“We have a plan, and we need your help.”

“Tell me what I need to do,” you agreed.

After Dean told you all that you needed to know, you took a U-turn and headed to the bar you knew Patrick would be at. After taking the elevator ride down, you saw him with a man at a table. By the look on Patrick’s face, he was going to win and potentially kill this older man. Patrick chewed on a toothpick, and you eyed it before approaching the table.

“Hesh here is gonna live to see his granddaughter's bat mitzvah. Isn't that right, Hesh?” Patrick grinned as the older man got up

“Thanks again, Patrick,” the old man smiled as he left with the years he’s gained.

“Shalom, my friend. Shalom,” Patrick smiled.

“That was nice of you,” you commented as you sat down in front of him.

“I'm a nice guy. What can I do you for?”

“Deal,” you motioned to the cards.

“Where’s Sam?”

“You don’t get him, you get me. Now deal,” you crossed your arms just as Patrick smirked.

After Patrick dealt the cards, and you were well into the game, you kept eyeing the toothpick in his mouth. He has a glass of whiskey on the table, two cards in his hand, and several stacks of chips in front of him. Several chips are piled in the middle of the table next to the four of diamonds, a red court card, a black seven, the three of hearts, and a black two. Patrick takes out his toothpick to talk to you.

“I like you, Y/N. I do. You're smart, and your heart's clearly in the right place,” he said and placed his toothpick down next to his glass and picked that up to drink it. Looking at the toothpick, you clenched your jaw before looking at him in the eyes.

“I can tell a lot about a person by looking.”

“You mean you’re psychic.”

“No. That'd be cheating. I'm talking about good old-fashioned intuition.”

“Let’s just play.”

“We are playing,” he smiled, placing his glass down by the toothpick. “Does your boyfriend know you’re here?”

“Bet five,” you changed the subject and placed five chips on the pile.

“Didn’t think so,” he chuckled, and placed a stack of five chips on another stack of five and placed that on the growing pile. “I raise. Here you are, right? Trying to clean up their mess, and they still want to sit you at the kiddie table.”

“I can handle myself just fine,” you spoke lowly.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re some big-time witch. You think you can go off and make big girl decisions, fine. But just know I’m still gonna kick your ass into the nursing home.”

“Does this armchair-psychology routine usually work for you?”

“You tell me,” he laughed. “You’re the one who’s losing.”

Patrick chewed on the end of his toothpick as he shuffled the deck of cards. His pile of chips is a lot bigger than yours, but you knew what you were doing. No magic tricks, no cheating, just intuition and skill. You were going to win this thing. As your pile decreased, Lila walked in and approached Patrick. He places his toothpick down next to his glass just as she leaned down and kissed him. Rolling your eyes, you leaned back and crossed your arms.

“Little break?” Patrick asked with a wink once Lila pulled away.

“Take your time,” you smiled.

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[bbq-hawks-wings]

There are times when we get caught up in black and white, either/or, and all or nothing. We forget sometimes to breathe, step back, and find the gray in between. Sometimes we recognize that those hard lines in the sand are drawn more out of habit than any concrete reasoning we can immediately muster, and that there isn't really a justifiable reason to place such great emphasis on separating the thing in question in the first place. Opinions on evaluations of fictional characters are held in extremes as marks of character and points of contention within fandom far and above what they usually should be.

For many, fandom is a form of escape above mere entertainment. Comfort characters garner a following of people who often share enough commonality to bolster each other and bind them together in support as they cheer on and vicariously live through each and every one of that character's victories. Occasionally, though, these characters can end up having the exact opposite effect.

Even putting my personal feelings about Takami Keigo aside, I've always been fascinated by what he objectively is as an anime character. Though I fully recognize that removing myself from the equation is difficult, if I had to put my impression of what he is in the industry into words I'd say he feels like lightning in a bottle. It's not often in anime I find a character with such an appealing and striking visual design within his own series and next to characters of any other series, alongside such an endearing and clearly defined characterization in the way he's written and the way he acts - the whole combination of which is more powerful than the sum of its parts is something I can only describe as plain and simply "appealing" - and the mundaness of the word betrays the profound extent to which that definition applies. Almost anyone in the world could look at that character with no prior knowledge and say and say, "I like him." Almost anyone who might venture to look a little deeper would probably say at the very least, "Yup, I can appreciate that character exists" even if it stopped there.

There's likely far more of these kinds of characters in anime than I give them credit for, but Hawks has struck a chord with me in particular that resonates far more than most other examples I could think of. He's done the same with many more, I know. I am not the only Hawks-centered meta/analysis blog on this site alone by any stretch of the imagination. I wouldn't be surprised if my own more-often-than-not, self-indulgent interpretation of events has however many more rolling their eyes at my work. I experience the same thing myself on occasion in regards to content I disagree with (all in good faith, please understand - we all have different tastes and viewpoints and that's a good thing), but in this particular context I find something exceptionally bittersweet in it.

For some, it's simply bitter because they place an emotional stake in the ultimate fate of Takami Keigo far above what I do - something that's much more personal and valuable than I often realize; or maybe I do, but those reasons why simply strike far more deep and personal for others than I can personally relate to.

From the very beginning Hawks has been framed in the moral gray of the greater context of the My Hero Academia lore. He is not all good but not all bad. The way he interacts with others comes across as cold and calculating, but his inner thoughts betray a warmth and depth that's deeply endearing. The contrast of the massive good he seeks to do despite the profound wickedness of his upbringing has captured the hearts of many and has them thinking more or less the same thing, "This character has such an undeniable amount of good in his heart that he deserves to end up happy after all the pain he's been through."

"He deserves to be free. He shouldn't have to be alone anymore. He should do what makes him happy, not anyone else." Every single Hawks fan I've heard from has echoed these same core sentiments, though it's taken many forms.

Herein lies the near paradox of his fanbase, ironically befitting his ambiguous nature: the very traits that endear him to individual fans are often the context and lens by which they define the key to the ultimate happiness they want for him, and that spectrum is a wide one to the point of having one of the most diverse dedicated fanbases to a single character I've ever seen.

Just as an easy example, for someone who latched onto the fact he was used like a literal tool for others' gain, they may see the key to Hawks' happiness in rebellion - kicking the system, fighting the man, going apeshit for once next to people who also are tired of being trampled over.

For someone who recognizes his unwavering desire to do good and help others despite his developmental environment may see him being handed the reins of his own life back to him as his ticket - to have the choice of saying yes or no, to be able to keep going or just fly away merely because he wants to.

I have to pause and emphasize that they key to understanding both perspectives is catharsis for the audience in question, and while I have my own opinions as to which is more befitting to the character as written, I am placing equal emphasis on both interpretations as valid reasons to root for the ultimate outcome in each scenario.

This is all in response to comments I've received thanking me for being so steadfast and vocal in my insistence that while Hawks' formal allegiance may change, his heart and the way he feels towards heroes in general will not. I may have my personal preference and own interpretation of what that will look like in the end, but the key takeaway is that I don't see him bucking the entire heart of the hero movement in hopes to get back at the Hero Commission.

However, that isn't to say I don't understand or look down upon those who either genuinely have come to a different conclusion or would just rather see it happen because it would be more satisfying or interesting for them in particular. I also wouldn't be sore if it ended up coming to pass assuming the buildup to that point felt appropriate and genuine as I don't see it as an impossibility for his character. For me, it doesn't have to be a point of contention driving a wedge between different Hawks fans.

So if you ever feel frustrated or upset at the amount of support in your preference or lack thereof in your desired direction, don't let it get to you. While others have their own reasons for wanting the ending they want, the overall result they want from him is more than likely the same as you.

I asked a completely informal poll giving people an either/or ultimatum for where fans personally wanted him to end up, purposely leaving out a potential third option; but the replies I got overwhelmingly echoed the same one regardless of the false either/or I intentionally planted, "I have my preferences for where I want him to end up, but really all I want is for him to be free and do what he wants in the end because it's what HE wants to do."

That's amazing!

Simply by virtue of my own audience or the way it rippled through the community it could be biased in any direction, but when at least HALF of the total responses say, "Neither" in some capacity regardless of a forced preference I think it's safe to say that we all have a lot more in common regarding this character than we often realize, and he isn't even real!

Hawks was always gray on purpose, and I really hope at the end of his arc we get something that pulls together and unites the other characters in the series as well as the fans because I think that's the point of his character to begin with. I doubt everyone will be completely happy with the outcome off the bat, but as long as it's genuinely satisfying from a character development standpoint I hope we can pull together in support knowing we can't always get what we want, but it was a good run - plus there's always fan fiction for when the author got it wrong!

For real, though, let's get excited together. Find your corner, but follow the character not the crowd. You don't have to think of them as perfect, and sometimes the characters that even end up disappointing us the most stick with us longer. We can always dig a little deeper to find out why they did what they did, or why we want something so badly for them, and even just acknowledge when we just want what we want because we want it. That doesn't make us bad people or bad fans. Fiction is usually written to be enjoyed - HeroAca definitely not an exception to that general rule - and tastes in entertainment vary far and wide. Any one series with that variety of expectations aimed at it just can't satisfy everyone so I'd personally rather it stick to the story it was trying to tell from the beginning instead of succumbing to a popularity vote, even if I didn't get the ending I wanted.

I just hope this was a comfort to some of you and an olive branch to others in case you were feeling down about how others viewed your comfort character or just caught up in another ultimately pointless fandom war because it happens. Maybe we can even use it as an exercise to see things from another viewpoint to understand their perspective and realizing it's okay to agree to disagree. I don't want to put this in the character tags because I think there are plenty that don't need or want this content but still those that do who will find and share it in confidence. This isn't about sides or even being right. Let's enjoy our favorite character together and watch him be happy in the end, however that ends up being.

[lildevyl]

Web Of Lies

Summary:  Mysterious glitches and messages have been popping up on all monitors and TVs all over the Community Hub.  Abbie is in the Record Room trying to decode a hidden message only to be fooled by a Web of Lies.

Based on the FNAF the Musical: Web of Lies and inspiration from this post of the Community Hub by @huffletrax and everyone in the Community who reblogged and participated!  And also inspired by Domino Effect ARG.  I love Abbie’s (@ill-spink) and River’s (@egopocalypse) Marvin in this ARG!  Keep up the good work and every fiend that is a part of it!  I absolutely love this!

Guest Staring:  Abbie, @ill-spink.

Thanks again for guest staring and I hope you like this!

TW:  Mild Gore, Mention of Glitches/Soft!Anit/Canon!Anti, Strings and implied mind control.

(Record Room)

Abbie snuck into the Record Room of the Community Hub and quickly went to the computer.  There was a file that they had to decode!  A message came to them saying that this would help them in their investigation.  They weren’t a theorist but they could easily help out in shape, way, or form.  They were a writer after all, so they could see things from a different point of view.

The Community was on fire again.  It’s been a year, but something was off!  Jack wasn’t acting like himself and they were determined to find out what it was that was causing all this!  Everyone kept saying it was Anit, but Abbie had a gut feeling that it was more than just Anti, they just couldn’t put their finger on it.

(Abbie)

One year has passed since things began to change,

And the JSE Community was cursed  .  .  .

The glitches and messages were all mysterious and strange,

And still I bought it all at first.

Abbie went to the bookshelf that was near them and ran their hand over a few theory books.  They found the one that they were looking for and flipped to the theory that everyone dismissed.

(Abbie)

They denied  .  .  .

A string of mysterious disappearances that’s been implied

No matter what I’ve tried,

I’ve always been

Caught within

A web of lies  .  .  .

The computer that they were working on, came to life.  It looked as if the update that they had ran had finally finished.  There!  There was that mysterious file that someone from the Community was talking about!  Finally!  They were going to get some answers to what was going on!

(Abbie)

A strange hidden file fell into my lap  .  .  .

I need to uncover the truth!

Typing frantically away at the computer, Abbie was determined to figure out what has been going on.  Jack had been acting out of character.  Marvin disappeared and no body has seen him.  Glitches and mysterious messages all over Tumblr and YouTube videos.  Finally, finally, someone had managed to find out what has been happening.

(Abbie)

Access denied?

Yes, override.

Oh no, did I just goof?

(Ego Corp)

The Canon Egos sat around a table in Ego Corp conducting a meeting outside of the Community’s ears.  None of them want anyone to over hear what they’re talking about.  No need to cause the Community to panic.

(Chase)

Jack has not been acting like himself

Ever since he’s gotten that strange call

(Jackie)

He’s acting as if 

He’s complete and utter doll

(Henrik)

Now us three

Need your help to set Our Creator free.

(Jackie)

We’ll find our Creator.

And fight the ebb

Of the web of lies  .  .  .

“JJ, keep an eye out.  I think somethings not right with the other Egos,” Chase said to JJ.

I’m on it.  JJ signed and headed out with the others.  The Egos head out, never knowing that someone was watching them.

(The Community Hub)

JJ headed out with the other Egos and had a blow horn with him to sound the alarm if something were to happen.  Unfortunately, JJ never had the chance to use it.  He was ambushed by the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos!  He couldn’t sound the alarm to warn the others!

(Jackie)

That’s it! Right there!  Jack’s recording room.

And there’s not a soul in sight  .  .  .

Nobody saw the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos coming up behind them and from the shadows.  Nor did anybody saw that JJ was with them, with midnight blue strings attached to his wrists and a blank look in his eyes.  Jackie tried the door, but it was locked.  He began to pick the lock and that was when the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos attacked!

Soft!Anti was no match for them and he went pretty bad.  All of them decided to put strings on him and turn him into a puppet.  Perfect for their master to use him to help gain even more puppets.  Jackie was doing his best to hold off as many of the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos as possible.  “Henrik!  Quick!  We have to warn the others!”

Henrik quickly bolted down the hall, just as Jackie succumb to the strings and joined the Non-Canon and Fan-made Egos as a puppet.

(Recorder Room)

(Abbie)

Abort!  Escape!  Control, alt, delete!  Stop trying to install!

Forty million kilobytes!

Something’s wrong  .  .  .

This AI’s gotten far too strong  .  .  .

Smoke started to pour out of the computer and the file began to corrupt every data there was.  And glitched in and out on the screen until it went completely black.  Then someone started to climb out of the computer.  No, out of an alter dimension portal.

(Abbie)

You’ve used me all along

To set you free.

Now I see

Your web of lies  .  .  .

“Ah, thank you, Abbie,” the mysterious man greeted.

Abbie was shaking in their shoes.  This man, looked and sounded like Marvin the Magnificent but something was off.  This - this wasn’t Marvin.  Not their Marvin.  Not the Community’s beloved magician.

“What are you?”  Abbie asked terrified and tried to find something - anything to defend themselves with.

“I’m a hidden file.  Or am I?  I guess none of us are quite what we seem.”  Marvin began to approach Abbie and Abbie doing the smart thing, started backing up.  They knew this room better than anyone else.  “Take you for example.  A hard working writer, whom they and their partner are actually undercover puppets for AntiSepticeye.  Oh, come on?  You think you and your partner could really hide the fact that you two aren’t his most loyal puppets?”

“Get away from me!”  Abbie demanded backed up in a corner.  They began looking around and found large pocket knife and held in their hands.

“Oh, hey.”  Marvin said putting his hands up in faux surround.  “You freed me. You deserve award.”  The Non-Canon Egos came in and blocked Abbie in, and Marvin took out midnight blue strings to use on Abbie to make them be his puppet instead.

Abbie with the pocket knife started to go to town with the Non-Canon Egos.  Normally, they wouldn’t do this, normally they wouldn’t be so violent.  But this was anything but normal.  Once they found an opening, Abbie took off like a bat out of hell!  Bursting through the doors, they ran down the hall to the Community Hub.  They had to warn everyone.  They had to warn the Community that this Marvin, wasn’t their Marvin.  He was Corrupted!

(Marvin)

The doors are locked. This Community is mine!

I’m in your reality!

So run and hide!  Cause here’s the bottom line:

You’re all trapped in here with me!

Marvin and the Non-Canon Egos went to the Ego Corp.  They had some Canon Egos they needed to deal with.

(Marvin)

Go on! Shout,

No one will ever let you out!

And lest there’s any doubt

Marvin and the Non-Canon Egos found the room where the Canon Egos were and began to break down the metal door.  Robbie the Zombie braced himself against the door trying to give, the others some time.

(Marvin)

All hope has died,

Trapped inside

My web of lies!

The door crashed down on Robbie the Zombie and Marvin just stepped on the door crushing Robbie.  The other Egos were terrified of this Marvin.  Never have they seen such power except from Anti and Dark.

Canon!Anti glitch and surged with such rage.  How dare someone come into the Community Hub where his puppets were and had the nerve to use them against him!  Canon!Anti charged right at the intruder, only for Marvin to stop him with his magic.

“What is this?  It’s cute.”  Marvin stated deadpan.  Then with a wave of his hand sent Canon!Anti flying backwards to the computer.  Canon!Anti hit the computer, glitching uncontrollably and was absorbed into the computer.  Into the web of the JSE Community where he could communicate from there.

“Ah, the great protagonist Chase Brody and the famous Canon Egos.”  Marvin said with glee.

“Are you going to kill us?”  Chase whimpered.

“No,” Marvin stated pulling out the midnight blue strings.  “I got something better planned.”

====================

Tagging:  @septic-dr-schneep, @egopocalypse, @epicfangirl01, @ill-spink, @isa-ghost, @10th-no-name-person, @weirdmixofweirdness, @dezzydynamite, @thevampireauthoress, @the-scribe-watches, @kisstheashes, @kangaroo-roux@shadowsinyoursoul, @julywinters, @jackjames-exe, @corruptedmetadata, @chaoticcrimsonrose, @a-humble-narcissus, @littlepinkchan, @fear-is-nameless, @huffletrax, @d-structive, @dolphintreasureart, @run-stray-wolf, @thefirsttobreak, @miishae-archived, @nightfuryobsessed, @starlightstarfight

[whumpbby]

What do you think about a gangsta AU with Jason being a tag/twilight and Dick being his contract holder?

As in, Jason on the hit list and Dick doing the hitting? :O 

Aw, anon, listen, what if Jason is on the hit list and Dick takes it on for the money - he sees the photo on the dossier and it’s this big tank of a man with a hard stare and all, and he thinks it’s some sort of a gangsta... 

But then he goes to observe the man himself and notices that what the fuck, the guy is nothing like that.  For once, the boy is not even remotely connected to crime or anything, he’s a mechanic. And in his afternoons he’s working as a boxing coach at the local youth centre. And in his free moments, he goes to a bookstore and spends an hour there... and his evenings are super boring - he sits on the balcony of his crappy studio flat in a crap neighbourhood and reads a book with his cat sleeping on his lap.

Dick is befuddled. What the fuck? This guy is harmless and, he has to admit, quite cute. There has to be a reason he was put on the hit list! 

So, Dick starts to dig. He goes into the files, observes the guy at all times, calls in some favours... And hits a wall. because at some point, the paper trail dries. Just ends. Jason Todd seems to exist for only five years...? The birth certificate is obviously fake, the diplomas and education are fabricated, the lease on the flat is also only five years old.

Something isn't adding up. And at this point, Dick is intrigued and invested. He needs to know what’s the truth about the cute boy with no past! 

So, he does what he usually does, and goes in, sets up a meet-cute with the guy and they hit it off. And Jason turns out to be amazingly cute, shy and nearly virginal. Awkward like a spring maiden and Dick is all over that. He didn’t really ‘date’ anyone in a long while and this just feels good. He wants to keep going, even if Jason isn’t at all eager to talk about his past, his family (2 younger brothers and 2 sisters) is a bit protective of him and Jay isn’t all that eager to get into bed with Dick, but that ‘s fine, what they have now is very good.   

That is, until one evening when Jay finally allows Dick to lay him on the bed and undress him and they make love in the dark, and Dick’s heart is just bursting - even if something about that situation isn’t quite right... but he ignores it, telling himself that he’s the one lying about his ‘work’ so it’s just guilt... but then morning comes, sun streaks into the bedroom and Dick opens his eyes and sees Jason naked for the first time and...

...there’s an autopsy scar on his chest. Dick knows, he’d seen a few, he knows how they look and JESUS CHRIST. That... that puts many things together  - the fact that Jason has no past, for example. Five years ago - was he dead? 

JESUS 

So Dick slips out before Jason can properly awake, mumbling excuses about work calling him in. He leaves before his brain self-combusts, because there was one thing that he remembers happening five years ago that was fucking important! Five years ago two crime families had a bit of a spat in the region - there was a kidnapping, a bomb and a dead son of one of the bosses. And his name was Jason Peter Wayne.   

And, as luck had it, just as Dick gets to his bike, he gets kidnapped. It’s a professional attempt that he’d see if he wasn’t so damn preoccupied, but he is so the cold muzzle of a gun against his kidney and two goons leading him calmly to a limo parked close by are a surprise. Even more of a surprise for Dick is getting into the backseat and meeting the calm, calculating gaze of Tim - Jason’s younger nerdy brother. Nothing nerdy about him now. 

“Richard,” Tim says, calm and serious. “I hope you’ll accept the invitation for a brunch with the family. Seeing as you’re something of a fixture in Jason’s life now.” 

Dick blushes. Two days ago this kid spent an hour at Jason's flat complaining about college and stuff. Now he’s sitting there in a perfectly pressed suit and looking at Dick like he a basilisk. What can Dick do? He’s dead anyway. 

“For what it’s worth, I just figured it out,” he decided to make it clear. “I wouldn't hurt him.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t.” The implication that ‘you wouldn’t live long enough to do so’ was clear. 

“Does he know?” Dick asked. “He’s blending in well with normal citizens.”

Tim shrugs.��“He is a normal citizen. We’d like that to remain the case.”

Huh. Dick stays quiet as the limo leaves Gotham and, of course, heads in the direction of Wayne Manor. So yes, he’s fucked. No one unauthorised returns from the Wayne Manor. 

They get there, get out of the car, and Tim waves the goons away, leading Dick to a stately dining room where all of the ‘family’ is already seated and waiting for the elderly butler to set out their meals. Dick sits down in a chair he was pointed to and tries not to faint. Cass was always curiously blank, but today there’s nothing on her face, and Steph looks at him with a little apologetic smile, and Damian - the cantankerous old man in a kid’s body, glares. And then there’s Him, the man himself, the Bat. Bruce Wayne in the flesh - giant and handsome, and engrossed in a newspaper. 

“Please eat, young sir,” the butler advises, putting a plate with an omelette in front of Dick. “Before it gets cold.”

Dick, obediently, eats the dish, wondering if they’re about to poison him. Taking up that contract was so not worth it if this was to be his end. At least the food was good. And the meal was somewhat pleasant - everyone was polite and appreciative of the food, Tim was glued to his tablet and Damian fed scraps to the massive black Dane sitting at his feet, and the girls whispered to themselves, and Mr Wayne sipped his coffee and it was all so domestic and normal that the presence of five armed men taking spots around the room was almost unnoticed... 

In the end it was Damian that broke the silence. 

“Grayson,” the kid glared at Dick like a gargoyle. “You have defiled my brother!”

Dick was glad that he wasn’t the only one to choke on his tea.

“Master Damian, this is hardly an appropriate topic for a breakfast table!” 

“I don’t care! He did and I am taking offence!”

“Damian,” Bruce’s look and tone were both frosty. 

“No father, he better has an explanation to...”

“I love him!”

Only after everyone’s eyes rested on him did Dick realise what he had just blurted out. Uh oh. But he could have sworn that Bruce’s face softened just a bit. So he decided to follow the hit, because he was Dick Grayson and that was what he did. “I love him.” And that was all he had to say about the matter, becuase they didn’t deserve anything else form him. Tim’s lip ticked up as if in approval and Dick considered it a win. 

“Wery well,” Bruce Wayne folded his newspaper and got up. “We can discuss the matter in my study.”

Uh-oh. Dick was so dead. 

********

When Jason finally opened the door to his flat, he looked like a right mess - hair still tousled from sleep, shirt buttoned up to his throat, eyes wild and hands wringing. He looked smaller than he had any right to be. And he just stood there, in the doorway, staring at Dick as if he didn't believe the man was there... 

“I brought some croissants?” Dick offered, pointing to the bag he held in the crook of one arm. Everyone loved a fresh crossaint. “If you’d like to have a late lunch - or an early dinner with me?”

“Oh.” Jason said. And. “You were gone.” And. “I thought you’d...”  

“If I had anything to say about the matter, you’d wake up in my arms,“ Dick told the truth. “But if I’d ignored it, they would have my head.” And that was also true. "But that’s it, shouldn't happen again.” And thankfully, that was too. 

“Oh?” Jason looked so adorable Dick wanted to kiss him. “You quit?”

Dick did kiss him. “Nah, just got a new assignment.”

“Is that so? Gonna be better than before?”

“Yeah, I love it already.”     

[poppyknitt]

Chase and Marvin: Things to love

Alright so i noticed there’s been some dark stuff going around about my two upmost favorites in the JCU (namely the demonizing of chase/stacy and the evil marvin shit) so...

I would like to write why I love them, but also, I want you all to chip in, too.

Let’s make this blow up with love and positivity, so our favorite boys can see and know that the poll and such mean nothing— We do love them. Unconditionally. curse the inability to underline text on tumblr >:^

So, if you reblog, add why you love them! No demonizing Stacy or Chase, because they’re both lovely people in a bad situation, and no demonizing Marvin either, because he’s a lovely boy and we need to show him we really do love him! Same for Chase. Who knows how our negativity is hurting them? I’d say a lot, cus if everyone said I or my loved one are bad or evil, I, too, would be really sad and feel left out or forgotton or something.

Anyways— On with the loving tea!

Chase and Marvin are absolutely my top favorite egos. Everything about them is absolutely wonderful. Hell, Jackie is even up there with them for me, but he’s definitely not a first-place winner. Chase and Marvin are.

“How are they your favorites? Aren’t they the egos you put through the worst of your angst in your stories?”

Well, yes. But they’re not my only favorite characters that I do that to. I’m naturally inclined to write angst and whump, and I just so happen to feel the most motivated to write and draw my favorite characters, which leads them to suffering more clearly than the other characters. But, you should also know that I rarely write something without considering the closest people to the main/focal characters, too. So, if you read a fic of mine where one is suffering, the other main characters of that story are, too, if I don’t plan for them to suffer later on, or if they haven’t already. Rarely do I ever write an angst story without a plan for all the supporting and/or main characters to suffer something, too. Sometimes it’s less than the character the fic is about. Sometimes it’s equal. And others, it’s more.

What I’m saying is that what I write, how I write it, and who it’s about doesn’t usually contribute to how much I like the character. Hell, a lot of the time, I wanna cry about what I’m writing because it’s so sad for me to see the characters in pain.

Anyways, my point in saying that is that the angst I write is, in a way, how I express how much I really love them. I write my happy, bubbly, bouncing sunshine boys into so much horrible stuff because I don’t want them to fall flat in my stories, I don’t want them to be static. I want them to be lovable, three-dimensional characters— and the easiest way to achieve that in stories is to throw challenges of all shapes and sizes at them.

Hell, arguably, I’ve put much more blood, sweat, and tears into my many Chase and Marvin interpretations than i have any other egos.

But, those interpretations aren’t who I’m here to idolize and show my love for. I’m here to let my favorite canon boys know just how much I care and love.

So, let’s start with Marvin.

Marvin was the first character who I really connected with and related to on an emotional level in a long, long time. Sure, there were other characters in the recent past that I loved, but those were affections I learned over the course of writing, drawing, and developing my interpretations of. Marvin is a different story.

Looking at him, both back in August last year, when I finally cared enough about the JSE fandom to look into the egos, and now, I realized (and still do!) just how much I connect with him. In his powerhour, he acted all happy and bubbly and humorous, but you could peek through the cracks and see there was more to him than just a bouncy, happy, bubbly sunshine boy. He showed signs of anxiety, and, from my memory, possibly even depression, albeit probably high-functioning. This was, and still is, something I resonated a lot with, so I became very, very attached to him very, very quickly. Quicker than I’ve ever become attached to a character I didn’t make myself, even.

So, because of the connection I have to him, as silly as it may be, Marvin is absolutely my favorite and most adored character that I’ve ever come across or worked on at least an interpretation of— which says a fuck ton because there’s a lot of characters like him who I love and adore, but none of them quite as much as I adore him.

And of course, this post wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t do Chase, too.

I love Chase almost as much as I love Marvin. Right off the bat, he was presented as a well-made, rounded character with many flaws and many things to love. His now-ex-wife Stacy was likely as wonderful a woman as he is a man. He didn’t deserve any of what happened to him in canon, nor does he deserve the pain we angst, gore, and whump writers put him through. Just like Marvin, he’s a happy, bouncy, bubbly sunshine boy, and even more like Marv, I love him for it, especially since it’s not his only character trait, just like it isn’t Marvin’s only trait. I love him, and strive to see him happy in the end, because he’s a wonderful man— a great father, a great vlogger, a great husband, and most important, a lovely character— who deserves nothing less than the best.

Same goes for Marvin.

I hate seeing how people try to cast these two wonderful boys in such a negative light, especially because we haven’t yet had confirmation that either are truly bad people deserving of being cast out. (Of course, me being as empathetic and arguably even naïve as I am, I don’t think anyone deserves to be cast out, shunned, or hated, but I especially feel that way for these two lovely, amazing boys.) They deserve to be loved, appreciated, and hugged (so long as they’re okay with that!), no matter what anyone else says.

So, now that I’m done with that, feel free to reblog this and add why you love them! (please try to keep the evil/demonized theories out please, i want to show these boys that we do see and love all the positives about them. I know, i’m a sentimental old fool in the body of a goofy idiot, but I really feel like the negativity going around the community about them lately is only going to hurt them more, and, well, you know what they say about labels— they become self-fulfilling prophecies, and honestly? I don’t want that to happen to my boys, damn it!)

(also don’t be afraid to tag other people in this too! the more the merrier!)

@antis-loyal-puppet @tiny-septic-puppet @phoenix-wint3r @chaoticcrimsonrose @ihaveanunhealthyteaaddiction @startschantingpma @sqxxddygremlin

(& also @senseless-septic-shambles & @skyewardlight since they wanted to pitch in)

thanks for coming to my TED talk, this has been ya bro RJ/Edgy, back at it again with a wild-ass gOTTA LOVE MY SONS YAKNOW???

[unofferable-fic]

Do You Fear the Devil? (Loki x Reader): 3 - Annie Chapman

Summary: You are one of the many working women roaming the streets of Whitechapel when a madman begins to murder your comrades one by one. The attacks are so gruesome, that the detectives can only describe his work as that of “a devil than of a man”. Loki Laufeyson is a Metropolitan police detective and surgeon who is assisting on the case. As more bodies pile up and you and your friends fear for your lives, the police remain well and truly stumped. When Detective Laufeyson turns to you for help to find the murderer, you must face your fears to save yourself… But who can you really trust when you are the prey being stalked at night by someone who calls himself Jack the Ripper?

Gif originally found here

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Victorian London AU

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries/violence, gore, language, angst.

Word Count: 5,259

Previous Chapter    Next Chapter

Playlist: “Let Me In, Heathcliff” — Ruth Barrett, “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” — Nirvana, “Sir Galahad” — Jason Graves, “The Carnival of the Animals, R. 125: The Swan” — Camille Saint-Saëns

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A/N: Also available on AO3. YES HELLO I AM ALIVE. I took a much needed break over Christmas and then suffered with a bit of writers block, but I am back and happy to bring another chapter to anyone still reading along. As always, any feedback at all would be much appreciated! Hearing what you guys have to say means a lot. Thanks for anyone out there in the fanfiction abyss still reading my trash <3 (Also apologies if I forgot to tag anyone who asked - I’m all over the place since my break, but feel free to hit me up if you wanna be tagged).

8th September 1888, 5.00 am.

You were out with Natasha again that night.

Given your new ‘official’ duties as police accomplices, you found yourself wandering the darkened streets every second day or so. You and Natasha didn’t mind — at least it added some entertainment to your usually boring day. It was new and exciting and even though it surrounded a very morbid subject matter, you knew your presence was helping the police. Sometimes Wanda came along for the trip, and on this occasion she was more than happy to accompany you.

“I’m not sure if this is entirely legal with regards our arrangement,” Natasha mused as the three of you left the White Swan earlier that evening. “But I was never one for following police orders anyway.”

You had seen nothing of Loki in the past week, but Steve had become a regular at the brothel — only to call you both out for some assistance of course. It somewhat reminded you of being a kid again and your friend calling to your door to ask if you would come out and play. Except this time it was the sergeant asking that you help track down a murderer… No matter how hard Natasha tried, it seemed that he simply wouldn’t take the bait and become a customer. Seeing who could make him blush more became a nice ongoing joke though… Sometimes two other PCs were in Steve’s company. You recognised them as the two constables from Bucks Row. You soon found out that they were called James Barnes and Samuel Wilson. The former was an excessive flirt, and kept requesting that you call him ‘Bucky’ for some reason. His comrade was less of a flirt but was still kind at least. He did however like to poke fun at you as well as his comrades. It seemed that Barnes and Wilson were constantly at each others throats. Their dynamic became easy to recognise — both Barnes and Wilson fought for Steve’s attention which resulted in verbal spats that drove Steve up the wall and made you laugh until you were crying.

Steve and James had called for you earlier that evening, and you used the chance to subtly enquire after Loki and his whereabouts.

“He’s the Divisional Police Surgeon,” the sergeant explained. “While we regularly patrol the streets, he is called in on specific occasions and special circumstances. He will be informed on any leads or developments that we find.”

“That’s a shame,” Natasha mused, giving your shoulder a nudge. “He was the funny one.”

While Steve rolled his eyes at this statement, James seemed amused. “Laufeyson is a funny guy.”

“And he is also Y/N’s type,” Wanda teased you with a playful grin. “Cheeky, dark, and handsome.”

James chuckled and threw his arm around your shoulders. “Not as handsome as me though, right, doll?”

You looked him up and down with the most unamused expression you could muster. “Are you making a proposition, Constable? Soliciting is illegal, you know.”

“Well looking certainly isn’t illegal, now is it?”

“We’re on the job, Buck,” Steve insisted gently, not impressed. “We should leave the ladies to it.”

Now you were strolling down Whitechapel Road early in the morning. Only drunkards and your fellow workers were about as per usual. Obviously your group was getting its usual mixed looks of distain and curiosity. Unfortunately for those who inquired, you had to turn them down. Under Steve’s strict instructions, you were to dismiss half of your clientele in order to spend more time with your eyes peeled for any weirdos or suspicious looking men. He had agreed to fund the lost wages so you weren’t exactly complaining about the arrangement. If you did happen to stumble across someone that took your interest for all the wrong reasons, Steve asked you to note as much about him as you could before politely declining him. As long as they had a description to go off, they were happy. He also completely discouraged any sort of ‘vigilantism’, although you weren’t against the idea. Wanda and Nat also loved the sound of such a thing.

“So if we find the man who killed Mary Ann,” Wanda began, linking her arm with yours. “Does that mean we get to kick his face in?”

“Most definitely yes,” you replied. “And then we can hand him over to Stevie with a lovely bloody face.”

“Oh the sergeant would just love that,” Natasha chuckled, grinning at the thoughts of revenge. “Although they might try to slap us with an assault charge.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. “They wouldn’t dare! Not when we handed them a murderer on a plate.”

Suddenly, Wanda veered off towards a portico, dragging out with her as she greeted another woman. “Annie, darling, are you alright?”

Leaning against one of the pillars within the portico stood a woman who looked worse for wear. Annie, as Wanda called her, seemed older than the three of you, and was short and stout in appearance. Blue eyes were hidden behind weary and hooded lids. On the right side of her face was a nasty bruise and there was no doubt in your mind that she was ill. She was dressed in mostly muted brown and black tones, which made a red and white neckerchief tied around her neck stand out all the more.

“Wanda Maximoff?” Annie wheezed, smiling faintly as she looked at the younger worker. “My, I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s only been a few weeks, don’t be so overdramatic.” Wanda smiled before gesturing to you and Natasha. “These are my friends, Y/N and Natasha. They work in the White Swan with me. Ladies, this is Annie. We used to share lodgings on Dorset Street before I came to the brothel.”

The pair of you greeted Annie, who seemed friendly despite the fact she was worse for wear. “Nice to meet you ladies, although I wish we could meet when I was in a better state.”

“What happened to you?” you asked her with genuine concern.

“Oh, this thing?” She pointed to the large bruise on her face. “If you think that’s bad, you should see the one on my chest. Just had a small disagreement with someone in the Britannia pub.”

Natasha spoke without hesitation.  “Give us their name and we shall sort them out.”

“Do not worry yourself over it, ladies.” With a wheeze, Annie pushed herself upright and gritted her teeth in pain. “I refuse to spend another minute thinking on her. She is not worth it.”

“You should not be out here if you are unwell, Annie,” Wanda insisted, helping to keep her steady with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should go to the casual ward and get yourself looked at.”

“You are very pale,” you noted. “Wanda is right. You should be resting instead of wandering around out here.”

“Ah, I already went to the ward and picked up some medicine. It doesn’t feel like it has done much for me though… But I need money for my lodgings, so I’m trying to earn a few coins out here while I still can. I told the keeper to hold a bed for me and that I would be back shortly. It’s no use giving way, I must pull myself together and get some money or I shall have no lodgings.”

“How much do you need?” Wanda asked, reaching for her purse.

When Annie saw you and Natasha also going for your purses, she waved a hand at you dismissively. “I will not have any of you spending your hard earned money on an old bat like me.”

“We have to look out for each other,” Natasha hushed her. “No one else is going to do it.”

You nodded in agreement. “Especially with all the attacks of late.”

Between the you, Natasha, and Wanda, you happily handed the downtrodden woman enough money to secure her lodgings for the evening. She took it, but only when the latter gave her a very adamant look. With a sigh, she allowed the assistance, but looked almost ashamed for taking it.

“You lot are too good. You deserve better than being out here and working on these awful streets.”

“Don’t we all,” Wanda chuckled and took hold of her friend’s hand. “Take care, Annie. And don’t spend it all on rum, alright?”

The women promised she wouldn’t before she said her goodbyes and took her leave. You watched her wobble away, hoping that she would get better soon. You had originally offered to walk her back to her lodgings, but she refused and insisted that she would take no more of your time and get there herself. You didn’t like or agree with the idea of course, but there was simply no arguing with her.

Wanda was perturbed with the encounter but said little more about it, other than explaining how she had first met Annie some time ago. She briefly mentioned that she was a friendly, steady-going woman, but she had a fondness for rum and sometimes struggled with avoiding it.

After the encounter, you continued on your way for some time. Between chatting up men who showed interest and keeping a watchful eye on your friends, you did your best to spot any shady-looking characters, but found none. You even bumped into Scott while on your travels and paused to chat with him. He was sitting with a group of friends in the Ten Bells Pub and seemed happy to see you again. You were somewhat thankful that he didn’t ask after services from any of you — saying no to him felt similar to kicking a defenceless puppy.

At 5.30, the three of you regrouped with PC Barnes on the corner of Commercial Street and Whitechapel Road. Each night you had to meet with one of the PCs and inform them of any findings or interesting encounters. It also ensured them that nothing had happened to you while out and about. You weren’t waiting there long before he appeared.

“Evening, ladies,” PC Barnes greeted you upon his arrival. “Are you aware that soliciting is illegal? I am going to need you lot to move it.”

“Sod off, Barnes,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I am too tired to be dealing with you right now.”

He feigned offence and placed a hand on his chest as though his heart ached with your rash words. “What is it going to take for you to call me Bucky?”

“What the hell is a Bucky?” Wanda asked, causing you all to laugh.

“And who the hell are you?” he asked her with an award-winning smile. “You shouldn’t be out with them.”

“I do not take orders from mutton shunters, so I go wherever I please, Constable.”

Despite the banter, PC Barnes couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I think I have my work cut out for me with you lot. But I do need you to come with me to the station. Steve wants a full report of your evening.”

“Can we not do the in the morning?” you asked, already feeling exhaustion setting in.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately not, doll. The Sergeant wants you all to make reports while the details are fresh in your heads. His orders — not mine!”

“He is lucky he is a good looking man who pays well,” Natasha grumbled as PC Barnes led you all towards the police station. “Otherwise I would end this charade right now.”

Barnes chuckled as he walked. “I shall let Stevie know that you think he is handsome.”

“Oh trust me, he is already well aware, Constable.”

Although you had very little issue with walking along the streets at night — you were well used to it and had certainly been through harder times — the company of a policeman wasn’t entirely disconcerting. If anything, it added an extra layer of protection to the group. You noticed that no one said a word to you as he lead you down to the nearby station. Instead, he chatted idly with you all, unfazed by the looks he was receiving due to his company. At one point, he told one particularly bothered man, who insisted on glaring at the with all his might, to ‘sod off’. You were beginning to think that you might like PC Barnes, even if he did do your head in.

Upon arrival at Commercial Street Police Station, you and your friends were eagerly swept into the back offices, passing by the policemen at the front desk who questioned PC Barnes about his company.

“They are with me, Happy,” he stated simply as he ushered you away from their curious eyes. “Is Sgt Rogers about?”

The policeman called Happy gestured behind him. “He’s in the back with Inspector Stark and Chief Inspector Strange.”

“Strange is back?”

“Indeed. He got back from his holidays today and came here as soon as he could.”

“What an unusual last name,” Wanda mused. “Do either of you know the inspectors?”

Natasha shook her head, as did you. “I can’t say that I have ever met them before.”

Though miffed by the news of the Chief Inspector’s arrival, PC Barnes tried to stay positive for your sakes. “Well you are about to now, ladies. Follow me.”

The further into the station you went, the easier it was to hear the arguing going on in one of the back rooms. Soon you arrived at an occupied office which belonged to an Inspector Anthony Edward Stark according to the label on the open door. You had never met the man before, but you had heard a few of your fellow workers say that he was quite the character — confident, flirtatious, charming, sarcastic. These were all qualities you didn’t exactly expect to find in an inspector, but you assumed he must be good at his leadership role if he was the head of the division.

PC Barnes stood in the open doorway, waiting for whatever conversation was happening to die down before announcing his arrival. Overwhelmed with curiosity, you peaked over his broad shoulders and saw two men locked in an intense conversation in front of a desk while Sgt Rogers stood off to the side with his arms folded across his chest.

“I do not care what Fury told you,” one man argued, looking quite perturbed with his colleague. “This is my case and I am in charge. Believe me when I say that we don’t need any assistance from you, Strange.”

The man you assumed to be Chief Inspector Strange appeared indifferent. He was clearly a proud man in the way he held himself and insisted on standing tall as he spoke. He listened intently, not at all bothered by the other man’s visible distaste in his presence. You didn’t recognise him at all, despite his unconventional facial hair and silver tinted locks. “How unfortunate when you must take direct orders from the Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, and it is he who has given me the task of collating all the facts on the case. I would much rather be on my holiday than cleaning up your mess, Stark, but evidently you need me.”

Inspector Stark looked appalled by the choice of words. “Evidently?”

“Well you have two dead dollymops and a murderer who is fond of disembowelment running about. Would you consider the situation under control?”

Despite the situation being laid out before him, Inspector Stark pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “We are understaffed. I am doing what I can with the men I have. Do you think I like the thought of women getting disembowelled on my time?”

“I think you are unwilling to admit you need my help. How do you fit that head of yours into your helmet, I wonder?”

“Look, Sherlock—!”

“That is enough,” Steve cut in, stepping between the men before anything else kicked off. “We are on the same team here. There is no need for arguments!”

“It is very hard to control myself when his face is so punchable,” Inspector Stark grumbled. “He is smugness personified! With terrible facial hair!”

“We have company, Tony,” Steve replied, nodding to the door where James, Natasha, Wanda, and you stood waiting awkwardly.

Inspector Stark turned to the door with a tired expression, which quickly turned to confusion when he noticed you and your friends. “Barnes, I have no idea why you are standing in my office with expensive company, but I do know that you are one lady short of a party.”

“They are here on a different kind of business, Inspector,” Bucky elaborated and stepped inside. He motioned for you and your friends to enter, so you obeyed without argument. “Business of the investigative kind.”

Natasha stepped around him, obviously eager to speak for herself. “What Bocky means to say is—”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, yes, of course. What he means is that we are your new Assistant Detectives, Inspector.”

You noticed the deep furrow in Chief Inspector Strange’s brow as he gave Inspector Stark a very serious side-eye stare.

Stark’s brown eyes wandered over you curiously before he looked at your comrades in a similar manner. “I thought you said you recruited two ladies, Rogers?”

“I did,” Steve reassured him and pointed at Wanda. “You are not supposed to be here.”

“Oh, I recruited myself,” Wanda shrugged, unthreatened by neither their rank or the formal setting. “Do not worry yourselves about it.”

“Steve tends to worry a lot.” Inspector Stark offered you his hand. “Inspector Anthony Edward Stark, but feel free to call me Tony.”

You shook his hand, surprised to find that you sensed nothing bad or unsettling about this man. He seemed quite genuine somehow. “Y/N, nice to meet you, Sir.”

He grimaced at the title. “I insist that you call me Tony. ‘Sir’ makes me feel like an old man who needs to retire.”

You smiled slightly at his tone. “Tony it is then.”

He was certainly everything you would never expect in an Inspector, and you already liked him better for it.

As he introduced himself to Natasha and Wanda and got their names in return, Chief Inspector Strange shook his head and cut across the conversation. “Why are these women claiming to be Assistant Detectives?”

“Because Sarge and Edgar Allen Poe thought we could use the extra woman power, and I agreed. I did not really have much time to argue against it, considering they made the decision before asking for my permission.”

“Edgar Allen Poe?” you muttered, looking at Bucky.

“Loki,” he explained. “Stark is fond of nicknames.”

“This is hardly orthodox,” the Chief Inspector continued, squinting his eyes in frustration. “And it is hardly Dr Laufeyson’s decision to make.”

Natasha let out a sigh. “Sorry, who are you? I did not catch your name when introductions were being made.”

Momentarily insulted by her brash tone, the older man turned to face them. “I am Chief Inspector Stephen Strange and I am in charge of this investigation by the order of Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, Sir Nicholas Fury.”

You looked back at him in amusement, unimpressed by the excessive titles. It meant little to you and it wasn’t about to mean anything to you now. “Oh, fancy.”

“Uh, I think you mean co-charge,” Tony pointed out. “We have co-ownership of this investigation. Somewhat like a married couple.”

“Not by Fury’s orders—”

“Yes, well, this is my division and these men have followed my orders for some time. Look, Strange, I will admit it — even if it might cause my ego to burst at the seams — that we need more numbers to help with this investigation. It is why we have these women in our company. I will take your help if I must, but we need to work together if we are to achieve anything.”

“He’s right, Chief Inspector,” Steve added. “The only way to tackle this is as a team. If we work as such, we can get it done before anymore lives are lost. Arguing is wasting what precious time we have.”

“I love when Steve agrees with me,” Tony said to you, looking somewhat bewildered. “He never usually does and he is exceedingly righteous, so I must be in the right thus time…”

“Fine then,” Strange huffed and held up his hands in defeat. “Have it your way, Stark, but know that I do not like the fact that they will be joining this investigation. I will be having words with Dr Laufeyson about this.”

“We are involved whether you like it or not, Chief Inspector,” Natasha said coldly. “So your approval means very little to us.”

“A bit of respect would not go amiss though,” you added. “As Steve said, we are all on the same team.”

“And what a team we shall make,” Stark said with his arms outstretched. “As long as we catch this bastard soon, I will be happy.” Without much thought, the inspector reached into his vest pocket, taking out a halfpenny, and then dropping it into a jar on his desk that was already half filled with coins. Steve looked somewhat pleased with the gesture.

Strange shook his head. “I shall still be having words with Laufeyson.”

“You mean Edgar Allen Poe?” you asked before looking to Tony for an explanation.

He shrugged in reply. “He’s mopey and reads a lot, alright?”

Before anyone else could get a word in, Happy — the policeman who had been manning the front desk — came bursting in the door.

“Inspector,” he spluttered, out of breath and wide eyed. “A man just came in and claims there has been another murder!”

Whatever hopeful tone that had previously filled the room was extinguished with this unfortunate news. Your stomach tumbled and you looked to your two friends to see their equally horrified expressions.

“Where?” Stark demanded, already pulling on his coat.

“29 Hanbury Street!”

Instantly the room sprung into action.

The men were all pulling on coats and sprinting out the door in no time. Stark was busy ordering them around while Strange got a head start and was already following Happy out the office door. You and your comrades looked on in stunned silence as everyone got to work.

Before he left, Steve urged the three of you to follow him. “Look alive, ladies. We are needed at the scene.”

“Time to go,” you muttered and followed them out into the cold London streets. Just before exiting the building, you caught a quick glance at the man who sounded the alarm — he stood next to Happy, struggling to speak with an ashen face and tired eyes. God only knows what kind of scene he had stumbled upon that early in the morning.

Outside, Tony was quickly owning his role as Inspector. “Rogers, I want you to head to Spitalfields Market now. Wilson is stuck on fixed point duty there. Pick him up and head over to 29 Hanbury Street together. Make sure you check the side streets and alleys in case the suspect is nearby — he might still be close. The rest of you, come with Strange and I directly to the scene. Ladies, we might need you to identify the victim so be prepared.”

You momentarily thanked your past self for choosing to wear flats that evening, as you hadn’t exactly expected to be sprinting through the streets towards what would probably be a crowded murder scene. While the cool air burned your throat as you took swift gulps, your legs ached in protest as your body tried to overcome its exhaustion. Now, with it being shortly after 6.00 am, the sun rose in the distance, colouring the overcast sky in blues and pinks as London came to life again. It was quite a sight, one that would surely contrast with the horrors ahead.

At Hanbury Street, a curious crowd of onlookers had already gathered. Steve and Samuel were nowhere in sight, so Strange and Stark quickly got to forcing their way through the spectators. Bucky followed them next, then you, Natasha, and Wanda coming up the rear. With the policemen already making a path or you, it meant wading your way through the spectators was much more manageable. At least you could refrain from slapping people out of your way.

As you breached the crowd and finally got a good luck at the scene, your eyes rest on the sight before you. A body lay in the garden of number 29, partially against the wooden fencing. Strange and Stark stood over her while Bucky forced the rambunctious crowd back as best as he could with no back up. While you halted nervously in your tracks at the sight of a corpse, Wanda flew over to join the inspectors.

She took one look at the body before she covered her mouth with her hands and let out a desperate gasp. Upon seeing your friend in distress, you and Natasha were quickly at her side.

“It is Annie!” she proclaimed as you joined her. “Y/N, it is Annie! She’s dead!”

You met her shocked eyes with your own before you looked down at the victim. Sure enough, you recognised the red and white neckerchief, now matted with thick, fresh bloodstains. Annie Chapman’s throat had been savagely slit.

“You know her?” Strange asked, eyes darting between you.

“Wanda does,” Natasha explained solemnly, eyes fixed on the dead woman. “Her name is Annie Chapman.”

“We lived in the same lodging house on Dorset Street before I became a resident at the White Swan,” Wanda said, unable to look at her fallen friend any longer. You wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder as Stark asked her for the address of the lodging house. “Crossingham's Lodging House at 35 Dorset Street.”

“You have our condolences, ladies,” Strange said with the first ounce of genuine compassion you had seen from him all morning. “But your assistance is greatly appreciated.”

At that moment, Steve and Samuel came tumbling through the crowd. Seeing that more of his men had arrived, Stark jumped into action once more. “Rogers, I need you to help contain the crowd here — there are way too many people around at the moment. Wilson, I need you to run back to the station to get reinforcements — if this crowd keeps building, we shan’t be able to contain it. Barnes, take Y/N and go fetch Dr Laufeyson. I need him here now.”

“Why me?” you asked, unwilling to leave a visibly distressed Wanda behind.

As Steve and Samuel got to work, Tony turned to you with a sympathetic expression. “It is important that at least one of you ladies familiarises yourself with where Loki resides. You might need to fetch him yourself one day. Trust me, knowing where a doctor lives when you are hunting a murderer could save your life or someone else’s.” He threw a glance at your friends and lowered his voice. “Do not worry — they are in safe hands, I promise you, alright?”

With a sigh you nodded and turned to stand by the waiting Bucky’s side. “Lead the way, Barnes.”

* * *

8th September 1888, 6.15 am.

The calming music of Camille Saint-Saëns rang out through Loki Laufeyson’s residence at 2 Spital Square in Whitechapel. Sleep eluded him yet again, and he found himself staring at his reflection in the steam-covered mirror in his bathroom. He wondered whether he could somehow hide the bags under his eyes after another sleepless night. He supposed that the thin cut on his cheekbone was more obvious than the drowsy eyes, but he most certainly couldn’t cover that detail. Dressed in merely his flannel drawers, he tried to tame his wet and messy hair so that he looked somewhat presentable for the day ahead. Even if any of his colleagues or patients did notice how tired he looked, he doubted any of them would press him too much. He was quite popular amongst his patients though, but he put that down to his ability to charm them with honeyed words and a flashy smile.

As long as no one asked too much he should be able to ignore their concerns.

As he splashed water on to his face in an attempt to wash away his groggy appearance, a loud knocking sounded from his front door. With a glance over his shoulder, he noted it to be too early for visitors.

I am not due in work until 7… What in the bloody hell—?

“Shit,” he said and quickly hurried to his bedroom to make himself decent and shut off the music box. As he reefed on a pair of trousers, the knocking persisted downstairs.

He cursed again as the muffled voice of PC Barnes came through the door. “Loki? It’s me, Bucky! Open the bloody door!”

With a growl, Loki stumbled down the stairs with only one arm through his shirt sleeves. With his free arm he unlocked the door and swung it open. He had been expecting the constable, he was not prepared to see Miss Y/L/N also standing on his doorstep.

“Bad time?” PC Barnes teased, noting his state of undress.

“What do you think?” Loki snapped, pushing his hair off his face.

Upon pushing away the hair, he inadvertently revealed the fresh cut on his cheek, and PC Barnes was quick to frown. “What happened to you?”

“Some bludger tried to rob me,” he replied gruffly. “So I made sure all he got was a black eye.”

“You can’t seem to stay out of mischief, can you?” It seemed that Barnes was eager to annoy him further, even with his bruised face. “And you know better than to dress so suggestively in front of a lady.”

“It is nothing I have not seen before,” she assured him, obviously trying her best to look at his face rather than his bare chest and abdomen. “Have you forgotten my line of work?”

He wasn’t exactly sure why, but Loki felt a small sense of pride knowing that he had such an effect on her, especially considering she was no prude or stranger to nudity. He supposed that being ogled by a beautiful woman was something to be pleased about, and he put his reaction down to that observation alone.

“Is it another one?” Loki asked them, looking between the pair as he shrugged his shirt on and began to button it up.

James nodded. “Over on Hanbury Street. Stark sent us to pick you up and bring you over.

With a heavy sigh, the doctor opened his front door a little wider. “Come inside while I gather my things. I will only be a moment.”

With the constable and the street-walker now waiting anxiously in his hallway, Loki quickly ran up the stairs again and gathered his equipment in a rush, all while preparing himself for another grisly scene and body to investigate. Before he joined them downstairs, he stood in front of his bathroom mirror again, now fully dressed and ready to go. He looked rough, that was for sure. He hoped that Inspector Stark would not press him about his appearance and would simply let him do his job without being disturbed.

I suppose at least I can do so in the company of a pretty woman, he thought and took a deep breath before joining said woman and the constable once more. That is, at least, a small consolation.

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