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co-mixed · 7 months ago

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CIVIL WAR

In a couple years Civil War turns 20. It's an event that almost everyone knows at this point, it's been adapted for the MCU, and it's one of the most iconic Earth-616 events.

A tale of exchanging freedoms for safety, hugely inspired by the aftermath of 9/11. That was almost 20 years ago, yet we keep circling back to the issue of government control. Is it a friend or a foe and if a law is wrong, how do we go about changing it?

When the time came to go through the CW issues of the Fantastic Four, I decided to go back and review the whole event.

And if you're about to move on, because you haven't read it yet (there are gonna be spoilers), or just bookmarking it for another time, I’ll leave you with my final thought right away: it's a very different experience for a teenager and an adult. For someone who is still sampling the real world and someone who's nearly fed up with it.

The idea to register superheroes wasn't new for Earth-616. In a different version, this bill’s been around since Byrne’s FF (unfortunately, I can’t pinpoint the issue but I referenced it in one of the previous FF reviews). What I do distinctly remember is the hearing, the team went to, and how passionately they tried to stall it.

Even then though, they knew it would come back to bite their backsides.

The bill reemerges after M-Day and blooms after the tragedy in Stamford when New Warriors trigger a team of villains while shooting their reality show (talk about your ‘00s essence). Supervillain Nitro uses his ultimate and disintegrates 600 townies, a bunch of heroes, and his own crew.

The public outcry is insane. There is high demand for masked heads on spikes, full transparency, and maybe some ritual sacrifice (just enough to butter everyone up). The sales of red paint and placards skyrocket, and everyone (knowingly or not) quickly picks their side of the argument.

Remember just a few years ago Genosha happened? Millions of mutants were brutally killed, and all it provoked was more hate toward them. What do they call it now, the good old days?

What's the plan?

The grand idea is cooked up by the great minds of Tony Stark and Reed Richards (eww). They go as far as to introduce 100 ideas of how to make sure Stamford never happens again.

The gist of it all is to register all superhumans, send them to training, then license them and release back into the world. Better yet, pack them in teams and send to each one of the 50 states. It’s superhuman police meets mutant registration and unites in a beautiful concept of a police state.

There are a few concerns with the plan, right off the bat.

Yes, the first one is data safety. Reed and Tony are smart for sure but for each of them, there is an equally inventive hero or a villain. There are no unbreakable/unhackable data storages. There probably never will be, so all the personal information heroes share will eventually be up for grabs. They guarantee that everything will be locked and hidden away in a digital Fort Knox, meaning they are promising something impossible. They’re setting y’all up.

They did cover their asses here though. What’s the best way to prevent villains from doing villainy things? Rehabilitate them, of course.

Though it does sound impressive on paper, it's in fact more of a suicide squad scenario. The villains don’t go through any sort of therapy and no one is offering them help. They are controlled and forced to do Stark’s and S.H.I.E.L.D’s bidding.

Some 20 years later Daredevil will ponder a more reasonable prison reform while chilling in his cell. But that wasn’t a common conversation in 2006. Back then we were way more into punishing everyone.

Stark doesn't hesitate to abuse his newfound power when, through his nanobots, he controls Green Goblin and makes him shoot an Atlantean official.

All part of the grand design.

And oh, of course, there is 42, the superhuman prison in the Negative Zone. The pride and joy of Reed Richards – a place where he and Tony eagerly send their former friends to take a time out and think long and hard about what they did. See, neither one of them goes for conversation, they jump head-first into policing.

Kids with superpowers have to go to military school now. That’s the kids who don’t end up as lab rats for an insane doctor. There is always one of those around and they’re somehow always in cahoots with the officials.

But chances are you, young superhero wannabe, are gonna go through military training (obviously the best kinda training if you want to help people, amiright?)

Jumping ahead, we get a nasty preview of one such facility. And guess who's in charge of the program? If the name Gyrich is familiar to you, need I say more?

It ends in tragedy too. Right away.

But enough criticizing. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.

Instead, let's imagine that everything works out. There are superhuman peacekeepers all across the US. And there are military schools where kids are screamed at by some YesSirThankYouSir.

Does that make Earth-616 any safer?

What happens when Sentry flies off the handle and destroys half of New York? Would it help that you know his civil name?

How about when Daredevil builds his Shadowland and chills there with a bunch of ninjas? Would you sleep better knowing his home address?

The short answer is no.

Then why do they do it?

My theory is there’s a reason one side includes Reed, Hank, and Tony. They are virtually the same archetype. All extremely privileged people, rich, famous, adored. They are also scientists – they operate in numbers and technologies, in fixing things. They think they know, which allows them to remain on cordial terms with empathy.

Looking into the future and using logic to solve the world’s greatest mysteries is the way all three of them choose.

Ok that might really just be Reed but what can I do, I hate the guy.

Either way, Reed and Stark both did some math and some thinking and figured that if you can't beat them you might as well lead them. That's why they both jumped at the chance to make the world better (Reed event dragged his family along for the ride).

It feels like halfway through the war though, the whole for Tony turned into an obsession with winning. Winning by all means necessary and realizing that the ends absolutely justified the means.

As it always happens, heroes on Stark’s side let themselves go way too far. If unmasking Spider-Man felt uncomfortable (we’ll get to Spidey), then building 42 with extremely harsh conditions just to scare everyone into registering was a full-on dictator move. Building a Robo-Thor (Ragnorak) to balance the power scales was simply outrageous. I told you, Reed, Pym, and Stark have serious issues with empathy.

Then, they created their first victim – Goliath. We could go into a long conversation about the issue of using a Black character as collateral, but we all know what’s what.

I remember from years ago the image of him lying in a giant grave. And only now it hit me that maybe it had to be him, to emphasize the metaphor of a giant loss. Because even his grave looks like a mass grave and the way he's laid to rest is similar. And this couldn't play out the same way with Stamford victims, because none of that was personal to the heroes.

You’d think one death of their own would stop them or at least force them to pause. But no, just a few people left the cause after that, among them Sue who unfortunately eventually reunites with Reed.

She did make a hole in his ceiling though. Good job.

But hey, Reed’s done the math. Can't go wrong with that.

I kept trying to put myself in Tony’s place to understand where he was coming from. And here’s what I figured.

There was a voice of “conscience” whispering in Stark’s ear – Miriam Sharpe (a parent of one of the Stamford victims. I couldn't not include the worst 'argument' in history that aged worse than anyone could imagine). There was Happy on life support after having been attacked by a supervillain. And decades upon decades of trying to keep it together as a hero and a person. It was easy to dismiss all that after time had erased most of the details from my memory, but that’s exactly what re-reads are for. He truly believed that something should be done so that even heroes could have it a little easier.

As a self-appointed leader of the superhuman community, Tony felt responsible for all of them and it was necessary for him to fix everything. This is where his ego plays a huge part because he took it personally and let it cloud his judgment. That’s a human thing but that’s also the thing he allows himself but not other heroes.

You know what? I'm gonna do something wild here. I’m gonna compare the two heads of the police state and make Reed look good.

He’s not doing it for power or his ego, he actually doesn’t let emotions play a part. We see that clearly when he continues to work with Stark after Sue leaves him. He puts his pain aside and does what he believes is correct (not right, correct). He's also doing it for the future and his kids and while that can be perceived as emotion, he also backs it by his math.

Meanwhile, Tony sees himself as the savior, takes control of all the capes, and you can actually see him basking in glory when he reports his victory to Miriam.

Who's fault was Stamford?

Let's roll back a little, to Stamford and the incident.

A huge part of the conversation revolves around who is responsible for the accident. We have the New Warriors, who poked the bear, and we have Nitro, who was the bear. The people though, they unanimously choose the only surviving New Warrior (Speedball) to be the scapegoat. Nitro is dealt with in private by Wolverine and Atlanteans (he offed Namora), who seem to be the only ones interested in bringing him to justice.

Throughout the Front Line series, Robbie Baldwin (same ole’ Speedball) is trying to come to terms with his being the most hated person in America. His parents turn their back on him, the government is offering him a registration (to which he opposes), and the people hate him and wanna see him hanged. Of course, Robbie does feel responsible, he is too. But Nitro is not a mine he stepped on. He’s a person, who did the actual killing.

Not at all surprising, that no one sides with Speedball. Not even his lawyer Jen, who’s trying to help for sure, but doesn’t seem to be hearing him. In fact, she’s more of a liaison between him and the authorities and the one vividly on the latter side.

Robbie succumbs to his guilt. Everyone sees him as a monster and a murderer, so he accepts it.

Here's the controversial part – I felt sympathy for him both times. He was reckless and untrained, which is the argument Tony Stark and others put on their flag and ran with. That is the idea – to train and register the heroes.

But for that to happen, Robbie had to be the scapegoat. And the superhero community might have been able to eventually forgive him but everyone else? No way.

In the process, he gets shot by one of the Stamford parents (they really aren't making themselves look good there) , and by the end, he accepts the deal under one condition – that the shooter gets released as well. Robbie walks free but where would he go? He ends up becoming Penance (Not Monet-Penance).

Which is probably not a great idea anyway, since he's beyond messed up at that point.

This is a tragic bit of the story.

It seems like nearly everyone hates Speedball, even more than they would Nitro. I mean, Nitro has a strong argument covering his radioactive butt — he’s a villain, what did you expect? A New Warrior is a hero, so he’s held to an impossible standard.

What can I say, those in power really did find someone to blame just so those in power could maintain their faces and a clean image. One person is always a very acceptable sacrifice for them.

Are you in or are you out?

I promised you we’d get back to Peter Parker. He is absolutely one of the main characters here. Fair to assume this story was essential for him at the time as well (yes, we’re not peeking ahead because we all know his identity can’t stay public forever).

Obviously, in my teens, I was wise and could see right through the trap Tony Stark was setting for Peter. Tying him to the cause by forcing him to be the first hero to unmask, promising him and his family protection, sharing only bits and pieces of truth? He’s practically spelling it out for Pete: “I own your webbed ass!”

Yeah. Times change. It’s so easy to steer an idealist. And that’s who Peter is, that’s who most heroes are. He still believes in the whole responsibility concept, and by saying “This is the responsible thing to do”, you can get him to do nearly anything. Top it with his admiration and infatuation with Stark, and you have a foolproof Spider-catcher.

Imagine your ideals being dangled before your eyes like that and tell me you won’t follow.

Here’s the deal. Whenever I ask people (be it regarding the movie or the comics) whether they would’ve registered or not, they almost invariably say no. Most of us are that convinced that our ideals are concrete, that there is no scenario that could shake us up and force us to the other side of the barricades.

Allow me to call BS.

So many of us really still view this as a fantasy arc: even if has something to do with reality, nothing like that can ever happen.

But fantasy simply takes reality and pushes it to extremes. Remove the capes, take away the superpowers, and take a closer look. It’s an ongoing leitmotif throughout history. Hell, it even happened in the same universe before (hello, Mutant Registration)!

So while the idea 20 years ago was to choose between safety for the majority and giving up just a portion of your freedom, in reality, most people always choose the latter.

Because when you are asked to do so, it’s never really a command, it’s a suggestion. And it’s always coated with a reasonable explanation that benefits you. These things are never a one-day operation. They are carefully prepared for us by propaganda and advertising which even work on several levels. If the simple explanation doesn’t work on you, the complex one might. Either way, you’ll be on board.

You get to choose between easy and difficult. And you only know what you will decide when you come face to face with the problem.

That’s why my answer then was “I’d never register” and my answer now is “I have no idea”.

The right side

It’s easier to choose freedom when Cap takes a firm stand for you. He can do no wrong in the eyes of other heroes (I mean, even Punisher refuses to hit him, that kinda cred has to stand for something). But siding with the squeaky-clean Cap is a pretty picture. We don’t get those in life.

Just like Tony, he feels responsible for every hero. I think, for one it’s a vanity thing, and for another, it’s the leader gene.

It never felt to me like Cap was fighting out of sheer stubbornness or even because he believed he was right (like Tony did). He fought because he believed this was the best course of action for the superpowered community. Heroes and villains alike. The old dying to protect your freedom to be wrong narrative.

He is a 616 icon, he has nothing to gain in all this…

…Which may be why he lost. He’d put up a great fight, but he never offered an alternative course of action.

If the registration bill had never passed, what was the other option, where was the guarantee that Stamford wouldn’t happen again? Essentially, this is why he gave himself up and stopped the fight. This is WHEN he did so. He saw the battle in New York as a step away from a mass disaster. So he took off his mask and accepted handcuffs.

Now did he betray everyone who followed him?

Yes and no.

Yes, because without him all they had was a ragtag team of heroes. Without Cap’s credibility or his resolve, they were completely lost.

And No, because if they couldn’t stand up and continue the fight, they may have been fighting not for something but alongside someone.

Cap giving up is not an example of an underwhelming resolution. It’s just what you do when the ends stop justifying the means. When the body count grows and you see no way out.

He chooses to stop getting people killed — something I don’t believe Tony would’ve done.

I remember being so impressed with Cap’s resolve when I was a teen. What I see now is a grand gesture that ultimately changes nothing. Then again, that’s what heroes do, right?

At the end of the day, they stand before you and invite you to make a choice. He wasn’t doing it for the other heroes, he was doing it for everyone else. Showing that a single person can be responsible and that’s what they should be trusting in. The fact that they managed to destroy a whole block in New York didn’t exactly give Cap’s side any sympathy points.

I also get why Stature and Nighthawk defected from the cause — they chose personal safety and comfort over constant risk.

I get why Ben Grimm left for France. Maybe just now but I get it. Not wanting to fight and to even pick a side. He may look like a coward through idealistic glasses (even though he does come back eventually). And he may be naively ignoring the fact that whenever he goes, the registration law might follow.

But he goes anyway and it’s hard to say he’s wrong. Sometimes you just want to escape because you know it’s gonna get ugly.

What was the point?

The resolution of this war doesn’t give you an answer who was right and who was wrong. That’s the point — there is no point. Never is. The main book went out of its way to draw similarities between Civil War and many famous battles throughout history. You are slightly pushed toward sympathizing with Cap’s side and I bet it hits you hard too when that side loses and later he gets shot.

After all is said and done, in a one-shot called Confession Tony Stark admits to Cap’s dead body that the war wasn’t worth it. An answer to something Cap asked him before when he first was arrested. Kinda hypocritical of Tony to not realize that after Goliath's death.

It’s not the end of the story but it’s the end of the war, and I think between the name of the comic arc, the events, and the final words, you can piece together a pretty good conclusion.

Cherry on top

I’m leaving the arc I found to be most memorable years ago for last.

It’s Front Line and specifically the arc of Sally Floyd and Ben Urich. They are both journalists, and they are hunting down the same story. The sides might be different, but the sources, the issue, the story — the story is the same.

By the end, they’re sitting on this goldmine of an article. Something they have the responsibility to share as professionals who claim to value integrity. But they bury it, because their personal experience during this war gets in the way.

This part of the book really surprised me as a kid. I loved the fact that we took the time off to see how the real people are dealing with a superhero conflict. And we know that Ben isn’t exactly impartial, he has a long history with every New York hero ever and works for everyone’s favorite Daily Mail substitute — Daily Bugle (where JJJ is on cloud 9 because the damn capes finally get to answer for their misdeeds).

Sally and Ben find out exactly how Stark orchestrated the fallout from Stamford and how at every turn, he steered the narrative in his own chosen direction.

They bury it. And I don’t know how to feel about that now. It’s a selfish and selfless choice. This could’ve made them legends but this also would’ve destroyed any control the heroes had over their fates.

What’s it good for

I used to think this was a book about right and wrong, and I used to think the sides were very obvious. But I was idealistic. While I still believe that this was no way to go, and othering anyone is an awful idea, I get to look at this as a selection of personal stories now. And I can easily see myself (or anyone really) in every one of the roles.

So maybe it’s more about the choices you end up making (I mean, it does continuously ask you whose side are you on). Or maybe, in another decade I will read it again and see an entirely different tale.

P.S. I tried to make it simple this time by using the Marvel Unlimited reading guide, but you should know that it’s slightly out of order and incomplete.

#marvel #marvel comics #comics #comic books #marvel universe #long reads #comics reviews #civil war #marvel civil war #spider man #iron man #captain america

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yey56 · 10 months ago

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Villainous x sarcastic and trouble maker dealer.

DR FLUG🧪:

Thinks your the rational version of Dementia, at least you can be reasoned with.

Sometimes you feel bored and just start to move things from its place, not very far away but defenetly not where they were and it drives him nuts, he's seriously considering that he might have early Alzheimer.

He still thinks its Dementias fault that his things are disappearing and reapearing in different places. You're just laughing in the corner watching they're discussions unravel. 😜

Tries to ally with you whenever he wants to deal with Dementia because your smartass actitude and sarcasm makes you the perfect match for her.

When he's explaining something in the commercial videos he's already expecting either you or Dementia commenting something. 👀

Even though he doesn't admit it much, he likes your funny nature and you're easygoing self.

When you're feeling kind you tell him jokes and make funny comments so he can have a more relaxed environment.

he always laughs at your jokes and sassy answers, but he will always try to hide it.

You're like a ticking bomb waiting to explode, only that you explode with words, every time you open your mouth he doesn't really know what to expect. 💥

You don't always get along but you are able to have fun together and cooperate 👍

DEMENCIA🦎:

Three words: ✨Partners in crime✨

When you're bored you team up with her to annoy Flug, or anyone at your reach.

Once you guys stole a bank and run away with a bycicle so while you were scaping you looked back at the police for a second, that single thing made you both fall to a river (Spoiler: Dementia had to drag you out)

Whenever one of you has committed a crime you can bet that the other is either involved or fully aware of it.

Sometimes you're bored and instead of being productive like you boss has many times aggressively kindly suggest you, you think is a better idea to make an absolute mess. Of course Dementia appears and you both really get carried away. So when shit hits the fan, Black hat appears with all the intention to yell at you both, thats before Dementia literally grasps herself around him.

Of course you take advantage of this to make a quick scape before the boss can notice you presence.

After 2 hours of Black hat trying to get Dementia off of him he called you to deal with her, so after another 30 minutes of bribing her with sugar and energy drinks (probably not your best idea but certainly the quickest one), you finally got her away from your boss.

All of Hat island knows you as the main troublemakers of the place, the almost abandoned police department in the island has a honorary photo of your mug shots in the main entry.

Dem/You: our friendship goes beyond your average kind of bond (🤨🏳️‍🌈)

You: but not because we're gay.

Dem: No, not because we're gay.

Dem/You: were close but not that way, the only one that I love is Blackhat/ Myself 😃.

BLACK HAT 🎩:

He can appreciate witty and mentally quick people, smartness is useful.

Has catch you once or twice slipping some sarcastic comments from time to time, if he's in a good mood he'll ignore them, if not he'll just look at you menacingly.

Sometimes when he doesn't want to go to an event he's been invented to you are send in his place (and if he doesn't like very much the host of said event he allows you to insult other guest, you used the "his words not mine" as an excuse 😈)

You have the bad habit of cursing a lot and you have already been warned that if you keep insulting so much he will tear your tongue away from you mouth.

He wasn't done it yet but instead has put soap in your mouth, and once physically banned you from saying curse words.

You: YOU...

Dem: stupid

You: AND ABSOLUTELY...

Dem: useless fuck

You: I HOPE YOU DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH YOU...

Dem: bitch-smiling

Flug: what the hell are you doing?

You: boss has banned me from saying curse words but I'm unstoppable.

Black hat: I don't think so - turns you tongue into an alive fish. 💀

You basically have no filter, so whenever he wants the truth from an employee you're always the one he asks first because hes certain that you will be honest (sometimes some money is involved but that's another story).

Has catch you sometimes overhearing others conversations in a dark corner, only for you to scare them after .He also enjoys scaring people so thats a hobbie you have in common.

Once for Halloween you proposed the boss to scare the living shit of everyone in the manor for the whole day, he liked that idea so you spent the rest of the day hearing the screams of the others. (+ Points for your malevolence 👍).

One time you were way to honest with him in a day in which he had worst mood than usual (not a good idea) so ONCE AGAIN he punished you taking away you ability to speak (has happened more times that you can count). When you tried to apologise to him, you had to get creative so you got a notebook and wrote this:

You: *writing* ... --- .-. .-. -.-- / -... --- ... ... 😔☹️

Black hat: what the fuck is this?!

You: *writing* remorse code :)

Black hat: now I'm even angrier than before. >:(

505 🐻:

Every time he sees you doing something shady you always give him a lollipop to bribe him (always works).

You're his favourite story teller, since you have a way with words every story you tell him is really fun.

You spent a whole morning doing sock puppets of yourself and other characters.

When you and Dementia make plans for you crimes outings, the both on you and 505 draw together maps and of course outcomes (with Dementia of course it ends up in really unrealistic outcomes but it's fun to imagine them)

You have tried to teach him how to make jokes and pranks, but his concept of a prank is stopping halfway and hugging the intended victim.

You ask him to make empty cakes so you can put a little bomb inside of it. Every time it explodes, everyone near that cake ends up dirty with sugar.

Your always take it easy with him so the pranks you pull on him all innocent and don't cause any kind of harm.

You're a little soft for that big guy, you will never admit it out loud though.

You: you're to good for this world

505: 😃

You: but that's ok, I'll be shitty enough for the both of us

#black hat #dr flug #demencia #villainous #x reader #villainous 505

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kerizaret · 1 year ago

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Any news on the Cyberpunk dead world au that you're willing to share? :3

HI HI SORRY THIS TOOK A WHILE!! But yes I do in fact have something to share!! It's about time I do!

In fact im taking this ask as an excuse to give a whole CPDW AU introduction!

The story takes place in the dystopian city-state of Shibuya, a huge closed off city isolated from the rest of the world. It's controlled by one government with extremely strict rules and ideologies, which seems particularly adamant on limiting people's creativity and self-expression. Its also very controlling

Rui is a government-hired mechanic there. His family are mainly responsible for building, programming, fixing and maintaining robots / drones / other small devices controlled by a system called "SEKAI" which serves the purpose of "maintaining order" in the city – patrolling, restraining criminals, offering help to citizens etc. These "forces" are controlled by a group of high-ranking government officials led by miss Asahina who the Kamishoros direcly respond to

Rui has figured out long ago by closely observing and helping his parents' work (who he knows were showing this to him on purpose), that the SEKAI System doesn't serve as a way of protecting the citizens, but rather of controlling them, constantly surveilling, creating a "perfect" false narrative, spying and eavesdropping in order to quickly silence anyone who might oppose the vision the government has

Knowing he's partially partaking in this as someone who makes the SEKAI tech, he's decided to revolt by himself by sabotaging his own inventions to break in the long run, going to peoples home's to fix their broken devices while secretly deactivating their hidden cameras or hacking them to spy through them on more important government supporters or officials. He has also managed to create a copy of Len - one of the highly intelligent government AIs capable of freely hacking into any SEKAI device, scanning its code and even controlling it - and created Rin who helps him in his secret work

Rui is aware that there exists some kind of an organised resistance in the city, since he often has to fix devices they broke and hears about their stunts from time to time. From his investigations it seems their activity has started becoming apparent a few years prior, not too long after the introduction of a new governmental program called "TV-fication"... Still, despite all this information, Rui hasn't been able to ever track them down before to find out more

It would seem, though, that he caught the eye of someone from the secret organisation "Untitled" after his most recent job...

That's the main premise!! The beginning relies heavily on Rui's pov at first but we'll learn a lot about other characters later as well, don't worry :3

Other important characters include:

• Emu, a journalist for her family's popular TV chain and member of a very influential governmental family

• Nene, a low ranking common worker and Rui's neighbour, though they don't talk much - not since Nene's parents have undergone the TV-fication process...

• Tsukasa Tenma, the beloved shining star of the Aoyagi idol industry and also the main propaganda machine of the government, spreading their message and ideals through his songs, in interviews and any media appearance (Rui hates his guts)

• Ena & Akito, Tsukasa's advertiser and on-set stylist respectively (as well as his reluctant friends), working for the governmental Shinonome advertising company

• Mafuyu, currently training under her mother to take her role as a leader of this "police" force in the future, owner of the KAITO AI

And others.... there's quite a few characters appearing in fact! But that's all for later :3 for now you shall get this!

(Also reminder I'm working on this with the wonderful @xxwelxx !! This would NOT have become such a big au if not for their help!!)

#cpdw au #SOOO EXCITED TO FINALLY SHARE THIS!!!#what do we think??#this au is so amazing i love it and id love to talk about it sm #its just so hard to make smth for it HDHSH for now! ill get to it!!#but yeah!!#i can finally talk about it more openly now that the main premise is out and youll get what i mean HAHDHA #and i can make things for it.. and you can also ask stuff!#prsk #prsk au #kamishiro rui #wxs #keri rambles #asks #kinofsin tag #the story is still mostly wxs focused bc. im ME. but the others are still important!

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fallingblueroses · 7 months ago

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Part 10 of the Panic! story. I told myself this would be the last part. Apparently I was lying; there will be at least one more. The rest of the story can be found here:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

I did a little Googling to find out what the charges and possible sentences would be. Right after that I Googled "when was the can opener invented". My search history is a little interesting.

***

Kathy sighed in fatigue as she laid on the hotel room bed. It was the day after Tony's visit and Geoff had been released from the hospital that morning. Fortunately Kathy had thought to pack some clothes for him so she'd been spared from having to go shopping for some before starting the long drive home. Geoff still couldn't hear, and she couldn't text while driving, so they hadn't talked much on the way. He'd either looked out the window or slept for most of the drive.

They'd gotten some fast food just before finding the motel, and after eating Geoff had wanted to take a shower. He'd been in there a while, but she remembered this was his first shower in nearly a week. It probably felt wonderful, and she was looking forward to a hot shower herself.

She was nearly asleep when the bathroom door opened and he came out already dressed for bed. He smiled as their eyes met. "Shower's all yours."

She nodded and gathered what she'd need, then walked into the bathroom. She was too tired for anything more than a quick shower, but it felt good to clean up. When she walked back into the main room Geoff was already fast asleep curled up on his side. A fond smile crossed her face as she watched him for a few seconds, then she went to the other side of the bed and climbed under the covers, set an alarm on her phone, and then snuggled up to Geoff and held him close.

For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe. Surely by tomorrow evening, or at least the day after that, they'd be home. She knew Geoff was eager to see William again. They'd pick him up from Geoff's parents and she'd have her family safe and sound in their own home again.

It wasn't something she'd take for granted again.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against Geoff's back. It wasn't long before she was sound asleep.

***

Tony sat in the truck outside of the police station in Orlando. He had to wonder at how he was feeling as he got out and walked toward the doors. He thought he'd be scared when this moment came, but instead he felt this overwhelming relief. As if he'd been carrying a thousand pounds on his back and could finally set it down.

He went through the double doors and waited in line to see the officer at the front desk, who greeted him with a bored expression. "May I help you?"

"Yes." The words came easily. "My name is Tony Wakim. You probably have a warrant for my arrest."

***

Layne was sitting on his living room couch with Cyndi's head in his lap as they watched some made-for-TV movie that Layne wasn't really paying attention to. It had been a long day of calling people and rescheduling, and Layne for one was tired. The girls were in bed, and he knew he'd have to sleep soon, but he wanted this quiet time with Cyndi...

His phone went off. He bit back a sigh as he pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello?"

"Good evening. This is Officer Stilton with the Orlando Police Department. Is this Layne Stein?"

His heartbeat picked up. "Yes. It is." Cyndi looked up at him when she heard his voice.

"Mr. Stein, I'm calling to let you know that Tony Wakim is in custody."

A dull shock went through him. "...He is?"

"Yes. He turned himself in a few hours ago." A pause. "I was going to call your friends who were involved, unless you'd like to tell them yourself?"

"I'll tell them." His heart was pounding thickly in his chest. He hadn't actually believed Tony would go through with it. He'd honestly thought that Tony would turn tail and run at the last second. "Thank you for calling."

"You're welcome. Have a good evening, Mr. Stein."

"You too." He hung up and stared ahead for a few seconds trying to gather his thoughts.

"Layne? Honey?"

He looked down at his worried wife. "Tony turned himself in." He wasn't sure how to feel. There was relief there, but a sadness was starting to creep in. It had been easy enough to rage at Tony when he was running. I should be celebrating. Why aren't I?

She touched his cheek. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know." He swallowed.

She sat up and hugged him. He leaned into her gratefully as she rubbed his back in reassurance. After a few seconds he pulled back and picked up his phone to text VoicePlay.

***

Kathy jumped when her phone alarm went off. She checked in disbelief as Geoff moved beside her, but it was indeed seven in the morning. She'd slept the entire night through without so much as dreaming, and she felt as if she could have slept another twelve hours.

She forced herself to sit up and stretched her back out. They had to check out by ten, which gave them plenty of time. They'd stop for breakfast on the way. Her eyes fell on Geoff, and she smiled to see he'd tucked his head under the pillow when her alarm had gone off. She was about to shake him when she realized what that meant.

She gently lifted the pillow. "Geoff?"

He groaned. "Okay, okay. I'm awake." He rolled over and looked at her with sleepy eyes.

Kathy smiled at him. "Good morning."

"Good morning." He smiled back, then blinked. "Wait. I heard that."

Her smile widened and she squeezed his hand. "Is it all the way back like normal?"

Geoff shook his head. "It's like I'm underwater." He laughed softly. "Feels weird to hear myself like this."

Kathy laughed a little and laid down for a hug. "Now you can keep me company while I'm driving."

His arms wrapped around her. "I want to listen to music too."

"Anything you want." She rested her head on his shoulder. They'd have to be careful not to fall asleep, but they could hold each other for a few minutes.

***

Tony looked up at the lawyer he'd been assigned came into the room. The room itself was straight out of a cop show--bare white walls, a table and a few chairs. The lawyer wasn't much less stereotypical--dark-haired, clean-shaven, in a suit and carrying a briefcase. He was young, and there was a sharp look in his eyes Tony didn't like.

"Mr. Wakim?" The lawyer held out his hand, and Tony reached out with his cuffed hands to shake it. "My name's Thomas Landon. I'm the public defender that's been assigned to your case." Tony nodded. "I understand you gave the police a full confession last night?"

"I did."

"You shouldn't have done that. But maybe we can make a case for them getting it unethically. Did they make any threats?"

Tony blinked. What the... "No. No threats."

"Hmm. Well, I'm sure there's something I can work with."

"Wait...I think there's been a misunderstanding," Tony said. "I'm not wanting to fight this."

Landon blinked at him. "Mr. Wakim, you've been charged with five counts of attempted murder, five counts of felony kidnapping, two counts of third-degree grand theft auto and one count of third-degree felony destruction of property. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I do." Tony nodded.

"The attempted murder charges alone come with sentences of either life in prison or the death penalty. Do you realize that?"

Tony took a breath. "I do. Do you realize who I attacked?"

"Some singing group."

The attorney's indifference grated on Tony's nerves. "They were my friends, Mr. Landon. I nearly killed them. I deserve whatever happens."

Landon's face lit up. "Remorse. Good. Keep that attitude up."

Tony's mouth dropped. "Are you even listening to me? I want to plead guilty! I promised Geoff I wouldn't make them go to court!"

"Well Geoff is just going to have to understand, Mr. Wakim. My job is to make sure you get the best deal possible. You just leave everything to me."

Tony stared at Landon as his hopes for a quick resolution were dashed. They would go to court. VoicePlay was going to be dragged onto the stand and made to relive everything while Landon tore them to shreds. Guys. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...

Landon picked up his briefcase. "Everything's under control, Mr. Wakim. I'll look over everything and see you again in a few days."

Great. Tony sighed. "Thanks."

***

Two weeks later

Geoff, Layne, Eli, J, and Earl sat in awkward silence in the waiting room at the State Attorney's office. They exchanged glances or fidgeted nervously as they waited. All any of them had been told was that the State Attorney wanted to talk to them about the case against Tony.

Life had almost begun to feel normal again. PattyCake Productions was almost fully back up and running, although at somewhat of a reduced pace. The question of what to do with Tony's share of the business was still looming. VoicePlay was on hold until everything was settled, although they had made some vague plans for future videos. Geoff's hearing was about halfway back, allowing him to arrange music again, but he hadn't made a lot of progress. He just didn't have it in him right now.

They were called back into a book-lined office. The attorney was a man named Wilson, a large man with salt and pepper hair and an expensive suit, sitting behind a desk large enough to accomodate a family of ten at dinner. He looked up as they filed in. "Good morning, gentlemen. Please be seated." They sat down, and Wilson folded his hands as he looked at them. "I understand that none of you want to be here, so we'll make this as quick as we can." Eli and J nodded back at him as he went on. "Mr. Wakim's attorney is pushing to get all charges dismissed."

"What?!" Earl barked. The others echoed similar sentiments. Geoff looked down at the floor as a sour feeling built up in his stomach.

Eli's voice shook. "How is that even possible?"

Wilson held up a hand. "There's evidence that Mr. Wakim was not of sound mind when he committed the crimes against you. Also--"

"What evidence?" J asked. "That letter he wrote Geoff?"

"Mr. Wakim's lawyer has submitted evidence that he suffered a traumatic brain injury that he was self-medicating for using a drug called Prism. It's a fairly new hallucinogenic street drug, and by Mr. Wakim's statement he bought the Prism after he was denied prescription painkillers. His lawyer is going to paint him as a victim of the failure of American health care system and the war on opioids." Wilson sighed. "If this case gets into the court of public opinion there's likely going to be a high level of sympathy for Mr. Wakim. The judge may dismiss the charges to avoid a public backlash."

"Oh, my God." J's voice simmered with anger. "So he gets away with it? He...he tried to kill us and because he bumped his head he's going to get away with it?!"

"Not necessarily," Wilson said. "The judge may reject that argument. The next step Mr. Wakim's lawyer would take is to make a plea bargain."

"What kind of bargain?" Layne asked.

"He's wanting the attempted murder and kidnapping charges dismissed. In exchange Mr. Wakim would plead guilty to two counts of third-degree grand theft auto and one count of third-degree felony destruction of property."

"That's almost as bad," J snapped.

Wilson held up a hand. "He would also be fined five thousand dollars for each count and ordered to pay restitution to all of you for your medical expenses incurred."

"How much jail time would that be?" Layne asked.

"He could get up to five years in jail for each count."

"Up to," J said.

"And if we don't accept the plea deal?" Eli asked.

"Unfortunately, the final decision isn't yours to make. It's up to the judge. But if the plea deal is rejected, then we go to court on all charges. In that case Wakim is facing the death penalty on the attempted murder charges and life in prison on the kidnapping charges. And in that case Mr. Stein and Mr. Castellucci are going to be the main witnesses since they actually saw Mr. Wakim." Wilson sighed. "I've argued in court against Mr. Wakim's attorney before. He's young and ambitious and determined to make a name for himself. If he can get the charges dropped it'll go a long way towards doing that."

There was silence, and Geoff was the one to break it. "What do we need to do now?"

"The pre-trial hearing is in two weeks. I suggest you all prepare statements, keep quiet on social media, and prepare yourselves and your families for the possible outcomes." He stood. "If anything changes our office will inform you."

They stood and shook Wilson's hand in turn before leaving the office. Earl's fists were clenched and his eyes were watering with anger. J, Eli, and Layne looked similarily upset. Geoff felt nauseous as he thought about the upcoming hearing. Prepare a statement? What was he supposed to say?

J exploded after they got to the parking lot. "I don't believe it. I don't. Fucking. Believe it." He slapped his fist against his palm. "He almost blows us up, leaves us to starve, drags Geoff halfway across the country, tries to destroy Layne's business, and if some hotshot lawyer gets a judge to feel sorry for him he's going to get off?"

Eli's arms were crossed and his face red. "His lawyer's doing his job. We have to help Wilson do his."

Geoff rubbed his temples. "Can we...can we all just take a breath and calm down? We can talk about everything later."

Eli sighed deeply. "Geoff's right. We need...we need to think about how to do this. Maybe we can get together in the group chat later."

Silence fell, and after a few seconds Layne sighed. "I need to get back to PattyCake. I'll talk with you guys later."

They murmured good-byes as Layne walked off with his head down. It wasn't long before they all went back to their cars. Geoff got in his van and sat for a long time before starting it. He wished he could be angry at all this like Earl and J were. It would be better than this anxiety that was chilling him and kicking him in the stomach.

Geoff started the van and drove home. Once he was home Kathy went to PattyCake to help Layne, leaving Geoff alone with his thoughts as he took care of William.

***

Layne excused himself to go to bed even before the girls that night. His mind was whirling and he needed some quiet. For a long time he just lay on his bed, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling while his mind drifted.

A sigh escaped him when his phone went off; somehow he wasn't surprised it was Geoff calling. "Hey Geoff."

"Hi Layne." Geoff sounded as tired as Layne felt. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah. Just laying here thinking about things."

Geoff chuckled. "I'm rocking William to sleep, but yeah. I've been thinking too." A pause. "It's been hard to let the little guy out of my sight lately."

"I know the feeling. Believe me." He had a feeling he already knew, but he asked anyway. "What's on your mind?"

"The meeting with the lawyer today." Geoff paused again, and Layne waited. "What do you think about what all he said? About how Tony might get off?"

"I don't know," Layne said honestly.

"Neither do I. I don't blame the guys for being pissed. I wish I could be pissed off too. But...I just feel sick. Scared. Like..."

"Like?" Layne asked when his voice trailed off.

"Like I'm grieving. Like Tony died and I'm in mourning."

Layne nodded to himself. "I get it, Geoff. It was easy to hate him when he was running. When I could picture him as this...this demon in Tony's body. But now..." Now they had to face him. Face the fact that it was their friend who had done all that.

"Yeah." Geoff's voice was thick. "I don't know how I'm going to hold up when we go to court."

"We'll be okay, Geoff. We'll have to be."

"Yeah." There was a long pause, then Geoff said "I guess there's nothing to do now but push through it."

"Yeah." Layne wiped his damp eyes. "We've gotten through so far. It's almost over."

Another pause. "I'll let you go. See you at PattyCake tomorrow."

"See you. Good night, Geoff."

"'Night, Layne." Geoff hung up, and Layne resumed staring at the ceiling, his emotions churning in his stomach.

#fan fiction #fanfic #voiceplay #geoff castellucci #kathy castellucci #layne stein #eli jacobson #tony wakim #panic! at the disco video #earl elkins jr.#j. none #i'm no legal expert sorry

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aita-blorbos · 2 years ago

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WIBTA for getting revenge against the person that ruined my life?

I (36M) am (still am, losing your job doesn't get rid of a persons PHD) a scientist that specializes in theoretical physics and studies of the multiverse. Until around a year and a half ago I had a job at a prestigious science facility, where I designed a device that would transport anything from other dimensions to ours (we had to set it off a little bit ahead of schedule, but overall, I'd say I did a good job with the timeframe I was given!).

This is where a person I'll call SM comes in.

One of the tests I ran on the device involved bringing a radioactive spider from another dimension to ours, but unfortunately, it escaped and bit him, which resulted in him gaining amazing powers, and becoming a superhero (he killed the spider right after it bit him, BTW.) (just thought I should bring that up.) (really stellar guy, takes important moments in his life REAL seriously.) (I don't think text is doing a good job conveying how sarcastic I am being right now, so to clarify: I AM BEING REALLY SARCASTIC.).

My first face-to-face meeting with SM was brief, but impactful. It happened when he and another important-but-not-so-relevant-to-the-story-guy broke in to my (ex) workplace a day before we were going to set off the device for real, all so that they could steal top secret information from us....And a bagel?! Which SM actually used as a projectile to HIT ME WITH (what kind of person DOES THAT? And with so much unnecessary force, too!)

Then, a day later, he blew up my invention WHILE I WAS STILL IN THE ROOM. I wasn't even one of the people fighting him, all I was trying to do was grab a canister of the dark energy my device was generating, but he didn't care at all that I was there!

Because of him blowing up that machine, I was turned in to...Something else. I don't have a face anymore, and my entire body is covered with these holes. Things fall through them all the time, and it leads to all sorts of embarrassing accidents that always cause people to laugh at me.

Not only that, but by doing this, he also made me lose my job, which was practically my entire life. I look so grotesque, my own family won't even LOOK AT ME, and I can't even get a new job to support myself because of the way my condition makes me look!

So that means by the time SM and I finally met again, I was so dangerously low on funds, I had to resort to a life of crime! I decided to jumpstart it by robbing an ATM machine because that's pretty harmless and easy, isn't it? I mean, it's a machine, nobody loses anything from me taking from one of those, besides for the bank, but who cares about them? They steal from people all the time! I'd hardly say it's a villainous act to take from them, except for the fact that robbery is illegal. Anyway, the shopkeeper assaulted me for trying to steal from the ATM machine.

Maybe I should have seen that one coming.

...Eh, whatever.

It only gets worse from here, because then, out of nowhere, SM shows up, makes fun of me, and then cuts me off while I tried explaining to him who I am and why I should matter to him, just so he could read a text. Which is just unbelievably rude, and tbqh, pretty unheroic!

He spent the rest of what was SUPPOSED to be our epic battle on his phone, texting some person. This fight was meant to be a huge deal for both of us, and he didn't take it seriously at all, he barely even bothered to look at me for a majority of it. At one point, he even webbed me up and left in the middle!

Our fight did eventually resume, and midbattle he told some police officer that I was just a "villain of the week", while I was RIGHT THERE!

Eventually, the fight brought as all the way back to the site of the accident, right where our connection first formed. This was finally a point where I had the chance to tell him everything, what I did for him, what he did to me! And even after all that, he still treated me like a JOKE!

I got really mad at that point, which came back to bite me pretty quickly. As in, I accidentally kicked myself in to one of my own holes (like I said before, I have a lot of holes, they go places, one hole took my foot to my own butt, and I fell in to another hole).

But on the bright side, this resulted in me finding out that I'm a transdimensional superbeing. Which gave me an epiphany! I finally know what I want to do now, and how I'm going to do it. There's a lot of science involved, multiversal travel, stuff like that. But the basic idea is that I'm getting payback. The way I see it, he took everything from me, so why shouldn't I get to take everything from him? It makes sense, right? Because of him, I have nothing, so why should he have anything? It's only fair!

So, as long as everything goes according to plan, by the time I'm done, he shouldn't have anything left, and then he'll finally learn to respect me.

....Wow, this came out way longer than I thought it would.

Here's a tl;dr!:

SM ruined my life, WIBTA if I ruined his in return?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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carchaseonacarchase · 3 months ago

Text

tête de femme —part three 🤍🍸🦪

hey there! i'm saving this here on my blog in case of broken link, this is part of the journals in the elusive carmen sandiego site, all credits to cj & prudence :D

A month later, perhaps two…

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Slums littered this city, but most of Argentina’s wealthy lived like kings. The hacienda sprawled along a cliff-side beach complete with a Venetian glass mosaic pool, a hedge maze, statue-lined fountains and other such sybaritic landscaping. The dwelling itself wasn’t terrible. One floor with varying steps, it had the awareness of Frank Lloyd Wright with the simplicity of Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.

But it was sterile.

Aside from the large leather sofa and a chair or two that hinted frequent use, the place felt too clean, made-for-display, not unlike certain museums.

The large-format painting she had come to see was much more impressive now than when it was framed by a tablet under restaurant lighting in Malta. Opposite of it was Amedeo Modigliani’s Tête de Femme, one of a few sculptures in the artist’s short career. He died at only thirty-five.

A considerably moving theme revealed itself as she surveyed his collection. Malcolm Avalon lived alone, surrounded by products of artistic minds taken too soon.

Returning her attention to the painting, Carmen stood squarely before it and compared the woman’s likeness to a portrait miniature inside a golden locket. The resemblance was clear, but now what?

Nearly as soon as she asked herself that question, a decision was made for her. The observer felt that she was being watched, and she may have been so for some time.

“Estoy aquí por poco tiempo, Sr. Avalon,” her Spanish was Castilian, slightly Americanized.

“I haven’t called the police,” but even if he did, she knew she had plenty of time. The man seemed benevolent, but continued in a more demanding tone, “Who are you and what are you doing in my home?”

He spoke American English, and while that fact shouldn’t surprise her, it did. Hearing his words, her heart raced, triggered by a natural fight or flight. But as she took a long breath and pondered through reasons, she found her response along the ridges of the hacienda’s mountain view.

“When I was younger, I saw the Rocky Mountains for the first time and believed nothing could be grander,” she started, lifting the locket in her hand so he could see it as well. The gold gleamed bright, reflecting light from outside.

“Then I ventured across the Alps, and that redefined ‘grandeur’,” she offered him the jewelry, “Sometime later, I braved the Sahara with meager supplies and a camel named Sobek. Under the stars, I began to see that perhaps ‘grandeur’ was nothing,” as she said that, he opened his palm to accept, “if not the right moment in time.”

She placed the locket in his hand, soft shadows accentuated the cross and its intricate lines.

“This was with me through all that,” she still clasped the chain, “but then I learned the portrait within is your wife, and this fact changes my perception.”

He was studying her, a scrutiny that wasn’t entirely discomforting, but she had never been under such a spotlight.

“Who I am is unimportant, but I’m here,” she glanced to the object connecting them together, “because I see myself holding onto something that means more to someone else,” definitively, she released the necklace.

As she let it go, the gift made no sound, and neither did the man that held it.

“I don’t know this woman,” she confessed, “Not even her name. Anything that I’ve invented of her is now offset by who she may have been, and that information rests with you.”

Taking a step back, she tilted her head slightly, “Honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready to turn imagination into knowledge.”

She gave the air a moment to settle before turning to leave.

That was hardly the conversation she planned to have when a more childish version of herself envisioned the discovery of familial ties. It also did not play out the way she hoped after that fateful revelation in Malta. She wanted to leave the locket here without explanation and be instantaneously free from consequential repercussions, or worse; heartache. But while the situation organically unwound, she doubtlessly preferred this tête-à-tête over the alternative.

— final part...

#😭#carchase #carmeneaux #chase x carmen #carmen x chase #carmenaux #findcarmen #the elusive carmen sandiego #fic rec #carchase on a carchase :0

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serafiel-jacobs · 1 year ago

Text

Riddle Me This (Fanfic)

New chapter from my main series 🩷

Pinocchio could tell something was wrong right away when his father came home earlier from work with Venigni by his side.

“It’s Arlecchino again” Venigni looked so frustrated.

The plan was to talk about this when work was over however a dead body was found outside the factory, crudely looking as if it was a puppet that was going to be assembled, but worse is a small detail everyone found odd, everyone but Venigni since the corpse had something sticking from its eye, a cruel reminder of his beloved childhood toy the puppet once stole, the toy his parents were making for him.

Everyone had to leave for the police to investigate.

“I hate to admit it but he is too good a what he does, if we don’t stop him now he will only cause more harm” Geppetto knows that the alchemists now have become their second priority.

After all the King of Riddles body count is now 27, not seeming to stop any time soon.

“I believe it’s because of the Ergo that was used on him” Gemini chirped and explained what Arlecchino had told Pinocchio all the way back in Arche Abbey while trapped.

“The Ergo of a serial killer? Well now everything makes sense” Geppetto wondered how he was so methodical, how after so many kills no one was even close to finding the true identity.

It’s not as if the police were the only ones looking, the media and private reporters are as well, that puppet covers his tracks, he makes sure not to leave a trace.

Before Venigni could even open his mouth to explain what he found, the sound of a phone ringing inside the home began to resonate.

“How the hell did he get this number?!” Geppetto shouted he was furious, this is bad, he has their phone number and therefore knows where they live, if Geppetto were alone that would be a nightmare to think of, not to mention he could send danger their way without even being near the house.

Pinocchio took a deep breath and answered the phone, already knowing the phone call was for him.

“What a fine day in the-”

“Give us the dumb riddle” Pinocchio is so done with him.

A laugh robotic laugh could be heard from the other side.

“When did you become such a brat? Whatever, I guess being a good boy can’t last forever, I mean the two of us share a common enemy, And thankfully for me, you are very clever”

Pinocchio stayed quiet, if he gets more angry like last time that will only make Arlecchino happy.

“The alchemists are building something special” Arlecchino smiled, “So they need me to distract the crowd”

Not everything has to rhyme. He is the King of Riddles, not a caricature.

“But they have me bound to their will, alchemists and their weird funny magic you know?” He has always despised them, “I can’t say the name of the man in charge, although maybe if you answer my riddle I’ll give you a hint”

Pinocchio had already demanded to hear it so there was no need to repeat himself, still there was a tense silence from the other line, Arlecchino staying quiet for some reason.

“Well you see the more noise, the more panic, This state making everyone manic; Hiding away their true intentions, It’s easy for them to hide their inventions, But how do you hide something so big? In fact, what is it that the more there is, the less you see?

“Darkness” Pinocchio answered quickly.

“Are you cheating?” Arlecchino sounded annoyed.

“Maybe your riddles are just too easy” Pinocchio had always answered correctly, also he had seen that one before in a book he owns.

Arlecchino huffed from the other line, “Okay fine, Venigni you sure are blind you know that?”

Venigni wanted to be mad but he felt scared, he felt truly powerless, this puppet only torments him, and for what? What does he have to gain from all of this?

Pinocchio looks at Venigni, should he tell him what Arlecchino told him? That he sees Venigni as his masterpiece? That he loves seeing him in pain? How would his uncle react?

“Your hospital has a little rat, who likes to have their fun on the side” Arlecchino was delighted, “Maybe you should check the morgue, a little surprise awaits you all”

The sound of the other line being cut was heard.

They all sat down to properly talk about this while waiting for Venigni to compose himself again.

“He said the alchemists are making something special and that’s true” Venigni took out some papers he had brought in.

“I had to recreate these supposed plans but obviously there are many missing parts, not knowing exactly what this machine is supposed to be also doesn’t help” Venigni showed them incomplete blueprints he had made by recreating his decipher research.

Venigni pointed at one of the drawings, “At the very least I can tell this is a high-powered flame amplifier, although way bigger than the ones we use”

“That’s it, they are making some machine to make anima!” It all made sense to Geppetto now.

Venigni looked confused and they explained it to him.

“Mmm maybe that’s true but there is also something here that doesn’t make much sense” Venigni pointed at another of the drawings, “This is strange, it almost looks like a blood transfusion bag”

Geppetto looked at it, it was definitely something that needed to be connected to pump some sort of liquid as if it constantly had to be run for it to continue to work.

As for the rest of the blueprints, if the two men worked together they might be able to figure out more, for now, there is the matter of the hospital.

“The morgue is in the basement of the emergency services unit” Venigni explained, “Geppetto I know that you don’t like going to them but you are going to have to come”

Venigni was worried now that the King of Riddles knew the address, it wasn’t a good idea for Geppetto to be alone.

Geppetto took a deep breath, it was already hard enough going for his appointments even if things were going better, he can’t be so close to an intensive care unit again.

“It’s okay friend” Venigni had gained back his confidence knowing Geppetto needed his support, “We can wait outside while Pinocchio investigates”

Geppetto knows he has to do this and truly he should be the one comforting Venigni, not the other way around knowing how The King of Riddles likes to torment his friend.

They can both support each other.

——

Pinocchio entered the morgue, if someone were to ask he can just say he was given special permission by Venigni, which is true. To make it a little more convincing there is also the excuse that he is curious about medicine and would like to learn more about it.

Pinocchio looked around the place, he first opened a big fridge thinking that maybe the clue was inside, but there were only preserved body parts and a cake for some reason.

There were two small offices, probably to take notes of autopsies and he began to look around, he started opening journals and anatomy books to see if there was something inside.

“Mmm Gemini this is weird” Pinocchio had opened a strange magazine that had naked people in it, “It doesn’t look like all the other anatomy-“

“PINOCCHIO CLOSE THAT RIGHT NOW!” Gemini was mortified who the hell keeps that sort of thing in their place of work?!

“Huh?” Pinocchio was now confused, “But what if there is something important hidden inside?”

“Trust me, there isn’t” Gemini’s lamp was now red, “I’m doing you a favor, you wouldn’t want your father to know you were looking at that”

Pinocchio didn’t understand but Gemini was probably right that there was nothing important inside.

The only thing he hasn’t checked yet is the morgue drawers, so there must be something inside one. Pinocchio doesn’t want to open random drawers to look at corpses, it feels disrespectful, so he analyzes them carefully and finds what he was looking for, very faintly but you could see a trinity symbol in one of them, he tried opening it but it was locked, none of the keys were working meaning it was stuck and he will need to open it with force.

“Wait” Gemini chipped and got out of his cage, “There is a small hole I can fit into”

The less attention they draw to themselves the better, so Gemini went inside with his tiny sword. It was a good thing, he shinned in the darkness and saw that there was a trap, rigged so that if Pinocchio tried opening it with force he would get electrocuted. Gemini used his sword as a lock pick and opened it, getting out and jumping onto Pinocchio’s shoulder.

Pinocchio couldn’t celebrate Gemini’s ingenuity as he opened the drawer and gasped in shock.

This corpse looked like him, well not like him exactly, more like it crudely was trying to resemble him, this wasn’t just one body it was many stitched together to achieve that look. He looked at it closer and started shaking, no… this wasn’t supposed to look like him, the eyes forced into this corpse were brown and the scalp sewed to the head had brown curly hair.

Pinocchio closed his eyes, didn’t want to look at it, then he felt thankful that his father wasn’t there to see this, it was hard yet he needed to do this. Opening his eyes he examined the corpse, there was a hole in the chest and Pinocchio could tell there was something inside. He reached to touch it, pulling out a necklace with a ruby in its center.

He left still shaking a little, his father asked what was wrong but he didn’t want to explain. Pinocchio showed them the necklace, it was normal jewelry, nothing engraved, nothing hidden, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Oh, that necklace!” One of the nurses had noticed them, “Where did you find it? Doctor Garret has been looking for it”

Venigni knows every doctor who works at this hospital so he knows who Frederick Garret is, truthfully with his famous reputation is hard to not know him. As he seems to know about everything, you can go with him for a heart condition, skin condition, eye problems, an infection, a virus, you name it, he knows how to treat them.

Now that Venigni thinks about it, he has seen this necklace, he sometimes talks with the staff, the man has this necklace displayed in his office, and if he remembers correctly it’s a family heirloom.

“I will give it back to him personally” Venigni was already suspicious.

That left Pinocchio and his father alone, who once again asked if everything was okay.

🔴………………………..𖦹……………………🔴 Tell him about the Body Make an Excuse 🔴………………………..𖦹……………………🔴

———

Venigni looked at the Stalker next to the door, the young girl giving him a friendly smile and explaining the doctor was with a patient.

“Have we met before?” Venigni could tell she looked familiar.

“We have,” Blue said casually, “I did attend many events held by you when I was younger, my parents tended to drag at least two of us”

Blue’s parents tended to mostly take her since she has always been very well behaved, when she was younger people would say she was mature for her age when really it was more that she knew what to do in social situations with adults. Having great manners and knowing what to say to others, or rather how to people please without looking too obvious.

“Oh yeah, you are uhh….” Dammit, why does Mr. Lucero have so many children? Why is his good memory failing him now? She is blonde so, “Genevieve?”

“No, I’m-“ Before she could fully correct him, the patient left and Venigni excused himself entering inside, well at least he didn’t recognize her, which means her mask does work well in hiding her identity.

At least that’s what she wants to think, even if realistically she already knows why he got confused.

“Lorenzini Venigni” Frederick spoke with polite flattery, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you were looking for this” Venigni had his usual charismatic yet a little pretentious tone, “I found it and thought I should give it to you in person”

Frederick looked shocked, “I’ve been looking for it everywhere” He was almost convinced another staff member must have stolen it.

The man looked extremely relieved, almost forcefully taking it away from him to have it in his hands again.

“Do you happen to frequent the morgue?” Venigni asked, “It was found there during an inspection”

“Yes I do, although I don’t recall taking it out of this room” Frederick looked puzzled, something was off, although he had taken it home a few times for personal reasons, “Perhaps I simply forgot it there, with so much work there are a few times I’ve misplaced things”

He has been so busy lately, his job as a doctor and his true goal, it’s most likely the reason he didn’t notice. He should take it back home, he has it in his office to remember her, but if he ever were to lose it again…

Frederick looks tired, almost as if he didn’t sleep well last night. Still, he was trying to act normally, Venigni saw him taking notes with his right hand and noticed something, then he switched to the left and noticed something in the writing as well.

“You look tired” Venigni snapped his fingers, “I should treat you one of these days to a drink so that we can relax together”

“Oh, no thank you Mr. Venigni” Frederick wanted him to leave as soon as possible before he started parroting about whatever things were currently on his mind, “You don’t have to, both of us are very busy men, it is better to tend to our work schedule”

“Nonsense” Venigni began to walk around the room, making conversation about hanging out, when he found himself behind Frederick, he carefully looked at the notes, a quick glance before looking away without the man suspecting a thing.

As he suspected, he had written the word Anima two times.

“Well, I assume your next patient will arrive soon” Venigni gave him a playful smile, “Hopefully we can arrange plans, I would love to hear more of what you do, and even better I would you to hear of my creative genius”

“Yes” Frederick was trying his hardest not to look annoyed, “Hopefully we can spend time together”

Venigni left the room, happy about his findings, leaving behind the doctor and the stalker.

Blue looked at Venigni curiously as he walked away, that man talked loudly so she could hear the entire conversation. Realizing he was trying to distract the doctor for some reason, it’s a trick she has seen many times while attending high-class events.

“Not your business Blue” She had to remind herself, just look for another client, she also needed to have a serious talk with her father about what she was capable of.

—

“So does this mean that Frederick is the one behind all of this?” Geppetto asked.

They were in Venigni’s home now, thinking about what to do.

“It seems so” Venigni doubted he was working for someone else, Frederick is not the type of man to be a henchman, “Is Arlecchino really giving us this information just like that?”

“He hates the alchemists, yet even for him, this seems too obvious” Gemini moved his little antennas in confusion.

“I believe that’s what he wants” Pulcinella spoke up, “He is giving us the obvious answer because it’s making us doubt the truth”

Not only has Pulcinella researched him well, but he knows what he is capable of firsthand, he wants to make them second guess themselves.

“I do have clues on his possible location” Pulcinella showed a map of Krat that had red marks, “Most of his killings tend to be around the same area, aside from the ones made specifically to taunt us”

From Moonlighting Town to the Mallum District, it made sense. Places like Rosa Isabelle Street or Elysion Boulevard are more monitored and secured because of the status associated with them, being basically “rich people” areas.

“So what? Do we investigate there? Where would we even start?” Gemini is starting to feel like a detective, “Mmm Pinocchio are you okay? You seem distracted”

“I’m fine” Pinocchio lied, like how he lied to his father, “Also trying to think about what to do”

Pulcinella sighed, “I believe that for today this is all we can do”

Arlecchino won’t give them any more clues until he makes a new trap.

“In the meantime, Geppetto perhaps you and I should work on the plans for the Grand Exhibition”

“Are you guys making evil mining puppets again?” Pinocchio was reminded of those awful things with their saw-blades and drills.

“Son they aren’t evil, although I get that they can look a little intimidating” Geppetto admitted that to the average person, they probably look a little scary.

“That’s because you didn’t have to fight them” The Grand Exhibition was a nightmare for Pinocchio. He got tossed around like a rag-doll by those things, he wonders how many times Sophia had to save him.

“Come on son, they are actually great for their designated purposes, you see-“ Geppetto wanted to explain to his son so that he wouldn’t have a negative opinion but Pinocchio mumbled something under his breath.

“Technically you made them evil with Law 0 so I’m right”

“What did you say?!” Geppetto shouted, that brat was testing his patience.

“Nothing!” Pinocchio was backtracking hard, “Oh um yeah! That sounds really interesting!”

Before Geppetto could speak up again Pinocchio hugged him and gave him a smile, “I love you too Father”

Geppetto couldn’t get mad after that, so he patted his son’s head, telling him that he was giving him a chance this time.

Venigni laughed, he found it amusing. At any rate, talking about the Grand Exhibition can distract them from this mess while making progress at work.

At least it distracted him, Venigni didn't stop talking for 3 hours straight, aside from Pucinella the rest of them were wondering how he didn't get tired from all that speaking, Venigni's throat had to be something else if he could talk for hours like this on the daily.

—-

“Why would Cat and Fox be with Lorenzini Venigni?” Rusty was moving her feet while sitting on a table, “I thought he hated them”

“He does hate them, so I’m as puzzled as all of you” Tiger was trying to make sense of it, “You said they seemed to be arguing while leaving did you manage to hear the conversation?”

“Unfortunately I couldn’t” Sabertooth hates to admit that she probably has hearing problems, she can’t be seen as weak, “I had to keep my distance”

“Could they have gone to apologize?” Lion was out of ideas, “After all having Venigni out of all people as an enemy is not a good idea”

“But I thought no one else knew about what happened at the factory” Rusty grabbed some desk decorations and started to play with them, “Only us because of our client and also maybe Geppetto’s doll”

“Rusty, obviously Venigni and his associates know about this” Lion said, “I do find it odd he has never made a complaint, although it's possible that he just wanted to leave that mess behind, I can't blame him, honestly I try to forget everything that happened during that time”

“Speaking of Geppetto’s doll” Sabertooth rolled her eyes, “Our client wants us to keep a close eye on the thing”

“Come on Saber” Tiger looked irritated, “I get you aren’t a fan of puppets but let’s not call him that”

“Ugh shut up Tiger” Sabertooth pointed a finger at him, “I get that you have a soft spot for puppets but the rest of us here don’t”

“Dude, they are only objects” Lion crossed her arms, “It’s not as if they have true feelings, it’s more like pretend feelings”

“Yeah it’s the doll Geppetto uses to play family” Rusty giggled. Her family taught them puppets are only tools to serve so that has to be true.

“Whatever” Tiger dropped the subject, “Spying on him will be a hard task”

“How come?” Lion didn’t see the reasoning.

“Because when he is in public he is always either in populated areas or with his father, Antonia or Venigni” Tiger was trying to remember more putting a finger in his face in deep thought, “Not to mention how he seems to have a good amount of knowledge on Krat’s streets”

“Wow Tiger, do you have a crush on the puppet or something?” Lion was teasing him.

“What? No!” Tiger exclaimed angrily, “My parents force me to go to those stupid galas and he is always there with one of them, also I go to Elysion Boulevard and Rosa Isabelle Street often to take pictures, he always wanders around those places”

Tiger loves photography, cameras are a recent invention, and recently now that polaroids were invented he got his hands on one and has started to take pictures, it’s a hobby he loves.

“I wouldn’t blame you, Geppetto’s doll is very pretty” Rusty was also teasing him.

“Huh, it seems you are right Tiger,” Sabertooth said, trying to come up with a plan, “Since you already frequent those places you can keep an eye on him from a distance”

Tiger nodded, that seemed like the best solution.

“As for the rest of us, I don’t doubt that Geppetto will take his doll to the Grand Exhibition” Sabertooth as always took the main direction as their leader, “Lion you and I will observe him there, you should too from time to time Tiger”

Lion was on board, still “Okay, what about Rusty?”

“I can’t spy on the cute doll because I have to be in class” Rusty pouted, it starts in the afternoon but her studies are different than most, not to mention that by the time it finishes, she should be in bed.

“You go to school?” Tiger had never seen her talk about homework or classmates.

“Private tutors,” Rusty said, that’s why she has way more free time than kids her age, as well as why she can be a stalker with no issues.

Despite that freedom, that’s not enough so the others will have to deal with the spying.

“What do you even do pipsqueak?” Tiger pinched Rusty’s cheek, “Starting to think you are only part of the team as decoration”

“Hey!” Rusty slapped his hand away, “You know how super strong I am”

“I guess that’s the plan” Lion grabbed nail polish, ready to make her nails, “Hey Carlo was trying to become a stalker why-

“I have a perfect idea” Sabertooth interrupted her, knowing what she would say, “Carlo was trying to become a stalker, I’m sure the offices still have some of his belongings, we could make an excuse to see Geppetto by delivering them”

“I was going to-“

“Shut up Lion”

“Sorry Saber” Lion knows she is the second in charge, she shouldn’t have tried to outrank Sabertooth.

“I’ll go and fetch them, we need to check where we can get the puppet and Geppetto alone to make this work” Sabertooth praised herself for her ingenuity.

Sabertooth isn't stupid, she knows Frederick is an alchemist and doesn't care because her family is working for him, her parents are alchemists as well, she knows many things others don't, specially her team, she cares about them but she can't let them know the truth.

—-

“Father, can we talk?”

Blue found her father in one of the stables, brushing the mane of one of the older horses.

Her father gave her a warm smile “Sure my candy, what do you need?”

My candy, he gives her and all her sisters cute nicknames, he is a good father just too paranoid about her safety, or maybe that’s what any normal parent would do.

“I think I don’t want to work with Dr. Garret anymore”

“Why is that?” Her father looked confused, “Did something happen? Me and him went to school together you know?”

“Yes, father I remember” Blue’s father is 48, the same age as the doctor, apparently, Dr. Garret wasn’t a popular kid, although he has never told him why, at least until now.

“Don’t worry he was always a little weird” Her father was reassuring him, “Harmlessly weird”

“Weird how?” Blue was confused, okay he is already strange but she wants to know how the man was a child.

“Oh that’s old childhood memories, it’s nothing too important” Her father put the brush aside, “He was very shy and awkward that’s all, he never made eye contact with anyone, I did hear some rumors that he would kill animals, those were some ridiculous rumors, like for the rumors they made about me, have I told you the-“

“Yes father you told me about that weird rumor that people thought you ate a frog” Blue knows that her father tends to repeat the same stories from the past.

“He was always so smart, I was not surprised when he became such a great doctor although I did find it odd considering how many classes he skipped, mhmm, I believe he got in trouble at school for that, It was odd because he would attend school but not the classes, I wonder where he would run off to, probably to investigate things on his own, he was always reading books, maybe school was boring for him due to his intelligence”

Her father seems to have a lot of faith in the doctor, is it because they know each other?

“I had many friends, I was a friendly young man, Frederick not so much, so I wanted to be nice-”

Blue interrupted her father, “I know, I know you were a popular kid, father I want a real job”

“That is a real job, as long as someone has some sort of thing to do it counts as a job”

Blue gave out a sigh of frustration, she was ready to get into an argument with her father when tried walking closer to her and fell to the floor.

“Father are you alright?!” Blue helped him get back up, handing him his cane that had fallen as well.

“I am, candy don’t worry about me” Blue’s father looked exhausted. “I… haven’t been feeling my best, that must be my age”

Her father isn’t that old, Blue knows that this is because of his leg injury, she can tell that her father has been having more issues with walking lately, although he hides it pretty well by riding the horses where he needs to go. Not to mention the damage to his spine, her mother is also starting to get concerned about her father's attentiveness.

“You should rest” Blue was filled with anxiety, “Let’s go back to the house, we can talk about this later”

“I’m not as fragile as I look” Her father teased her, “Say, why don’t we race to the house?”

Blue faintly smiled, that was a good idea, anything that could cheer her father up, she is aware that lately, he has these feelings of feeling useless, of not feeling strong like a “true man”, he tries to hide those feelings. Some of her other sisters have started to notice as well, it doesn’t help that people sometimes talk behind his back.

She is starting to believe the people of Krat are extremely noisy and some have nothing better to do than to start dramas.

Each of them grabbed a horse and had a quick race to the front of the mansion. Blue knows not to insult her father by going easy on him, she gave it her all and still lost, it made her happy that her father had a good time.

She helped her father go to his study while she went to her room.

“Ugh this is ridiculous” She was taking off her boots and mask in frustration.

A few birds flew her way, the birds flocked to her room from the opened window each time she arrives. One of them had a letter in its beak, she picked it up, a message from one of her sisters, they have this secret way of communicating.

She wrote back what her sister needed to know, sometimes living in the lap of luxury can be exhausting when you have to follow all the social norms, not being able to say what you truly want to say, specially if you are a woman.

So they came up with this system to give themselves tips or say what cannot be said out loud.

Blue spent time in her room for hours, only going downstairs for dinner, the dark was setting and she turned on her special lights, her stupid fear of the dark taking over her.

It’s not like it is her fault, if those bullies hadn’t locked her in that dark horrible basement at boarding school she wouldn’t have this irrational phobia.

She remembers that it was Sophia Monad who found her sobbing inside, apparently all those moths fluttering around were her pets. Blue wonders what happened to Sophia, no one has ever seen her since her parents' death, and most likely she died as well, that’s so sad, Sophia was a nice girl.

Blue changed clothes, getting ready for bed, the birds flew away to rest too, and she closed her eyes.

Hopefully, she can come up with a way to quit her job without upsetting her father in her dreams.

#lies of p #lop #liesofp #lies of p game #lies of p fanfic #ao3 link #this is in ao3 too #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p geppetto #lies of p oc #lies of p king of riddles #lies of p venigni #lies of p pulcinella #lies of p gemini

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xxdoubledaisyxx · 4 months ago

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Terrorism they call "counter-terrorism"

As I was completing the setup of my workspace for a final effort to come up with a creative solution that may net me 1.5k before... the 27th, I discovered that my recently used tested tripod is missing the lower piece that was disassembled. Certainly not by accident.

No, I don't sleep walk nor have problems with memory loss.

So... presuming this is a "prank" from the CIA attempting to haze me as an initiate despite the fact that I hate the everything about their existence, then they are the cause of the War on Terror.

They burglarized my home, disassembled my tripod as an attempt to threaten me out of business. In other words, intimidate me with brute violence. Cowardly brute violence. They are thus too afraid to "say it to my face."

Not only disgraceful for men as those rich people to conspire against the poor in such a way, but abominably loathsome for the president of the USA to demonstrate such disgraceful misbehavior on the world stage to be reprimanded for.

That is terrorism. They likely thought... heh heh heh, it's genius! They'll never want to file a police report over something so little in value to them but important to him as an artist and business person with a $700 camera I invested in tax accountably to specifically go with that tripod. Funny... I lost most all of my personal effects from their terrorism over the years, including the nit blankets from two submarine deployments I served on, and the sterling silver fish I received with my subs pin.

Nevertheless, this is the first time I have had a business effect interfered with by their vandalism. I expect the spiritual backlash through the forces of God will be quite different due to the nature of the inconvenience that mischief has caused me. Whereas Trump was incontrovertibly exposed and doomed to die with that "insurrection" debacle, I believe the people who are conspiring to ruin my life in as many ways as possible until I kill them bodily made their incontrovertible mistake against God.

They vandalized an artist's furniture and materials specifically for the arts of the Lord's work and Words. I am a theologian and prophet, but that does not mean I know what God is going to do. I know what humanity can expect from God when it is one of two things: wrath or mercy, and can deliver that news to you as best as the vernacular permits.

That's all you need to know the difference between good and evil, I suppose. When to have wrath, and when to have mercy. Think about that the next time you squash an insect in your home.

How about you practice now, children. Just remember what Jesus said about millstones and giants. They'll eat your bones as bread or something. Now go have fun.

How loves ya, Baby? Only you know how truly terrified they are going to be.

Isn't this great? The bad guys are being defeated!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I think they put her in the brig, and she's been incarcerated for some time suffering the worst of their "subtle" tortures that they do off the record or by withholding services and dignity.

At this time, likely with no idea what is happening out here, somewhat crazed with ecstatic furor an zealous righteousness for wrath and retribution, while totally restrained like a master of discipline that she already is as a hardcore warrior who stood up to her commanding officer, even if she is not of the combat professions to experience the reality of combat in whatever zone it is happening and how.

Dust bunnies are lethal enemy combatants, citizens of Earth. Do not let them start a fire in your home when they spill a hookah and catch themselves on fire at a drunken party.

However... there she is, sitting her cell-- probably a cush one for their own government that gets treated fairly decently while still being horribly miserable and bored worst of all (for me anyway--I invented a game I called... Jail Pong. ask Nintendo of America if you want to know. I told them about it in a letter.)

There she is... in prison. Really feel it. Get in the prison mindset with her, to know what she is suffering so you can understand something cool next that I will show you.

She suddenly erupts into Maidenly Super Saiyan form as the revelation of the one power dawns on her in the mysterious way that no man or woman can predict, provoke, nor prepare for. They try, the very evil that caused this mess, but that's simply not how it works. Just because something cannot be done, doesn't mean that there is a way to do it that hasn't been found.

All things are possible. That is nothing. Evil does not exist because it has no right to exist and is destroyed by Light itself in light wherever it is seen whenever because that is the sight of the Lord Most High-- get it? Faith helps, but it's not so much about faith when it comes to power and authority. Sin remains, the taint of defilement, but evil goes away instantly as never having existed at all.

We can talk about evil, but it is a thing of the past that we know about, and a certainty of the future we can reasonably anticipate and prepare for with reliable autonomous means like government, when it is not being operated by brutes who think circumcision gives them superpowers to read minds and imagine pictures.

Seriously... what the fuck is wrong with those people? You'd think they'd have bumped their heads on something inside the house at least if they had no sky above their heads to shelter life beneath itself outside to enjoy. (trees with branches and stuff)

Right... we have the lesson now paused with the most flattering image of Maidenly Super Saiyan happening in the least delicate of places and conditions for the person happening. Resume.

She erupts also into the most modestly booming maidenly laughter you've ever heard because she understands that not only... (what was it....) not crazy, but also with tearful mirth that what you did by reading this relieved her, most graciously (as it does always for anyone always), of the form of suffering that this form of injustice causes a person's pride to make them feel humiliated and ashamed about who they are and what they have done.

She has realized that all that extra suffering they have used their "special methods" and subtle tricks to cause harm with for so many years without justice because of lack proof against the people in time before they escaped, has become power for her that makes her time there more enjoyable, more rewarding, more beneficial to everyone around her, and all around super saiyan level.

It still is horrible and miserable being in jail, but that makes a world of difference to anyone, and you should never deny it of someone. Under no circumstances. That is why they try to keep that game a secret, not because they know we will get mad, but because we will be blood-boiling furious because "God" will be mad whom all living creatures have faith in, with humans at the top of the chain of command.

What is a drop of God's wrath in a man's soul? Make a study of my life and you will eventually come to know that with a drop of wrath from me as your frame of reference, but not easily.

She will laugh at times when they smile to themselves about hurting her, and they will "hear" her mirth and realize what has changed. This will all happen privately in the occult intrigue that happens between the power players. Not the weak minded fools who cannot raise the qualifying bar for the job they thought was a booze cruise and not an actual responsibility.

You know who I am referring to because I mind controlled you to know it right now. Beep boop.

No no no, please don't give me praise. The glory goes to the one who taught me how to fight with a flaming sword while blindfolded and walking (in?... Jesus.) on water. He was a king himself, one who claimed his throne by righteous force of power to rule with a will of his own as is each man's right regardless of their station in life. His name is Kull, and he kissed one of my eternal ex-girlfriends. One of the cuter ones too. That's quite an accomplishment of any king who wins true love and the house with a royal flush and a quicker draw in that timeless and classic way of Story that regales the accounts of the noble savages and barbarian lords.

That's actually where the ice on lips technique originates from when kissing for the effect of a cold and irresistible surprise, and in direct continuity with the sacred and mysterious arts of the cult of Hippocrates as they became known after fleeing persecution under the name of Valka. There are other tales about magic kissing techniques I will have recorded in a future volume when I pass off my secrets as the master kisser of all time. They are mysteries from a storied tradition that has been passed down by sages in secret code all throughout the written world.

So... please give me money because these words make good reading? That's pretty valuable right? If it burns up a few hours in pleasure, that's like a movie, yeah?

Besides, some of this knowledge will help you all through the rest of your life. You would feel better about yourself if you gave me your money.

No, I do not have 5 kids to feed or a family. I just have one mouth to feed, my own, so I'm not asking for a lot. Please give something back if you can.

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ilearnedthistodaysblog · 9 months ago

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#1088 How does a two-way mirror work?

How does a two-way mirror work? There is a screen on one side of the mirror that reflects most of the light but allows some of it to pass through. Two-way mirrors were invented in 1903. We often see them used in police movies, where the detectives are watching a criminal on the other side of the two-way mirror, waiting for them to slip up and do something incriminating. Two-way mirrors are also called one-way mirrors, although I don’t really understand why because every mirror is a one-way mirror. A two-way mirror goes in both directions whereas a one-way mirror only goes in one direction. When the invention was patented in 1903, it was called a transparent mirror, which makes a little more sense. A two-way mirror (I’m going to keep calling it that) works on the same principle as a window at night. With a regular window, light hits the glass and passes straight past all of the molecules in the glass. Molecules can be excited if they are struck by energy and that makes their electrons jump to a higher orbit. When they release this energy and go back to their regular orbit, they release the energy as light or heat. Different molecules can be excited by different amounts of energy, but it has to be a specific amount of energy. The molecules in glass cannot be excited by the energy that visible light or UV light carry, so the light passes straight through the window without being stopped. However, not all of the light passes straight through. About 5% of the light waves hit a molecule in the glass and get reflected backwards. That is more than enough light going through the window for the window to appear transparent, but just enough light being reflected for the window to become a mirror at night. When you have the lights on in your room and it is dark outside, people from outside can easily see into your room, but you cannot see out of the window. This is because of that 5% that is being reflected. When it is daylight, 95% of the light from outside drowns out the 5% that is being reflected. At night, there is no light coming from outside so the 5% being reflected looks like a mirror and the 95% from inside the house sails through the glass as normal. This is basically how a two-way mirror works. A regular mirror has a coating of silver on the back that reflects all of the light that hits it. A two-way mirror has a very thin coating of a metal like aluminium. This layer is so thin that it can let about 10% of the light that hits it through while reflecting the other 90%. If the lights are on in the secret room behind the two-way mirror, you would be able to see through in both directions because 90% of the light from both rooms would pass through the aluminium layer and it would be just like a regular window. However, if the lights are off in the secret room, 10% of the light from the bright room passes through the mirror into the secret room and 90 % of the light reflects back, creating the illusion of a mirror. There is no light coming from the secret room, so nothing passes back through the mirror. If you think that there might be a two-way mirror in a room you are in, there are several ways of testing it. The first thing you can do is to see if the mirror is attached to the wall. This, of course, doesn’t mean that it is a two-way mirror, but, if it is, it will have to be attached to the wall because it is basically a window. The second thing you can do is switch off the lights in the room you are in. This might allow you to make out something on the other side of the glass. If that doesn’t work, press your face to the glass and cup your hands to cut out as much of the light from the room you are in as possible. If there is something on the other side of the glass, you might be able to make it out. If you have your smartphone with you, switch on the flashlight and press it to the glass. If it is a two-way mirror, your flashlight will illuminate some of that room. You can also tap on the mirror because a two-way mirror will sound hollow. Another way is to put your fingernail to the mirror. If it is a real mirror, the reflection is bouncing off the silver layer at the back of the mirror and the transparent glass will cause a space between your fingernail and the reflected fingernail. If it is a two-way mirror, the reflection is bouncing off the front of the glass and there won’t be a space. This isn’t always a guarantee though. And this is what I learned today. Photo by RDNE Stock project: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-wiping-the-mirror-5591459/ Sources https://www.reflectiv.com/en/blog/post/how-does-a-two-way-mirror-works.html https://www.howitworksdaily.com/how-do-two-way-mirrors-work https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One-way_mirror https://science.howstuffworks.com/question404.htm https://www.wikihow.com/Tell-if-a-Mirror-Is-Two-Way-or-Not https://www.reddit.com/r/homesecurity/comments/th9tiw/is_it_definitely_a_twoway_mirror_if_i_can_touch Read the full article

#mirror #one-waymirror #two-waymirror

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kudosmyhero · 2 years ago

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Marvel Team-Up #50: The Mystery of the Wraith!

Read Date: February 26, 2023 Cover Date: October 1976 ● Writer: Bill Mantlo ● Penciler: Sal Buscema ● Inker: Mike Esposito ◦ Dave Hunt ● Colorist: Janice Cohen ● Letterer: Gaspar Saladino ◦ Karen Mantlo ● Editor: Archie Goodwin ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● Spidey goes to Dr. Strange to see if he can figure out if Brian DeWolff actually died or not ● ooo, so Jean doesn't think her brother is the Wraith--she actually suspects that it is her father, Phillip DeWolff. ● Spider-Man also doesn't believe that Brian is the Wraith… but if Brian's body was never found… which begs the question, how was he declared dead after only 2 years? Usually something like 7 years has to pass before a missing person can be declared legally dead by the family ● except now Jean is going to check the family crypt… so was his body found or nah? ● Spider-Man and Dr. Strange go to where the ambush happened, and his amulet conjurs up specters to re-enact what happened ● someone shot Brian DeWolff, and Phillip DeWolff shot that shooter before carrying off his son ● Tony Stark's analysis of one of Wraith notes also seems to point toward Phillip DeWolff being the Wraith ● the entrance to the Wraith's lab is in the DeWolff family crypt ● grr Phillip DeWolff is such a misogynistic pig! Please tell me he dies. ● it seems that the Wraith is the brother… but we already know the Wraith can make the mind see things, so can we trust anything going on? Short answer, no. Long answer, noooooooooooo. ● Iron Man on his way with a helmet he hopes will protect against mind manipulation

● still explaining what happened on that day 2 years ago, Phillip says that the link between Brian's nervous system and his mind had been permanently severed. He called on two men he thought he could trust--Karl Bonn, a banker, and Max Vorster, a wealthy landlord. though what he thought they could do just because they had money, I have no idea ● police-commissioner-turned-evil-scientist accidentally fused his mind with Brian's, but now he could control Brian's body with just a thought ● he sent Brian to seek revenge on Vorster and Bonn ● I see the family resemblance via facial expressions…

● aaaaand Phillip blames Jean for her mother dying while giving birth to her. Seriously. Fuck this guy. ● "Never turn you're back on a pair of heroes…" - you're? sigh ● Iron Man puts the helmet on Phillip so that he cannot send his thoughts to Brian's body ● Dr. Strange vows to Jean that he will do what he can to restore Brian to his old self ● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: Spider-Man, Jean DeWolff, and Iron Man recruit Dr. Strange to help them solve the mystery of the identity of the Wraith, believing there to be a supernatural element when evidence suggests that the Wraith is possibly Jean's deceased brother Brian. As Spider-Man and Dr. Strange go back to the scene of Brian's death, Iron Man reviews the forensic evidence and Jean DeWolff goes to investigate her brother's tomb. As Spider-Man and Dr. Strange learn that Brian wasn't killed on the scene, Iron Man finds that the fingerprints on the Wraith's notes match that of Phillip DeWolff, and Jean is shocked to find her father and the Wraith hiding out in a secret laboratory where she is captured. When Dr. Strange and Spider-Man arrive they too are incapacitated and taken over. Phillip then explains how he pulled his son off the scene of the crime and invested money on inventions that might restore him to life, and save him from the bullet wound to his head. The last experiment instead linked their minds, so that Brian, in his trance-like state, was able to be controlled by Phillip. Phillip created the Wraith identity to take revenge on criminals using lethal force. When the heroes break free, Iron Man also arrives with a specially prepared helmet. Iron Man puts the helmet on Phillip, incapacitating both he and the Wraith. Although they defeated their foes, Brian's health is still affected by the bullet. (https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Marvel_Team-Up_Vol_1_50)

Fan Art: Iron Man and Spider-Man by JoinSpider

Accompanying Podcast: ● Untold Talks of Spider-Man - episode 09

#podcast untold talks of spider man #spider man (peter parker)#my marvel read

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campgender · 2 years ago

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Please say more about being anti psychiatry? Is it about the white hegemony of therapists or what

ngl i scrolled for a bit trying to figure out if something i posted here prompted this bc usually my antipsych posts go on my disability sideblog (& here’s a link to my tag for that!) & i have concluded it’s either in response to my carrd or a ted lasso post i made a few days ago lol. either way i’m glad you’re here! i’ll try to give a rundown that isn’t entirely repetitive of other posts & reblogs linked above.

i don’t think it’s particularly helpful or accurate to say what a certain movement or political position is/isn’t because there are, in fact, many anti-psychiatries, all with their own perspectives about various points of tension, but i think these are the closest to general tenets:

anti-psychiatry = working toward the full dismantling of the system of psychiatry & its consequence of psychiatrization. recognizing psychiatry as a normalizing force & an oppressive institution. that work can be internal – “killing the psychiatrist in your head” – or more explicit activism.

full radical bodily autonomy for all. (this is often interrelated with harm reduction, as pertaining to drugs – prescribed & not – as well as self-injury, etc.) as also follows: the immediate & permanent end of forced institutionalization & forced medication, & the provision of thorough informed consent for all interventions.

destigmatization of mental illness, psychiatrized disabilities, Madness, & whatever else you’d like to call it; the right to be Mad.

material resources dedicated to supporting Mad people to live the lives we want.

so i would articulate anti-psychiatry as being less about the whiteness of therapists & more about therapy’s role in upholding whiteness, in a manner that can be simplified as two threads of the same rope, entwined & re-entwining:

psychiatric diagnosis as racialized violence. particularly “oppositional defiant disorder” or ODD, but also pretty much any “disorder,” especially “personality disorders” & diagnoses related to paranoia (as the adage goes, it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you) medicalizes & thereby stigmatizes the state of being Black. entire schools of therapeutic thought (looking at you, CBT) are dedicated to convincing people they are not being targeted for unfair treatment by the people around them. it’s a one-two punch: we’ve invented a system that makes you Black & oppresses you on that basis, and then we punish you for recognizing it. these tools are then leveraged against other marginalized groups as the system sees fit.

ableism against those who “really are crazy.” theorists have dedicated their lives to explaining this better than me, but while there are forms of ableism that predate capitalism & modern concepts of race, in the present day ableism is a punishment for a real or perceived failure to uphold & reproduce racial capitalism. you aren’t productive; you aren’t making the imperialist state more money; you aren’t creating & then raising white babies in a nuclear family who will then produce more profit & more white babies, & so on.

a particular concern in the past few years is the increasing shift from policing by cops to policing by social workers and/or “trained mental health professionals”; the relative harms of prisons versus psychiatric hospitals can be debated, but ultimately both are forms of institutionalization which deny people autonomy & access to community, as well as often have long-term negative effects on things like employment (& therefore housing), parental custody, voting, etc.

i hope this answered your question! feel free to send a follow-up if you would like. in addition to my disability blog i recommend checking out @librarycards @bioethicists @bananapeppers @psychiatricsurvivorpositivity

#asks #anti psychiatry #ok to reblog <3

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thesimpsbasement · 3 years ago

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Prompt 19. with Herlock Sholmes x gn or male reader (for the event)

•Prompt #19:“Of course i came for you it would take much more than that to stop me”

•Reader is gender neutral

•Tags/warnings:violence,blood

_______________________

This was meant to be a nice date with Herlock. He managed to save enough money to treat you to dinner to show his appreciation for you.He isn't the type to always be a romantic but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a romantic bone in his body.

You two were walking down the streets of London when you heard heavy and quick footsteps approaching you ,turning around you see 2 people running towards you,both holding a knife.One of the goons got ahead and aimed to attack.You being his target. Closing your eyes you waited for impact but the pain never came.Opening your eyes you notice Herlock in front of you,knife plunged into his arm and it's bleeding! "HERLOCK!" You yell,eyes widen in shock " _____ go! Run! I'll be fine!" He grunts looking dead serious.You've known Herlock for a while and if Herlock is serious then there's no way to change his mind.Turning around you ran as fast as your legs could take you.You tried to find the closest phone booth to call the police. But of course things aren't in your favor because you managed to trip over god knows what. What's worse is that the thug was right behind you ready to attack. Even if you tried to get up you still wouldn't have time to flee.As you saw the attacker lunging at you ,someone got in front of you and what you heard next was something only familiar,sorta like the sound that Iris' smoke gun makes,wait Iris' smoke gun? Like the one Herlock invented? Analyzing the figure in front of you it finally hit you,it was Herlock! Said detective was busy detaining your attacker who's now laying on the ground after Herlock gave him a good punch in the gut "Herlock…" you murmured getting up from the cold pavement " Everything is under control now no need to fret" he says getting up as well as he asked the guy to get up so he can take him to the station. You looked at his arm and you noticed it's bandaged up,rather poorly if you do say so yourself " You came after me while you're still injured!?" You ask ,a bit louder than you intended " But of course I came for you! It would take much more than that to stop me” he chuckles " After all you're my partner I can't just leave you for dead" he says giving you a wink " Say what happened to the other guy?" You ask ,remembering how there were 2 of them " Oh yeah I did the same thing I did to this fella and a policeman just so happened to be nearby so I asked him to keep and eye on him as I went looking for his friend" he explains, his grip on the guy tightening slightly remembering how he almost hurt his beloved,angry Herlock was a rare sight but definitely a scary one. " Speaking of which there he is" Herlock said pointing at the 2 figures In front of him. " Mr. Sholmes I see you have caught the other person you were chasing" said the police officers " Why of course,What would you expect from the great detective Herlock Sholmes" he says, handing over the attacker to the officer " I trust you'll take these 2 at the station? For you see I'm quite busy at the moment" he says, slugging his arm around you with a smile " Uhm right sir! I will" he said before leaving the 2 of you alone. As soon as he left Herlock sighed before his posture became sluggish. You recognise that stance of his, he's in his depressive mood. " Hey, you ok? Well I mean besides the hand injury" you ask,worried look on your face "are you ok? How can I possibly be ok! Our precious date has been ruined and we ended up having a terrible time instead of spending it carefreely eating something delicious " he exclaimed " I swear I'll have those two never see the light of day again even if it's the last thing I do" he says,his brows furrowed. " Hey don't worry about it too much, we can still go later! But right now I think we should take care of that injury of yours,don't wanna go around with you bleeding now do we?" You say trying g to lift up his mood " Alright you do have a point" he says quickly regaining confidence " I won't let those chums ruin our lovely date more than they already have" he says grabbing your hand with his other hand.

" Let's get going,the quicker we get home,the quicker we can deal with this stab wound and the quicker we can get our date started" he says,quickly scanning the area to make sure there's no threats before pecking your cheek " I'm quite hungry you know and I have anticipated this day for so long" you giggle at his antics " I know I've been you planning it after all" you say as you two started walking home," But of course I could've done it on my own but you insisted to help because you're my lover" he says " Are you trying to say we're not?" You ask jokingly "Never in a million years ever since that day you confessed you shall forever be my partner till death separates us" he declared " Is that a marriage proposal?" " Maybe ,Maybe not we'll just have to wait and see".

((Wedding prolly gonna have to be in secret cuz yk 1900's but yeah

#fanfiction #fanfic #100 followers event #prompt event #ace attorney #ace attorney x reader #ace attorney fanfiction #herlock sholmes x reader #the great ace attorney x reader #dai gyatuken saiban x reader

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

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harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch.

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.”

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was.

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them.

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest.

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods.

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist.

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free.

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing.

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack.

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel.

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously.

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.”

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky.

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it.

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again.

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper.

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back.

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house.

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?”

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t.

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats.

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it.

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects.

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over.

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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argylemikewheeler · 4 years ago

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July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he wished some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift. Fucking off and being a better piece of shit son just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So don’t call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was sure his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um, puzzles to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we can’t . So, that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is more than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially his familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green dash barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded cool in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like everyone was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I have to show you all my inventions! Camp was the best four weeks of my life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa! Girlfriend ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just Steve that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s super smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I just saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the Chief now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not... looking at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car could speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was upset that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.” Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since no one else in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright-- Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they weren’t dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected: his sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike-- just Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he really was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly: do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re never early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t have to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy. Doctor doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t too comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just was . Rather than being cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in: In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole… thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything to forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but instead seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to obscure the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well are you seeing someone, Jonathan? -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will needed to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little understanding between best friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too everything to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the disgusting amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress. Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No-- no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s nothing . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even see us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I meant what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I meant because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

#stonathan #jonathan byers x steve harrington #byeler #will byers x mike wheeler #byler #finally reposting in a way that isn't a random post with a link alksdja #prompts #my fics

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