#California has the book for his fucking ego

[goldengay49]

Texas: “I don’t like this whole modern… feminist crap! I like old media”

California: “i have this book. It was written in 1510, it’s from Spain and it’s called Las Sergas De Esplandian”

Texas: “thanks, some old fashion literature!”

*a few hours later*

Texas: “You goddamn—“

[elvensixpm]

Just finished reading Valley of The Dolls and like What. The. Fuck.

Okay. Emotional roller coaster the entire way through— I was not expecting it to be such a heavy read? Okay, it was funny at some parts; but most of the time when conflict arose, I felt so frustrated and sad, especially during Anne and Jennifer's parts.

SPOILERS:

content warning for suicide and pills

Lyon Burke:

When Lyon Burke was first introduced, I knew he was going to be the Main love interest for Anne. There's just that level of detail given to his introduction, and Anne's view of him that really stood out to me, so I knew he was going to be a major character in her life. Anne is so head-over-heels in love with this man— and damn! The way she described him in the beginning, I would be too!

That aside, there waa always the little red flags that stood out to me that indicated Lyon Burke was more of a 'free-bird' kinda guy. I don't believe he truly wanted to settle down with Anne. He loved her, but like her— his own freedom and self-discovery was more important. Moments like:

“I mean working for Henry. Living in New York. But what do you want to do, Lyon?”

He stretched his long legs under the table. “Be dreadfully rich, for one thing. Sit in some lovely spot in Jamaica, have several beautiful girls who look exactly like you to look after me and knock out a best-selling novel about the war.”

And

“Hello . . . is someone on?” Lyon’s voice clipped through the wires.

She was frightened. He sounded angry.

“Is it Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth! She stared into the phone stupidly.

“Come now, this is a juvenile thing to do,” Lyon said coldly. “Elizabeth, if you want to talk, say something or I’ll hang up.”

Really were foreshadowing of the fact that he would never truly stay loyal to her in the first place— he would love her, yes, in a twisted, strange sort of love, but never truly stay faithful to her in the way Anne always wanted.

Boo! He's a well-written character, but I still hate him!

I think I'm just irked by the fact he cheated on her twice in the last fifty pages of the book— right after they got married and had their baby girl. At least he is a decent father, although barely. He knows Anne will never leave him, because she loves him/loved him too much, and it would be a great burden to their daughter. So Anne just stays the loyal wife he can return to when he's had his fun toying around with other women.

Anne, ultimately, has more power than him. She 'bought' him, she's the millionaire, and I feel like his ego was threatened— so he turns to cheating on her for some semblance of control; he gets to be the bigger one in his other relationships.

Neely O'Hara:

Oh, Neely O'Hara. Where to begin with you?

At the beginning I quite liked her. She was spunky, enthusiastic and quite pitiable! She was seventeen just trying to make a name for herself and find love on the way. Well, she got it fairly early in the book— and then she became greedy. Far too greedy, and we see her become just like Helen Lawson, angry, demanding, big. Perhaps even worse!

Neely O'Hara is nothing but a hypocrite in the end.

"...Why, if I was ever a star, I’d be so darned grateful that an audience loved me..."

And yet, when she became the star she dreamed about, she seemingly forgot all of Anne's contributions towards her fame. Anne was the one who introduced Neely to Helen Lawson— and that got her a big break into the scene. Anne gave her advice, support, and was repaid back by Neely sleeping with her husband by the end of the book.

I absolutely despise Neely's character, but I adore her from a writer's standpoint. She perfectly mirrors Helen Lawson, except Helen was maybe more respectable than Neely was.

I also find it so difficult to wrap my head around the fact she cheated on Mel, and was almost like an absentee mother to her twins.

I think we first see the beginnings of her self-destruction when she moved to California with Mel— where we see her beginning to take the pills/dolls and cut off fattening foods to help her lose weight. From the way it was written, Mel is worried for his wife's health, and I think is very (understandably) upset at her change in attitude after she finally 'made it big'.

He tells her she shouldn't lose weight and that she's fine as she is, but this action is scolded by Neely. She considers him a drag, and then reveals she's been cheating on him with Ted. This was such a shocker to me, because I really (foolishly) thought Neely was serious about finding love.

Neely is selfish, because she constantly wants 'better' things for herself and doesn't really care about hurting other people. Not Anne, not Mel, only herself. This might be explained by whatever mental illness she has, but honestly! She's excellent at riling people up.

Even during her attempted suicide it seems like it's all for show— she wants herself to have a better funeral than Jennifer's, she's constantly just competing and vying for attention. To make herself look good. She blames God for the hole she's dug herself into and only backs out at the last minute when she realizes she might actually die.

Okay. Let's stop it at that. I really don't like her, but damn— she's so good at making you angry!

Jennifer North:

Oh, my sweet, sweet Jennifer.

Safe to say I loved her story. Jennifer is no saint, but I think she and Anne share some of the same likeness— and I think Jennifer is a character that can be easily sympathised with.

Throughout the story, we can see how her physical appearance, mostly her breasts, are so important to her. We see it in the way she massages them and does exercises every night to keep them perky; the way she uses them as a weapon against Tony Polar to make him give her what she wants; with Senator Winston Adams at the end of her life. Throughout the book, from the beginning where she was introduced, to the end of her life, there was always an emphasis on her breasts— her only real assets, because she had no talent other than looking attractive.

I find her to be a rather pitiable character, because honestly, it feels like she's doing what she does just to keep that level of high-life she's always maintained— relying on men to fund her lifestyle even though it seems she despises it sometimes, because she always knows it's all about her looks.

Towards the end of her life is where things get most interesting. I think Jennifer was truly searching for the same 'true love' that Anne also sought after, and was genuinly happy being with Senator Winston Adams because she felt he loved her for who she was— not because of her body or her pictures/films.

When she gets diagnosed with breast cancer, and needs a mastectomy to remove the malignant tumour in her breast— she is devastated. She fears that Senator Winston Adams will find her repulsive, even if before that he said he only loved her for her mind. This soothes her a bit, but when it's revealed that he didn't actually want babies, and that he was doing it to appease her— that his 'real babies' were her breasts, she was devastated. Devastated because she believed he loved her for more than her looks.

Jennifer's suicide in the end would seem like an attempt to keep the Senator's love; keeping her body free from 'mutilation', eternally perfect in death. In death, she would not age. In death, she stays forever the beauty she was when alive. She is perfect. She is loved. Her body will no longer wither to time.

She commits using pills because it would leave less of a mark on her body.

Side note:

I do believe Jennifer was a bisexual in the story. Her descriptions of sex with Maria (especially during the beginning) was vastly different to the sex she had with the other men in her life. She also mentions that she and Anne would've made a good lesbian couple. Anyways. # Anne x Jennifer ! I find it cute that Anne named her daughter after Jennifer, too. Truly girlfriends in a different, better universe.

“They love my face and body. Not me!” There’s such a difference, Anne.” Then she shrugged. “Maybe I’m just not very lovable.”

“I love you, Jen—really.”

Jennifer smiled. “I know you do. It’s a pity we’re not queer—we’d make a marvelous team.”

Anne laughed. “If we were, maybe it wouldn’t work out this way. As you said, one loves and the other is loved. Or maybe it’s different with Lesbians.”

Jennifer had a far-off look. “No . . . even with queers, one loves and the other is loved.”

[useragarfield]

i'm doing a rewatch of one tree hill and am watching season 6 and man i've warmed up to peyton and i always did like her more in season 6 (really only got around to loving the character in season 3 and 4 tbh, i had a hard time in season 1&2 because of some the questionable stuff she did) but that being said her behaviour towards julian is infuriating from start to finish. the fact that she dumps the guy and then is outraged that he wasn't sufficiently heartbroken is wild to me

cont. and it's clear it's a hundred per cent ego driven too. she doesn't love julian, right so she dumps him because as brooke said he's rebound guy for peyton and once peyton realizes she still wants luke julian gets unceremoniously dumped so i really don't get peyton's whole spiel about warning brooke of julian's real nature because he allegedly hooked up with another girl after they broke up like sweetie, honey, toots YOU broke up with the man

and her whole suspicious attitude towards him, always assuming the worst i'm like once again the only reason she has to dislike julian is she's butthurt 'cause she believes he moved on from her too fast and like for fuck's sake lady you broke his heart if he wanted to fuck his way through the entire state of california to mend his little heart good for him. i really hate that the writers even tried to pull the wool over our eyes like maybe julian is a jerk like nope he wasn't, not for one second

this one tree hill meta is delicious on this thursday morning, thank you SO Much for sending this.

first of all, i might get some hate for this but s5 peyton aside from the longing after l*cas thing is perhaps my favorite peyton because it was really nice to see her having the ability to do the things she’s so good at, developing talent and running a label and music stuff. season six peyton...mmph. i like seeing her happy but at what cost. (the episode with pucas yelling at her for wanting to carry the kid will always stand out to me as one of his most toxic fucking moments but whatever we’re not here for that)

NO I ALWAYS THOUGHT HER RANDOM “OH LET ME GO TELL BROOKE THAT JULIAN DOESN’T ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT HER THING” was one of those ‘oh i’m telling you because i care about you but i’m telling you just because i want to’ sort of things? and julian was literally SO valid for breaking up with peyton it’s a miracle he put up with all the copies of that fucking book during their relationship. whats it to peyton if he was heartbroken and put up a front??? if someone hurt ME i wouldn’t be trying to advertise exactly how much it happened??

DEADASS AND EXACTLY. IF HE WANTED TO WHORE HIS SWEET LITTLE PRODUCER GRINNING ASS AROUND TO HEAL, OR JUST CUZ HE WANTED TO, GOOD FOR HIM. MORE POWER TO YOU, MY BOY. HE WAS LITERALLY SINGLE.

i blame (you guessed it) puke ass for all the narrative ‘hints’ that julian might ever cheat on brooke or move on or anything because literally the man could not have been more faithful or devoted. if SOME bitch hadn’t made cheating what he lettered in in high school, maybe brooke wouldn’t have to feel so vulnerable about it. but that is SO far from her fault.

[kritischetheologie]

ok here's an extremely stupid ask dvsjdvsah: formula one drivers but assign them american states

Hell yes I love this shit. I will only use states I have personally visited to make this more authentic (flagrantly biased). I spent way too long on this why am I like this

Charles Leclerc: New Jersey. Before you try to cancel me just think about the way that Being From New Jersey is to Being From New York as Being Monagasque is to Being French. Search your feelings. You know it to be true.

Max Verstappen: Connecticut. Connecticut smells like dirty snow and failing to live up to your father's expectations no matter how hard you try.

Daniel Ricciardo: Nevada. Breathtaking natural beauty/talent coupled with an intensely performative persona (Vegas). People are split between whether his glory days are behind him or haven't hit yet. They're both wrong.

Lewis Hamilton: California. The biggest star, the biggest economy, the biggest ego. They say California doesn't need America (it does), they say Lewis doesn't need F1 (he does).

Valtteri Bottas: Northern California. So much talent, so exciting, so essential to the future of America... Hang on. Sorry guys, I’m getting a call from James Vowles telling me that NorCal isn’t its own state. (Fuck this shit, SoCal would be nothing without NorCal.)

George Russell: New York. An ambitious go-getter, but in a strangely old-fashioned way. It's about the suit and the PowerPoint and the grind and the fear that you're a generation too late to live your dreams.

Checo Perez: Texas. A big bustling state that gets a lot done, scores a lot of points, but never cracks star tier. Depending on your perspective either surprisingly conservative or surprisingly progressive (being surprised that checo is pro life has the same energy as being surprised Texas didn't go blue in whichever election).

Lando Norris: Oregon. Hear me out, everyone is always on about how Portland is the new San Francisco, the New Seattle, the next big thing, and then you go to Portland and it's... fine, i guess. Overhyped and never going to blow up the way people promise it will, plus coasting harder on generational wealth and privilege than anybody would care to admit sorry this one got really spicy for some reason.

Sebastian Vettel: Massachusetts. It’s vintage, it’s a classic, it’s a fucking original, it’s fucking timeless, it basically invented America, show some fucking respect. (The RBR era Seb / Tom Brady’s New England Patriots comparison left as an exercise to the reader).

Kevin Magnussen: New Hampshire. The “because fuck you, that’s why” of states. The only state with no seatbelt laws. You drive over the border and the first stop is the state liquor store. I fucking love New Hampshire it doesn’t take shit from anybody it smears the whole paddock in its post-retirement book and then comes out of retirement and scores P5.

Nicholas Latifi and Lance Stroll: Canada. It’s a state. FIFTY-FOUR FORTY OR FIGHT (sorry if I have any canadian mutuals who are offended by the threat to invade and annex your country know that I love you and am joking).

Fernando Alonso: Pennsylvania. Even more original than Massachusetts, the Declaration of Independence was literally signed there, but now it’s kind of washed-up and post-industrial and extremely bleak. I’m so sorry :( 

Carlos Sainz: Illinois. Dependable and reliable. Chicago’s a major city but it’s not actually a Big Deal State. It’s shockingly forgettable for how big it is. It’s the Holds-the-Record-for-Most-Points-Without-a-Race-Win of cities / states. I’m sorry fam this is my truth.

Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsunoda: Florida. It’s the future. It’s going to win the 2025 WDC. It’s going to be underwater in 5 years. It’s already underwater. It’s misunderstood. It’ll fucking fight you. It’s Florida.

Alex Albon: Iowa. Ok I broke my rule i’ve never been to Iowa but. Iowa gets ignored by all of America for 95% of the time until it’s time for the primaries and then suddenly everyone descends on Iowa like locusts trying to win them over and then they vanish to go back to not caring about them anymore. That’s Alex Albon with RBR. 

Mick Schumacher: the DMV (DC/Maryland/Virginia). Trying to live up to the legendary past. Trying to create a better future. Never drops the political persona. Either extremely beloved or extremely (unfairly!!!!) behated. 

Zhou Guanyu: It’s still a little early to parse his vibes but I’m getting a lot of cool, confident, levelheaded, the paddock fits have been top notch, he’s happy to be here without being over-eager, I’m going Colorado.

Esteban Ocon: Rhode Island. Always forgotten. Sorry :( It’s a really nice state!

[charleslucid]

It’s a weird thing to be watching your own funeral. Then again, it’s also weird to be a ghost, but Billy won’t complain. The only time he’s ever actually been to a funeral was when he was eight, his mother’s friend’s son had died of cancer or something. He didn’t really listen to anything that was going on. He just picked up the flowers at different graves and switched them because again, he didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t really understand death at that point, still believed in the little farm dear old Fido went to where he could play with all the other dogs.

He brings up his feet so he’s sitting with his legs criss crossed in the air, watching everybody sit down in their seats. He’s pissed that his funeral wasn’t held in California, that they kept his mutilated corpse within the town that fucked him over. He could have been buried by the waves, with the soothing sound of water crashing filling his ears for eternity, instead of being buried next to some church for a god that doesn’t even exist. He wishes that he could break through the veil of death and let everyone know that the book they worship is a bunch of bullshit. He would love to see the look on his bastard of a Dad’s face.

Speaking of his father, he sits in the front with a straight face. He doesn’t even care enough to fake cry at the funeral of his son. Next to him is Susan who is dressed in the usual all black attire, if it was up to him they’d all be wearing light blue instead. She at least looks a bit sad, but it’s nothing compared to Max whose eyes are red and puffy from the tears she’s been crying. He almost feels bad for her, he’s been following her around to see her reaction to his heroic death and it’s not what he expected. He expected her to be celebrating with her friends and making jokes but instead she just closed herself off from them all and refuses to sleep anywhere other than his bed. It’s weird.

The most interesting reaction to his death though, would have to be Steve. The Bambi eyed brunet has shown recently that he actually cared for Billy when he was alive. Even going as far as defending him and holding up his reputation. He remembers watching somebody make some stupid comment about how they were happy he was dead. Then, here comes king Steve coming in and defending his honor. It really doesn’t do anything but boost Billy’s ego, but maybe it makes Steve happy. For some reason, he wants Steve to be happy.

The service finally starts, some priest who probably wouldn’t be doing this if he knew how many ducks Billy has sucked in his life comes up to speak. Shit about passing on to heaven. Then his father comes up and if Billy had a working heart it’d be beating fast from anticipation. He can’t wait to see how his father insults him.

“My son.” He pauses and Billy has to hold back a laugh. He doesn’t know why he holds it back though when nobody care hear, “He was a very responsible and respectful young man.” The blond cackles. “He’s always been somebody who you just knew would die from sacrificing themself to save others and that’s exactly what happened.”

As his father goes on about more and more bullshit that he’s pulling out of his ass Billy floats over to Max. Her head is hanging low and her hair is covering her face, she’s wearing one of his hoodies that he only put on once. He wonders how long it took her to convince Susan to let her wear it. The only reason he didn’t know was because he was watching Harrington shower.

When the service finally ends, Billy follows his family back to their car. Max has yet to lift up her head and show her face yet and at this point Billy’s a bit worried. He wishes he could hug her right now, something that he would have ent said when he was alive. He wishes he could just tell her one last thing, tell her that he loves her or it wasn’t her fault. This isn’t a fairytale though. There is no happy ending, no comfort at the end. Billy’s just forced to watch Max mourn and grieve until she manages to live on in life.

[staticscreenwriting]

Skin deep - Chapter One || B.H.

Synopsis: Billy survived the battle of Starcourt but is left with a body full of scars. Scars that remind him of the pain he had to go trough and the horrible person he has become. In order to forget about all of that and move on, he wants to get them covered up. Good thing Hawkins has a brand new Tattoo studio and the girl who works there might just be the help Billy has been looking for.

A/N: I needed a TattooArtist!Reader x Billy story so I wrote one and you know me, I can’t keep it short and simple. There will be several parts to this. Don’t ask me about an updating schedule because I don’t have one. I try my best to be consistent but I make no promises. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. 

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Billy’s palms are clammy as he steps out of his car. His eyes wander towards the sign hanging above the door, welcoming him to “Little Bear Tattoos” as an American traditional bear face grins back at him.

This isn’t his first time getting a tattoo, by all means, he shouldn’t be as nervous as he is. But things are different now. Everything is different. Things change after you almost die because you sacrificed yourself to an otherworldly creature to save a little girl.

He had just turned 18 when he got that stupid little skull inked onto his arm. That’s now just a little over a year ago but it seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Sometimes, Billy thinks, sometimes It feels like that was another person altogether. That dumb little boy who thought he knew shit. The one that paraded his tattoo around like a complete and utter douchebag. He thought it made him look rough and cool and dangerous.

In retrospect, it just made it more obvious that he didn’t know shit about anything. Not life. Not death. And most definitely not about what it means to look rough and cool and dangerous. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to that moment and just relish in ignorant bliss. Most of the time he tries not to think of the past though because thinking of the past means thinking of all the things lost that night in July. Most of all himself.

Back then, getting a tattoo was easy. Now, it feels like the entire world is resting on his shoulders. It feels like he can barely keep it all from crashing down on him. 

The bell above the door chimes as he steps inside the tattoo parlor. It’s a relatively small shop but it looks clean and the walls are covered in framed drawings of very intricate designs. If those have been drawn by this place’s artist, he’s in good hands.

A fluffy little brown dog is lazily resting on a pillow by the shop window and only raises his head as the sound of footsteps approaching fills the room.

“ Hi, welcome to little bear. “ a cheery voice calls out to him as a girl steps out from behind a curtain leading to some backroom. She has a big radiant smile on her face though it exudes a certain warmth that only genuine smiles do. 

“ Hi uh — I was wondering if you have a free spot. “ 

“ Hmm… that depends. What are you wanting to get? “ 

To be quite honest, he hadn’t really thought much about it. All he wanted was something to cover up the ugly scars still streaking most of his body. When before, he felt a certain kind of pride whenever he passed a mirror, now it sends a sharp pain straight to his heart. Everything about him, from the perpetually tired look in his eyes to the scars, it’s al a reminder of the bad things he’s done. And the worst part is that he can never talk to anyone about it. Ever. No one will understand but the people who’ve been there, and though he and Max are getting along much better now, he still doesn’t fancy having long profound conversations with her about his demons.

“ I uh — I’m not sure but it needs to cover something.” 

“ Old tattoo? “ 

Billy swallows audibly “scars.” 

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expected from her but a casual “Okay, we can figure something out. “ is not it. Though he avoids wearing short sleeves these days, whenever someone manages to catch a glimpse of his damaged skin he got 1 of two reactions. Either people started regarding him with pity or disgust and he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse. At least those disgusted by him left him well enough alone and didn’t hold a million questions they expected him to answer in great detail.

“ Let’s sit down and we can talk about some things you like and see how we can incorporate those into a tattoo. Also, I would have to take a look at the area you want me to tattoo and see how bad the scarring is just so I can take that into consideration when designing the piece. Scar tissue is harder to tattoo but don’t worry, I promise I can do it. “

“ You’re gonna be tattooing me? “

It seems like a dumb question but honestly, Billy hasn’t met or seen that many female tattoo artists in his life and this girl seems to be about his age. That’s not something you see every day.

“ Yup. I’m (Y/N), this is my shop. Now, do you want something to drink while we discuss the piece? I got all kinds of sodas, I got water and I got non-alcoholic beer. 

“ Dr. Pepper? “ 

“ Good choice. Coming right up. “ 

She walks behind the counter with the cash register and reaches into a small fridge taking out two cans of Dr. Pepper before leading him towards a little seating area by the window. 

The fluffy little dog lifts his head once again regarding the two of them with only mild interest before plopping back down. 

“ Oh, you okay with dogs? I can take him to another room if you’re uncomfortable. “

Billy shakes his head. Nah, he loves dogs. Always wanted one but Neil, being the miserable bastard he is, never allowed the kids to have any pets. Too much work, too much responsibility. What an asshole. 

Though Billy is never going to admit it, the bedside drawer, that was once filled with issues of Penthouse magazine, now holds a bunch of self-help books and magazines dealing with topics of PTSD and trauma. A lot of them mention getting a support animal whether that be a specially trained dog or just a hamster to keep you company. It makes sense, it gives you someone who listens to you vent about all your problems and insecurities. If only his dad cared enough about his mental state to reconsider his stance on pets. Then again, when has Neil ever cared about him?

“Nah, it’s fine don’t worry. He’s cute.”

“Thanks. His name is Bear and he’s kind of the mascot of this store.”

There’s a twinkle of pride in her eyes while she talks about the shop and her dog. Something Billy is infinitely envious of. Everything he’s ever felt any hint of pride in is gone. His car. His looks. All of it.

“Okay so tell me a little about yourself. Is there anything you can think of that you’d like to get inked? Any interests, hobbies? Maybe you wanna tell me a little about yourself.”

Back before, when things were different, Billy would’ve packed as much ego enlarging words and compliments into it as possible. Would’ve mentioned his car and his most satisfactory performance skills in the bedroom. But now, he hardly knows who he is these days. 

“ Um … my name is Billy. I’m 19, I’m from California. ‘Bout two years ago my dad packed us all up and had us move out here to the end of the world. Then … things happened.”

“You miss California?”

“Every day. The thought of going back one day is the only thing that keeps me fucking going. I miss the ocean. I miss surfing. I miss home. I miss all of it.”

She looks at him intensely for a moment, sizing him up, contemplating her next words. He can almost see the creative gears running in her head. 

“Alright. I might have an idea. I’d have to see the area first though.”

He expects pity in her voice though there is none. Her words are comforting and warm and calm. Billy wonders how often she has to deal with clients like him. Those who come to her with painful and ugly reminders of their past.

His hands are shaking as he pulls off his denim jacket and reveals his left arm to her. The skin is streaked with scars. They’re the same paths that used to wind up and down his arm in inky black hues like poisonous vines. Now they’re a faded pink but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less.

Billy can feel his heart beating in a fast rhythm as anxiety floods his system. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe -

“Okay how big would you want to go,” (Y/N) asks, her voice gentle and soothing and her eyes switching from his arm to his eyes. She doesn’t ask him what happened and that’s a relief.

“As big as you can. I know you can’t make it disappear but I’d like as much of it covered as possible.”

“ I won’t be able to do an entire sleeve today but if that’s something you want we can start with a bigger piece on your upper arm today and then work our way to a full sleeve in the future?”

“Sounds good. I just want the scars gone. I need them covered.”

“Well my guy, you’ve come to the right place. It’s my specialty. You’re in luck too, I’m free all day so depending on your pain tolerance and the trauma of your skin, we might even be able to finish the first piece today.”

Pain tolerance, he wants to scoff at that. What he’s been through, the pain and the anguish and the emotional trauma, nothing will ever compare to that. Not even close. He’d get a 100 tattoos all at once and it still wouldn’t measure up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Cool awesome! Imma go over to the drawing board and you can feel free to keep yourself entertained in the meantime. We have an arcade machine in the back. There’s records in the corner if you want to listen to some music. I’ll even let you choose.”

“Is that an honor?” Billy asks, a small smirk on his face. Every once in awhile a flicker of the person he used to be shines through. But then it’s gone and he’s left as this shadow of his former self.

“Oh you have no idea.”

As (Y/N) settles behind a big wooden table and starts scribbling away, Billy wanders over towards the corner of the studio. A bright red record player is resting on a sideboard surrounded by several boxes filled with vinyl records. They’re sorted by band name then chronologically. There’s all kinds of genres too. AC/DC and Judas Priest but also Stuff like The Mamas and the Papas and the Monkees.

“Anything, in particular, you wanna listen to? Kinda hard to make out your taste with this selection. There’s … everything.” Billy calls out to her, leaving through the records.

“What can I say? I like a bit of everything. Don’t like to limit myself.”

Old Billy would’ve raised his eyebrow and asked her if that extends to her love life as well. But old Billy is gone and so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I know it seems like just your kinda music, but maybe stay away from the hard rock. Maybe something a bit more mellow.”

He hasn’t really listened to a lot of music since … well since everything. He mostly sleeps or reads and sometimes when it’s a good day he even attempts to do a bit of writing. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s - something. An outlet really. The stories vary from an autobiographical retelling of the incident to silly tales of young boys going on space adventures. It's a way to get lost in the save parts of his mind. The ones that can create make-believe worlds and happy thoughts. Not the ones tainted with gruesome images of the past.

The opening notes the Monday Morning by Fleetwood Mac fill the air and Billy doesn’t miss the smile tugging on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips. 

“Nice. Didn’t really think you were a Fleetwood Mac fan.”

Billy shrugs his shoulders casually “they’re a classic.”

He sits back down in the seat by the window, watches as the clouds pass the sky and the people go about their day. That’s until a furry little ball of fluff settles down in his lap and demands to be cuddled.

“Oh hey, you.”

“Sorry about that. Bear does not understand the concept of personal boundaries. He thinks everyone is only here to pet him. If he bothers you just set him down.”

But he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, combing his fingers through the curly brown fur fills Billy with a sense of calm and it grounds him a little. He really needs to adopt a dog for himself. 

“It’s fine. No bother.”

Time passes with Billy cuddling the dog and ever so often glancing over at (Y/N) while she’s working on the sketch. She’s drawing then erasing then redrawing. Copying then throwing it away then doing it all again. All the while she’s dancing along to the music. There’s a lightness about her that Billy wishes he could possess. Even before the Stacourt situation, he never had this unbothered lightness about him. That’s just not the person you turn into when you grow up in a house with Neil Hargrove.

A light drizzle falls outside and Stevie Nicks sings along to it and life feels … almost peaceful right then. Billy lives for these small moments of normality. These glimmers of what life used to be. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Wanna have a look?” 

There’s a bright smile on her face as she looks at him and waves the sketch around. “I think I nailed this one. I hope you’ll like it.“

Billy can see that she actually means it. It's not just a silly phrase she’s tagged onto her sentence. She’s genuinely nervous for him to see it.

Bear follows Billy as he walks toward the counter, a smiley (Y/N) watching their every move. There’s something about how passionate she is about her work that makes Billy both happy and sad. There used to be things in life that he was passionate about. His car. His clothes. The music he loved. Now it’s all dull and trivial and he’s lost. So damn lost.

His eyes wander towards the sheet of paper. Delicate black lines run across the page, swirling and arching and creating a beautiful composition. It’s a lighthouse. A tall and sturdy one. It shines it’s light out into the distance to guide the ships safely around the sharp edges of the cliffs. It’s a beacon of safety and hope surrounded by the rough sea and crashing waves.

“I thought it was a nice symbol, you know. Light in the dark. Guiding ships to safety.” (Y/N) explains. She’s biting her lip nervously and Billy thinks it’s insanely adorable. This piece is perfect, to think she’s uncertain and nervous about his reaction …

“I tried to incorporate the ocean and the crashing waves. You know, as a reminder of your life in California.”

Billy is speechless for a moment. Everything he wanted. All the ideas swirling around in his head. She put it down on paper, made them visible. And he didn’t even have to voice them. They were all just mushy gray clouds in his head, non forming a coherent picture. Just a feeling. A feeling of peace and belonging. Of being strong when everything around you tries to push you down to your knees.

“Do you like it? I can change it if you —“ 

“I love it!”

Her mood immediately changes after hearing those words. As if a switch is suddenly flipped and sunshine floods her face. Her eyes light up and her smile widens.

“Okay perfect! Wanna get started?” 

“Sure, let’s do it!”

The black leather chair is soft underneath him as (Y/N) puts the stencil onto his skin. She has a soft gentle touch which only matches the tone of her voice. Very calming. A complete opposite to the rest of Billy’s life.

“Okay, so it’s not gonna be pleasant since I have to tattoo over scar tissue. If you wanna tap out or take a break just let me know.”

He’s fairly sure that whatever pain he’ll have to endure, it will be nothing compared to what he’s already been through. Pain has a completely different meaning to him now. 

“I’ll be fine.”

And he means it. Not just about the tattoo, about everything. It feels like this is the first step into a new life. One that won’t be determined by his past mistakes. By the trauma.

The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun fills the air and (Y/N) starts pulling the first few lines. Short strokes. As if to test his pain tolerance. Her eyes wander up to meet his, a silent question shining through them.

He grants her a nod. One of pure determination. One that says, without question: “I’ll be fine!”

For a while, they sit in comfortable silence. There’s just the humming of the machine and the raspy voice of Stevie Nicks to lull them into a soft tranquility. 

“ I’m not gonna ask about the scars but can I ask about the skull on the other arm?”

Billy lets out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “Sins of my youth really.”

“ Oh geez, that makes you sound so old. You’re what, 19?”

“ Almost 20.”

“ See. You’re still in the prime of your youth!”

Billy shrugs his shoulder as she dips the tattoo gun back into the ink. Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like he’s in the middle of his youth. He feels so damn tired. He never got to be a kid. Never got to be a teen. Always wandering in between it all, lost and disillusioned with no one there to guide or help him.

“ How old are you?”

“ Just turned 20 a few days ago.”

“And you already have your own shop. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah well, it’s all I ever wanted to be. Worked my ass off. Spent all my free time at my cousin's tattoo studio up in Carmel. He taught me everything I know. Worked after school and on the weekends and then when I graduated my cousin gave me a little loan and I had enough to open the shop. He believed in me when no one else did and it means everything to me. Hope I make him proud. I just always felt like this is what I'm meant to be. An artist. And this way my art gets immortalized on people’s skin and in some cases it can help them overcome difficult times in their lives. I hope I can make even the smallest change in people’s lives. “

It doesn’t get lost on him, that she doesn’t mention her parents. Something must be up there but it sure as hell isn’t his place to ask about it. Families, he knows quite well, can be a touchy subject.

“Well, you’re definitely making a change in mine.”

“Yeah?”

She looks almost bashful as the question tumble from her lips.

“Yup. I … I need to make those scars disappear. They — they remind me of the worst time in my life and of a version of myself I never want to be again. Having you cover them for me with this art piece that’s so fucking cool, it means everything.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

There’s a connection there, one he can neither grasp nor explain. It’s like she understands parts of him he doesn’t even put on display. And it’s both scary and exciting. And maybe, he understands parts of her she’s not aware she’s putting on display either.

“Okay. I’m done!”

There’s an infinite sense of pride exuding from her words. Billy wishes there was something in his life that he was good at. Something to let him be proud of himself.

“Wanna take a look?” (Y/N) asks with the most radiant smile playing on her face.

“Absolutely!”

His legs are stiff from sitting in the chair for so long but he can’t wait to see the finished piece. Slowly he walks towards the full-length mirror, (Y/N) hot on his heels.

His eyes fall onto the artwork now permanently inked into his skin. There are vibrant shades of blue and dark black lines. The sea is alive, it’s unforgiving and rough. But there’s the light from the lighthouse, the hope, the safety. It’s all there’s and it’s beautiful. Where there used to be ugly pink scars thick and burning, there’s now a beautiful painting. The scars are gone. The pain is gone. All that’s left is beauty and hope.

He doesn’t realize that tears are running down his cheek until she hands him a tissue. His first reaction is to wipe them away and pretend they weren’t there in the first place. A Hargrove man isn’t allowed to cry. Not in front of people anyway. Especially not in front of women. Hargrove men are bitter and numb. They’re stoic. Silent. Angry. Above all they’re sad.

But isn’t that the person he wants to leave behind?

So he lets himself feel it. Lets the tears fall as if it were nothing. 

Maybe this can be the next step into becoming the person he wishes so desperately he can be.

“I take it you like it?”

“I love it.”

And he hugs her. Pulls her close and tight as if he’s known her forever. She reciprocates the hug in no time. Softly oats him on the shoulder.

She smells like flowery perfume and clean cotton. Soft. Sweet. Intoxicating

“I can not thank you enough.”

“Billy, trust me this means as much to me as it does to you.”

He doesn’t disagree with her but he’s sure that’s not true. It means everything to him.

They talk for a little longer then he pays her, way too little if you ask him. She deserves way more and he suspects that some kind of personal sympathy plays into the price. But he’s not one to argue. Not when he’s sure he’ll come back. There are more scars. More pain. He’s not fixed but he’s at least a work in progress now.

She takes a few Polaroids of his tattoo, to put on her wall. To show people she can cover scars. Can help them. Help fix them. Make them feel less broken. 

“They’re burn scars.”

Billy finds himself sharing a piece of his story. One he’s kept so close to him, sometimes he almost wondered if it was true. But it is. And there are more reminders all over his body. It feels right to share it though. She helped him cover part of it, without judging. Without questions. She deserves to know.

“Huh?”

“My scars. They are burn scars.  Not — not from the outside but from the inside. Like fire going through my veins. I uh don’t know how to explain but that’s what they are. You can tell that to your clients. That you covered burn scars. That you’re that talented. “

For a moment she just stares at him, a deep sense of affection shining from her eyes. It’s comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. But he lets himself feel it. He promises himself to let himself feel the good things even if they seem scary.

“That’s … hey, would you like to grab some dinner with me? I could really go for a burger at the diner round here. It’s real good. “

And with the way she smiles, how the hell is he supposed to say no to that.

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way!”

The sun hangs low above the horizon almost dips behind the line to vanish and make room for the moon but not quite yet. They step out into the dawn, Bear pattering alongside them his leash grabbed tightly in (Y/N) hand. 

As hues of red and pink and orange surround them and dip the world into a golden haze, Billy feels like maybe this is the way. Maybe this is his path leading into a new future. With less pain. Fewer scars. More color and more smiles.

And maybe a beautiful and talented girl and a little dog by his side.

[wokeuptired]

every perfect summer

Finn is steady on her own two feet but Niall is a hurricane, determined to bring to the surface what she’s long buried. If only he weren’t so beautiful at sunset, she might be able to resist. 

written for​ @majorharry ‘s 20k fic celebration 

prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that.”

niall/ofc, 6.2k

Summer in California is hot and sticky, the kind of sticky that makes you feel silly showering, because as soon as you walk outside, you’ll be sweaty all over again. Even with the fan on full blast, Finn’s thighs are sticking to the leather of the couch she took from her mom’s house when she moved out. She’s read the same page a hundred times, over and over again. The heat makes it hard to think. 

The heat makes it hard to breathe.

And mostly, the heat makes it hard to write.

Finn’s about to put the book down when she hears footsteps on the stairs outside. Her apartment complex is a series of buildings each containing a dozen apartments. Finn shares the landing of her staircase with the apartment next door, but it’s the wrong time of day for Cindy and Ralph to be returning home, which means—

“Your new downstairs neighbor is hot,” Jocelyn announces as the apartment door slams shut behind her, the gust of warm air ruffling the pages of Finn’s book. She looks up to roll her eyes.

“You think every guy is hot.”

Jocelyn dumps her shopping on the kitchen table and scoffs. “I do not. Just the hot ones.”

“Aren’t you engaged?” Finn glances down at the big shiny ring on Jocelyn’s finger to emphasize her point. Even though Jocelyn moved out six months ago, when her boyfriend popped the question, sometimes it feels like she never left. Right now is one of those times. “What’s Marcus think about all this looking you do?” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Jocelyn punctuates her statement with a saucy flip of her hair and begins unloading her bags onto the small kitchen counter. She holds up a carton of ice cream. “Should I bother putting this away, or do you want to dive in right now?” 

Finn holds her hand out for the rocky road. “You know me so well.” 

“You’re welcome.” As Finn digs into the tub of ice cream, Jocelyn begins putting things away in the fridge. “You know,” she says into the veggie drawer, “I’m not kidding about your new neighbor. He’s got this angelic frat boy look to him. Have you met him yet?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Last week. He offered to carry a package upstairs for me. Very polite, and totally not my type.” 

“Exactly.” Jocelyn sits on the couch with another spoon and slides the ice cream out of Finn’s grasp. “As your older sister, it’s my job to advise you on everything. Starting with your interest in men, which is, to be frank, utter shit.” 

Finn opens her mouth to object, but she can’t find fault with Jocelyn’s statement. Her last boyfriend wouldn’t come to any work events with her but insisted she attend all of his art shows. He had an ego the size of the Milky Way to make up for his abysmal lack of talent.

“You need to stop dating those neurotic, artsy types,” Jocelyn continues, “and date a man who can, like, actually kill a spider.”

“I’m perfectly capable of killing my own spiders.” As long as they’re small and not moving, but Finn doesn’t feel the need to share that caveat. 

“So am I,” Jocelyn says. “Do you want wine?” She doesn’t wait for Finn to answer before she gets up and goes straight for the cupboard that holds the long-stem glasses. “Anyway, that’s not my point. You need to stop dating boys who look good on paper and start dating men who are good. In real life.” 

Finn closes her book so that it doesn’t have to listen to this conversation. She accepts the wine glass from Jocelyn’s outstretched hand and swirls around the liquid within. It doesn’t go with the ice cream, but she’s 25 years old, so that doesn’t matter.

Jocelyn scowls at the closed book. “Virginia Woolf again, Finn? Are you ever going to read anything written in this century?”

Finn rolls her eyes. If there’s one thing her sister excels at, it’s being unsatisfied with all aspects of Finn’s life. “Are you here just to criticize me? Or are we watching ‘The Bachelor’?”

Jocelyn grins, spoon still in her mouth. “Oh, we’re watching ‘The Bachelor.’” 

-----

The thing about “The Bachelor,” Finn decides that night as she’s brushing her teeth, is that, for the women involved, the ones competing for the bachelor’s heart, there are no consequences. 

Oh, small consequences, sure. Your decision might make somebody else cry, or your heart might be slightly bruised, but at the end of it all, you’ve got thousands of new Instagram followers and you’re famous in your small town and everybody wants to date you, even though you chose, of your own free will, to engage in the skeptical that is a dating game show. 

But there are no big consequences, no bad consequences. A few months later and the next season’s airing, and everything you did, every dumb thing you said, every kiss you exchanged—it’s all forgotten. 

Maybe that’s the way to go, Finn thinks. 

Maybe next year, she ought to audition. She develops the pitch in her head: 25 year old ghostwriter of bestselling romance novels; lives alone in Los Angeles; has been considering, for an entire year, the adoption of a cat; has never been in love. 

It’s that last part that would sway them, she thinks. The producers would imagine her doe-eyed and innocent, maybe a bit naive. She’d be pitted against the season’s villain, the girl with dark hair (a visual contrast to Finn’s blond bob) who would stop at nothing to win her man. 

“How can she write romance novels when she has never known love?” audiences across America would wonder. 

Perhaps the bachelor himself would even inquire. Finn would smile shyly, bat her impossibly long eyelashes up at him, and say something coy like, “You could tutor me.” 

Jocelyn would love that. She lives for the drama, for what the editors create in post-production. She doesn’t care that it’s fake.

And every week Finn watches and wonders how she can keep selling love in her books when this show proves, without a doubt, that it doesn’t exist.

-----

The new downstairs neighbor works out in the mornings on his patio. Finn hears his music the next morning, drifting in through her open sliding door, around 8:30 AM. It’s not early enough for her to be justifiably annoyed at him, but she’s annoyed nonetheless, because she’s just sat down at her laptop with the intention of writing something today.

Something. Anything. Words on the page, that’s all she needs. 

Instead, she sighs, closing her laptop and crossing the room to the balcony. She slides the door open further, pushes the screen out of the way, and goes outside. When she and Jocelyn first moved in, the balcony was a huge appeal. “Outdoor space!” they’d squealed when they first saw the apartment listed online. But now Finn’s been here for two and a half years, and the balcony is just another space for dust to collect. 

It’s directly over Downstairs Neighbor’s patio. Finn looks down through the wooden slats and tries to catch a glimpse at him. She can hear Jocelyn’s voice in her head: He’s hot, right? I told you he was hot! 

In truth, though, Finn can’t see much through the small gaps between the planks. She can’t tell if he’s lifting weights or doing jumping jacks or playing a very enthusiastic game of cat’s cradle. He’s definitely grunting, though. 

Finn shakes her head, trying not to focus on the noises he’s making, and crosses the balcony. She leans her arms on the railing and looks out over the beauty of Los Angeles. Beauty referring, of course, to the parking lot. Finn can see her car, about thirty feet away, parked beneath an evil tree that drops red berries. It really needs to be washed. 

Maybe she should take it today. Maybe today will be the first day in a month that she’s gotten dressed in pants that have a zipper and a button, and she’ll go to the carwash and—

Feeling something crawling on her arm, Finn looks down, and oh, shit, it’s a spider. Not a little spider, not a daddy long legs, but one of those ones that’s big enough where you can see its body. It looks like one of those spiders a little kid draws around Halloween. 

Oh, shit. Finn lifts her arm, waving it wildly, trying to shake the spider loose before it bites her and turns her into Spider Woman, and that’s when she throws her mug of coffee into the air. 

“Oh, shit,” she says out loud. Time seems to slow as she watches her mug descend, coffee flying everywhere as the cup turns a full 360 degrees before landing with a crack on the concrete below. 

“What the fuck?” It’s Downstairs Neighbor. 

“Oh, shit,” Finn says again. Which, no doubt, Downstairs Neighbor heard. Oh, shit. That one’s in her head, at least.

She hears a grunt as he, she imagines, lowers his weight to the ground, then the snick of his sliding glass door, then the sound of his front door opening, and then, oh, shit, there he is, standing on the ground, looking at her broken coffee cup. 

Oh, shit, Finn thinks again as she drops to her knees, hiding herself from view. 

Apparently unsuccessfully, as not thirty seconds later, she hears, “I can see you, ya know.” 

Finn rises slowly to her feet and looks down. It’s hard not to admit that Jocelyn was right as she looks down at him, messy hair and blue eyes and muscles visible through his sweaty t-shirt. 

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” His eyes twinkle, and she knows he’s trying not to laugh at her. “This yours?” 

“Yeah. Sorry I interrupted you.” 

He laughs then, a light, musical sound that she can feel in her toes. Oh, shit. That’s not good. Finn’s characters feel laughter in their toes, but she certainly doesn’t. Feeling someone’s laughter in her toes is not a real thing, she’s always thought, except, apparently, it is.

“What happened?” he asks. 

“There was a spider.”

“A spider.” 

Finn nods, cheeks burning. “It was a big spider.” 

“You gonna come clean it up?” 

Finn nods again. “In a minute.” 

“Okay.” He grins up at her and she blushes back. 

Finn turns around and goes inside, sliding the door shut behind her, and waits, listening for the sounds of Downstairs neighbor reentering his own apartment, shutting the door, locking it. When a minute has passed without any of that, Finn realizes that he must be waiting for her. 

Oh, shit. Finn doesn’t have to be Jocelyn to know that this is not the ideal situation in which one wants to interact with Hot Downstairs Neighbor. But it seems like she doesn’t have a choice, so she slips on the flip flops she keeps by the door and goes downstairs. 

He’s still there, standing in the sunshine, squinting when he smiles. “There you are,” he says. 

“Here I am.” Finn looks down, surveying the damage. The mug has split into several large chunks, and maybe if Finn were better at diy-ing she’d be able to fix it, but as things stand now, it’s destined for the garbage. “Damn, I really liked that mug.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Downstairs Neighbor says, which is such a strange thing to say that Finn startles, turning to stare at him. 

“Thanks?” she says. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Niall.” 

Finn accepts the handshake. “I’m Finn.” 

His hand is warm and a bit clammy, a bit like California in the summer, and her stomach goes topsy-turvy. She yanks her hand back. 

“Nice to meet you,” Niall says. “I guess you’re the neighbor who watches ‘The Bachelor’?” 

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks, dropping to a squat. She gathers up the pieces of her destroyed mug and doesn’t answer him. How nosy of him, asking her that. But then, she was the one listening to him work out this morning. 

“My sister likes it,” she says. “I’m just along for the ride.” 

“Hey, there’s no shame in liking ‘The Bachelor,’” Niall says, dropping down beside her. They reach for the last piece at the same time, hands brushing. Finn draws hers back, trying to ignore the tingling in her fingertips. “Here.” 

Finn accepts the final shard. “Thanks,” she says. “And I don’t like ‘The Bachelor.’ I think it’s silly.” 

Niall smiles at her again, all teeth and sunshine. “What’s silly about love?”

Finn blinks at him, trying to decide if he’s an idiot or just bad at small talk. Maybe both. “That show is not about love,” she says. “Have you ever seen it?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’ve heard it through the ceiling.” 

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks again. What a neighbor. She can’t wait to tell Jocelyn about this, to prove to her that Downstairs Neighbor may be hot, but his positive qualities end there. He’s intrusive and nosy and way, way too good looking.

“You can get back to your workout,” she says, standing up straight. He follows, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. “Sorry for bothering you.” 

“Not a bother,” he says. “It was nice to meet you, Finn.” 

“Yep,” she says, offering him a half smile before she turns tail and dashes up the stairs, back to her safe, quiet, Downstairs Neighbor-free apartment. Back to her laptop, and the manuscript due in three months that she hasn’t managed to crack yet. Back to being hot and sweaty inside her apartment, instead of outside. 

“Have a good day!” he calls after her. She doesn’t return the greeting. 

-----

The next morning, a knock on the door wakes Finn up from a dream, the kind of dream that you know as soon as you wake was a good one, but it’s too late, you’ve forgotten it, and you won’t be able to get it back. 

“No,” she mutters, turning over in bed, burrowing into the pillow. “I’m sleeping.” But then the knock sounds again. “Damnit.” 

Finn climbs out of bed and reaches for her phone on the nightstand. 8:27 AM on a Wednesday. An acceptable hour for someone to be knocking on the door, she supposes. Except she was up till 1 o’clock trying to make her messy notes into something resembling an outline that could someday (someday soon, she hopes) be a book. 

The morning person disturbing her sleep knocks again, eliminating the possibility that it’s just UPS dropping off a package. Finn drops her phone on the bed and makes her way down the hall to the living room, where sunlight blares in so sharply it makes her squint. 

“Gah,” she says to herself as she pulls open the door. And then, “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Hot Downstairs Neighbor—Niall, Finn corrects herself—says. “UPS dropped off this package at my door, but I think it’s yours.” 

Finn looks down at the envelope he’s holding out, but the label is blurry. Oh, shit, her glasses. “If you say so,” she says. “I’d have to grab my glasses to know for sure.” 

Niall smiles at her, she thinks, but the details of his face are a bit blurry. “I can wait,” he says. “We should make sure it’s yours.” 

Finn frowns at him for a second—He can read, can’t he? Shouldn’t he know if it’s her name on the label?—before deciding that it’s too early for an argument. “Fine, whatever,” she says, turning around and leaving him in the doorway. 

That’s where she expects him to stay, but when she returns to the door a minute later with her glasses perched on her nose, he’s inside her apartment, poking around the bookshelves on either side of her television. The package he brought over has been discarded on the coffee table. 

Finn ignores him for a second as she picks it up. Yep, it’s definitely hers. It’s a proof of her latest Isobel novel, if she had to guess. But she’s not going to open it now, not with Niall here. 

Niall, who is currently nosing around her living room, looking much too closely at things she’d rather he not see. 

“What are these?” Niall steps closer to the bookshelf, his eyes scanning the spines. “You read romance novels?”

“Not exactly,” Finn says. Which lie should she tell this time? She has a few prepared: “they’re my sister’s” or “my roommate forgot them when she moved out.” Said roommate is said sister, but for the sake of the lie, that wouldn’t matter. But then the truth slips out. “I write them.”

“You write them?” Niall repeats. He pulls one of the books out, Summer’s Dalliance, about two yoga instructors who find love during a training retreat in the Maldives. “You’re Isobel Soleil?”

Finn can tell from the way Niall says Isobel Soleil that he’s heard of her. Who hasn’t heard of her, these days? Her books are in grocery stores and airport shops and on bestseller lists and there’s a series in development with HBO. 

As a ghostwriter, Finn isn’t involved, but she knows the show will help move sales, which means bigger checks, which means maybe, eventually, she can write something she actually cares about.

“Not exactly.” Finn takes the book out of his hand and returns it to its place on the shelf. It’s not as if she’s proud of it. That’s not why she has it out. It’s just a placeholder until she publishes a book she’s actually proud of. “Isobel Soleil isn’t a person. She’s a brand. Her books are written by half a dozen different people. How do you think she can pump them out so quickly?”

“How quickly?” 

“Three or four a year.”

“And you wrote all of these?” Niall’s finger runs along the spines. “How many are there? Ten?”

“Eight,” Finn corrects. Eight cheesy, embarrassing, don’t-let-your-mother-see-you-reading-that novels. “But they’re formulaic and simplistic. They’re not… they’re not good.”

Niall shrugs. “They’re not high literature, you mean. Someone reads them, though, right? And the people who read them enjoy them. So who cares if they’re not high literature, Finn?” 

Finn swallows the sudden lump in her throat. How has Niall managed to get to the quick of things so, well, quick? “I care, I guess. This isn’t what I imagined I’d be doing when I was little, telling people I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.”

“So write something else,” Niall says. 

Finn sighs. She wishes it were that easy. If only she could break out of the mold she’s put herself in and write something else, something that’s not about two people falling in love. If only she could write something she actually believed in.

But she has a contract and a deadline and an agent and an editor on her back, and no choice but to finish this Isobel Soleil novel. 

“Maybe next summer,” she says. 

Niall considers her, nods. “Speaking of this summer,” he says slowly, like he’s thinking about what he’s going to say as he’s saying it, “I have free tickets to LACMA, and I just moved to town so I don’t know a ton of people. Want to go with me?” 

Say yes or no more ice cream, Jocelyn’s voice says in the back of Finn’s mind. 

“Sure,” she says. “But you know my secret”—she gestures to the bookshelves—“so now you have to tell me one of yours. So I know you’re not a serial killer or something.” 

He smiles at her and, damn, he’s good looking. “I’m a lawyer,” he says. “My new job doesn’t start till August, so I’m working remotely with my old firm until then.” 

“That’s not a secret.” Not a secret at all, but a great career for a hero in a romance novel. Finn makes a mental note. 

“Okay,” Niall says. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, lifting one hand to his chin, a classic thinking pose. “How about this? I’m not from here.” 

Finn shakes her head. She’d already guessed that from his accent, a soft, lilting Irish one that makes everything he says sound like a poem. “Not a secret either. You get one more try.” 

“One more try!” he says with mock shock. “I’ll make this good, then.”

He thinks and Finn waits, and in the thirty seconds it takes him to come up with a good secret, she wonders what the hell she’s doing, flirting with Hot Downstairs Neighbor in her living room while dressed in her pajamas. Oh, shit, she’s not wearing a bra, is she?

Finn crosses her arms over her chest and considers backing out of this conversation entirely by making something up that will put Niall off and convince him that she’s the worst possible LACMA companion. 

But then he says, “I can’t swim,” and that is distracting enough to make her forget everything else. 

“You can’t swim?” she asks. “What the hell are you doing in southern California?” 

Niall shrugs. His smile makes her insides go wonky. “Maybe you can teach me.” Then he holds out his phone. “Here, give me your number. I’ll text you and we can make plans.” 

She obliges, all the while wondering what exactly she’s gotten herself into. 

-----

LACMA day comes much quicker than Finn anticipates. When she and Niall first made the plans a week ago, Saturday seemed like ages away. There was so much she was going to do between now and then: repot all of her plants, make bread from scratch, work on her manuscript. But instead, she putters around her apartment, typing words here and there, ignoring how bad they are, and not baking bread. 

It’s a waste of a week, and not just because Niall is there, in the back of her mind, the whole time. 

Jocelyn’s excited, of course, for LACMA day, and insists on coming over the night before to help Finn select her outfit. Finn keeps reminding her that it’s summer in Los Angeles, so it’s a thousand degrees out and she will melt no matter what she wears, but Jocelyn doesn’t care.

Which is how Finn ends up knocking on Niall’s door on LACMA day dressed in a romper that’s giving her a wedgie, a purse she never carries slung over her shoulder. Jocelyn even forced her to wear lip gloss. 

“Lip gloss makes you a different person,” Jocelyn said last night on her way out. “I left you three options. Please wear one.” 

“I don’t take advice from the Sweet Valley Twins anymore,” Finn had retorted as she shut the door in Jocelyn’s face. 

But she’s wearing the lip gloss anyway. Her hair has already gotten stuck in it three times, and all she’s done is climb down the stairs. 

She knocks again, half hoping Niall hasn’t changed his mind and half hoping that he has. If he has, she can go back upstairs, put her pajamas on again, and continue to stare at her blank Word document. But then he opens the door.

“Good morning!” His smile is so bright it makes her squint. “Coffee?” 

He holds out a travel mug to her, waiting for her to take it. 

“Good morning,” she says after she takes a sip. The coffee is exactly the right temperature and perfectly sweet, which is almost enough to make her smile. “This is good coffee.” 

“It’s from Ecuador,” Niall says. He steps out onto the welcome mat and closes the apartment door behind him. “Hold this for me?” 

Finn holds his travel mug as he locks the door and turns the knob a couple of times to make sure it’s secure. Then he turns around, his smile lighting up his face. 

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” she says, though she’s pretty sure she isn’t.

She learns, over the next few hours, that Niall’s energy is nonstop. He talks constantly during their drive to the museum, talks as they park the car, talks as they ride the elevator to the top floor and begin making their way through the galleries. He tells her where he’s from and where he went to school and what his favorite sports teams are. 

And she finds herself talking too. She tells him about her sister and where she went to school and how she got started writing Isobel Soleil novels, and the entire time, she’s taking mental notes about him, about the way he holds doors for her and grins down at her and laughs even when her jokes are barely funny. 

This is how the heroes in her novels behave. They are handsome and well-meaning and have substantial life goals. They are polite and conscientious and make the heroines feel brave and important and valued. And that’s how Finn finds herself feeling: like if she had something to say, Niall would listen to it. 

After the museum, they stop for lunch at a restaurant Finn found on Yelp as they were leaving the parking structure. It’s small and bright inside, but as Niall pulls out Finn’s chair for her, it occurs to her, for the first time, that this might actually be a date. 

Jocelyn had said as much last night, but Finn had ignored her, as she does with most things Jocelyn says. But now, seated across from Niall, with nowhere to look but at him, reality dawns, and it’s blinding. 

But, she decides, she won’t address it, and she carries on with the meal as if they are recent acquaintances and neighbors, which is, she reminds herself, exactly what they are. 

-----

After LACMA day, Niall texts Finn about the movie he’s watching, and she imagines she can hear it through the floor. Later that evening, he texts her good night, and then, the next day, he texts her good morning. The next weekend, they go to Venice Beach together, and they see a movie in a classic theater downtown the following Tuesday. That night, he comes over for dinner, and they cook together, finding their way around each other in Finn’s small kitchen. 

And all of a sudden, this summer is different, hot and sticky like all the others, but different because this summer has Niall. 

Niall on the couch, bare feet up on the coffee table, listing all the reasons that golf is superior to all other sports. 

Niall in the passenger’s seat of her car, singing along to the radio even when he doesn’t know the words, the sun setting behind him, lighting him up as if it’s saying, “Look, he’s beautiful.”

And he is beautiful. Niall in her thoughts, Niall on the back of her eyelids when she blinks, Niall in her dreams. Niall, beautiful. 

And Niall in her manuscript, try as she might to keep him out. In sticking with the proposal she made to her editor back in the spring, she’s writing about a doctor and an artist who meet when they’re sharing a wall in a duplex summer rental on the coast of Oregon. By midsummer, she’s written thirty thousand words, enough to reassure her editor that she’s still writing, that things are fine, and, upon rereading, she realizes that the doctor has become Niall.

The doctor, so sure of himself, driven and determined and sexier than any other hero she’s ever written. He is confident and has beautiful eyes and magic fingers, and the heroine, the artist, is head over heels in love with him before she’s even thought to like him. 

And the artist. Finn is the artist, the confused, prideful creative soul who doesn’t want love, is afraid of it, just wants to be left alone. But now she has the lawyer, the beautiful, handsome, intelligent, lovely lawyer who makes her want to stop hiding. He makes her want to feel things. He makes her want to reach out for him, to push her fears aside and let her have what she wants. 

July brings that realization and an unseasonal thunderstorm that forces Finn to bring out a bucket and email her landlord about that leak in the roof from December that still hasn’t been fixed. That’s a momentary distraction, at least, from thoughts of Niall, thoughts of Niall that are plaguing her every moment. Awake, asleep, Niall. Always Niall. 

It’s thundering overhead when there’s a knock at her door. She opens it, and there he is, like she’s conjured him.

“I brought wine,” he says, holding out the bottle.

“Come in,” she says. She thinks of how much has changed since she sat on her couch a month ago, drinking wine with Jocelyn. She wishes, for a moment, that she could go back. But then she looks at Niall again. 

And she doesn’t want to look away, like the artist doesn’t want to look away from the doctor. When you find something this perfect, why would you ever look away? Why would you let it go? 

Finn knows from experience, though, that sometimes you don’t get to choose when people leave. Sometimes they leave you, aching and cold and alone. Sometimes it’s not up to you. 

“Come in,” she says again. She grabs two wine glasses from the kitchen and joins Niall in the living room, where they sit on the couch, thighs pressed together, and he picks a movie for them to watch. 

She isn’t paying attention, though, as she downs two glasses of wine and wonders if Niall will kiss her tonight. She’d like him to, she decides, just as much as she doesn’t want him to. It’s like the Schroedinger’s cat of kisses—if they never kiss, she will never know the kiss, but she will also never know what happens after it. She will never know if they go further, if they stop abruptly, if he breaks her heart and leaves her in pieces, smashed on the concrete like her broken coffee mug. 

But she will also never know if it will be beautiful, like the loves of the characters in her novels, characters who risk their hearts when they don’t know what the outcome will be. The difference between Finn and Niall and the artist and the doctor, though, is that Finn can control the artist and the doctor. She can decide their ending, she can choose the words for the last page. 

And maybe, with Niall, she doesn’t want a last page. 

Two hours later, Finn is wine-drunk and sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the couch. Niall is next to her, the table pushed away from them to accommodate his long legs. She leans her head on his shoulder, thinking, in the way only a wine-addled mind will allow, that she’d like to keep this night forever, seal it into a locket and wear it around her neck. 

“Tell me again why you don’t like your books,” Niall says. He has her newest proof in front of him on the table. It’s littered with post-it notes, changes Finn would’ve made to it had she had more time. But it’s too late now, and it will print as is. 

“They’re not good,” Finn says, her go-to explanation. “I can do better.” 

Niall shakes his head. “But they are good. I read Sunshine in Your Mouth, and it’s good. You’re a good writer, Finn.” 

“Oh, no.” Finn ducks, covering her face with her arms. “You read it? I can’t believe you read it.” 

“Yeah, I did.” Niall tugs her arm away from her face. “Stop hiding from me.” 

Oh, if only he knew how apt that statement was, then maybe he wouldn’t say it. Finn puts her arms down and refills her wine glass. She knows she shouldn’t drink any more, but maybe if she does, she’ll stop thinking about how blue Niall’s eyes are and how soft his fingers feel against her arm. 

“Tell me the truth,” Niall says, thumbing the post-its in her proof copy. “Why don’t you like being Isobel Soleil?” 

“Because I’m not her. I’m not like her. I just don’t believe in love,” Finn tries to explain. “It’s like—”

Niall laughs. “Love’s not like the tooth fairy, Finn. You don’t have to have felt it to know it’s real.” 

Finn looks at him, at his soft cheeks and his pink lips and his messy hair. In another life, in another version of this world, maybe she and Niall have known each other forever, since they were kids. And maybe Finn loves Niall. Maybe she always has. Maybe they fit. Maybe it’s the easiest thing this other Finn’s ever felt. 

But the Finn that lives in this world, the one sitting on the floor of her apartment with her knees pulled to her chest and a half-empty wine glass in her hand—this Finn doesn’t feel things easily. Feelings are heavy and feelings hold you back and feelings stick around long after the people who brought them on are gone.

“My parents,” Finn says, “they got divorced when I was five.” 

“Finn, you don’t have to—” 

“It’s fine,” Finn says. The wine is talking now. The wine and the smell of Niall’s shampoo and the plunk plunk plunk of rain hitting the bucket on the kitchen floor. “My dad was sleeping with his secretary. Such a cliche, right? And it took my mom years to leave him. Years. He was sleeping with his secretary while my mom was pregnant with me. She kept thinking he’d stop, that he’d finally realize that he loved her, that he loved his family. She kept waiting, until she couldn’t anymore.” 

Finn feels Niall’s fingers brush against hers where they rest on the rug. “That’s why you don’t believe in love?”

“No.” Finn closes her eyes, her head tilting back against the sofa cushion. “That’s why I don’t let myself feel it.”

“Finn.” 

She doesn’t answer as Niall moves closer. Eyes closed, she can feel him entering her personal space, can feel the heat of his hand as he takes her wine glass, hears the clink of glass on wood as he puts it on the table. Feels his fingers on her cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Finn. Look at me.” 

So she does, opens her eyes and meets his, and it’s too much, it’s all too much, the way he’s looking at her like he can see her feelings, can read them as if they were written across her forehead.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles. “Like what?” 

“Like you like me.” The words are out before she can stop them, slipping from her lips like a sigh. 

“Finn.” He’s closer now, impossibly close, his hand on her cheek. “Finn, I more than like you.” 

“I—” Finn starts, but she doesn’t know what to say. 

She doesn’t know what this feeling is, the one taking over her chest and spreading to her stomach and traveling up her throat all the way to her eyeballs. It’s a headache and nausea at the same time, plus a sense of doom in her stomach, maybe the unconscious realization that this can’t last forever. 

Because feelings never do. Niall likes her now, likes her a lot, likes her enough to maybe kiss her against her dirty car in the parking lot fifty feet from their building. But that won’t last. He’ll like her for a bit and then he’ll like her less and less until nothing remains but the memory of the fire that used to burn, a bit of leftover smoke drifting skyward. 

And that’s when it will hurt. 

This will hurt, Finn thinks, but she jumps anyway. 

“Then kiss me,” she says. 

So he does, and in his kiss, for as long as it lasts, she lets herself feel everything: lets herself feel the sticky heat of summer and the sticky heat of a love so big it sucks you under, leaves you breathless, makes you hold on tight. 

She slides her hand into his hair and thinks, I will hold on tight. 

When it’s over, Niall pulls back, leans his forehead on hers. He’s breathing heavy when he says, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.” 

“I want to do it again,” Finn says. She slides her fingers under the collar of his shirt. 

Niall’s hand tightens on her waist. “Is that the wine talking?” 

Finn shakes her head. “No,” she says. “It’s me. And I more than like you, too.” 

Niall grins, bright and beautiful. “Good,” he says. “You’re my perfect summer.” 

He leans in to kiss her again, and Finn decides, in that split second before their lips meet, that even if all she gets with Niall is a summer, it will be beautiful and it will be perfect, the stuff of novels. The stuff of her novels. 

But, something in her gut tells her, Niall will be around for more than a summer.

He does live right downstairs, after all.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Once again, I have the urge to do half-assed, obsessive character analysis, this time using a format that stopped being cool about a decade ago – that’s right, Hogwarts Houses.  I’m assigning Hogwarts Houses to Brotherhood of Evil Mutants members, and for that I’m so sorry.  

I think many of them could potentially be in Slytherin, just because that’s supposed to the cut-throat, ambitious, self-centered house, but I don’t wanna toss all the bad guys in there.  I don’t like Slytherin being just “the bad guy house,” especially since it means ignoring the negative traits that other houses can show.  Also, I don’t think every villain would necessarily be a Slytherin, as people commit crimes and horrible acts for different reasons. Not all of them are necessarily “ambitious.”  

Toad – Toad is an example of a villain that I wouldn’t really put in Slytherin.  Because, despite his occasional delusions of grandeur, and desire to prove himself as a big-shot (which I think stems QUITE A BIT from his abusive past), I don’t think Toad is really “ambitious,” so to speak.  I think he just wants to be loved and appreciate, and to have somewhere that he belongs.  Toad could possibly be a Gryffindor, since he seems to admire courage, just like Peter Petigrew and Neville Longbottom did.  (Neville obviously found his own courage, while Peter never did.)  And he’s smart enough for Ravenclaw.  But I think Toad’s extreme loyalty to anyone who shows him kindness or friendhip makes him a Hufflepuff.  I think Toad is really the epitome of Hufflepuff in the books – constantly overlooked or treated like a joke, but actually capable of great things under the right circumstances.  Toad would be the Hufflepuff who surprises everyone with his intelligence.

Avalanche: I also don’t see Avalanche as being particularly “ambitious.”  He never seems to want to lead a team, and is mostly content with being a hired lacky. The only time I remember him striking out on his own was when he tried to blackmail the state of California (threatening to cause an earthquake), and that was all about money.  And I wouldn’t put greed on par with “ambition,” necessarily. On the other hand, Avalanche is a ride or die team-player.  He tries to help during a jail break out (and fucks up hilariously) while his arms are broken.  He risks his life to rescue the badly injured Commando during a Freedom Force mission, and makes the very difficult decision to leave Blob and Pyro behind (something he later apologizes to Pyro for).  He goes on a mission to the Savage Land with Pyro to find a Legacy Virus cure, even though he doesn’t have Legacy himself.  He risks his life just to try to help his boyfriend best buddy.  I think Avalanche is a Hufflepuff, through and through.

Pyro: St. John is one that I think could be in Slytherin, since he basically runs into every battle screaming “Look at meeeeee, look what I can do!”  I could also place him in Hufflepuff because he seems quick to form friendships and bond with team-mates, and doesn’t seem to care if he’s now palling around with a team of mutants that he used to try to kill.  But I think that Pyro’s interest in travel and work as a journalist makes him most suited for Ravenclaw.  He might not be the most studious or serious, but he has a genuine curiosity about the world, and he’s willing to do the research.  He wants to see and experience everything he can, first hand.  He hangs out with Hufflepuffs Toad and Avalanche, though, they’re more fun than the “scholarly” students in his own house.

Not to mention, with his blond, “naturally wavy” hair, his puffed up ego, and his prolific writing career, he resembles a certain other (in)famous Ravenclaw.

Hmmmm……

(St. John genuinely had his own adventures and wrote his own books, though.  He is way too proud to plagarize other people’s work.  And maybe his books are just a teensy bit exaggerated, but that’s just artistic license.)

Blob – This is a hard one.  He’s another guy who I don’t think is necessarily ambitious, but he generally seems to be out for himself.  He’s a pretty simple dude, in terms of desires, just wants to rob an occasional bank, have a good fight, and escape to spend his money on beer.  He can be fairly nasty, but he seems to be willing to hang out with his team-mates, and is extremely loyal to the ones that he is close to (especially Unus).  And now as a bartender, he seems pretty cool with anyone at his bar.  That makes me lean towards Hufflepuff, but you know what?

Fuck it.  I’m gonna put Blob in Gryffindor.  They’re the “brave” house, and I think Blob is actually extremely brave. He doesn’t take shit from anyone, and rarely ever seems frightened in battle. 

Blob even dares lay a hand on the person of Magneto!

He’s daring, bold, adventurous – probably chivalry is the only Gryffidnor trait that he lacks.  And even then, he shows loyalty to his friends, and will stand up for people if he likes them enough.  I don’t know if Blob necessarily fights for “justice” or anything like that, but he always seems fairly confident in himself and what he’s doing, which also seems very Gryffindor. He can be very nasty if he thinks someone deserves it, but then, so can some Gryffindors.  

Mystique: I really gotta put her in Slytherin.  She’s always up to something, and it’s always plots within plots.  She really only shows loyalty to herself, and Destiny, with some affection spared towards Kurt and Rogue, whom she also chronically backstabs.  I’m not really sure where else to put her?  She’s intelligent, and fearless enough for Gryffindor, but she’s ultimately so cunning, treacherous and self-interested, I can’t really put her anywhere but Slytherin.

Phantazia: Her obvious intelligence and scientific interest makes me lean towards Ravenclaw, but she’s also fairly cold and calculating.  (Although to be fair, she also shows concern for Pyro when he is sick)  She’s obviously not content to be just a scientific researcher, despite her Ph.D., since she’s running around with the Brotherhood. And we never really learned her reasons. I’m gonna say Slytherin for Phantazia as well, just so I don’t recreate the usual bias and just have the really evil people there.  And no, I don’t think Phantazia is evil.  Self-interested, sure, but not evil.

Destiny: Irene is so mysterious, and at times so manipulative that I’m tempted to put her in Slytherin as well.  But honestly?  I’m thinking Gryffindor.  She’s extremely brave, even in the face of her own death, which she goes to willingly. It’s never clear exactly why she does the things that she does (according to some logic of her visions of the future, I assume), but she clearly thinks that she’s doing the right thing, and following your principles is also a pretty Gryffindor trait.  

Rogue: C’mon, we all know Rogue is a Gryffindor.  She leaves her family and team, and is willing to start fresh  with a group that doesn’t particularly want or like her at first, because it’s the right thing to do.  Well, mostly because she needs help with Carol Danvers in her head, but she stays because it’s the right thing to do, even while her own mother tries repeatedly to lure her back to the Brotherhood.  Rogue absolutely stands up for what she believes in, and she never shies away from a fight.

Mastermind: Ambitious enough to join the Hellfire club, manipulative as fuck, I can’t really put him anywhere but Slytherin.  

Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch - ??????

I feel like I don’t know these two well enough to judge. I mean, obviously they’re heroes, but I don’t want to toss them into Gryffindor just because of that.  Someone with better knowledge of all the details of their personalities can make a better judgement here. 

I think, despite my best efforts, I may have recreated the “Slytherin is the bad house” theme, but at least I put a few shitty people in other Houses, right?  

Feel free to tell me how wrong I am about all of these.    

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E93 (February 4, 2020)

This week’s guests are Ashley Johnson and Taliesin Jaffe!

Announcement: Thursday, February 27′s episode in Chicago will be an in-canon live episode! VIP tickets go on sale tomorrow at 10 AM Central, and regular tickets will be on sale February 6 at 10 AM Central as well. The World of Critical Role, the new nonfiction book, is available for preorder now! All Work No Play season 2 is upon us: VOD for episode one is available now, up on YouTube on Thursday!

Episode 93: Misery Loves Company (which is SUCH a good title)

Stats for this week’s episode: this is the first episode where Caduceus and Jester have both cast Spirit Guardians in the same battle. Yasha has collected six floral pieces and a scrap of the Laughing Hand’s cloak since we met her. Jester purchased the Dust of Deliciousness from Pumat 62 episodes ago, or 186 Exandrian days. (That’s 22 days longer than Jester has had Sprinkle.)

Reactions to the cupcake moment? Neither of them had any idea Jester had something up her sleeve; they both bought it right up to the end. Taliesin thought the hand offer was just another self-sacrificial one-up, and Ashley knew it was too extreme but was still worried because of Jester’s impulsiveness. Ashley mentions how cool it was that Jester used Modify Memory in such a positive way.

Taliesin was trying to think of something that would be “appropriately sad enough” to offer to appease Matt. “Clay was thinking of offering to never go home again. So still save everything, but just be like, I agree that once it’s up it’s fine.”

Ashley on making a deal to bring Zuala back to life: “I love how everyone assumes I was thinking of Zuala.” Not making the deal was a moment of growth for Yasha, “but I think bringing back--- she’s lost a lot of people, and so I think it’s constantly on her mind, of maybe life wouldn’t be so hard or so bad if I could have some of these people I love back. Where we see some of the growth in Yasha was that she was able to put some of that aside, knowing they were there for Nott.”

Taliesin is asked whether Percy’s yelling in the back of his head during scenes like this: “There was no good way out of this problem, so I didn’t have [Percy] screaming at me that there was an obvious or easy solution.”

Ashley on Yasha’s offer getting rejected because Yasha was already too miserable: “I think, weirdly, there was some comfort in that, of knowing that maybe it couldn’t get any worse. I think it was almost good for her to hear that: you’re the bottom of the barrel right now. I do think she’s slowly finding happiness with her friends and slowly getting comfortable with those relationships again.” She highlights Caleb as “a companion in misery”. She’s growing and becoming more comfortable. “It’s a really good group of people, and they all do genuinely love each other, and I think this past game kind of showed that to her.”

On Nott’s deal, Taliesin: “Ahh, we wouldn’t have let that happen.” Ashley: “I have some thoughts on that.” Taliesin: “Yeah, that’s some RP stuff that may come up later. I do understand and respect how Sam plays Nott, as hyper-volatile, as part of the goblinization of Nott is to make her inappropriately emotionally volatile towards things.” 

There’s a brief foray into the legality of ferrets as pets in the state of California, as you do. Kindergarten Cop and Bunnicula are cited.

Ashley: “I don’t know how invested Yasha is necessarily in this war. Because of how she grew up and was raised, there’s other things to her that are more important.” Taliesin: “Clay thinks Nott needs therapy.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Grog! (DressedUpMegs on Instagram, photo by LMShoots)

On Clay’s reaction to the hag: “He’s not a fan” of someone dealing in the changing of fate. He would have been okay with having to kill her if it came down to it. “It’s not necromancy, but it’s next-door to it.” But he was trying to take his cues from everyone else. “She was fuckin’ scary. Too many elbows.”

Matt told Brian after the session that he would have cliffhangered the fight if it had come to that, since it was likely to be a substantial endeavor. (Matt posted a picture of the map on Twitter!)

It was tough for Yasha to resist the urge to just jump in and attack the hag while they were one-on-one. “I’m not at the point yet to make an executive decision for the whole party, but whew, me, I was ready to kill her the second I walked in. I think Yasha was ready to go, but I think also it showed growth as well that she didn’t do it and walked out the door.”

Caduceus interpreted the “less intensity” statement Matt made when he asked about his family at the menagerie was that not everyone’s there yet. Caduceus was also embarrassed that he had to ask; he saw it as a sign of cowardice and a moment of weakness.

Yasha’s thoughts on Beau’s offer: “Yasha wasn’t about to let that happen after she finally just got back with the group. I was like, yeah, you’re not about to leave once I just got back to you. I didn’t necessarily see it as one-upping each other, but I think all of us were saying, no, I’m not going to let you do that, I’ll do something.”

Marisha tries to sneak out stealthily and Henry barks at her, forcing a cameo!

Marisha: “It makes super sense in Beau’s headspace where she is, and Beau likes controlling situations. Beau’s in a bit of a fucked-up headspace. Parents, man.”

On Jester leaning into the more serious side of the Trickery domain versus the small pranks, Taliesin: “I feel like it’s all a grand scheme, personally.” Ashley: “We don’t fully know what happened in there yet. It’s so hard not to be impressed by it.” Taliesin: “So hard not to be impressed.” They’re both pretty sure there will be consequences that Matt will spring on them in forty or so episodes...

Fan Art of the Week: Jester and the hag! (CaitMayArt on Twitter)

What was it like seeing the Traveler in physical form? Ashley: “Mixed feelings about that, for sure. I think Yasha’s very-- the relationship that Jester has with the Traveler is very intriguing to Yasha because there’s an intimacy and a closeness there that she finds very strange. But also thinks the Traveler is-- something’s up.” Taliesin: “It’s a little weird, man. Little weird.”

Why did Yasha ask Caleb about who he loves? “I think she asked him because she cares about him a lot, and I think they’ve obviously both had this weird connection of recognizing they’ve both been through things that are tough. Tough is obviously putting it lightly. What I’ve noticed in playing the game, and in the RP that seems to pop up, is that-- I don’t mean this to sound, I don’t know. She definitely cares a lot for these people, and about their well-being. And I think there’s something in her that knows how suffering feels, and seeing someone else dealing with it is too hard for her. With Caleb, she really cares about him, and sees he cares about someone, at least how I’ve taken it-- whether or not we mean the same person is interesting, because Liam and I haven’t even talked about this. But I think it’s one of those things where she knows what she’d been through with Zuala. I’m trying to figure out how to dance around this. She said it because she cares about him and wants him to be happy. It came out of care and wanting something good for him.”

Does Cad feel like his plans are getting overridden by the group? “I think ‘plans’ is a bold word. No, he’s not bothered by that. He’s got no particular problem with action or inaction. Percy would dwell on something like that. Clay doesn’t really-- he’s perfectly content to be like, oh, someone else had an idea, okay. He’s perfectly fine if other people have a thing to do, then, yeah, he has no ego about it.”

[calypsoff]

Forty Nine.

Wrapping the robe around me as I rushed out of the bedroom and ran down the hallway to the door, it’s early in the morning and this is what I am doing “hey, hey. Where are you going?” Frowning at Chris leaving in the early hour’s “gym” his hand on the door about ready to just go at this time in the morning “but you abruptly got out of bed like that, you didn’t even mention gym Chris, why?” It’s so random of him, he literally went last night, he goes there every day “because I like it, it clears my mind. I will be back, be like mindful when you’re running though, you could have hurt yourself. I’m not doing anything more than just gym and coming back, go and rest. It’s fine” side eyeing Chris, my mouth is dry, and I can’t be bothered “whatever” turning on my heels and walking off “are you angry with me?” He questioned as I walked off “no” rolling my eyes knowing full well I am but if I say yes he will continue to push on why, so I said no, like why does he need to go there so early in the morning. What is the actual reason for it, he had me rushing out because I was thinking why so of course it seemed dramatic, but I wanted to know if he was ok because I am a concerned wife like that but he’s going to the gym of course, like he told me that. Slamming the bedroom door shut, he went to bed later then me, I was knocked out asleep by twelve and he stayed awake, hearing a light knock at the door which I know who that is “come in” taking my robe off “woke the damn apartment up there, I got worried” throwing my robe to the side “sorry” I apologised to Mel “has he gone?” Turning to her “he has, I’m going back to sleep, he’s gone to gym. He went last night, just annoyed me” walking around the bed “can I snuggle with you, but you sleep on his side” I huffed out walking back around the bed “fine, I need a snuggle” I said poking my lips out as I did, I missed Mel.

Not only is Mel is here I have Tina too just sat on my bed, I woke them all up “I feel so bad that I woke you all, I really am. Just he got out of bed so quickly, went to the bathroom and then left so I was like what the fuck. I ended up jumping out of bed and chasing him to find out, but I think I will be talking to him about going back to therapy, I think it’s something he needs. Talk about his feelings now and what is happening because I don’t like that he is feeling that way, as a wife I want to be there for him, but California really left a bad taste in his mouth, I feel like he’s not trusting either so yeah, I need to chase him up about it. Sorry ladies” I apologised for waking them up “it’s ok, I am checking on emails anyways, and I have one from Jay Brown. Let’s read” I wonder what he’s going to say about the magazine cover thing, I spoke to him about it yesterday so he must have got an answer by now “ok then, so he has a taker, please speak to Rih about this, we have Vogue, and they are willing to pay over a million, a million being starting but they will outbid anyone for this, let her know” raising an eyebrow “starting price a million? I am interested, I like that. Tell him I accept but tease them about it and see what he gets for it, I mean like if he can get more. So what you think I should do, I want to give the money from this to Chris, he’s saying no. Child fund, and I’m like what!? But he’s refusing, so I said a joint account, he can access it. We’re married now but he’s being stubborn” Mel groaned out “he’s married and still stubborn ok, open the joint and account and do it, give him the card. This man deserves no choices Robyn. Listen to me on this” Mel is right, I can’t give him that choice.

I am still laughing at Mel saying that this man deserves no choices, she is right, and I will eventually get Chris to come around and get him to understand things from my point of view “Tina, TT!” I shouted; she can open us a joint account “yes!?” She spat “open me a joint account, his date of birth is fifth, fifth, eighty nine. Thank you, I need to just take it into my own hands but be on Jay’ case about the Vogue thing, I also have an appointment today, my first checkup!” I shrieked “really!? You never said, that quick? You been here two days” I clapped my hands together smiling “I know! But Tina said who I was and what I need, and they booked me in straight away. See how my name travels, they heard Rihanna and they jumped but yeah, I am so nervous about it. They said they have a slot free for me. Tina said as soon as she said Rihanna they were saying we will keep her privacy, please come from the back of the hospital someone will meet you there and whatever but yeah, how exciting. My first prenatal appointment for my baby, I am so excited. I am a little nervous but excited. I can’t wait to see how my baby is, I want to make sure it is ok before I go to London. I do want to make sure it’s ok because anything can be wrong, so I have pumped myself up for anything bad, I have Chris with me but physically I know I am ok, I know I will be. I have been praying to god every night to keep my baby safe so yeah, please pray for me” Mel cooed out “that is sweet Rih, I know that baby will be fine. You have been careful within yourself; you’re not stressed out unless that caveman you married is up to something” I chuckled “you are so mean” Mel laughed out “No, I like Chris, but he talks shit. Like my nigga, the money is there take it. You’re his wife Robyn, sometimes you need to take the lead, don’t ask him things you know he will not want because of his ego, chile. The man is so egotistical” Mel has a point this is why I have just told Tina to do it, I can’t just sit here and let him say no when I want him to have it.

Looking over at Chris, he has taken his time, he comes back now “we have the appointment in an hour” he threw the keys to the side “yeah, I am here now. I will have a shower, but I got this” he made his way over to me “what is it?” I frowned looking at what he’s got, he placed the bottle in front of me “it’s for your constipation, I asked the lady and she said this will have push the stool out like she called it, she said it will help you” I laughed staring at the bottle “don’t tell me she recognized you” Chris shook his head “awww thank you, I do need something too. Give me a kiss” poking my lips out, he leaned down and pecked my lips “ok go and shower now, I am ready anyways” Chris walked off as Tina made her way in “morning” Chris said to Tina “oh morning, sorry. I am just busy, yeah. Robyn” Tina jumped over the couch with her MacBook in hand “watch it” she near dropped that “so, Jay Brown said call him on IM” I groaned out, I don’t feel like talking but I guess I will because it must be important.

Waving at Tina “call him” I want her to do it “lazy ass, I was already doing it because I know you” she placed it on speakerphone and placed the phone on the table “don’t tell me Rihanna can’t be bothered to talk” Jay knows me “I am here actually” I said “oh yeah, I am sorry. I am just so excited to tell you this news, Rih. You’re going to be the highest paid magazine cover in the world, you hear me!? In the world, forget Tom Cruise daughter or Brad and Angelina first kids’ photos, it is all about Rihanna and Chris Brown on Vogue, they are wanting the exclusives with an interview, no photoshoot needed because we have the pictures but are you ready? I know I said a million or whatever but this, because I said an interview, both of you. I mean it’s more but fifteen million Robyn, fifteen fucking million” my mouth hung open in shock “wait” I didn’t think this was even that serious “how!? Oh my god!” I shouted “you’re Rihanna, nobody knows you’re married. The only magazine in the world with the exclusive, so they will have the rights to the pictures so any other magazine wants to use it, they have to pay Vogue, so in a way they will get the money back from it, so what you think” I am shook “oh fuck! Yes! Where is the contact!?” I shouted “jheez, my girls. Fifteen milli? Ain’t nobody is doing it like you, no bitch!” Mel spat, I am so shocked “while I was offering around, I got GQ wanting to pay for you and Chris to do a little question time, a couple one. I know you said that you want Chris to be more known, they are paying well too if you can think about that one, but I will leave you to it, good choice that you are doing this” he disconnected the call “fifteen million? My ass he’s rejecting having that, we are getting a joint account and we can just use it from there” I am shook, my worth is high as hell.

I can’t believe it; I am still shook. I have been shook since I have been told. I haven’t told Chris yet; I haven’t even mentioned it to him even in the car. I was so just so quiet because I am shocked, that is a lot of money for some pictures. I mean they’re not any old pictures, they are precious but to sell them and to make that much money is crazy. I have just been in my own thoughts since arriving at the waiting room for my appointment “I can’t believe it Chris” I finally spoke, I think I am ready to speak on it “believe what? You have been rather quiet, you annoyed with me about something?” shaking my head, turning to Chris in the seat “so Jay Brown has sorted it out, meaning the pictures. Guess how much they are wanting to pay us?” Chris squinted his eyes unsure “well because you’re very excited I am guessing about five million? I mean that is a lot for some pictures” he just said that “you think we are worth just that, but anyways. Now listen to me, I want you to just listen to me first” Chris is not happy already “so I have opened us a joint account, whether you like it or not. We are married now and we need to be adults, we are going to be parents so I have opened one and that is what we will use when it comes to us, you can have your own bank account also but we have a joint one, anyways rant over but. They are paying Fifteen million” Chris’ eyes widened and jumped up, I mean I reacted crazy too but him “shut up?” he said shocked “I swear, fifteen million for the pictures and an interview with us both, we will be getting a little more from the GQ video thing but yeah, fifteen million Chris. And the money will be in the joint account, put the money back in your business and grow it, grow yourself and build yourself up, sit down though” I patted the seat, Chris is shook “Robyn that is a lot of money, we don’t ever need to work, we can hide away” he sat back down “true but no, money runs out, think of the lifestyle so, I want you to see your therapist yeah? Just check in on him, something is annoying you, you don’t need to admit anything to me, I just want you to do it, for yourself please?” I pleaded with him, I want him to do it “I will, I think I need too. I want to do it because I want to be better for you, so yes” smiling lightly at him “thank you, I love you so much. I know something is off with you” holding onto his hand “I am well though” he reassured me “I know, you are ok just sometimes you need to speak to someone that is not me. I can imagine I am annoying sometimes, right?” he can say no but I know I am.

Walking into the doctor’s office for the first time, just not any doctor’s office but my first prenatal “hello, I am Audrey Moruzzi” shaking her hand “Robyn” she smiled at me, more like to say I know who the hell you are “Chris” sitting down on the chair “I specialise in Obstetrics and Gynaecology, I will be with you throughout this whole journey, please ask me anything. Me and Keren will be assisting you, she will be on call for you every day and night, so you do not have to worry. How are you both?” she asked, looking over at Chris thinking he was going to ask but he is quiet “nervous to say the least, I am just excited but nervous with me losing the baby the first time around, but I have been ever so careful, I haven’t rushed into anything, I have kept calm about things and just had lots of rest, that is what I needed when I was first time pregnant, so yeah. We are both nervous” Audrey is writing things down ever so quickly, whatever these things mean “I see, well as long you are taking the necessary procedures to give yourself that rest then that is fine, I am sure you are feeling more fatigue?” nodding my head “very much so” sighing out “and constipated” Chris added, of course he did “and what he said, men” rolling my eyes “you tell them once and they never drop it” nudging him “all normal things to happen so, we will take urine, blood. We need to do these tests and we will do a full examination of your pelvis, this will be your longest appointment here, when did you find out you was pregnant?” she asked “I think I got caught in the middle of November, I was working it out that I would have the baby in August I think, but I found out just around December time, middle I would say again because I told Chris on Christmas Day” I am awful with dates “that is fine, we will work it out for you, shall we start” she got up from her seat.

She meant it when she said that it would be long, we had to wait for the results which of course have just come back now so we are back in the room, they took so many blood samples from me, I didn’t like it “so we got the results, and we can confirm that you are pregnant!” she spat “we have to confirm it ourselves and yes you are well and truly pregnant, your results have all come back perfect. There is no major concerns from me on my end, so if you what you are saying is true well about the dates, you will be seven weeks pregnant, now with a scan you won’t see much but what I am going to do is give you a transvaginal ultrasound now this is because you suffered a miscarriage already, we just want to check over everything is ok there. Twelve to thirteen week scan is the most important, we get to see more of the baby. Transvaginal is not comfortable to say the least but shall we see?” nodding my head, I am happy with anything. I really want to know if my baby is ok “and just to add, we may see just something ever so small or we may not see anything which is nothing bad because we will see the sac, but let’s not be concerned so early on, come. Let’s go and check” Audrey got up from the seat, I guess I got to go through this shit to see if my baby is ok, I hope it’s not that uncomfortable like she says.

Oh this is nor comfortable at all, she is right. Looking at Chris and he just looked at me “you all wide open like that” that is all he cares about “be quiet, this is actually the longest thing I have had inside me” I couldn’t help myself, I had to say it “see, now why are you lying? This is the stupid shit that come out of your mouth woman” I snorted laughing “I am joking, I needed some entertainment and you’re sat there mute thinking why my legs are wise open, childish” Chris squeezed my hand smiling “you just never this wide open with me, that is all” rolling my eyes “you’re annoying” pulling a face, I don’t like it “so the baby is seven weeks, you are correct with the dates. Now I am printing some pictures where I can explain to you, but it’s just a very small crows, the baby is about 8 millimetres. But I am happy with what I saw, very healthy Mrs Fenty-Brown” Audrey got up “Keren is just getting the pictures” Chris placed covers over me, I don’t know where he got them from but he did “some privacy” what is he like, of course he did that “Mrs Fenty-Brown” Keren held out a polaroid to me “as I said, you won’t see much but what you are seeing is a crown rump length of baby and the foetus is the gestational sac, which is filled with fluid” that is crazy “oh my gosh, that tiny thing is just a pea, you call it pea drop” this is crazy “yes, very tiny for now. But come twelve weeks you will see the change, the baby grows so quick” placing my hand over my mouth, I feel shocked “we are really going to be parents” my voice broke, Chris pressed a kiss to my forehead “I am so proud of you” wiping my tears that fell.

[darkblueboxs]

The Manga is Way Better (Save me from the Fangirls)

Read here or on AO3

Inspired by an absurd GC conversation feat. @hope-coeurell and @karmacharmeleon18 about exy anime in the aftg universe.

Neil wakes up to eleven hundred new twitter followers overnight, which sets off alarm bells for a number of reasons.

He didn’t want the damn account, but his publicist insisted, and Carol rules Neil’s public life with an iron fist. He leaves her to post generically upbeat tweets on his behalf about the exy world, and in return he tries not to start any fights that she’ll have to finish. Emphasis on tries.

He assumes that the influx of followers is down to some vaguely rude retort going viral that he’d already forgotten making, but to his bafflement most of the new followers seem to have cartoon avatars and names that are more emoji than letter. He clicks on one profile out of curiosity, understands about one word in five, and promptly loses interest.

He puts it down to the ramp up in interest caused by the approaching world cup and shuts off his phone. The muggy SoCal heat makes Neil drowsier than he usually would be, but the sound of Andrew brewing coffee in the kitchen is enough to drag Neil from bed. They’re only on the western coast for a few days while the national team attends a few mandatory press junkets and board meetings, and Neil would resent it more if not for the opportunity to spend time with his family.

They’re actually scheduled for a day off, but Kevin pulled every contact he had with the Trojans to bag use of their court for the day, and he’s dragging every player he can in with him. Luckily for them, it’s the off-season, so the only players they’re booting from their own pitch are the ones with nothing better to do on their break.

The fox’s group chat is buzzing regularly on the ride to the stadium, but Neil ignores it for the city sights rolling by his window. Neither he nor Andrew have visited this part of California before; it leaves a far better impression than their previous experiences with the state.

It’s when he arrives in the locker room to find Matt and a few other players huddled around a phone screen that the alarm bells return.

Matt looks up, takes one look at Neil, and bursts out laughing. “Hey, look, it’s Niall Jamestown.”

Neil gives him a deliberately blank look as he shoulders his bag from his shoulder. “Morning, Matt.”

“You’ve watched this, right? Tell me you’ve watched this.”

Neil glances to Andrew, who seems to know as much as Neil does, before replying. “No?”

“Oh my God,” says Matt, and shoves the phone in Neil’s face.

The sight he is met with is baffling to say the least; a bunch of cartoon boys with brightly coloured hair yelling at each other in Japanese the middle of an exy court.

“Japanese soap opera?” Neil guesses.

“Just wait.”

Neil watches with disinterest. The doors to the cartoon court bang open and the lights flicker as the music crescendos, building up to some dramatic reveal.

A kid with red hair, blue eyes and a scarred face steps into frame. “I’m Niall Jamestown,” say the subtitles as the character slings a racquet across his shoulders. “And I’m going to beat you all!” Then the screen goes black.

Neil is genuinely speechless.

“You’re an anime character, Neil!” Matt beams. “How cool is that?”

Neil looks back to his cartoon doppelganger. “What the fuck is anime?”

*

Neil is acutely aware of when the next episode comes out, because his twitter following jumps wildly again. He has a lot of new messages, although none of them seem to really be directed at him.

“Do not fucking talk to me about fucking King of the Court,” Kevin snaps as they toss a ball back and forth.

“It’s a show about exy, isn’t it?” Neil says. “Why wouldn’t you like it?”

“It’s thinly-veiled Raven propaganda that shows no respect for actual exy rules. They have a distant cousin of the Moriyamas on the creative team because they figured it might be a good merchandising opportunity, but thankfully the manga never really took off in America.” Kevin’s expression darkens. “The new TV adaptation, on the other hand…”

When Neil continues to look at him blankly, Kevin rolls his eyes and explains, “A Manga is like a comic book.”

Neil nearly drops the ball. “I’m a comic book character, too?”

“No, they’ve clearly changed the character’s name and appearance in the remake to make him look like you. They’re going to make you look like an asshole.”

Neil thought he was used to being on television; it turns out he was sorely mistaken. He shrugs. “I’m pretty good at doing that by myself already.”

Kevin throws the next ball to him harder than necessary. It whistles past Neil’s right ear; an inch to the side and it would have been a black eye. The whack of a racket against the ground clatters from the other side of the court, Andrew’s idea of a friendly warning. “Take this seriously.”

“It’s a cartoon, Kevin, how on earth do I take it seriously?”

“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it was Raven propaganda,” Kevin snaps. “The main team, the protagonist, they’re very…” Kevin trails off. “Just go look it up when you get home.”

Neil tries ten minutes of the first episode, but quickly loses interest when he realises there’s more heartfelt speeches about friendship and teamwork than there is actual playing. Kevin’s right, though; the main team, Iwatobi Crows, are a clear stand-in for the Ravens with their black-on-red uniforms. They’re supposed to be the underdog team, which is hilarious, but worst of all is their captain, a charismatic, friendly, dark-haired teenager with a conspicuous beauty-spot on his left cheekbone.

Neil retches quietly before throwing his laptop aside and vowing never to think about the show again.

*

“People on twitter are yelling at me.” Neil frowns. “A lot.”

“This is not news,” Andrew says without raising his eyes from his book.

“This one says I ‘hurt her precious baby.’” Neil scrolls. “They could be a little more creative with their death threats.”

Death threats is enough to pique Andrew’s interest. He takes Neil’s phone and scrolls for several minutes, the crease between his eyebrows deepening slightly. He hands the phone back. “Your cartoon alter-ego is insulting their precious king.”

Neil snorts. He plays a clip beneath one of the tweets showing Neil’s character and Riko’s in a heated argument. It’s melodramatic and darkly lit, and fake-Neil’s smile is wide and sharp as he tells Riko his team will never amount to anything. “You are destined for failure,” Niall snarls. “Pathetic.”

It isn’t meant to be funny; it’s meant to be cruel and devastating, but Neil laughs. “This guy is growing on me.”

Andrew shakes his head as he returns to his book. “Don’t come crying to me when the fangirls break your face.”

Neil snorts. “I’d trust you to patch me up again after.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow but doesn’t deny it.

*

“One of my co-workers has asked me for your autograph,” Nicky says, his voice cracking and jumping across the videocall. “Think you can get a poster to me before Christmas?”

“Easily. I can get a hold of some national team merch as well if she-”

Nicky cuts him off with a snort. “No, it’s cool, she isn’t really into exy.”

At the kitchen counter behind him, Andrew’s knife stalls over the carrots. They share a baffled look.

“What?” says Neil eventually.

“Oh, yeah, she doesn’t follow exy or anything, she’s just really into that show, what’s it called? King of the Castle?”

“Something like that.” Neil says, keeping his expression remarkably straight. “You’ve heard about it?”

“Are you kidding me? The whole anime world is talking about it. Not that I’m deep in the weeb community or anything, I just followed a few people for posting those cute yaoi ice-skating gifs a while back and they’ve been talking about nothing else in months.”

Neil understands some of those words. “Okay.”

“Say, Neil, do you know what a ship is?”

“Like, a boat?”

Andrew reaches past Neil and hits the end call button. “Not today.”

Neil nods, feeling as though he has just been saved from something unfathomably vast and dangerous. “Not today.”

*

Robin sends a picture of the photo wall in the Foxhole Court’s lounge. Someone has put up a poster of Anime Neil in one corner. It’s life-size, and he glares across the room with overshiny blue eyes, a leather jacket thrown over his shoulder as he scowls. She accompanies the message with a simple smiley emoji, but Neil isn’t fooled.

Not funny, Neil texts back.

He’s taller than you, she replies.

*

“What are you going to do about it?” Kevin says on one of their phone calls. “You can’t let them burn your reputation to the ground like this. They’re portraying you as a mouthy bad-boy who listens to no one and breaks all the rules.”

“Just like real life, then,” Andrew says loudly enough that Kevin can hear.

“Kevin, some kid’s cartoon isn’t going to affect my exy career,” Neil says, scooping Sir onto his lap as he talks. “It’s about how well I play.”

“It’s about image, Neil. Your publicist will agree. Has she considered suing for defamation? I know some good lawyers if-”

“She’s looked into it.” Neil had watched Carol’s growing exasperation with detached amusement; she was, as far as he knew, a good person, but watching her having a meltdown over a cartoon caricature had been mildly entertaining regardless. Neil just couldn’t bring himself to see what all the fuss was about. “They’ve changed my name, so it’s a no-go.”

Kevin makes an exaggeratedly pained sound. Neil doesn’t have to picture his expression; he knows all too well what Kevin’s disappointed face looks like.

“You’re taking this heavily,” says Neil. Then, “Did make you into a character too or something-?”

Kevin hangs up.

*

“Neil, how does it feel knowing my husband loves you more than he does his own wife?”

“This isn’t news.” Neil smiles as Dan laughs. He can see moving boxes and sports equipment behind her as she spins, showing Neil through the camera their new living room.

“Have you seen the monstrosity? Has he shown you? He said he wanted to bring it on our next fox holiday, but I said no, there’s no way I’m sitting next to that thing in the truck for six hours, besides, it’s not even that funny.” The amused tilt to her voice says otherwise.

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“If I have to be traumatised then so do you.” Dan leads into her bedroom, and for a moment the picture turns dark and grainy. The lights flick on, and on the bed Neil sees-

“Dan, what the fuck is that?”

“Randy came across it online and thought it would be funny.” Dan sighs.

“What is it?”

“Haven’t you seen a body pillow before?”

Neil screws up his nose, leaning into his screen to get a better look despite himself. “What is he wearing?”

Dan hesitates. “Swimming costume?”

“It’s a show about exy.”

���Yeah, I got nothing. So I’m guessing you don’t want us to bring it on holiday?”

“Burn it. Please.”

“Good idea.” Dan pauses. “Unless you think Andrew would-”

“No. He would not.”

*

Neil’s anime persona gets a girlfriend, which Neil discovers only when he opens Twitter (an action which becomes more fraught with danger with every passing day) to see art of them having sex.

He blocks several hundred more followers (he’s gaining more than he can possibly hope to block every day, but it’s for the sense of control more than anything) before throwing his phone aside and climbing back into bed.

“I have a girlfriend,” Neil announces. Andrew’s head appears from beneath the covers to blink at him blearily, dislodging one of the cats as he does so.

“An unexpected development,” he says eventually.

“Anime me. He has a girlfriend.”

“Jealous?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” Neil nuzzles under the covers and waits for Andrew’s go-ahead before shifting in against his side.

“Does it upset you?”

“No, it’s just weird.” Neil stares up at the ceiling for several seconds before meeting Andrew’s eyes. “Well, it’s not the show, really. It’s the people.”

Andrew doesn’t reply, but his gaze remains fixed on Neil, encouraging him to keep talking.

“I’m just not used to being seen like that. Like, the people who are yelling at me because they don’t like the character I kind of get. It’s more the really flirty ones. Like, why? They don’t know me.”

“The flirty ones?”

“Just a lot of people saying really sexual things. I keep blocking them, it’s fine.”

Neil thinks he has inadvertently conditioned Andrew to tense up at the word fine; he has long tried to erase it from his vocabulary, but it still slips through now and again.

Andrew’s chest presses against his as he leans over Neil to the bedside table. For a moment Neil’s mind stops working, just thinking about skin against skin. When Andrew leans back, Neil’s phone is in his hand.

“Don’t bother looking, honestly, it isn’t worth it,” Neil says as Andrew taps several buttons.

“I’m not,” says Andrew. When he hands back the phone, the screen says account set to private.

“Carol isn’t going to like that.”

“Carol can take it up with me.”

Neil smiles. “Jealous?”

“No,” says Andrew flatly, and Neil realises that, oh, this isn’t about him.

After several minutes on the phone with Andrew, Carol concedes that keeping a low profile might not be the worst thing in the world.

*

“Neil, it’s bad,” Kevin says before he’s even through the door. “How are you not keeping up with this?”

“Digital detox,” Neil answers as Kevin pushes past. “You should try it. Great for the skin.”

Kevin doesn’t dignify him with a response. “Your character broke Riko’s  - I mean, Ryuu’s – arm. Mid-match. You can’t stand for this.”

“Are you watching this show every week?”

“I have to be ahead of the backlash,” Kevin says emphatically. He throws himself down on the couch, before standing up again, clearly too agitated to stay still. “You don’t understand, Neil. This could destroy you in the Japanese markets before you’ve even made it big in America. You have to-”

“What did they do to you, Kevin?” Neil interrupts. Kevin stops short, mouth open mid-sentence. “Because this clearly isn’t about me.”

Kevin looks away. “His name was Kev. The bumbling, obsessive, star-struck idiot that messed up the whole team’s dynamic, injured himself by pushing himself too hard and crashed out into nothing.”

Neil sobers. “Everything they told you you were.”

Kevin doesn’t look up.

“Kev? They didn’t even bother to change your name?”

Kevin shrugged. “Why bother? I couldn’t sue them. I was under the Moriyama’s thumb, remember?”

Neil stares at him. “You aren’t anymore.”

“I’m-” Kevin starts, stops, starts again. “Oh.”

“You said you knew some good lawyers, right?”

A smile breaks across Kevin’s face. “Right.”

*

King of the Court does not get renewed for a second season. Several of the foxes send Neil messages of faux commiseration, which he responds to with equal sarcasm.

A few months later, after the exy world cup medals are hanging securely over Neil and Andrew’s dresser, the same studio releases a promo for a new show. It’s nothing like their last exy anime save for the mutual sport. The characters are all decidedly fictional, neither looking nor sounding like any prominent figures in the exy world, and the protagonist’s strip doesn’t share the colours of any big USA teams.

The new anime looks as cheesy and melodramatic as the last, although Neil likes the name a lot more this time.

All for the Game. That’s a title he can get behind.

Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!

[wetalkinboutbooks]

Deathless Divide by Justina Ireland

Summary:  The sequel to Dread Nation is a journey of revenge and salvation across a divided America.

After the fall of Summerland, Jane McKeene hoped her life would get simpler: Get out of town, stay alive, and head west to California to find her mother.

But nothing is easy when you're a girl trained in putting down the restless dead, and a devastating loss on the road to a protected village called Nicodemus has Jane questioning everything she thought she knew about surviving in 1880's America.

What's more, this safe haven is not what it appears - as Jane discovers when she sees familiar faces from Summerland amid this new society. Caught between mysteries and lies, the undead, and her own inner demons, Jane soon finds herself on a dark path of blood and violence that threatens to consume her.

But she won't be in it alone.

Katherine Deveraux never expected to be allied with Jane McKeene. But after the hell she has endured, she knows friends are hard to come by - and that Jane needs her, too, whether Jane wants to admit it or not.

Watching Jane's back, however, is more than she bargained for, and when they both reach a breaking point, it's up to Katherine to keep hope alive - even as she begins to fear that there is no happily-ever-after for girls like her (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:  

 → Geena:  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ x1000

Overall: A killer sequel to Dread Nation, you’re constantly on the edge of your seat and each chapter is a new layer of stress. There’s never a moment of rest and repose because Justina Ireland hooks you with the first chapter and doesn’t let go until you’ve turned the last page.

~ Check out the spoiler-full review/plot discussion below!

The Bad: 

→ Redjack and Redfern

Geena: We’re starting with the bad because as Kae said ‘So much bad happens before the good’ and that’s the best way to describe this book. Let’s start off with our fave rogue from Dread Nation who turns out to be a WHOLE BITCH!!! Once Jane and Katherine and Co. get out of Summerland and meet up with him to plan their next move, Jane and them want to go to Nicodemus (a safe town run by a black man and a council of freed slaves and indigenous ppl). Redjack is like ‘it’s an overpopulated place let’s not’ but Jane isn’t dumb and sniffs out that there’s something else, and after Katherine and Jane both needle him we find out that… THIS BITCH IS MARRIED… AND HAS BEEN FOR A WHILE?????? ALL THE WHILE HE WAS FLIRTING AND MACKING ON JANE HE WAS MARRIED????????????? This is the start of the downfall of men in this book, it only gets worse from here… Jane confronts him about being played and he’s basically like ‘Jane you’re fun and all but like you’d never settle down, I seen you fighting and stuff just because you want to… I need a home for Lily’... and like… ok.... Jane is immediately like ‘He wanted a doormat’ and I DIED… but karma works fast and he gets bit by a shambler literally the same night lmao… and guess who kills him? JANE.. though it’s quite emotional because she had feelings for him. 

Jane also steals one of his letters when she kills him and kjnsfdskj we find out his wife is preggers but who’s gonna tell her that Redjack is capital d DEAD...  

Kae: Alright. MF’n REDJACK. This man… With his cute ass… He was just TRASH. A real fuckboy and Geena summed him up perfectly. I was like, a lil sad to see him go? But good riddance to him for playing my Janey Jane. She may be a tough-ass, but she absolutely has feelings (THAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO COPE WITH) but still. She has feelings. 

So now, let’s talk about Redfern’s shady ass. I’ve always side-eyed Redfern. I didn’t trust him. I had a very hard time trusting him because how you gone help The White Man ™  help enslave black and other indigenous peoples for your own gain? Like, boy fuck you. Shady ass. He’s the one that transported Jane, Katherine, and Red Jack to Summerland in the first place. So it was definitely a shock to see his fool ass in Nicodemus as the damn SHERIFF. LIKE WHO TF?

Geena: RIGHT I WAS LIKE WHY IS HE EVERYWHERE? IS HE CLONING HIMSELF??

Kae: And like, he jails Jane because when her and the gang arrive, the surviving folks of Summerland blame her for the small settlement falling to the dead. Redfern is like “Look, Jane. I know you ain’t do that shit. But I gotta jail you so they can stfu. You’ll get a fair trial.” And Jane doesn’t trust this and neither do I. Because black people didn’t get a fair ANYTHING back then. (We still don't) BUT THAT’S ANOTHER STORY. ANYWAAAAAAAY. Jane catches Redfern shooting the breeze with Miss Duncan and they eventually set her free. All the while, Katherine, a few homies they met in Summerland, and a few homies from Miss Prestons, are planning to break Jane out and BOUNCE. When Jane and Katherine finally reunite, Katherine is like “JANE. MY BESTIE. I WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU!” And Jane is like “Lol, yikes. We’re not even friends wtf?” Because again, Jane can’t handle feelings or people genuinely caring about her. That has a bit to do with mommy issues. NOW.  Jane has been trying to tell the council of Nicodemus that the horde of zombies will break down the wall that protects the city. But they’re like “HURR DURR SHUT UUUUP. We have machine guns. And that Gideon scientist boy has been keeping up gucci.” And Jane knows walls don’t hold forever. So she’s like we need to get TF up out of here. So she starts making a plan… And that’s when shit starts going south.

Geena: Like Kae said, Redfern is a traitor in all sense of the word… The only time he seems normal is when he’s hardcore crushing on Miss Duncan, but even then… He ends up telling Jane that he only cares about self-preservation and that’s why he’ll stab even his own mother in the back if it means he’ll be safe… OKAY HE DOESN’T SAY THAT BUT REDFERN 100% WOULD… Well kARMA GOT IT’S KISS FOR REDFERN TOO bc when Nicodemus falls, Miss Duncan also turns shambler so kjndsfkjsdfnsd

He ends up being a double agent near the end of the book, pretending to be Jane and Katherine’s ally, only to turn them over to the VILLAIN.. But then also helps them escape? A very morally questionable character and also another example of Deathless Divide saying ‘men aint shit’.

Kae: He triple crossed their asses. Triple agent mf 

→ The Fall of Nicodemus 

Kae: WHEWWWW. The fall of Nicodemus was something else. I knew it was going to happen, but damn, it was bad. So, we have bitchboy Gideon, who Jane has taken a bit of a liking to. And he wants her to convince the rest of the town to get a ‘Shambler Vaccine’ to protect them. She refuses because she has no idea if the vaccine really works. At least, not yet she does. So at some point, Gideon convinces all the people of Nicodemus to get vaccinated. But he vaccinates all of the original inhabitants of Nicodemus first, then the assholes from Summerland. But the thing is, he runs out of vaccines by the time he has to vaccinate the Summerland folk, and they’re being PISSY about it like “waaaaa, you vaccinated all the black folks before us, WAAA IM A FUCKIN BABY” so he hurries and makes a quick vaccine. Well, THIS QUICK BATCH TURNS THE FOLKS OF SUMMERLAND INTO ZOMBIES. THIS DUMBASS BITCHASS GIDEON TURNS THE DAMN PEOPLE. So he and Miss Duncan stuff them all in a barn or whatever, then DESTROYYYYYY the fence/wall in the back of the town to try to lead them out. Redfern helps too, I think. And then shit. Gets. Real. The machine gun they had isn’t holding them off and some damn zombies done came around the back entrance they created by destroying the fence, and they start CHOMPIN. 

Geena: AS KAE SAID… GIDEON AND DUMBITCH CO. MADE A WHOLE BACKDOOR FOR THE ZOMBIES IN AN ATTEMPT TO COVER UP HIS OWN MISTAKE… Reading about the fall was really sad, because this group of well meaning people WHO BTW AREN’T WHITE, that established a community where black and indigenous folk can find SOME SEMBLANCE of justice is overrun by zombies bc of a bitchass white boy’s hubris. So, the zombies get through the backdoor and as Jane and Katherine are slicing and dicing they stumble onto the group they traveled with.. Who also turned.. And Jane has to kill that little baby boy because he too, got turned into a zombie… Also, during the fall of Nicodemus Jane gets bit :( and separates from Katherine and Co. to die alone at the sheriff’s office… But then she doesn't… because back in book 1 when Gideon gave her a vaccine… it worked. So, Jane wakes up to Gideon… the last person she wants to see… who is basically gloating about his vaccine working and he’s making excuses for himself? Callie (a new friend) tries to kill Gideon, but he escapes and she ends up helping Jane instead… where Jane loses her arm :( 

Literally, a White Man’s ego can destroy a whole town built on the blood and sweat of freed slaves and indigenous people, JUST BECAUSE he thinks he knows better… 

Kae: So like, when Jane wakes up, she threatens to kill Gideon, even though she’s sick and basically puking the zombie virus out of her. While Gideon is gloating, Callie (Jane’s friend and future girlfriend) shoots towards Gideon, but misses. She then cuts off Jane’s bitten arm. The two of them spend a bit of time in the fallen Nicodemus, looking at all of the zombiefied townspeople and healing so they can leave. They both want to track down Gideon and KILL HIS ASS. Which I support. And now we venture into PART 2 OF THE BOOK BAYBEEEEE. 

The Ugly

→ Gideon

Kae: WE’RE GOING TO OFFICIALLY TALK ABOUT BITCHASS, SKANK-ASS GIDEON. Dawg, when I tell you I HAAATED this man, I mean it. I have never wanted a character to die more than I wanted Gideon to parish. This man caused the fall of not one, but MULTIPLE TOWNS AND THE WHOLE DAMN CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO. 

After the fall of Nicodemus, Jane and Callie set out to track down Gideon. On their tracking adventures, Jane becomes a bounty hunter in order to make money so she can continue on her search for Gideon. Jane is like, a hundred times more badass now. She’s a one armed, zombie slaying, bounty hunter that kills people who have done immense wrong to others. She and Callie learn through their travels that Gideon escaped safely and went on to get funded by some rich folk. In Gideon’s own escapades, he has caused the fall of another small town. And guess how he did that? This IDIOT vaccinated another town and they all turned ‘Shambler’ (zombie). Then he fucks off and escapes so he can’t get in trouble. Jane and Callie make it to California, where Jane hopes to reunite with her mother. There, she kills a man, which pisses Callie off. So while they’re shacked up in a hotel, Callie leaves while Jane is sleeping. And Callie’s punk ass takes all of Jane’s money with her, leaving Jane without anything but the clothes on her back. 

Geena: We don’t stan Callie in this house. If she loved Jane that much she would’ve left her SOME money wtf

Kae: TRUE. SO FUCK, CALLIE. LIL BIIIEEETCH. But yeah, Callie dips tf out and leaves Jane with nothing. Callie DID give Jane the option to come with her and start a new life, but Jane is kind of being fueled by her revenge and it’s blinded her. I feel bad too because Jane is also being haunted by Redjack’s ghost. So there’s that. 

Geena: Gideon the perfect example why ~intellectual~ men don’t deserve ANY rights. He’s so obsessed with his own research and bullshit, he thinks that no one knows what’s best for humanity other than him, that he brings about death and destruction wherever he goes. He’s the reason Nicodemus falls, he’s also the reason that the West Coast (which is seen as shambler free because it’s protected by mountains) also falls… BECAUSE THIS BITCH CAUSES ANOTHER SHAMBLER OUTBREAK with a faulty vaccine. When Jane and Callie decided to hunt him down I was like LIVING!!! LIKE KILL THAT WHITE BOY!! Who cares for nothing other than being successful… Also, the fact that every boy Jane has thought to be cute was trash is killing me… Girl… needs better taste HONESTLY…

Also, while trying to make himself look like a Sad Boy he forcefully injects his vaccine into Katherine… WHICH ALMOST KILLS HER, but SIIIKKEE because Katherine ends up killing him instead 😎 I personally wanted his death to be WORSE and more PAINFUL for all the shit he’s done but Justina Ireland kept it SHORT and Sweet. 

The Good

→ Jane and Katherine

Geena: THE ONE… THE ONE GOOD THING THAT CAME OUT OF THIS DUOLOGY… JANE AND KATHERIN’S FRIENDSHIP… LITERAL RIDE OR DIES... BC JANE TECHNICALLY DIES AT ONE POINT LMAO

Like Kae mentioned earlier, Katherine has fully accepted Jane as a friend by the time they get to Nicodemus, but Jane is still unsure (kinda thinks she isn’t a friend type of person). Katherin reaffirms that she will be there for Jane, but Jane is like Sideyes… But, as the story progresses, after Jane “dies” Katherine spends the rest of the novel constantly thinking of Jane and wishing she had said more.  ALL THE WHILE JANE is killing her way to the West Coast.

When they do meet though it kinda hurt because Jane is essentially like ‘Sorry, the old Jane can’t come to the phone right now... because she’s dead’ and Katherine is like ?????????. Jane believes herself to be a monster, because um… she’s just been bounty hunting bad people and because she’s driven by her rage against Gideon - IMO I don’t think that would’ve made her heartless or a monster, but Callie reiterates that she doesn’t like Jane like that (as a killer)… obviously, her resolve was weaker than Jane’s but n e ways. Katherine is also like ‘omg Jane killed that dude without remorse’ (Jane kills a r*pist in front of her, but Katherine doesn’t know what he did). REGARDLESS, uNLIKE SOMEONE (Callie) Katherine doesn’t give up on Jane and accompanies her wherever Jane goes because she knows she can bring back the old Jane and… when I tell you a bitch was emotional :’) AND ALSO THE ENDING WAS BEAUTIFUL though bittersweet

Kae: Okay, let me just say, from the bottom of my heart, that I absolutely adore Jane and Katherine’s friendship. Jane thinks it was built on their shared experience of being kidnapped, but in reality, it was built on their respect for each other. When Kate first saw Jane, she was SHOOK. And Jane was like ‘oh fuck, be cool. Act like you don’t care.’ and so that happened, as Geena explained above. But Katherine stuck around because that’s her best friend and you never give up on your best friend when they’re going through something. 

Jane continues to be a meanass to Kate, but Katherine ignores it to the best of her ability and pulls her knickers up and keeps by Jane’s side. In this, Katherine notices that Jane calls her by her full name instead of just “Kate”, which was something Jane always did because she knew it annoyed Katherine. So when Jane starts to let down her guard, she slips up and calls her “Kate” and this takes Katherine to the moon! She’s so excited to see her Jane coming back! But Jane is like “whoops, I'm showing feelings. Can’t let that shit happen” and she hunkers back down. 

While Jane was off being dead and bounty hunting, Katherine was on a boat (but I don’t remember doing what) with Lily and Sue (Sue is from Miss Prestons and Nicodemus) and her new friend, a man named Carolina. When they get to California, they realize that it’s not as black friendly as they’d hoped, but it’s presumably safe so that’s what matters. Katherine here’s that San Francisco might offer them a better life, so she and her gang make the trip to get there. That’s when they run into Jane and all the above happens. 

One of my favourite parts is Carolina not liking Jane because his first introduction is killing a man without hesitation. But Katherine is like “Pfffft, oh that’s just Jane! It’s FINE!” all the while internally she’s like ‘omgomgomg wtf’. And that’s when Katherine agrees to help Jane kill Gidon and also find her mother. 

In the end, they kill Gideon’s horrible ass and end up finding Jane’s mother safe and sound in a small settlement in the mountains called New Haven. Jane’s mother is happy to see Jane, but is totally dismissive of Jane's experience and all she had to do to get to her mother again. I felt really bad for Jane because she did EVERYTHING to get back to her mother and her mom was a DICK. Anyway, Jane leaves with Redfern so they can find a new place (as reluctant homies, not as a couple) and Katherine is like “AYO, YOU JUST GONE LEAVE ME WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE, BITCH? I SAID I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND SO WHERE WE GOIN!?” And then all three of them prance off into the sunset with a new goal of finding a better life and man, a bitch (aka me and Geena) were CRYIIIIING because it was so sweet and we just love two best friends who are down for one another.  

Geena: YEEEEEEESSSSSSS, the ending was bittersweet because like Kae mentioned, Jane had been searching for her mother and her Aunt Aggie hoping to find comfort in their arms. But.. when she got to New Haven, the old life she had been desperately longing for was no longer there. Aunt Aggie was dead and her mother had remarried, and like Kae said, she ignored everything Jane had been through- not wanting to share in her daughter’s sorrows. Jane quickly realized that this wasn’t the place for her, and up and leaves, and this is where the sweetness comes in because the whole scene of Katherine running after Jane 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 Like I had been so scared Justina Ireland wouldn’t give them a happy ending, because how can a zombie story end happily, but this was A LOT better than what I had expected… a bitch (Kae and I SDJKFNSD) teared up.. Just wanna thank Kae for hyping up this sequel before I read it because wow… IT REALLY LIVED UP TO THE HYPE 

Conclusion

Geena: Like I said before, this is one of the best sequels I’ve read. Usually, books end up falling flat when you get to the second but Justina Ireland didn’t fall into the same trap. We finally get Katherine’s POV and get to learn why she insists on wearing a corset, and that she’s not as perfect as Jane believed. There’s heart-stopping action and Jane kicking major ass and truly being The Devil’s Bride. Overall, once I finished this I was like Head Empty because I couldn’t read anything afterwards because I had to take time to digest the wild ride the book had been. Also, one of the biggest takeaways (other than ‘white ppl ain’t shit’) was ‘Men don’t deserve rights’ and honestly? Same.  

Kae: So there we have it! The story ended beautifully and I really, really enjoyed it. I still haven’t been able to read anything after finishing it because it was just THAT GOOD. It’s been about a month since I finished it and I’m still reeling from how beautifully written it was. It was really refreshing to read about two black women who had FEELINGS and were able to express them to the reader (because they had a hard time expressing them to each other lmao) and it was just really nice. Katherine’s backstory was great about how she was born in a brothel house and her mother tried to teach her that if she found the right man, she’d be fine. But Katherine didn’t want that. She wanted a life where she could provide for herself and be independent. What she brought with her from her old life was her corset and she wore because she basically felt it would hold her together and suppress her anxiety. 

Geena: Also, reading about the corset again can I say one of my fave details was Sue helping Katherine loosen it whenever they were in a fight… like the moment Jane disappeared Sue was there to help Katherine and support her …. Sue… the most underrated character AND THE FACT SHE GOT HER HAPPY ENDING MARRIED TO A MANS!!!!  

Kae: Jane learned, unfortunately, that not all things are golden. Her old life that she so desperately wanted a taste of, had gone sour. Her mother was no help to Jane and couldn’t even give her the smallest of sympathies. Those two things were initially what kept Jane going (along with her Aunt Aggie), until Gideon showed up and started doing dumb shit. What Jane also learned though, was that people do care about her and even though Katherine wasn’t blood, she was her family and truly loved Jane for who she was, flaws and all. 

It’s a beautiful story about two black women finding themselves and forming an unbreakable friendship. It’s more than fighting zombies and more than surviving. It’s about LIVING and finding a way to deal with all of the problems and anxieties they face along the way. It's a great story and I urge everyone to read it. Yes, it’s fictional history about zombies. BUT, it is very telling of the time period it takes place in and Justina didn’t sugar coat any of the prejudices Black people and Indigenous peoples went through back then and I appreciated that. Deathless Divide is beautiful and poetic and heartwarming in the best of way. <3 

[gigi-sinclair]

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This is entirely for @draculas-gay-daughter, because of this.

Also, the research for this has awakened in me an actual desire to learn to make candles, so thanks for that new quarantine hobby!

It's like, what do they call it, ASMR.

That's what Edward tells himself. Some people find it relaxing to watch strangers pop plastic wrap or flick dry paint brushes or whatever. He happens to find it relaxing to watch Tom Jopson talk about the intricacies of making candles.

He doesn't know how he first landed on “Brighten Your Day With Candles.” Some winding path of Youtube “recommended videos” he wouldn't be able to retrace if he tried, but the moment he found it, Edward was entranced. He watched every one of Tom's ten-to-twenty minute long videos immediately.

Nine months and thirty-four new videos later—Tom took off the weeks of Christmas and New Year's, leaving Edward bereft over the holidays—Edward understands no more about candle making than he did before. Tom, however, is endlessly fascinating.

Edward can't say exactly what it is he finds so alluring. Tom is handsome, with his flopping dark hair and his five o'clock shadow, but Edward sees handsome men all the time. He's clearly very intelligent, but Edward works with some of the biggest minds, not to mention egos, in the country.

There is something else, something which leaves Edward unable to look away. When Tom says, “Adding too much fragrance can, unfortunately, lead to curdling in soy candles” with a look of heart-wrenching empathy in his big eyes, Edward wants to gather him in his arms and give the man a good, solid hug. When he says, “I had news from viewer Jamie in Nova Scotia that they've solved their ongoing issue with wet spots!” Edward wants to kiss him in celebration. And when Tom leans forward, the V-neck of his shirt revealing a patch of dark chest hair, to confide, “Today, we're going to talk about the length of your wick,” Edward offers up a mental apology and reaches for his fly.

Edward thinks his obsession is secret, until one evening his flatmate George says, “Thanks for staying out when I had Emily over the other night.”

“It's fine.” It is in Edward's best interests not to be about when George and his girlfriend get together. There is only so much saccharine sweetness and over-the-top pet names he can handle.

“I really appreciate it. So does she. We wanted to get you a gift.” It's only then Edward notices the bag, printed with pink flowers and the words “It's a Girl!”, in George's hand. “Sorry about the bag,” he adds. “It was the only one I could find.”

Where? Is the question Edward doesn't ask. “That's not necessary, George. Really.”

“Open it!”

Edward tries not to sigh as he opens the gift bag. George's gift-giving history, while admirable in its efforts, is remarkably poor in its execution. The last thing Edward needs is another “Purrrrrfect Friend” mug with a cat’s tail as a handle, or a T-shirt with a Sasquatch on it. It's the thought that counts, he reminds himself, even if that thought is, when it comes to George, quite often incomprehensible.

This gift is just as strange. Edward stares at what appear to be squares of white wax, a roll of string, and several tiny bottles, until George, still smiling, explains, “It was Emily's idea. I told her how you're always watching that candle making channel on Youtube, and she said you're probably dying to give it a go yourself.” He looks at Edward, his expression expectant. “It's great, right?”

“Right.” Edward smiles. “It is. Great. Thanks, mate.”

The next day, Edward buys a pair of headphones.

***

One Wednesday nearly a year after Edward first found him, Tom finishes a talk about gel wax, then leans back on his stool. All of his videos are filmed in the same kitchen, with several little cactus pots on the windowsill and a gleaming sink, spotlessly clean, in the background. Edward wonders if it's Tom's own kitchen. If the rest of the room, or the house or flat, is as tidy as what he shows. If he lives with anybody. No one else is ever on the videos, although that doesn't mean Tom doesn't have a friend or a flatmate or a partner behind the camera.

“I'm really going to miss you,” Tom says, putting the gel candles aside. Edward's heart seizes. “But I won't be making any new videos for the next little while, because I'm going on a book tour!” He holds up the book, also entitled “Brighten Your Day With Candles”, he's been showing for the last few weeks. Edward ordered it the first time he saw it. He feels like he owes Tom at least that much. “I am so excited,” Tom says. He looks it, but Edward has never seen him be anything but sincere. “Unfortunately, it's just in south east England at the moment—sorry Jen in San Luis Obispo, I can't make it out to California this time, although I would love to someday—but I would really like to meet as many of you as possible. My complete schedule is below. See you soon!” He waves. Edward is about to scroll down to the comments, then hesitates.

What would he say if he met Tom in person? That he thinks Tom is the most incredible man he's ever seen? That he's watched every one of Tom's videos multiple times, and still knows nothing about making candles? That he often pictures Tom talking authoritatively about long burn times and multiple layers while Edward blows him? It's disgusting, inappropriate, probably illegal.

With a shake of his head, Edward puts the thought of meeting Tom Jopson entirely out of his mind.

***

At one time, Edward loved his career. That was before the company president died suddenly and his role was taken over by two co-presidents, promoted from within, who have a long history of conflict and have used Edward as a go-between, the miserable child of an unfriendly divorce, for months now.

It saps Edward's energy to the point that he doesn't have the will to look for another job. He just goes to work every day, suffers, and comes home to brighten his day with candles. Until one night, when George meets him at the door.

“Don't take your coat off,” he tells Edward. “We're going out.”

“I really don't feel like...”

“You will. Trust me.” Edward doesn't. They're great friends, but Edward doesn't trust him a bit. The feeling is vindicated when they arrive at the local Waterstone's, and George pushes him inside.

Tom is even more beautiful in person. His stubble looks like it's deliberate rather than the result of a long day, although Edward has always found that very charming in itself. He's wearing a smart white button-up shirt, and the smile he directs at the woman in front of him is so brilliant, Edward feels weak.

“No.” Edward turns to go.

George stops him. “Why not? It's the guy you like, isn't it?”

“It's...I don't...What am I going to say?”

“That you're a big fan? Even though you still haven't used that candle stuff Emily and I got you?” George looks at him pointedly. “Get him to sign your book.”

“I don't have it with...”

George reaches into his satchel and presses “Brighten Your Day With Candles” on him. “Get in the queue,” he says, in that imperious tone he sometimes has. “I'll wait in the café.”

Edward's stomach churns, but he follows George's direction, joining the queue behind a middle-aged woman and her teenage daughter. There are two other people ahead of them. It’s long enough for Edward to regret his entire life up to this point, not long enough to gather the wherewithal to walk away.

When Edward reaches the table, Tom's smile becomes even more brilliant. “You're Edward, right?”

Edward's carefully thought out opening words—“Good work”—disappear. “How did you...”

“Your friend George sent me a message.” Of course he fucking did. Edward is going to kill him. Is actually going to put his hands around his throat and...“He told me you'd be here.”

“Hm.” Edward has no idea what to say. His mind is entirely blank. He searches desperately, a quest which eventually arrives at, “Yes.”

“You like my videos?” Tom holds out his hand. Edward shakes it, then, face burning, realizes Tom was reaching for the book. Edward drops it onto the table. It thunks loudly.

“Yes,” Edward repeats.

“Do you have a favourite type of candle?” Tom opens the book and turns to the title page.  

“Wax ,” Edward replies, because his brain has apparently given up on this situation as entirely unsalvageable.

Tom laughs, as if that was a joke. He scrawls something in the book, then closes it and hands it back to Edward. “Thanks for watching, Edward. I really appreciate a loyal viewer like you.” He holds Edward's gaze as he says it.

Edward swallows around the lump in his throat. Edward has never done well in front of others. If he and Tom were alone, Edward might be able to come up something halfway coherent. Maybe. They're not.

“Thanks,” he says. He could swear Tom throws him a wink as he walks away.

It's that, along with the general humiliation, that leads Edward to duck out of view between Interior Design and Gardening. He opens the book to see what Tom wrote.

The words “For Edward” and a scribble that could be Tom's signature lie across the title page. Beneath that is a series of numbers. It takes Edward a moment longer than he wants to admit to realize it’s a phone number. He's not that lucky, usually. But he's also not this stupid.

His heart still hammering, Edward takes out his phone. I'm not really an idiot, Edward types, then sends the text before he can think twice. He glances at Tom, deep in conversation with a young woman in denim overalls, and goes to murder George.

Two hours later, Edward is sitting on the sofa at home when his phone trills. You don't seem like one. It's too kind. Just like he expected Tom would be. Can I buy you a coffee? Or better yet a drink?

“Who's that?” George asks, without looking up from his laptop. He doesn't need to. His entire body exudes smugness.

“Mind your own business,” Edward says. But, he adds silently, thank God you never do.

***

The rest of Tom's flat is as tidy as the kitchen he shows on his videos. It's also, amazingly, less than half an hour's drive from Edward's place. In addition to that, Tom has a day job at a shop Edward has passed hundreds of times, which he's always derogatorily classified as “candles, crystals and shit” and avoided.

“So if you hadn't been such a snob, darling,” Tom tells him, with a smile and a kiss, “we might have met a long time ago.”

Edward can't deny that. He can, however, deny that it's a good idea for him to join Tom on screen.

“Don't worry.” Tom sets up his phone on its tripod and comes back around the counter. “Just pretend it's not even there.” He kisses Edward again, on the cheek, then turns to the camera. “Welcome back, everyone! We have a very special guest today. This is my gorgeous boyfriend Edward, and we're going to help him make his very first candle!”

Tom posts the video later that evening. Not long afterwards, the comments start appearing. Normally, Edward would avoid them—he knows what Youtube commenters are like, and he never wants to see any criticism of Tom—but this time, he looks. To his surprise, there are several remarks about him. “Edward's so cute!” “OMG ur bf is the sweetest!” And, “That Edward guy really is great. I think you should have him on every episode.” The username beside that one is “PianoMan86” and the picture is the same one George uses on Instagram.

Bloody George. Fortunately, Edward thinks, looking at the slightly lumpy candle he produced with his own two hands, he has the perfect gift for him.

“Edward!” Tom calls, from his room down the hall. “Are you coming?”

Before they met, Edward assumed Tom would be the kind of guy who lights a million candles in the bedroom. In fact, he only ever lights one, but it never fails to have the perfect luminosity and fragrance for the mood.

“Yes.” Edward puts down his phone and hurries to join him. As amazing as he is on Youtube, Tom is unspeakably better offline.  

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

Five Years Time

A/N: I went to Riverside (future birth place of our boy Jim) the other day and got inspired to write something more about his days before Starfleet. So here’s a bunch of random bits and bobs I had laying around all pieced together into one story. If y’all like it, lemme know cuz I got a lot more. 

Summary: You and Jim have known each other your whole life, but your relationship hasn’t always been an easy one. 

James Tiberius Kirk had been the bane of your existence since he had cheated at a game of freeze tag when you were four. You couldn’t, of course, prove that he had, but you knew what you saw. It was your word against his and he was older and more charismatic than any five-year-old had the right to be. He had the whole playground against you in under ten minutes. Without realizing it, Jim had started a war that was beginning to look like it would out live at least one of you. 

“I know it was you!” Jim shouted, dropping his backpack to the ground. 

“Know what was me?” you asked in feigned ignorance. You didn’t open your eyes or tilt your head towards him, too occupied with the sunshine of the first warm day all year. Your forearms, resting against the top of the picnic table, propped you up as you leaned your back against it, your face turned skyward. 

“Don’t play games with me, (Y/N)! I almost got detention because of that stunt you pulled!” 

“And I’m still working off detentions for your stunt last month. All’s fair.” You tried to fight off the smiling attempting to creep onto your face.

“You have no remorse, do you?” he asked. 

“For this? No. For this I have nothing but pride and a deep sense of satisfaction.” The smile won, taking over your face. 

“You’re a real piece of work, ya know that?” 

When you didn’t respond, he slammed his hand down on the table beside your arm. He was angry and he wanted to channel it into something, and you, being the person who usually caused his anger, were his number one choice. 

Well, if he wanted a fight, you’d give him one. 

You snapped your eyes open, lowering your chin to gare at him. He was leaning over you, but you didn’t react to his closeness. 

“I’m a real piece of work?” you repeated. “When you go to the store, your ego has to ride in a separate car. I’d hate to think how unbearable you’d be, if I wasn’t here to knock you down a peg or two. If it’s even possible to be more unbearable than you already are.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up into that stupid smirk that you hated so much. “I really get under your skin, don’t I?” 

“Like the tick you are.” 

“You wound me,” he said with mocked offence. 

You shoved him back so you could stand. “You’re such a jackass.” 

“Says the shithead who’s made my life a living hell since kindergarten!” he shot back. 

“You brought it on yourself!” 

“You’re crazy!” He stepped back and threw both arms out to gesture at you. “I’m looking at a fucking lunatic!” 

“If I wasn’t raised right, you’d be looking at me through a black eye!” you told him. 

“Take your best shot!” he dared. 

Stepping forward, you balled the front of his shirt up in your hand and raised your other hand into a fist. His expression changed, eyes going wide and jaw going slack. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to make good on your threat. If you were being honest, you hadn’t either. You’re body seemed to be making its own decisions, and just as quickly as it had decided to punch him, it change its mind. Instead of your knuckles slamming into the side of his face, your lips slammed into his. 

Two Years Later

Jim pushed his broccoli around his plate, only half listening to the lecture he was getting about inappropriate behavior. He looked up ready to defend himself but his jaw clamped shut when he saw you through the window behind his mother. His eyes widened as you pointed up to his window. He gave you a miniscule nod that he hopped only you noticed, before turning his attention back to his mom.

“You’re right.” 

Wynonna stopped talking, taken aback. Not once had her son agreed with her about his punishable actions. 

“I’m going to go to my room and think really hard about what I did and how I can better myself as an individual.” He slowly got up from his chair and backed out of the room. “And do my homework. My teachers thinking I’m nothing but a delinquent is no reason to let my grades slip. Dinner was delicious. Love you.” 

As soon as he was in the hall, he broke into a sprint, racing up the stairs and to his bedroom window. He pushed it open and dropped his hands to the windowsill, preventing you from entering. 

“You can’t keep running away here,” he kept his voice low to prevent letting his mother in on your secret rendezvous. 

“Where is this negative attitude coming from, Jimathy?” You easily pushed one of his arms aside and crawled through the threshold. 

“Your dad hates me,” he said, turning so he was still facing you as you moved into the room. 

“He does not hate you. He says you're gifted.” You shrugged your backpack off onto the bed. 

It was true. Less than an hour ago you had been forced to listen to yet another rant from your father about how much potential Jim had and how he was wasting it on his ridiculous stunts. He could never seem to decide if he was happy that Jim and all his glorious wasted potential were in your life or not. 

“Really? Because to my face he calls me a bad influence, who’s the root of all your problems.” 

“I don’t have problems,” you grumbled, “He’s the one with problems.” 

“Jim!” Wynonna called from down the stairs. “Why is (Y/N)’s dad calling me?”

“Speak of the dad-vil,” you whispered. 

“That was terrible. Stay here,” he ordered as he went out into the hall. “Maybe he wants to reminisce about the good old days?” Jim offered loudly. “Isn’t that what people your age do?”

“Is she here?” 

“Do you really think I could hide a whole, grown person in my room without you knowing about it?” he asked in turn. 

“Is she in trouble?” 

“Not one bit.” 

“Are you lying to me?” 

“Obviously!” 

“Okay.” You heard her answer the phone and walk out of hearing range. 

Neither you nor Jim dared to move. There was one hundred and one ways this phone call could end and neither of you wanted to risk making it worse. 

You glanced around his bedroom. The shelves were lined with old books and models of starship. Retro Starfleet recruitment posters hung from the walls between his Beastie Boys posters and glow-in-the-dark stars. Through his open closet door you could see his dad’s old uniform still hanging, though shoved back against the wall. It was all the remnants of dreams long forgotten. It reminded you of when you were little and he used to regal the playground with stories of when his parents had been in the fleet. They were all so inspiring. The gleam in his eyes when he would announce that one day he would be the captain of a starship made you hate him a little less, even back then. He used to want to be someone. He was driven towards his goals. He had always been a little menese and a troublemaker, but he was headed somewhere. Where had that boy gone? 

Two minutes later Wynonna was back at the bottom of the stairs. “Remember in middle school when you two hated each other and spent every waking minute trying to destroy each other?” 

“Uh… yeah?” Jim answered. 

“I miss those days. That man hates this family.” She sighed. “Tell her to go home.” 

“But Mom, she’s upset!” 

“The only fugitive I harbour in this house is you, young man.” 

“Mooooom,” he whined. 

“Don’t make me come up there and use my captain voice,” she threatened. 

“Fine! I’ll send her home.” 

“Good. I’ll see you in two weeks when you aren’t grounded!” she called up to you. 

“TWO WEEKS?” you both yelled in unison. 

“You know the deal. When the fire department has to get involved it’s two weeks.”

“Fine!” he shouted again and Wynonna walked away satisfied. 

The chief engineer of one of the posters smiled down at you.

Reach for the stars!

Something clicked in your head. Jim came back into his room to find you digging an old gym bag out from his closet. 

“What are you doing?”

You smiled wickedly and tossed the bag at him. “I’m breaking you out.”

Something seemed to click in his head too and he shook his head. “I’m stuck on a road going downhill fast. I’m not dragging you will me. Not anymore. Go back home. Apologize to your dad. Live your life. Be somebody great.” 

“It’s too late. You’ve turned me into a hoodlum. You didn’t even have to drag me. I came willingly. I don’t care what you do, I will always come with. And I’m not becoming someone great without you.” You opened a drawer to encourage him to pack. “Let’s go to San Francisco.” 

“California? You dream big, kid.” He pecked you on the lips on his way to his dresser. “How far do you think we’ll get?” 

“Oh, we won’t even make it to Wyoming.” You dropped down next to your bag on his mattress, watching him pack. Maybe if you could show him what he used to dream about he would start to dream again. Maybe he would be the boy he used to and he would take you with him. 

“At least we have realistic expectations to go with our big dreams.”

Five Years Later 

The warm air that filled the bar hit you like a wall when you opened the doors. Loud conversations and clinking glass surrounded you as you walked through the tables, headed straight for the bar. Leaning across the wood surface, you caught the bartender's attention. 

“You seen Jim?” you yelled over the noise. 

Before he got the chance to answer, there was a shout followed by the sound of someone being thrown into a table. 

Taking in a deep breath, you forced a smile,“Nevermind.” 

You pushed yourself away from the bar and headed to the fight that had broken out. You grabbed the back of the collar of a man whose fists were flying wildly and yanked him back. Thankful that he was drunk enough that it was fairly easy. 

“Take a walk, bud.” You patted his chest and spun him towards the door. 

“Beautiful,” Jim grinned from the floor, “What are you doing here?” 

“Aren’t I always here when you’re doing something stupid?” You held your hand out and heaved him to his feet. 

“Just for the record,” he started, straightening out his jacket and letting you push him onto a stool without argument, “he started it. So really he’s the stupid one.” 

“He started it?” you echoed. “Are you eight?” 

“And a half.”

Rolling your eyes, you picked up the dish towel filled with ice cubes the bartender set in front of you and smiled your thanks. As much as you hated to admit it, one of the two of you getting in a fight here had become a somewhat regular occurrence over the years, and the bartender was always ready and never phased. 

“Why do always have to go looking for trouble?” You held the ice up to his already swollen eye. 

“I get bored when you aren’t here to create it.” 

Your hand dropped a centimeter away from his face. “I don’t create trouble.” 

Jim raised his eyebrows, questioning your resolve on the matter.

Creating trouble was one of your biggest skills, but you weren’t going to admit that. Not now. Not when you held the moral high ground. Not that it mattered. You had admitted to it a thousand times to him. Even if you hadn’t it wasn’t something you could hide. Not that you could hide anything from Jim. 

“We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about your dumb ass and how you refuse to get your head out of it.” You pushed the ice back against his skin a little too forcefully. “You’re better than this. You were meant for more than being a bar rat.” 

“What are you doing here, (Y/N)?” 

“I needed some air,” you said bruskly.

“They don’t have air in San Francisco?” 

“No.” You focused on keeping the ice against the slowly developing bruise so you wouldn’t have to look him directly in the eye.  

“What happened?” His bright blue eyes looked right through you. They knew every little tick, habit, and quirk you had. They could read you like a book, tell exactly what was bothering you, figure out what kind of day you had within moments. Even if they were a little drunk.  

“I told you we're not talking about me.” 

“Usually when you’re yelling at me, it’s about you. So tell me what’s going on.” He reached out for your free hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “What did you do that you think is so bad?” 

“I’ve,” your eyes drifted to the floor, your voice dropped in volume to the point where you weren’t sure if he could hear you, “been demoted.” 

You didn’t look back up until you felt his hand wrap around your wrist and pull it away from his face. Slipping the makeshift ice pack from your grasp and setting it back on the bar, he pulled you from your stool and through the maze tables and chairs to the door.  

“Where are we going?” 

“You said you needed some air.” He pushed the door open and tugged your hand up so you were walking next to him. 

The small town was all but deserted. It felt like you were the only two people in the universe. You walk down the empty sidewalk in silence. He doesn’t push you to say anything more about what happened, but eventually it all comes out in one big rush. 

“It wasn’t anything major. Not really. No lives were lost. A few eyebrows were. Honestly the whole thing was blown way out of proportion. And it wasn’t even really a demotion. Not really. They just took away some of my responsibilities and respect. I’m sure they’ll get over it in a few weeks and I’ll have my job back, but,” you stopped to catch your breath, “I couldn’t be there. Not right now.” 

“So that’s why you're here.” He guided you to a small park. “You’re hiding.” 

“I’m not hiding from anyone,” you said indignantly, before smiling up at him. “I’m here to see you.” 

“Right. Because you’ve never used that one before.” 

“Fine, maybe I am hiding from my highly critical superiors.” You threw up your free hand. “Maybe I’m hiding from the whole damn thing. Are you going to stop me? Is this where you draw the line? I’ve run away to you one too many times?” 

“No.” 

“I just can’t breath there. All day it's ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ and ‘right away, sir. Everybody is sir. The friggin’ worms in the lawn are sir. And they’re constantly telling what to do.” 

“The worms?” 

“Might as well be!” 

“Do you listen?” 

“I’m my own person. Who are they to tell me what to do?” 

“Your bosses?” he offered. 

“So what? Just because they have a few extra stripes on their sleeves they get to dictate my life? I don’t think so. I’ll do what I want when I want.” You glared straight ahead, trying to ignore the voice in your head that was telling you that you were being stupid.

“And look where that got you. Couple of blown off eyebrows and a red mark on your record.” 

“Like you’ve never caused an explosion,” you grumbled.

“I’m not the one who just got demoted.” 

“No, you’re just the one throwing his life away at Murphy’s.” 

He let go of your hand and came to a stand still on the sidewalk. “Hey. I thought shit on Jim time was over.” 

“I’m not shitting on you. I’m just,” you sighed. 

You had moved out to San Francisco and joined Starfleet because of him. He hadn’t asked, but it had been being around him and his mother that made you do it. You had always secretly believed that he would come with you. You tried not to bitter about the fact that he didn’t. Key word: tried.

“I’m sorry.” You turned to face him. “You are the smartest person I have ever met.” You placed a hand on his chest. “You have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. You were made to do more than this. You could be so much more.” 

“What if I don’t want to be more?” he asked. “What if I’m happy where I am?” 

You smiled sadly. “You can lie to yourself, Jim, but I know when you’re happy.” You forced your smile into your usual wicked smirk. “I think you’re just afraid of the competition.”

[jj-lynn21]

Cozy Cove:  A side of tits with your pancakes

song: Creedence Clearwater Revival - Suzie Q. warnings: light smut perhaps, cheesy romance most definitely, a dash of angst.

Saved by an Angel , A side of tits with your pancakes ,Fires Burn Hot , spending the nights , Learning and Loving , The end id not always the end,    Axel Grease, Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis, Late night fun , Old Wounds , Storms pass , Dangerous Waters

Susie relaxes in a lounge chair on the sand a few feet away from the beach cottage she is staying at with her parents. The sun is already hot at early day break. Her iced mocha is beside her. A book, California dreaming, is in her hand.

 Axel saunters up throwing his shadow over her. She grins internally, but keeps reading as if she doesn't notice.

"Hey," He bounces from one foot to other nervously, "What's up?"

"Reading," She didn't look at him when she answered. "No dangerous activities to do this morning?"

Axel  chuckled, "not at the moment." He runs his hand through his hair winces as he goes over the stitches. He keeps forgetting they are there until he touches them. "You want to go for a walk on the beach? That shouldn't put me in too much peril."

Susie taps the front of her book with one finger.

"Oh, yeah you're reading," He bounces a little more before he turns to walk away ego a little deflated. "I guess. I'll catch ya later."

She rolls her eyes as she closes her book with a bookmarker saving her place. "Maybe, you will catch me." 

She giggles and he turns back around surprised. "I didn't think you would give up so easily Axel." She gets up and runs down the empty beach. 

Axel runs after her. "I just knew you wanted to be chased. I wanted you to get a good head start Susie Q." 

Her Mother has been watching her and the tattooed local from the kitchen window. "What do think of this, Richard?" Her Mother motions for her Father to also eavesdrop. "I'm not so sure she should be hanging around with a local that probably goes through vacationing women like tissue."

Susie's Father glances out the window, "He looks pretty nervous to me. That is not the stance of a regular local predator. Plus, Susie is twenty-seven years old, and she has made good decisions in her life so far. Let her have some fun. We have to trust we raised a strong girl, Sandra."

"I suppose we do," She takes a deep breath as she sees her daughter run off laughing and the boy running after her daughter down the beach until they are too far to see.

 Susie runs down the beach laughing until she can barely catch her breath. When Axel catches up, he grabs her from behind picking her up. He spins as she kicks her feet outward until he falls back on the sand. 

Susie looks up in his memorizing emerald eyes, "I guess you caught me, Axel."

Axel has his elbow propping up his head in the sand as he catches his breath, "I think you wanted me to catch you, Susie Q." He smiles as his free hand runs up her side moving to go under her tank top. 

Susie pushes his hand down to her hip. "I'm not as easy as other vacationers you might have been involved with."

He puts his hands behind his head before laying back. "I'm not fucking every female that comes through town like that. I have had relationships with some local chicks that didn't work out for a multitude of reasons and on occasion I have had fun with those that come to vacation her but I don't make it a habit. I learned most people that vacation here use me as part of the atmosphere. Just another vacation story to tell their friends. I don't want to be a good vacation story. I rather be a good friend someone makes while vacationing and maybe even keep in touch. Its stupid thinking really." He sighs deeply looking up at the puffy white clouds floating in the blue sky of sunshine.

She leans over on his shoulder. "Sorry Axel. To many guys are assholes."

He puts an arm around her and runs the tips of his finger over her arm. "I know. Is this ok?"

"Yeah," she got chills from the sensation but it was nice. 

They laid there in a comfortable silence watching the clouds pass for longer than they realized. Axel's stomach made an audible growling sound.  

"Have you had breakfast yet?" He kept his eyes up and his fingers gliding up and down her arm. 

"No, just most of my coffee," She had to admit she was hungry. 

"I know a place we can get the best pancakes and eggs," He got up and offered her his hand.

She jumped up letting him help her but had a huge smirk on her face, "Let me guess, your place?"

"Boy you have run into some assholes," He shook his head. "We are going to Karen's. Its the diner in town. Best pancakes and eggs you will ever have. I promise you that."

"Let's go," She smiled. 

They walk hand-in-hand over to his motorcycle. He gets on and grabs the keys waiting for Susie to join him. 

She gets on the back reluctantly. "Is this thing really safe without a helmet?"

Axel starts the cycle revving it a little, "The safest thing you will have vibrating between your legs this summer."

"What was that?" She yells over the rev.

"Just hold on Susie Q." He starts off.

She wraps her arms around his middle laying her head against his back. Axel goes the speed limit for once since he got the beast. Its twenty-five through town, and he barely goes that fast wanting her to get use to the riding before showing her what real power can feel like at a good speed. She leans with him into the turns which take her breath away. It is scary but also exhilarating. They pull in behind the restaurant in minutes. 

Axel walks her around the building to the entrance where he sees his brothers and co-workers inside. He freezes, "Maybe we should come back after the breakfast crowd clears out?"

"Don't be silly,": She slaps his chest. "Its not that crowded."

"Yeah, alright," He quickly drags her through the restaurant to a booth he thinks is a little more secluded. Puts the menus up to hide them even more just at the waitress comes over to take their order.

"What will it be?" The young waitress looks to Axel with a big smile. "Hey Axel, the usual today?"

"That would be great Jen." He smiles back.

"Are you working this afternoon," She bites at the inside of her lip. "I have been meaning to stop by for you to check under my hood. Could use an oil change or something more." She doesn't even choose to notice Susie.

"I probably have time to give your car an oil change," Axel rubbed the back of his neck. "I work two until ten tonight. Susie is going to get the same breakfast as I do. I told her they make the best pancakes in town here." Axel reach over to told Susie's hand.

"Oh hey," Jen finally acknowledged her. "Oranges juices with that?"

They both nodded yes. Axel's brother Josh noticed them just as the waitress walked away. He hoped over the seat beside Susie and put his arm around her. "If you ever want a man that will save you instead of you having to save him, I'm around, babe." 

Axel glared at him. He was just about to call him out when Susie spoke up as she pulled away from Josh, "Go play in the kiddy pool," She stared at Josh coldly. "The only one that needs saving is you if you don't remove your arm."

Josh jumps back removing his arm and laughs, "Alright miss feisty." He stands and slaps Axel's shoulder as everyone stares at the situation. 

Axel smirks, "Don't you have to get to work. The beach opens to the public in ten minutes."

"Yeah man, I'll catch you later at the bonfire tonight." He walks out still a little stunned the vacationer put him in his place like that.

"Here you go summer girl," Jen put their drinks on the table. "Axel, she smiles. Pancakes and eggs will be right up sweet boy."

Axel blushes, "Thanks Jen."

Susie smirked, "You date her or something?"

"I would maybe rank it under or something," Axel fumbled with her fingers in his hand. "You sure put Josh in his place quickly. I was about to deck him, Susie Q.:"

"And then I take both of you bleeding to your Father?" She chuckled. "Glad I spoke up when I did then. Let's try to keep you from getting hurt the rest of the time I am here." 

"No promises but I'll do my best." Axel chuckled, "You want to go..."

"Here is your pancakes and eggs," Jen smiles showing off the deep cleavage of her tight uniform that hugged every curve perfectly. "And multi syrups since i know you like variety."

He look up at her eyes, "Thanks, this will do fine for now." 

Susie sat back crossing her arm just waiting for the waitress to leave. As soon as Jen left she leaned  forward again as Axel started to eat. "You were saying before the waitress put her tits in your face?"

Axel swallowed his bite. It felt heavy in his throat as he heard Susie's claim which he knew was true. He took a big gulp of his juice before answering. "Susie Q. will you go to the bonfire with me tonight after I get off work? Or maybe just meet me there if you don't want to wait until close to eleven to go?"

"I will think about it." She pours some pecan syrupy on her pancakes. "So what is with the Susie Q. shit anyway?" She said gruffly. She is unsure if she wants to go to some townie bonfire with Axel's asshole brother, probably his other asshole brother and more chicks falling all over Axel that he fucked. The more she thought about it the more pissed off she got which she tried to hide on the outside by stabbing her food to eat it. 

"That's cool," Axel takes another bite of his breakfast looking around. "You need to hear something to know why I like calling you Susie Q." He gets up and goes to the Jukebox updated with digital recordings but still older music from the 50s, 60s and 70s. He pushed a few buttons and a song started playing. He sat back down. 

"This is one of my favorite songs on here for some reason." He finishes his orange juice as the long musical interlude played on. "It is called Suzie Q. by Creedence Clearwater Revival."

Susie gives him a half smile. Her anger still slightly bubbling. What breaks her is when Axel begins to sing. He sings bad. Really awful actually, but there is a lot of heart behind it.

Axel sings: Oh, Susie Q, Oh, Susie Q Oh, Susie Q, Baby I love you, Susie Q I like the way you walk I like the way you talk I like the way you walk I like the way you talk, Susie Q

Well, say that you'll be true well, say that you'll be true, Well, say that you'll be true and never leave me blue, Susie Q

Well, say that you'll be mine well, say that you'll be mine, Well, say that you'll be mine, baby all the time, Susie Q

Oh Susie Q, Oh Susie Q Oh Susie Q, Baby I love you, Susie Q

I like the way you walk I like the way you talk I like the way you walk I like the way you talk, Susie Q.

Oh Susie Q, Oh susie Q Oh Susie Q, Baby I love you, Susie Q 

The restaurant clears out his singing is so bad.. Or maybe everyone is done with their breakfast ready to open other local business to the tourists staying or coming in for the day. Susie is laughing and smiling. It is a little embarrassing but also real sweet.. "I get it now Axel. I get it and I love it."

His brother Eric walks over to him with a coffee to go before he starts his construction job. He leans down to whisper, "Maybe, you shouldn't sing in public." He looks to Susie with a smile. "Good to see you again. Susie, is it?"

"Yes, and you are?" Susie smirked.

"This is my older brother Eric." Axel introduces them. "Eric, Susie is the girl that saved me."

"I figured." Alex took a sip of his coffee. "Have a good day. I'm bringing my guitar tonight and you will hear some good singing." he chuckles as he leaves.

"All your brothers like to bust your balls, don't they?" Susie suggested.

Jen came to clear the dishes. Her breasts blatantly tosses in Axel's view again. "Two checks today?"

Susie said, "Yes."

Axel looked around the waitress, "No, let me get it as a thank you, Susie Q."

Susie nodded, "Ok, one check." She smiled taking his hand as she ignored the waitress.

Axel paid and they walked out to his motorcycle. He sits on the edge and pulls her between his legs. "Sorry, that wasn't the nice breakfast I want to have with you."

"The Pancakes were excellent as you said they would be." She ran her fingers through his hair. "But I could have done without the side of tits."

They both laughed.

[elusive---ivory]

Circus Act - 6

WARNING: VIOLENCE

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Sandy woke up the next morning. Her bed was empty, but there was a note left on the bedside table.

Deer Sandy,

I haf gone out to work. I wiil b bac soon.

I love you,

Arthur ت

Sandy smiled at the note. Arthur couldn't spell to save his own life, but Sandy found that endearing.

She couldn't help, but wonder where Dennis went off to. It seemed like he just disappeared overnight.

Not that Sandy really cared anymore. As she turned on the television, all her questions were answered.

"In other news, 3 men were killed last night on a subway. They appeared to be heading home, when a man in a clown mask snuck up behind them, and shot them several times. The men identified in the murder were Ryan Travis Williams, Johnathan Richard Wright jr., and Dennis James Cullen. Our hearts go out to the families of these men."

Sandy's eyes widened. Tears were sweeping down her face, but why?

Why was she crying over this monster?

Her face seemed to twitch into a smile. She cried out of the pure joy that he was dead. Her tears disappeared as she showered away the pain and sorrow that Dennis indulged on her.

Arthur arrived at Haha's, cleaning out his locker. The others in the background were discussing the events that happened last night.

"I heard it was a clown mask." One of them said.

"Hey, Arthur. I'm sorry that the boss threw the book at ya, mate." Gary said, walking up to Arthur.

Arthur shrugged, cleaning out his locker.

"Did you really bring a gun to a children's hospital, Artie? What the fuck is wrong with you?" A clown grumbled.

"Where the hell did you did a gun from?" Another clown asked.

Arthur smirked. "Why didn't you ask Randall? I still owe you for that, don't I?" He chuckled, pointing at Randall.

"What? Stop talking out of your ass, Art." Randall growled.

Arthur rolled his eyes, honking a horn. "Oh no, I forgot to punch out." He laughed, punching the clock in box over and over until it fell down off the wall.

Sandy stood outside, smoking a cigarette. Evening had come by so quickly, Sandy didn't even notice. She smiled, watching the sunset from her balcony.

"Did you hear about Dennis? God, it's awful." Dee said, over the phone.

"Believe it or not, Dee. I'm actually glad. This is exactly what I wanted." Sandy had a big smile on her face.

"That's a bit harsh, even for you, Sandy." Dee said, surprised.

"Dee, I feel young again." Sandy sighed, dreamily. "Dennis was such a burden on me. I can't go back to that."

"Well, I'm happy for you. Not to ruin your mood or anything, but Des is coming to town." Dee gulped.

Destiny was Dee's twin sister. She had an ego as well as a very pretentious attitude. Sandy's uncle, Charles, was a rich man that fueled the girl's behavior. Des was very smart, but never put her smarts to good use.

Des was always jealous of Sandy, because she was with Dennis, despite knowing about Dennis, and how much of a monster he really was.

Sandy facepalmed over the telephone. "Ugh. Why?" She groaned.

"Well, she's been saying that California's been boring, and she's been missing home. Who knows? Maybe she's changed." Dee shrugged.

"Yeah right." Sandy scoffed. "I gotta go, Dee. I'll call you later." Afterwards she hung up.

Sandy turned on the television again.

"Tonight, we're giving an exclusive interview with Thomas Wayne about the subway murders that happened just last week."

"Now, Mr Wayne, I know that it's a difficult time for you, and we thank you for being here with us tonight."

Sandy crossed her arms. Thomas Wayne was one of those men that were very scummy deep down. Sandy had met him once or twice at a company party. It wasn't until Dennis made top salesman that he was even invited to those parties.

"Well, I didn't know them, personally, but like all Wayne employees, past and present, they're family."

Sandy rolled her eyes as Thomas Wayne spoke on the television. She knew damn well that Thomas didn't care about his employees. Sandy's darkest moments were caused by Dennis not getting a promotion or just a rough day at work. Sandy deeply despised the man.

"It seems that our less fortunate residents are taking the side of the killer."

"Yes, and it's a shame. It's one of the reasons why I'm considering running for mayor. Gotham has lost its way."

"And what about the eye witness account, saying that the killer wore a clown mask of some kind."

"Well, it makes total sense. What kind of coward would do something so cold blooded? Someone who hides behind a mask. Someone who is envious of those more fortunate than themselves, yet they're too scared to show they're own face. Until those kind of people change for the better, those of us who've made something of our lives, will always look at those who haven't as nothing but clowns."

Sandy could feel her anger boiling through her skin. She could feel herself unraveling, and become violent. Her fist bled as she slammed it into the television. Shattered glass scattered the living room. Shattered glass that she had to clean up.

Taglist: @princessgeekface, @memory-mortis, @joker-flecked-me, @jokerflecker, @gloomyladyy