#I doubt Matt would throw away the characters

[bennettmaximoff]

Damon was incredibly protective and loving of Bonnie and ended up being her soulmate in the books, and the tvd writers thought “Hm, let’s make him a complete asshole to her throughout the entire show and hurt her at every given opportunity.” They took one look at how Stefan and Bonnie’s friendship was progressing throughout S1-S2 and decided to completely retcon it and started having him disregard her the same way everyone else did. You see, none of the main male characters were allowed to have actual meaningful connections with her because god forbid Bonnie be considered a potential love interest for them and not their self inserts. Damon can’t even tell Bonnie he loves her without them making sure to include “The same way Elena loved you.”

It’s the same reason why they didn’t have Bonnie attend the Mikaelson ball even though her being there made more sense than Matt or Caroline attending since the literal hostess was going to be siphoning her bloodline’s magic. She couldn’t be seen dressed up in a pretty gown like the other girls and dance with any of the male characters because again, god forbid Bonnie be held in the same regard as the other girls and ever thought of as a potential love interest for anyone besides throw away characters. It’s the same with Bonnie not interacting with any of the Mikaelson’s outside of her protecting the MFG from them. There are numerous connections between the Mikaelson’s and the Bennetts. Ayana Bennett was Esther’s mentor and seemed to be incredibly close to all her children. Abby desiccated Mikael, Esther wanted to use the Bennett Bloodline. Yet, not once are these connections explored. These could have potentially been some of the best storylines in the show, but that would have required the writers to not be prejudice and have biases towards certain characters.

But all this begs the question…if you’re going to make a character black or a poc so you can meet the diversity requirements, yet still neglect their character and use them as nothing but a shield to your white characters, then what is the point? Because I have no doubt that if they kept Bonnie’s race the same, she would have gotten the same opportunities as the other girls and wouldn’t be seen as just a mule. She would have still been poorly written, not debating that, but she would have been treated entirely differently by the writers and the fans.

[daisymylove]

 Right, I may get some heat for this, but here we go. MAJOR SPOILERS OF CHOT AHEAD, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

As someone who had been waiting for this book for TWO YEARS, my main take away is that Chain of thorns ended being an utter disappointment. As a former fan of Game of thrones, and other fans will get my meaning, I say this book gives me season 8 vibes: a ludicrous and incomplete conclusion to something that could’ve been epic, marinated on wasted potential.The thing is, we KNOW everything will turn out alright with the world at the end and the villains will fail, after all, this is a prequel on a ya series.We know that many of those characters are the ancestors of the TMI and TDA gangs, BUT that does not mean it couldn’t have been a very enjoyable story that leaves you at the edge of your seat, for we would get to see HOW things came to be

What bothers me the most is how Daisy’s protagonism was stolen, and that’s a first for a cc lead.

Its hinted several times in TDA that Cordelia was a hero whose name shadowhunter history would never forget.She was the sword that stood between evil and the world, saving it from doom on a byegone era... but she kinda didn’t? I shit you not, Cordelia’s greatest features on this book were to kill Tatiana (seriously?) and bang james on a tub.And that’s all.And if anyone had to kill tatiana at all, that person should be grace, it would be a great end to her arc of abuse, but that’s beside the point here

All the build up of “we must get cordelia in there so she can vanquish belial and end this’’ was for literally NOTHING.

After so many people either doubting her, or saying she was their only hope, after spending most of the book not fighting and staying on the sidelines because of the paladin busyness (and making some unhinged decisions along the way), she doesn’t fight Belial AT ALL. WHAT? If she had stabbed james, would it be cohf 2.0? well yes, but it still would’ve been better than james going “time for suicide mission lololol” and driving cortana to his chest.And the healing blade? where did that come from? That was such a cheap way for him to not die

The trip to Edom was for literally nothing.Sure, it brought her and lucie closer after the strain on their friendship,but that doesn’t require a trip to Edom, they could’ve just talked and sorted out their shit

Kit’s death was ridiculous and UNmourned. Tatiana, who has no training whatsoever, killed him throwing a poisoned dagger on his shoulder. Nevermind that In book one this boy survived an also poisoned gash that ripped his torso open. Who remembers that anyway? Its not absurd at all.

Point being that if youre going to kill him, do it with dignity and give weight to it.We don’t see his funeral, we don’t see the adults finding it out, nor his parents and henry mourning, we barely see the tlh gang mourning.Jem was throughly mourned, AND HE DIDN’T EVEN DIE.Kit’s death was the literary equivalent of the Loki meme “yes very sad, anyway”  

On the topics of things we didn’t see, I’m livid that there was so much page time wasted on that senseless love triangle THAT EVERYBODY KNEW WOULD AMOUNT TO PRECIOUS NOTHING, and many important things were either told, or left open.I just wish this love triangle had never happened and Cordelia and matt had remained platonic friends. Give matthew another love interest or none at all, he and james already had enough problems to work through as it was 

 They could’ve left for france together as just friends you know. They could’ve even kissed on the basis of “why the fuck not? we are both pining and everything already went to shit anyway”, but then realized it was a mistake and let’s leave it at that.Also it came to a point where the romantic stalling of the minor couples was just too much, it felt like page filler instead of the true conflict resolution they needed to set things right and be together.I was reading all that and wondering “all right, but where’s the actual plot?” 

the explanation for the family tree was ridiculous.I would prefer some “when the city of bones fell, we lost an awful lot of data, and thats why all the documentation of the period is messed up”

The whole conflict of the clave finding out about Jesse’s identity was resolved too easily at the end

Matthew coming clean to his parents and charlotte being pregnant again was such a big and anticipated moment, and yet all we get is Cordelia telling us what james told her

Charles comes out in front of everyone and we dont see that 

Will and tessa cry thinking their kids are gonna die and we dont see that

Thomas’ come out was a bit better, but it was still telling rather than showing

dont get me started on the plot holes.Im pretty sure cc said we would see james get more powers, but all we got was the as old as time cliche of protagonists losing their powers, and that didnt make a slight of sense.They automatically lose their powers after belial “dies”, while tessa remains very much a warlock and a shapeshifter? Make it make sense. Those powers come first and foremost from Tessa, Belial dying doesnt alter the demonic blood on their veins

The cherry on the top of a long list of absurdities, to me, are the watchers. Anyone can correct me if Im wrong, but how in the world there were so many dead silent brothers and iron sisters? it doesnt add up, there should be some of them, but not enough to flood dozens of shadowhunters on their own.The nephilim only have a thousand years of existence, (magnus said more than once that he has met warlocks who had been born before the first shadowhunter was created) and those folks not only live absurdly long lives, but tend to die of natural causes.Jem lived for over a century as a silent brother and aged only two years.It doesnt add up

also am I missing something, or how matthew, thomas and alastair escaped the massive statues was completely brushed over? 

The two truths and a lie was total bullshit.It was also said that there would be political marriage, the gang would go to idris and camille and wolsey would make come backs,but none of that happened.

thats it, thats my rant that probably no one will read bc of how fucking long it is

[captmickey]

#7 for the protective prompts, with KQ characters?

Matt spat out the taste of iron from his mouth as he rubbed a hand on his aching jaw. The thought came across his mind on why he thought going to a public space without any weapon during an extremely high tension diplomatic trip was such a brilliant idea, especially when slumped out cold against the wall was a beaten and bruised up Ken missing what Matt would consider his iconic dual swords, but the answer couldn’t seem to make up its mind, thanks entirely to his attention being on the culprits who decided to lay a hand on his friend.

He was normally level headed. Calm. Sure, he could be competitive and may occasionally be the first one to throw the stone so to speak, but these… these absolute lowlives have taught him a new aspect of himself, one that at this moment had his jaw clenched tightly as he only saw red: defensive rage.

“What’s this?” One of them mocked. “You here for this absolute weakling?”

His fists raised up, he gave a look that if it could, would have absolutely slain them all on the spot.

“Maybe, look, ‘e got his jaw all clamped up.” Another laughed.

“Back away from him,” Matt spoke, surprised he could even muster that with all that anger brewing in his chest, “final warning.”

Not that they deserved even that, he thought bitterly. 

“Oh, you mean not to touch ‘im?” The first one mocked as he was poking the unconscious Ken roughly at his side.

Matt bared his teeth and his knuckles turned white. He needed to be calm. He needed to be level headed, but the rage in his chest was about to burst as he saw another one go over to him.

Stay away from, he thought, don’t you dare go near him!

“Uh oh, looks like ‘es mad.” The other ridiculed. 

“I think ‘e doesn’t want you pokin’ ‘im.” The first one cackled.

“Ye mean like this?” Another roughly kicked Ken, watching him fall into the dirty puddle and letting out a pathetic grunt. 

Red. He could only see red. He couldn’t recall rushing over to them, he didn’t feel himself letting out a threat (not that he thinks he could have), he doesn’t recall feeling anything else but that pure, unbridled anger. What he did recall was lunging himself at them, throwing his fist as hard and as fast as possible, not even registering how they were reacting, if he was getting his, who was saying what or if it was anything substantial.

For all Matt knew, just by doing what they did to Ken, that was enough for him to consider it unsubstantial and warranting every single ounce of his unbridled fury. 

He didn’t recall what got him to stop, what got him to wipe whatever blood that was on him off… but he stared down at the culprits who were beaten red, black and blue, rendered positively unconscious. He wasn’t like this… he wasn’t usually someone who would go this far under any circumstances, but he had such extremely low tolerance to bullies. Whether they were knights, crooks or thugs, he would not stand for monsters like that harming good people. 

A slight groan was heard behind him. Funny, he thought, he didn’t recall standing between Ken and his attackers. Turning around and feeling the rage all but vanish, Matt rushed over and gently lifted Ken from the grimey floor, wiping whatever dirt off his face. There was no doubt in Matt’s mind that when Ken’s consciousness properly came through, he was going to feel every single ache, bump, and bruise.

“Ken?” He called out, his voice barely above a gentle whisper.

“Nngh…” Ken’s brows furrowed.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Matt reassured, “I got you… I got you.”

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

Dealer’s choice for the character, but could I please request prompt 21 from “the list”?

i could’ve easily done this for any character but had to stick to my roots so i chose matty baby!!!!

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 ~ 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚡 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎) 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟹.𝟺𝚔

𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝟸𝟶𝟶 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔 *𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴* 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝! [ the requested prompt is in red ]

The moment Elektra came back into the picture, you knew it was only a matter of time before things began to go downhill. After all, she was the reason you and Matt didn’t speak for that large chunk of time in college, why should it be any different now?

But the sad part was, your heart and your head went in 2 different directions. Your head was once again filled with doubt, worry, anxiety, and every other negative emotion that you could think of. You were right back to that place where you questioned if Matt loved you like he claimed he did. Your heart, however, tried to give you just a sliver of hope. Back in college, you and Matt were just friends. Now, you’d been together for years. Surely that meant things would be different, or at least that’s what you initially thought anyway.

You’d been the second one to find out he was Daredevil, after Claire who’d saved his life. And that drove you apart for a while, Matt pushed you away because he was so sure that you knowing would only put you in danger. That time apart only lasted a week, and then you stubbornly showed up at Matt’s apartment on the verge of tears, angrier than he’d ever heard you. You walked right past him and went inside, going on a rant about how dare he decide for you, what’s too dangerous. How dare he end your friendship and act like it’s on your behalf, as if he’s doing you a favor?

As he sat there and listened to you pacing back and forth while you went on and on about how you cared about him and you loved him and he shouldn’t get to make that big decision for you, it dawned on him. Yes, he loved you. That much was very clear, and it had been since the day he first heard your voice. But it dawned on him now, he didn’t just love you. He was in love with you. And him pushing you away was also a defense mechanism, because a small part of him was afraid that if he confessed his feelings, you either wouldn’t return them now that you knew his big secret, or you’d say you felt the same way at first but then you’d grow to resent him.

While you were throwing your hands up and saying once again, I’m an adult and I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions— he stood up and pulled you into his arms. You resisted at first, trying to step back as you said that he didn’t get to just hug you and make all the hurt that he caused go away. But he continued to hold you close, and after a moment, your resistance turned into soft cries.

Then, you’d wiped his tears that had fallen. “You have been my best friend for so long. And I love you too much to just let you push me away like this. I know what you do is dangerous, but I’d rather remain in your life and help in any way that I can, instead of letting you push me away and then spending every moment wondering if you’re alright. Don’t make me leave,” you had whispered.

It was then that he placed a hand under your chin, tilting your head up. That night he confessed his true feelings, and the 2 of you stayed up talking until the sun came up. He apologized for all the pain and sadness that he knows he caused you, and he even brought up Elektra. He said that he was stupid for not saying this sooner, but he loved you, as so much more than a friend. And that he needed you more than he wanted to admit.

When he asked if you were sure you wanted to stick around, and that he was worried that he was too much to handle, you just put your hands on either side of his face, standing taller to give him a kiss on the cheek, and said “of course I’m sticking around. I love you. And you take care of everyone else, you save lives, who takes care of you? I’d like to be that person, if you’ll let me”.

From then on, Matt knew he would do whatever it took to keep you in his life. You told him that you needed him just as much as he needed you. When he asked why, your heart broke for him. He genuinely couldn’t understand why someone like you would even glance at someone like him. As the sun began to rise, you sat up and leaned against the headboard on his bed. He laid with his head in your lap, one hand lazily tracing circles on your thighs. You did your best to explain all the reasons you loved him, and why you knew that despite what he thought of himself, he was the very best person that you knew. And there was no one better to love you, he was your person, and it was as simple as that.

Throughout the entire time that you’d been together, things were nearly perfect. The occasional argument about his recklessness when he put on that red suit and went out at night, sure, but it never got too far. Matt knew that deep down, you only argued or got upset because you loved and cared about him. And you knew that Matt was just doing what he thought was right, and he wasn’t doing anything to intentionally harm those he loved.

She was never once brought up, and why would she be? That is to say, Elektra remained out of sight and out of mind, until she was literally back in the picture.

One night after you and Matt returned home from an impromptu date night, you’d walked back into his apartment to find her lounging on one of the chairs in the living room, just casually sipping beer from his fridge like she owned the place.

“The hell are you doing here?” Matt made no effort to hide his anger. Your eyes had widened when you saw who was there, and you knew that Matt would be able to tell who it was, you didn’t have to whisper her name.

“You’ve never been hard to find.”

Oh God you wanted to smack the smirk off of her face. Matt squeezed your hand, noticing you tense up and hearing your heartbeat quicken by just a little bit.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“At least your furnitures improved.”

Your heart sank. Not even 30 seconds of conversation and you already knew she was about to walk down memory lane and speak about their time together. Matt made a show of putting his arm around you and pulling you closer as he placed a kiss on your forehead. He wanted to send a clear message to Elektra.

“I don’t know, I quite liked his futon,” you shrugged, leaning against Matt for (moral and physical) support.

“I did too. We had a lot of fun breaking it in, didn’t we, Matthew?”

You had to hold your breath, and avoided saying what you really wanted to say. “Didn’t Matthew ask you a question? Why the fuck are you here?”

She looked at you, giving that little smirk as she said “would you believe it if I said I missed him?”

“Not even a little,” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Next to you, your boyfriend responded to her question too. “No.”

“I’m in New York for a meeting and I thought I would pop by.”

Your first thought, was that she was silently asking to spend the night. Matt came to the same conclusion, and knew what was running through your mind. “Well you’re not staying here.”

“Fine,” she sighed as she stood up, “my penthouse in Midtown will just have to do then. We spent some nights there.”

Unable to take another moment of her presence, you stepped aside, pulling yourself from Matt’s hold. “Alright bitch, if you came here to walk down memory lane, I’d rather not be here for that.”

Matt could hear that you were already holding back tears. Elektra was probably the only person who could make you question things, given that you knew their history and that he ditched you back when she first entered his life. His only goal now, was to get rid of her as fast as possible so that he could make sure you were alright.

Once you had grabbed a change of clothes and slammed the bathroom door, the shower could be heard turning on a moment later. It was then that Elektra began speaking again.

“I spent years trying to convince myself that things happen for a reason. That you and I were not meant to be. But I know now that wasn’t fate. It was a choice. I’m alone in the world Matthew. Do you know what that feels like? Of course you do.”

You’d been standing at the door, your ear pressed against it as you did your best to eavesdrop, to try and hear what she was saying. You trusted Matt, with your life. It was her you didn’t trust. But as she started going on about needing his help getting money back, that was when you decided to just let him handle things. As you tried to wash away the icky feeling you were now left with, your mind couldn’t help but wander. Out in the living room, you were missing the tail end of their conversation.

“You’re the only person I can trust.”

“Oh no, you don’t break into my house and then talk to me about trust.”

“Don’t overthink it. It’s just a bunch of guys in business suits, they won’t know what hit them. It’ll be fun, like old times.”

“Oh you and I, we have very different ideas of fun.”

“You can say whatever you want. But I know you—”

Now he’d had enough. “You don’t. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

“That’s disappointing…”

Matt motioned towards the door. “Just so we’re clear, she,” he pointed towards the bathroom door, “means everything to me. You’re not gonna waltz in here and mess everything up because you’ve decided that you’ve missed me or that you want my help with my fancy degree. You drove us apart once, that’s not happening again. Now get out.”

A few minutes after she left, you exited the bathroom and went straight to the bedroom. Matt knew how upset you were, because you never went to bed without saying goodnight.

He cautiously entered the bedroom, heart feeling like it was going to shatter once again as he heard your near silent cries.

“I’m sorry” you sat up once you felt the weight of him getting in to his side of the bed. “I have no right to be upset, you haven’t done—”

“You have every right to feel upset, I would never blame you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get rid of her.”

The next half an hour was spent with you laying in his arms, as he did his best to reassure you that she meant nothing to him, and that you meant everything to him. He’d even held your face in his hands as he leaned down and whispered “I don’t care about anyone else but you sweetheart. I love you, so much”.

He said he wasn’t going to give her another thought.

Maybe he meant it… at the time. But her words wouldn’t leave his mind. And so he lied, he went to go see her and he asked questions. You don’t even know if he would’ve told you. The only reason you found out he’d just been with her was because the afternoon after his visits to her, you were cuddling on the couch when his phone vibrated a couple of times. Matt was exhausted, and he’d fallen asleep. You yourself were also on the verge of closing your eyes. But you picked it up and glanced at the screen, only so that if it was Foggy or Karen and it had to do with work, you’d be able to wake him up.

Instead, what you saw made you feel like your heart stopped. The number wasn’t in his contacts, but it was very clear who the messages were from.

Thanks for coming by and helping me last night.

And for our little catch up this morning. We make a great team, don’t you think?

You swiftly pulled yourself from Matt’s embrace, ignoring his confused ramblings as he woke up and asked what you were doing. As he trailed after you into the bedroom, and he realized you were packing a bag of your clothes, he began to panic.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on, talk to me—”

“Where were you last night? And this morning?”

His silence was all you needed to hear. As you put a few more pieces of clothing into your bag and zipped it shut, you shoved past him and began to make your way towards the door. Of course he followed after you, gently grabbing you by your left wrist as your right hand unlocked the door.

“How did you—”

“She text you. God, I look like a fucking idiot right now!”

“No you don’t, please just let me—”

You didn’t even care that this was the third time you interrupted him in less than a few minutes. “Explain? You deliberately lying to me and going off to go visit your ex-girlfriend? Please, spare me the sob story Matthew.” His name was said laced with venom, with you mockingly imitating Elektra.

Now he was really desperate. “Please. You have every right to be angry with me. I just need ten minutes to explain. Ten minutes, and then if you still want to leave, I won’t stand in your way.”

You sighed, quickly running through your 2 options in your mind. Part of you still felt like you should leave. The toxic part of your brain was telling you that the only reason Matt wanted to explain, was because he got caught in the lie. But your heart, once again, told you something else. You’ve known and loved Matt for years. Surely, you should at least hear him out?

In the end, you went with your heart. But you were still incredibly hurt, so you simply said “you have five minutes” before dropping your bag and sitting on the couch.

When Matt sat next to you, you made a big deal of getting up and moving from the couch, to the chair just a few feet away. His expression changed into one of sadness, but he knew he had no room to argue or to ask you to move back next to him.

And then he told you. What he did instead of going to work like he said he was going to (though he did try to justify his actions by saying that he really had originally gone in to work, and he eavesdropped on Elektra’s meeting for legal reasons), then how his mind wouldn’t let him rest, so he told you about going to visit her and the conversations that ensued. When he began telling you about all the men they had to fight, and how she readily had his Daredevil suit, you felt like you were on the edge of a cliff the entire time.

“Are you going to help her?” You asked softly, still unable to look at the man who sat across from you. For the second time that day, his silence spoke volumes. As you once again stood up, intending to grab your bag and leave, all you could do was let out a bitter laugh. Unlocking the door, you turned around to say one more thing to Matt before leaving. “She ruined you. She ruined our friendship back in college, but I thought you know what, you’ve changed, you’ve grown, so I let you back into my life. And I fell for you. But the fucking second that she calls, you go running. I was stupid to think that things had changed. You’ve made your choice, I already know you’re going to help her. But I won’t stand by and watch you become the person that I couldn’t recognize. Good luck with whatever she’s managed to rope you into.”

“Please,” Matt was once again begging, just seconds away from getting on his knees. “I know you hate me but if any part of you still loves me or cares about me—”

“If? How dare you question my love for you. I don’t hate you, I never could. But loving you is killing me So as much as I don’t want it to be… this has to be goodbye. You may not remember because you were off doing whatever the fuck with her, but you broke my heart back then, so easily choosing her not just over me, but over your friendship with Foggy too. I worked really hard to pull myself out of that dark place and I cannot go back there again.”

You tried (and failed) to fight back a sob as you reached into your bag, taking the key to Matt’s apartment off of your keychain. When you reached for his hand and placed the key in his palm, closing his fingers around it, you finally allowed yourself to look up at him.

“I hope this is all worth it to you.”

It’s been 3 days since you walked out of Matt’s apartment, and every second somehow manages to seem more miserable than the last. You weren’t picking up Karen and Foggy’s calls, knowing that you’d burst into tears the second you heard their voices. You wondered what Matt told them, if he bothered with the whole truth.

Luckily, your job allowed you to take a few days off. You didn’t go into details, just that something personal had come up and that you needed to step away for a bit.

You knew that that excuse would only buy you a few days at the most, though, and it was only a matter of time before someone on the team would show up at your door demanding to know what was wrong, and depending on who showed up, who they needed to kill.

Being a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had its perks, one of them being that you were one of the few that worked closely with the Avengers. You were quite good with hand-to-hand combat, and a certain former Black Widow and Winter Soldier both trained you in the ring for the rare occasions where you were needed with the team in the field.

But with the perks, came the negative side. And it wasn’t really a negative, but they were all fiercely protective of you. It was a miracle that you managed to keep Matt’s other identity a secret all this time. You knew that as angry and hurt as you were, you still couldn’t tell them any of what really happened. Digging into Matt’s past and Elektra’s identity would only lead to trouble.

A series of loud, sharp knocks at your door forces you from your thoughts, and causes you to freeze.

You know it’s not Matt. Despite his many calls, voicemails, and texts, he respects you too much to show up at your apartment and force his company on you. You know that he’ll keep trying to contact you, but you’re grateful that he at least respects you that much. Still, though, who the hell would be showing up at your apartment now?

Of the team, it would most likely be Bucky, Sam, or Yelena. But they had spare keys and definitely wouldn’t knock like that.

As you look through the little peephole, you’re filled with a mixture of dread, confusion, and once again… anger.

“What are you doing here? How did you even get my address?”

Elektra walks in to your apartment, and you’re so stunned that once she’s inside, you simply close the door and follow after her as she walks to what she somehow already knows is your bedroom. She lays the long black garment bag on the bed, and opens the large bag that she’d been carrying, pulling out a pair of heels.

“Umm… what the fuck is this?”

She sighs, and turns to face you. “Believe me I know you’ve got no reason to trust me, or even allow me in your apartment right now. But I need your help. Matthew does too.”

what a weird place to end it. i was going to just stop after “i hope this is all worth it to you” buuuut hehehasdlfjasdg;lj looks like you’ll be going with matt to the gala! part 2? possibly if this gets enough love + people are interested! also i had to throw in my avengers babies hehehe (to set something up for if there is a part 2).

200 follower celebration tags: @hatred-love — @glowstick-lesbian — @moonlarking

matt tags: @starry-night-20 — @spectorfilms — @thegreengoop

all character tags: @jaywalkingape

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[thefanbasewhore]

What gets them going (turn ons) // Marvel Men

cw/tw: mentions of erection, explicit (18+), female reader

summary: some turn ons for some marvel men

ft. Steven Grant, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Bucky Barnes, (request more if you would like other characters)

Steven Grant:

Wearing your hair up.

There's something about the way your nape and collarbones are completely exposed that ignites a burn of desire deep in his stomach.

The need to press his lips and run his tongue along the bare skin chews away at his sanity. The moment you walk out of the bathroom, a cute sun dress and hair up into a French bun, clipped back with the pastel butterfly clip he got for you last week, he's stunned.

"Babe!" You squeal the moment you feel his lips against your neck, sucking gently on the skin as his hands anchor at your hips. "You're going to leave a mark."

"You're so lovely." Steven presses a few kisses against the harsh, throbbing mark, "My pretty girl. I can't help it."

And as he presses his hips against your own to feel just how pretty he really thinks you are, you soon realize you're going to miss your reservations.

Matt Murdock

After the shower

Honestly, he really doesn't know what it is about it. With his heightened senses he could practically hear the water droplets grazing across your skin, gathering in the crevices of your collar bones and dripping to the floor.

Not to mention the smell, behind the lavender and flowers is the natural scent of you. It could be the comfort it brings or the familiarity but he's hard before you can even step out of the shower. He waits at the edge of the bed, facing the door as it opens.

"Hi babe," he's still dressed in his suit, tie pulled from his collar before answering, "Hi baby."

But before you can move another muscle, his hand finds your towel and pulls it from your body before pulling you into the bed.

Frank Castle

Wearing his clothes

Seeing you in his clothes does something to Frank. Maybe it's because is scent is all over them or the fact that you without a doubt are completely his.

No matter the case, he always leaves a shirt or pair of pajama pants out with the hope you'll see it and decide to throw them on.

Frank had been away for a mission for a few days. It's normal for him to cut communication for the sake of not only the mission but the safety as you. Typically he calls you before coming home but didn't bother.

Imagine his surprise when he walks into your shared home when you're stirring a pot of noodles in nothing but his shirt. He leans against the door frame, admiring as the hem of the shirt rises and rises as you bend down to open the oven and peak inside.

His throat dries instantly at the realization that you're not wearing panties. Just like that you're wrapped in strong arms, kisses pressing against your nape as you feel the line of his erection against your lower back.

Bucky Barnes

Your lips

Bucky loves your lips. The softness and feeling he gets every time he touches them or kisses them he is filled with more love than he ever thought was possible.

But now, watching as you smile and giggle at the ladies that surround you, he wants nothing more than to take you home and smear the plum colored lipstick you just bought.

He leans against the bar, ignoring the bartender who asks if he wants a drink. All he can do is stare at you. While it did take some convincing to get him to this party, the moment he saw you and that damn lipstick he suddenly didn't want to do anymore.

He lets out a troubled breath as you make eye contact with him from across the room, sucking in your bottom lip and winking - you were doing this on purpose.

[grigori77]

The Mighty Nein Reunited, Part 1: Unfinished Business

Did Sam fumble this together five minutes before recording the plug? Sure looks like it. "Marisha's seeds and stems?" "A ghost that looks like Taliesin? A ghost that DOESN'T look like Taliesin?" Oh boy ... the implication that Marisha isn't REAL ... Marisha: "I don't get it." Me too ...

Oh boy, Sam is really faceplanting here and I love it ... although Sam giving his ALL for the Welvome To Wildemount soundtrack plug is adorable. And I love how he's getting SO flustered about Matt continually giving him new stuff to cold read ...

Ah, here we go, Matt sets the scene and I'm ALREADY starting to well up guys ... this is gonna be HARD. And I'm gonna love it.

Going STRAIGHT to Veth and Sam balls AGAIN because he hasn't had time to get back into character. Oh yay! The Veth voice! SQUEEEEEE!!!

"The Wildemount Wildlings ... WILD OUT!!!" XD

Oh my gods, Yasha doing strength training ... half if these kids are gonna DIE!!!

Ah, the Arrangement. The Gentleman using his "blood money" (oh, the air quotes! XD) to sponsor the project. Money laundering as philanthropy, classic gangster ...

Luc is such an adorable little sneaky pest and I love it. XD

Over to Zadash ... Library of the Cobslt Soul, here we go ... yay! Beau! Mah grrrl! Oh boy, in SECONDS Marisha is BACK IN CHARACTER!!! I love it! And Ashley! Oh boy, the suspect Swedish accent, I've missed that! Looking for a name ... "Martina Stewart", I love it!

"Baby!" "BAYBEEEEEEEEE!!!" (kissy noises)

Yasha makes her own blue cheese! XD

Weasel tongue intestinal stroganoff ... hmmm ...

Beau and Yasha desperately trying to GET RID of interloper Martina Stewart. And the home life! Oh boy ... Yasha being domestic to perfection and Beau TRYING to be domestic ... OH!!! The Caleb impression! Priceless! XD I love this, they're trying to put a brave face on it for each other, I can tell ... clearly they're both SO BORED!!!

The Balleater! Here we go ... Fjord! Travis doing his Mid-atlantic accent ... AND LAURA'S JESTER VOICE!!! I MISSED THAT ONE MOST OF ALL!!! :3 "Your shipping is always just a Stone's Throw away!" The cards, THE CARDS!!! XD

Orly! Yay! Love that ancient Tortle so much! And Kingsley's sass, I love it!

Fjord trying to do an Augury ... and Jester thinking he's playing jacks. The way she DECIDES they're going North. He's so totally whipped and it's adorable. XD And Fjord still being so completely terrible at being the captain, and everybody knowing it too. It's so cute they just GO WITH IT.

Oh, so Kingsley's an INSTIGATOR, I see. Yeah, he's still Molly deep down, then.

Rexxentrum! So ... ah, the Soltryce Academy, that can only mean ONE THING!!! And I'm right! Hello Caleb! :3 The return of Liam's deeply impressive German accent ... yes, OF COURSE he's determined the students learn from his mistakes. Oh, here we go, the classic lovestruck young student, of course ... aww, she's so cute, too. XD

Matt: "What is it you wish to do with the rest of your evening?" Sam :(whispering) "Masturbate." The group starts to collapse into giggles ... Liam: "Yes, I would probably like to masturbate."

Back on the Balleater ... "The Water Car!" XD Orly's long suffering shoring up of Fjord's inefficiency is adorable. XD

Is it a regular storm? Nature check ... 8! Matt: "Is ... is your survival higher?" Oh boy ...

Oh ... fireworks, yes, that will bring up their spirits ... (doubtful stare)

Yeah, this storm us getting BAD ... yup, Control Water, do it now! Oof, that did it ... oh, wait, what's this now? There's something in the waves! Oh dear! A very big person, apparently!

So the ship's the Nein Heroez now? Yeah, that's definitely better than the Balleater ...

Wow, Taliesin rolled BALLS. Natural 1 ... that can't be good at all ...

OH FUCK!!! IT'S FUCKING U'KOTOA!!! (The whispers, the whispers ...)

Sam's flask has a popcorn bucket on it ... oh my gods Sam, WHY are you like this? Yes, Laura sees it too! And now there's popcorn everywhere ...

Fjord starts Flying after summoning the Star Razor ... oh shit ... that thing is CREEPY ... it's like a fucked up undead Poseidon. Yes! Shoot it in THE FACE!!! 24 and 18 to hit! Everybody raving about the gorgeous popcorn while Travis dies maths ... 52 points of damage on the first, 43 on the second? Nice ... ah! Lightning spear!

Jester takes 61 points of Lightning Damage? OH MY GODS!!! And OF COURSE she loses control of the water!

And now they're being boarded ... ROLL INITIATIVE!!!

Oh, so they're like Dagon's unholy halfmen fish spawn ... yeah, that's about right. Meanwhile Kingsley gets stabby ...

Oh bollocks ... massive giant thing ... Thoonum? Hmmm ... fuck, and it's a mage, too? Liam: "Squid mage! Squid mage!"

Constitution saving throw ... Laura znd Taliesin both roll balls ... 31 points of Thunder Damage apiece! And now they're deafened.

Laura's asking about distances from her ... what you got in mind, girlfriend? She runs up to the giant and touches his hand ... Inflict Wounds at the 7th Level! Nine D10 for damage ... time for more math ... 54 points of Necrotic Damage! Nice!

Yes, 30 definitely hits ... 42 points of bludgeoning damage to Jester ... ouch ...

Wow, Taliesin got SO LUCKY with that attack that could have been SO MUCH worse ... these fish things are rolling BALLS for their attacks ... oh no sceatch that, Jester takes some MAJOR hits ... and now she's unconscious! Oh shit ...

Superman to the rescue! Cure Wounds, yes! 35 points back ... no, 40! Phew ...

Fjord pulls out the Cloven Crystal ... uh-oh ... and they all just stop completely ... Kingsley tries an experimental tap on one ... no, they're still attacking.

Laura: "You can't do that! It's not your turn!" And yet ... yup, this can't end well. They jump off ... and they trash the ship from underneath in spite! You bastards!

I'm with Travis, I didn't know Jester could teleport either! And she's SO ANGRY with Fjord now!

Kingsley has,a boat in a box, apparently ...

And that's that, the Nein Heroez aka the Balleater dies! Nooooooooo ... everybody's overboard. Good, they can all still breathe water ... everybody in the boat!

Phew, Orly's still with us ... the water starts to drag filk down, but Jester uses Control Water again znd saves ALMOST everybody. But not all of them ... no, no way EVERYBODY was gonna survive this ... but that's an impressively light butcher's bill ...

And now the storm is just STOPPING. Yeah, that's about right.

Mass Cure Wounds ... Laura: "Cuz I'm the healer!" XD

Yes, message Caleb! Quickly! This is SO BAD!!! U'kotoa is FREE!!!

Wait, that was just a PROLOGUE?!!!

Sweet! The old animated title sequence! Everybody! "Roll ... critical ... roll ..."

And now we're on our break ...

D'awwww ... I have missed that U'kotoa game theme sea shanty ... :3

Sweet! My other fave Twitch Subscription ad with Laura's awesome Jester cosplay! "Invoke Duplicity!" Adorable! :3

Le Gasp! AND they're playing Colm McGuinness' completely fucking awesome full orchestral version of Welcome To Wildemount over the Rt reel! Oh ... my ears are in heaven ...

And we're back ... Jester messages Caleb ... oh, I have missed this! XD Laura once again totally fumbles it again in the word count and it's so precious!

Fjord STILL doesn't know where they are ... he's got a sense of direction as bad as James May's.

Jester sends another message, and it's a bit more successful ...

Now she messages Veth and it's a shitshow! I love it!

Veth responds and she's all out of breath ... oh yeah I know what THAT'S about. The whole group dissolves into paroxisms of laughter over the heavily implied innuendo. Jester: "Okay, Veth's coming too!" Yes. She certainly is ... XD

Matt: "For as much as a turtle-man sweats ..."

Oh man, the Yasha portrait with the shorter bobbed white hair ... gods, that's perfect!

Jester trying to work out where they're going to go AFTER agreeing to wait for the others ... XD ... meanwhile Kingsley needs to be filled in on what all that shit was about. Nice way to accidentally deliver a nice info dump for the newcomers ...

Jester: "I'm sorry I went unconscious and almost died and you had to give up the key to unleash U'kotoa and endanger the world."

Caleb uses the Sending Stone to contact Beau and OF COURSE he interrupts her and Yasha. XD oh, this is so spectacularly awkward ...

He teleports go Nicodranas ... yup, he just catches Veth in the afterglow ... Veth: "It's a chemise!" Beautiful chaos ensues ...

Veth leaves Yeza in charge of the camp and OH MY GODS he is gonna be so out of his depth ... that's just ridiculously perfect ...

"Oh, not the heirloom tomatoes!"

Yasha's apron is chef's kiss ... wait, could Yasha Message people before? When did that start?

Once again Sam takes a drink from his flask znd Laura admonishes him for getting popcorn everywhere. Sam: "I was thirsty!"

They debate whether to bring Caduceus in ... Yasha messages him ... oh boy ... so wonderfully clunky ... "Love you!" No answer ... Taliesin reasons he's been laughing for 2 solid minutes.

They teleport to the Windward Isles ... roll a D100? Uh-oh ... 7? Shit ... everybody take 18 points of Force Damage as they get STRETCHED. And they land in the ocean. Oh dear ... phew, they're only a hslfmile off the shore. That could have been SO MUCH worse ...

Veth has a Floating Disc? Wait ... it's only 3 feet wide. Hmm ... never mind.

Instead Caleb Wildshapes into a great white shark to tow them all to shore.

Reunion. It's cute.

Veth: "It's okay! It's unavoidable. (to Jester) Was it unavoidable?" Beau: "We're the heroes no-one asked for! Yes!" Kingsley: "How did you people ever kill me?" Jester: "In your defense you're much cooler now."

So this all comes down to how many lighthouses there are on the Menagerie Coast? Hmmm ...

Grim Psychometry? Okay ...

Beau inquires how Fjord's relationship with the Wildmother has been going. Fjord: "Pretty fucking vacant." Beau: "That bitch."

Directions, directions ... Matt: "Yeah ... that's not on the map. That's on me. My apologies." Veth: "It can't be that important, nobody bothered to mark it."

They make arrangements, but it's a bit of a mess. That's par for thd course. The ultimately decide to teleport straight into Yussa's tower so she messages him. He's surprisingly blasé about it.

Tidepeak Tower in Nicodranas! :)

Wensforth! Love that little goblin butler. Short but sweet.

Jester sends the crew to the Lavish Chateau ... ah yes, they'll enjoy that ...

Beau knows Veth's been laundering the Gentleman's money, but Jester really DOESN'T. XD

Jester's house! Awww ... this place us GORGEOUS. :3 They live in a water tower? That's so cool.

Wait ... Orly's still with them? XD

Long rest ... good ...

Sprinkle! Yay! Travis' Sprinkle voice is so much funnier after A Familiar Problem ... XD

Kingsley's dropping hints that maybe they should bring Essek in. Yes. Do that.

Jester tries to Scry on the Squid Mage ... hey Arty's helping! Sweet! It works ...

Okay, so where are they though? They're clearly on land ... rough coastal land ... no way to tell, clearly. Jester certainly doesn't recognise it.

Jester had pastries! Of course she does! XD

Kingsley compliments Yasha on her hair.

They teleport again ... at least Czleb has,some knowledge of this place. Roll a D100 ... 94? Oh thank the gods ...

Jester turns into a giant blue eagle, carrying Yasha. Caleb Wildshapes into a giant eagle too ... Jester mKes fun of him for not being as big but he takes it like a champ. XD Fjord turns into a green one and leaves Kingsley behind. Kingsley: "I know where you live, I'm gonna take all your stuff!" Fjord doubles back and picks him up too.

They keep an eye out ... roll perception checks. Eventually Kingsley sees the giant. Here we go ...

Beau: (to Caleb) "What do your eagle eyes see?"

Landing in the treetops ... this should be interesting ... Caleb crashes. Of course he does. 20points of eagle bludgeoning damage. Beau jumps off SPECTACULARLY. Veth does the same, ALSO spectacularly. Also Kingsley. AND Yasha ... wow, what is going on with all those insanely great rolls? XD

Oh boy ... Jester rolls 13 ... hmm ...

Czleb drops to the forest floor and morphs back. Yes, it hurts ... this really was a clusterfuck ...

They debate which way to go. Kingsley: "We go whichever direction the Dungeon Master St's they went." Sam makes the pigeon cooing sound. XD

And now it's just suddenly raining for no reason. That CANNOT be a good thing.

Jester's gonna guide them through the jungle ... Laura rolls a 20 on survival! Nice.

Hmmm ... this ruined camp us not inviting. Beau investigates ... Nat 20?! No way! In full ... 36? Whoa ... that instead roll finds them a Potion of Greater Healing in the wreckage, which is pretty awesome. And a journal ...

Marisha reads something which is clearly a mess, there's incomplete information. That doesn't bode well ...

Caleb leads on now ... another decent roll. They're climbing now. Ooh ... statue! Feminine, round features ... is that the Wildmother? Sounds like the Wildmother. Yes, it is, I thought so.

Jester tries to clear off the roots ... Nat 20! Nice! I love strong women! :3

Ooooh ... shiny green gem! Jester touches it ... Matt: "Smooth." Well, THAT was anticlimactic ...

Nicodranas jungle bears ... XD

Nice fancy blessing gemstone ... is it sacrilegious to take it? Oooh, debate ...

The statue is looking where they're going ... THAT'S interesting ...

The stone is warm when Fjord touches it ... and it falls out of its placement when he does it. Oh yeah, that's DEFINITELY meant fo Fjord. They debate if he should push it into his chest like the Cloven Crystal ... because that's whT he does with gems, apparently.

Jester: "I'm walking in the direction of the trigonometry."

Natural excretions?

Monkey! Bright red and green monkey. Hmm ... Jester, don't feed it! It's a wild monkey! Don't you know how dangerous that can be?

Jester asks Sprinkle if he can talk to it ...

Beau hates monkeys, apparently. Yup ... the monkey makes shitload of noise so they decide to leave. It starts to follow them ... oh, that's not good. Jester tries to lure it off with the pastry and fails miserably.

Beau takes lead next and Marisha rolls SHIT. Beau us distracted by the monkey following and missteps, treads on a mushroom ... Poof!

Oh yeah, Beau is immune to poison! She's fine, but the rest get a bit of a dose ... Laura rolls balls so xhe gets a FULL dose and she's poisoned.

Yasha: "would you like me to carry you?" Jester: "I might throw up on the back of your head." Yasha: "That's all right, I don't really mind." Awwwwww ...

Jester attempts to memorise the monkey call, it works. Tries to communicate in order to throw the monkey off and get rid of it. Fails miserably. Now it's just LOUD in here ...

Fjord attempts to guide the group ... 25? VERY nice ...

Hey! That sounds like the giant! Oh, he sees the shape if it moving through in the distance. Perfect. That's gotta be it, follow that!

Veth: "I can make tent out of a few objects." Kingsley: "Is a tent one if those objects?" Veth: "Yes it is."

Caleb considers polymorphing the monkey into a butterfly ...

They push ahead following a trail of plinths in the hope this leads to where they're headed. They find a ruined temple ... yeah, reckon this is probably it.

Oh yeah, I forgot Jester had an axe ...

Beau attempts to use the axe to climb the tree ... Marisha rolls a Nat 1 ... argh ... the tree SPLITS cuz it's dead. But Beau has Slow Fall! So she doesn't take ANY damage on the landing ... phew! It was bloody loud, though ...

Everybody hide!

Stealth checks across the board ... everybody but Laura rolls good, she gets a 9 ... mediocre at best. That's sure to bite them somehow ...

Veth takes a big swig of her booze and climbs up into the temple ... avoid the suns, the suns are bad, remember?

Okay, here he comes ...

Matt: "And that's where we're gonna call it a night."

Okay, so due to Thanksgiving we gotta wait TWO WEEKS for Part 2? Bah, I say! BAH!!!

[frozen-odin]

If He Reigned Longer...

Hello everyone. 

Today is the one year anniversary of our favorite literal and figurative Peacock’s tragic return to the earth. So in honor of this, I thought I’d take a short look at how the last year of play may or may not have been different. I’m not claiming this is definitely what would’ve happened but these are some likely scenarios I’ve thought of. If anyone wants add more ideas in a repost or to use this for fic inspiration, be my guest. 

One last Side note: I love both Mollymauk and Caduceus very much, with a slight preference towards Caduceus. That said I love the fact that Tal and Matt decided to have Molly’s death have lasting consequences as it is realistic and also gives the story stakes. On that note I also think that one healer for a team of 7 characters was dangerous from the beginning, and rushing into battle without even that is what led to Molly’s death to begin with. So in general the stakes would behigher in each combat even with the boost in DPS, but I’ll only mention it if it would’ve made a significant difference.

Without Further to do, lets begin: 

Iron Shepherds

Let’s skip over how he Molly lives. Perhaps the blood malediction paid off, perhaps they were able to retreat. But I think Matt had something up his sleeve to make sure they didn’t save their friends immediately, otherwise Laura and Travis wouldn’t have a maternity leave. So for all intents and purposes the Nein still lost but at a much lower cost. 

Without Molly’s death, Beau probably wouldn’t have taken his “Leave things better than you find them” mentality to heart, lengthening her arc of learning to be a good person. 

Nila would have to start healing in the episodes she was in. Molly may have encouraged her to also ‘smell’ whatever drugs he had left. 

Shadycreek Run was mentioned by Cree as the headquarter’s of Lucian’s/Nonagon’s Tomb Takers, a splinter group from a larger faction. She also mentioned a headquarter’s they were using there and a member named Otis Brunkel who is still alive. It’s likely this Otis would’ve recognized Lucian’s body like Cree did and give us a bit more information about the remnants of the Tomb Takers and how Molly was born. 

Knowing Matt, the headquarters Cree mentioned was probably converted into the Iron Shepherd's base, meaning Otis would’ve been instrumental for infiltration as well. 

I’m really disappointed to realize Molly died RIGHT BEFORE they were gonna give a bunch of new info on his back story.  Meeting Caduceus in the graveyard was a nice consolation prize though. 

Followers of the False Serpent

No deaths while they were captured means that Jester wouldn’t blame herself for that, though she might still feel useless for getting captured. 

Yasha would leave on a much happier note, perhaps feeling like she could get close to people again. 

While it’s possible Shadycreek Run was just the start of Nonagon’s past, Molly wasn’t that interested in it and it’s unlikely they would’ve tracked down the mage from Rexxentrumm who gave Nonagon the faulty tome to begin with as Matt said that place was meant for late game. 

Fjord being captured and still having the eyeball as a relatively new thing, means the Pirate arc would’ve followed suit

It’s unknown if Fjord would’ve adopted his teleport around the battlefield strategy without first testing it out with the Summer Dance Falchion

Molly would’ve had a touching reunion with Gustav, and the paying his fine probably would’ve still happened though with a different in character motivation. The guards may have also been more hostile to another circus member. 

Molly would’ve bought some kind of pet. 

Molly at the beach episode, I will leave you with that.

He also would’ve probably gotten along well with Marian Lavorre and taken great pleasure in embarrassing her stalker. 

If The Nein left Molly behind, he would’ve given them hell for it. 

Pirate Molly

Molly would definitely get a Tattoo from Orly first chance he got and find some part of his body for Jester to practice on. Cue Laura and Taliesen telling tramp stamp jokes. 

The crew would’ve had much less and much worse food.

While Cad used his gravesight often, Molly had it as a passive ability meaning the Nein would’ve known about Jamedi Cosko much earlier and would’ve confronted him about it. Molly would’ve also been more direct about Jamedi not pulling his weight, especially since they’d have to survive the hydra without bane. 

Molly’s eye tattoos cause people to speculate that he is connected to Uka’toa or of the bird depicted next to it in the Temple of The False Serpent. This makes sense considering The Tomb Taker’s are stated to be a branch of of a larger cult like Avantika’s crew. Though we can’t know for sure. 

I wonder what Molly’s theme song moment would be. Maybe Juggling swords at the Circus or coming out of the ground? 

Fjord is still the one with the most seas experience and likely would’ve still ended up as captain, but Molly has the biggest claim as group leader despite what Nott may think (see the interaction with the Bandits)

Molly in Darktow

The travel would go slower with only Jester being able to speedboat

Molly would be in his element in the Diver’s grave as much as Fjord

I really want to see Twiggy ask Molly on how to get such colorful clothes now. 

Jester needing to use ice magic to escape means that the Dragon fight would’ve been even closer with far less healing. 

The pirate battle that Matt always wanted, now has nothing stopping it.

Without Caduceus’s divination we may not have gotten the resolution on Vandren’s whereabouts current activities.

Friends of the Dynasty 

While less calming, Molly would support Nott, not mentioning her past. However it would take longer for the group to discover where Yeza was being taken. 

Molly would not have particularly needed a disguise in Asarius but his ornamentation may have made him a target. 

Beau would’ve still wound up with his dick since it’s the only Tiefling Dick that Caleb’s ever seen. 

I’m not convinced Molly would be as interested in the Moorbounders, possibly giving Beau the one that would become Clarabelle. though he would be tied for second highest wisdom along with Caleb and Beau.

A short list of alternate names for Clarabelle: Yami (Molly), Yoshi (Fjord), Vanessa (Beau)

Molly resisting the fireball with Hellish Resistance to then run at a possessed Caleb would set 1,000 Widowmauk shippers wild. 

Hopefully Jester could Revivify him in time, though it’s unlikely Molly would’ve fallen in the same place as Caduceus, so Nott’s bolt may not have been as bad. 

Molly would probably adapt well to switching over to the Dynasty’s side. 

Commence the three way love triangle between Molly, Caleb, and Essik.

Though frankly I feel that Molly would push Caleb to get with Essik but shippers can fill in what they want here. 

Noway around it this time guys, all fight are harder but Matt Explicitly said that Fjord would be dead if Caduceus hadn’t canceled that crit in the Giant’s cave.

Though technically they were only there since Caduceus talked to the giants, and Molly doesn’t speak giant, nor would he be particularly interested in talking to them.

This causes a ripple affect where they don’t find out about the additional demon portal or scry on ‘Greg’ and learn everything they did, for the multiple scrying sessions. Which means the plot is completely divergent by this point on. 

Molly would go full out embarrassing the foreman though. Full orgy. 

No Caduceus means Fjord would be completely lost after Uka’toa threatened to cut him off. The scene under the Wild Mother’s tree probably would’ve still happened but Fjord would have no one to ask about it. 

Maybe he’d ask Jester about the Traveler. I doubt he’d be willing to trust that guy though. 

No tree on top of Xhorhouse :(

I really am curious what they’d do for Molly’s room though. Maybe he’d switch with Yasha and she’d be under the stars while his room is painted to all hell. 

I doubt they’d find Mauro’s shop and it’s dark dealings without Greg but if they did, there would be no good cop routine. Molly would do everything in his power to help Jester convince her they could kill her with a thought. 

Speaking of Yasha, whether or not they find out about the attack without Greg, it’s still likely that Matt would’ve pushed for some Yasha Backstory before she leaves. At which point Molly and Yasha would be even closer as they bound over not knowing much about their past. 

“Yasha, it doesn’t matter what you did. Because that person isn’t you anymore. All you have is the person before me right here, right now. And no one gets to decide who that person is but you.”

He’d have no idea how prophetic those words were until after the fact. 

Molly would die rather than leave Yasha in that dungeon. 

He very well might’ve.

Moving Forward

They are now travelling to the Kiln, completely on blind faith. Two things that would never happen if not for Caduceus. 

No Kiln means Jester probably wouldn't convince her crazy ass god to host his party inside an active volcano. She didn’t mean to, that half-hearted nat 20 could’ve been used on anything but Cad wants to go to a volcano she wanted something close so there you go. 

And there you go. do you agree or disagree with any of the statements here? Anything you think I missed, I’d love to know! Sorry for any spelling mistakes, 

[miracleonice87]

38 with Mat

from the Winter/Christmas Writing Prompts list

38. “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss.” 🎄

quick note: this one is prob a bit longer than the others will be. I just L O V E writing Sydney and Marty as secondary characters in Mat stories.

quick warnings: swearing, alcohol, super snowy powdery Christmas fluff

and, just for fun, song pairing: mistletoe by Justin Bieber (obviously)

_____

There really was no place like home.

After moving away to Los Angeles to attend USC for both undergrad and grad studies, you were finally back in New York. You hadn’t been able to resist the pull — it was almost as if, from all the way across the continent, you could feel the Atlantic tide receding and pulling you home along with it. For better or for worse, you belonged to the Empire State.

Sydney, your lifelong best friend and a New Yorker herself, was beyond ecstatic, as she had recently gotten engaged to her longtime boyfriend Matt, a hockey player, and named you her maid of honor. Planning a wedding — not to mention showers and bachelorette festivities — would be far easier, and far more fun, with you in the same zip code. Since moving back six weeks ago, you’d spent about ninety percent of your time with Sydney by your side, making up for lost time with the woman who had long been your other half.

So sweet, right? There was just one problem. Sydney wouldn’t stop trying to set you up with guys. She was insistent that you’d been single for too long — you’d broken up with your college sweetheart by the end of your senior year — and she made it her mission for you to find love again. And she, on her own, was bad enough — she’d already hooked you up with so many friends of friends that you’d lost count, and none had been interesting enough for a second date — but her fiancé conspiring right along with her made resisting them that much more difficult.

This particular night, she had lured you to the home she shared with Matt under the guise of having dinner with her family, when in reality, she was throwing a Christmas dinner party for Matt’s closest friends on the team. All of whom had — and brought — significant others. Except for one. What a coincidence.

Also coincidentally, his name was Mat, too, or so you were told — you didn’t quite believe Syd’s Matt when he told you that upon introducing the two of you.

“Mat with one ’t,’” he announced, one arm slung around Mat’s shoulders. The handsome, dark-haired man swallowed thickly and gave you his best polite smile — it was in that moment that you realized beyond a shadow of a doubt this was yet another set up.

Matt made a lame excuse about needing to check on Sydney in the kitchen and snuck away after some brief pleasantries, but not before blatantly nudging your much-smaller frame toward New Mat. You gave Matt a menacing glare before recovering, standing a safe distance away from New Mat, leaning against the wooden beam behind you to keep you steady.

“So, Mat with one ’t,’ how long have you played with the ever-obnoxious Matty?” you asked, trying to play it cool.

Mat laughed easily. Damn, he had a nice laugh — the kind that made his pretty eyes crinkle at the corners. Nice hair. Nice teeth — perfect fucking teeth. Wasn’t he supposed to be a hockey player? Wait, what was he saying? Something about Seattle, and the draft, and… now you were lost. You nodded slowly with a forced smile as you tried your hardest to focus on what he was saying. He was just so goddamn pretty.

Thankfully, Sydney’s call from the kitchen saved you from the embarrassment of not having heard a word this poor boy had spoken.

“Dinner’s ready! I’m really type A, as you all know, so I made little placecards for everyone at the table,” she announced to the group of ten, hands clasped before her as Matt snaked an arm around her from behind and smiled proudly.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Mat mused. “Shall we?”

You threw him a grin and nodded, turning your back to him and making your way to the dining room.

On your way, you paused in front of your dear friend just long enough to grumble, “Assigned seats? Really, Syd?”

She clapped enthusiastically and smacked your ass as you passed her. “Yep! See you in there, champ!” she exclaimed as you heard frantic whispers exchanged between Mat and Matt. You couldn’t hold back your snicker, and as you glanced over your shoulder, Mat gave you a strained smile. You shook your head bemusedly and turned to the table to find that, to no one’s surprise, you and Mat were indeed to be seated side by side at one end of the table. You cleared your throat and nodded toward the cards bearing your names.

“Subtle, no?” you joked, causing Mat to blush pink. He choked out, “Ah, yeah. You gotta love them.” Then, he pulled out your chair and motioned for you to take a seat, which, as luck would have it, Sydney and Matt caught just in time because they were bringing in the food on serving dishes at that very moment. Their eyes sparkled and Sydney looked like she may self-destruct out of sheer joy as you sat down and thanked Mat. You gave her an icy look and she visibly retreated, holding herself back from making a complete scene.

“Okay, dig in!” she said instead as she sat down across from you.

Dinner was incredible, as usual — while your talents lacked in the cooking area, Sydney had always been an outstanding chef. Even more, you enjoyed the conversation, which was mostly inclusive of everyone at the table, save for the occasional chirp Mat secretly muttered in your ear about Matt or Anders, making you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle as Sydney looked on smugly. Meanwhile, whenever you and Sydney would say the exact same thing at the same moment or finish the other’s sentence, Mat would look to Marty, who would only raise his eyebrows and nod, confirming Mat’s suspicion that these two were always this in sync. Mat found it endearing. He adored Syd — if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have agreed to come here tonight when she told him, “There’s someone I want you to meet…” — and already, he saw countless similarities in the two of you.

After he’d helped you clear the plates and load the dishwasher for your hosts, you and Mat settled onto a couch in the farthest corner of the living room, near the Christmas tree, while the others gathered in the center of the space, loudly entertaining themselves. As you curled your feet underneath yourself, you didn’t miss how Sydney reached for a nearby remote and slowly flickered on the fireplace right beside you and Mat. Yet again, you shot her a killer look that she pretended not to see as Mat smiled, amused at how flustered you were by Sydney trying to further set the mood.

“So how long have you known Syd?” he asked as he took another swig from his beer bottle, attempting to get you back on track. “Has to be a while. I swear I’ve never seen two friends who were more alike.”

You tucked some hair behind your ear and let out a breathy chuckle. With anyone else, you were ever prepared to skirt that question and quickly move on to another subject. But with Mat, it was nice knowing you really didn’t have to.

“Yeah, my whole life, actually,” you answered, a smile on your face at the thought. Your eyes flickered up to his as you added, “My dad played for the Jets... with Boomer while he was there.”

Mat’s brows quirked noticeably, but not in the familiar way that made you feel like he was about to ask you to FaceTime your dad or get an autograph from him. Because he was a professional athlete himself — which was ironic because you’d sworn up and down your whole life that, because of the lifestyle you saw your dad and his teammates, not to mention their families, lead, you’d never fall for anyone who played sports for a living. Even when Sydney insisted with a shrug after settling down with Matt, “It’s not that bad.”

“No way,” Mat said with a casual laugh. “That’s awesome. What position did he play?”

“Uh, receiver,” you replied. “So he and Boomer were tight. Our moms hit it off right off the bat and have been best friends since. Since then, we’ve always vacationed together, ended up living in the same neighborhood after they both retired. I’m three years younger than Syd and I was basically like her shadow. Still am, I guess,” you added with a smile.

Mat nodded, his eyes never leaving your face as you told the familiar tale. “I think that’s awesome though,” he spoke. “You guys could be sisters I feel like. You act just like her. Plus Marty says you’re the only friend of hers who’s kicked him out of bed so you could sleep with her.”

You threw a hand to your chest and your head back laughing at that, and Mat’s heart soared at being able to elicit such a reaction from you himself. You pointed a gold-polished index finger at him and admitted, “He tells no lies on that one.”

Just then, you caught Mat’s unabashed gaze, which had shifted from well-mannered and nonchalant into something deeper, something... affectionate. You swallowed, casting a downward glance at your lap, and swirled the ice cubes in your otherwise empty highball glass.

“I need a refill,” you said with a nervous giggle. “You want anything?”

Mat looked all too pleased with himself at your offer, and he nodded. “Sure, yeah, another beer would be great. Thank you,” he said. You smiled and nodded as you turned away and headed for the kitchen.

Ever the subtle one, once again, Sydney, who had been shamelessly watching the two of you from her perch in Matt’s lap across the room, stumbled over Jax’s paw as she bolted to the kitchen island where you now stood. You blinked at her wildly and said, “May I help you, Sydney Irene? You nearly wounded your poor dog.”

“So,” Sydney sang, ignoring your question completely as she leaned back against the kitchen counter, propping her palms on the edge and looking much more smooth than she had just a moment ago. She waggled her eyebrows at you before continuing. “Whadd’ya think? He’s cute, right?”

You scoffed. “Sydney—“ you began in a warning tone as you reached for the rum, but were interrupted before you could speak another word.

“If you hate him, it was Matt’s idea,” she deadpanned, then allowed a mischievous grin to stretch along her painted red lips as she cocked her head. “But if you like him, it was mine.”

You rolled your eyes as you poured yourself another rum ginger, ignoring the flush you could feel creeping up your chest and neck under Sydney’s scrutiny.

“You’re blushing! You do like him!” Syd squealed as she poked at your side, thankfully making an attempt to stay quiet as the guys, Mat included, carried on noisy shenanigans in the family room before you.

“Sydney, stop! I just met him,” you tried to argue, turning away from her. It was Sydney’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Like that matters. I fell for Matt like—“ she snapped her fingers for dramatic effect, “—that. And look at us now.”

You pursed your lips to the side. You couldn’t exactly argue that. With no quick comeback coming to mind, you stirred your drink, took three generous gulps — as Sydney watched, wide-eyed — and licked your lips before sighing at her.

“Well, fine,” you grumbled as you opened the fridge and grabbed a fresh beer for Mat. “Let’s not keep the boy waiting then.” You sashayed away from your friend who, spinning away from you, quickly squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers before turning back and following behind you.

Mat thanked you profusely for the drink as you returned to him. Now he sat among his teammates, and Sydney sat back in Matt’s lap as you took the seat beside Mat on the opposite couch. You noticed how he immediately leaned back and comfortably stretched his arm across the cushion behind you, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t inch a little closer then. It briefly occurred to you that you were drawn to him in the very same way you’d been drawn back home not long ago.

He felt like home. Already.

And soon, after a few hours more of merrymaking, Mat never leaving your side, the other couples had all headed for home. You four who remained had played several rounds of euchre and sang and danced to half a dozen Christmas carols before you realized how late it was. Knowing you’d had too much rum and wouldn’t be fit to drive, you’d already established that you’d stay in Sydney’s guest room — or maybe kick Matt out of the master. Regardless, you were staying put. But Mat, reluctantly, was leaving — the boys had practice in the morning.

“I guess I should go,” Mat sighed after a long round of goodbyes. Matt and Sydney gave him one last hug and retreated to the far side of the spacious room, aiming, of course, to leave the two of you to your own goodbye.

You nodded. “I guess you should,” you said, caught off guard by the twinge of sadness in your tone. “I’ll walk you out.” Mat smiled and turned toward the front door, and your heart truly may have skipped an actual beat when he glanced back at you and reached his hand out for you to grab. You did so, biting down on your smiling bottom lip as you followed him down the hall into the entryway, acutely aware that, if Sydney and Matt were indeed watching — of which you had no doubt — they could still clearly see you.

But when Mat pulled on his shoes and stood up straight again, stepping slowly, so slowly, closer to you, all you could think about was how hard your heart was thumping against your ribcage. You looked up at him in anticipation, and he smoothed his hands down the sleeves of your sweater softly.

“I had a really, really nice time tonight, you know,” Mat spoke. You had to remind yourself to breathe as the sincerity of his voice flooded your senses and his warm, honey-flecked eyes pierced through you. “Tonight was honestly the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

You beamed — how could you not? “Yeah?” you asked incredulously. Mat nodded.

“Yeah. In fact,” he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if maybe, uh, you’d want to go to dinner with me sometime. Like maybe this Sunday night, after we play?”

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, yet had no control.

“Yeah,” you finally answered. “Yes. Of course. I’d love that.”

Mat blew out a long breath and chuckled nervously. “Thank God,” he added as you both dissolved into a fit of giggles. You stepped closer to him and smelled his clean, woodsy cologne, inadvertently breathing it in. Mat came nearer, too, and tentatively reached his hands around to your lower back. “It’s a date then,” he spoke, his voice lower now, gravelly. You swallowed — hard — and gave a nod.

“It’s a date,” you echoed.

You simply stood in one another’s presence for a few long moments, smiling giddily at each other, before Mat sighed once more and glanced toward the door.

“I really don’t wanna go, but I—“

“No! Syd, just leave them be,” Matt suddenly whispered sharply to his fiancé — who seemed to have literally leapt up from the couch — though there was no point in whispering at all because you still heard him loud and clear. Jumping up behind Sydney, Matt easily wrapped her in his arms and clapped his hand over her mouth just as she started to speak.

After wrestling for control of Matt’s hand, she finally pulled it away just long enough to call out, “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss already!”

With one final “shush!”, Matt covered her mouth once more, though his entire body was wracking with silent laughter.

“Goodnight, kids!” Matt said tersely as he all but manhandled Sydney down the opposite hallway into their bedroom, the two of them erupting with laughter the second they closed the door.

You rolled your jaw and looked above you and Mat to find that, yes, indeed, there hung a very Sydney-like crystal ornament adorned with glittery mistletoe, suspended from the archway.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you muttered, resting your head against Mat’s chest as you both laughed anxiously.

But a moment later, Mat’s voice rumbled in his chest. “Hey...” he spoke. You took that as your invitation to look up at him, and when you did, you found him gazing at you even more tenderly than he had before.

“I mean, since there’s mistletoe and all.. would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asked. His hand found your cheek and you grasped his fingers in your own.

“Well,” you began, leaning further into him. “Only since there’s mistletoe.”

Mat breathed a chuckle and whispered, “Okay, good,” before his lips found yours in a toe-curling, snow-melting, heart-growing, hell of a Christmas movie kiss that you both found yourselves smiling into by the end.

“Wow,” was somehow all you could whisper when you finally pulled away for air.

“Yeah,” Mat agreed simply. “Wow.”

“It worked!” You heard the muffled squeal from behind Sydney’s closed door.

You rolled your eyes once again, hating Sydney in that moment, as Mat snickered and leaned in for another kiss.

Little did you know that a few years later, your dear, meddling Sydney would stand up at your side in front of a ballroom filled with your and Mat’s family and dearest friends and proudly tell the story of that cold late-December night when your love story with Mat began.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

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X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through…I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself  wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education

[lalainajanes]

For the square “water park” on my Klarosummerbingo card! Might be my worst title ever but it’s actually better than the original one so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Slip and Slide

Caroline speedwalks through the lobby, weaving around people who seem to think it’s the appropriate place for an early morning stroll. “Hold the elevator!” she calls, ignoring the few disgruntled looks she receives.

She hadn’t been that loud, and she’s nearly late for a critical meeting. It’s the first one with a new client, and she’d hate to make a bad first impression.

She’d had to head to the dry cleaners before work, had gotten caught in a traffic snarl in an area she wasn’t that familiar with, and it had taken her way too long to figure out the detour. She should have left her place earlier.

She gets to the security gates, juggling a garment bag, her briefcase, and a portfolio. Her ID seems to be just out of reach, and she jams her hand further into her purse. Albert, her favorite guard, murmurs, “Take a breath, Ms. Forbes.”

She blows one out, frustrated. Rolls her shoulders in an attempt to relax. “Sorry. I’m just…”

“Stressed? I can tell.”

Yikes. Caroline hopes that doesn’t mean her hair has exploded.

She smiles weakly, “Big day today.”

A brand new project, after the last one had been a disaster. Caroline’s comfortable with stress, thrives on high stakes, but she could totally use a win.

Her fingers touch the familiar edge of her badge, and she pulls it out triumphantly. She taps it on the sensor, walks through the revolving gate. “Good luck, Ms. Forbes,” Alfred murmurs as she passes.

It’s a little thing, but Caroline feels a little better knowing someone’s rooting for her.

She’s relieved to spot that one of the elevators is open, a man holding the door, his eyes on her. She doesn’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything. The building has 55 floors, offices for more than two dozen companies within it. He’s dressed in a suit, like the vast majority of the men she sees in the building. His is nicer than most, charcoal grey, perfectly fitted, with a very subtle pinstripe that she only notices when she gets closer. Caroline hurries into the car gratefully. She leans forward, punches 32. “Thank you so much,” she says to him, turning so they’re shoulder to shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver.”

The man on her other side makes a noise, a tiny scoff. Caroline glances at him quizzically. He’s stoic, eyes forward, but she’s sure there’s a hint of amusement on his face.

An arm brushes against hers, drawing her attention. “Feel free to ignore him,” the man who’d held the elevator says. His voice is low, smooth and she’d be charmed by the accent if they’d met in a social situation.

Or any situation, if she’s honest.

“My brother would probably describe me as more of a troublemaker.”

Huh. She hadn’t have figured brothers. They’ve both got attractive and well-dressed going for them but little other familial resemblance. Caroline’s head swings back, “Are you a trouble maker?”

His amusement is plain. His full lips curl, and deep dimples appear in his cheeks.

Oh yeah. Definitely a trouble maker.

“I’m about twenty minutes early for my meeting today; how much of a trouble maker can I be?” His tone is playful, a touch too innocent to be believed.

Damn it. Caroline does not have time for an attractive man this morning. At least she hadn’t changed into the frumpier outfit in the garment bag. Hopefully, she’ll run into this guy again.

“I think I need more info. Could be a one-time thing. I’m almost late for my meeting, which is wildly out of character.”

“Not the trusting sort, are you?”

Caroline shrugs, raising her brows expectantly.

He laughs briefly, “Well, I did send an email ahead to inquire about the coffee preferences of the team I’m meeting. I’m stopping at one of the cafes to pick it up now. Would a troublemaker do that?”

“Hmm, maybe. Could be an underhanded tactic to get on a good side before the trouble starts.”

Dimples’ brother chimes in again, dry this time. “I believe your assistant sent that email. And that she learned the practice from my assistant.”  

Dimples glowers, and Caroline must admit this is a delightful distraction from her anxiety. She glances up at the panel above the door and is disappointed to find they’re almost on her floor. “If you’re going to the café on 36, I recommend the oatmeal raisin cookies. Most people go chocolate chip. Trust me, that’s a mistake.”

The elevator pings, the doors sliding open. Caroline smiles, hitches her briefcase higher on her shoulder. “This is me. Thanks again.”

The receptionist spots Caroline, stands up, a sheaf of papers in her hands, and Caroline’s reminded about how much she has to do. She hurries out, her heels clicking across the shiny tiles of the lobby.

She still glances back at the elevator, can’t help smiling, pleased, when she finds her new friend from the elevator watching her as the doors close.

Even if she never sees him again, he’d made her morning a little brighter.

Now, though, it’s time to work.

* * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Caroline’s pacing in her office. She’s pinned her hair back and changed into the purple pantsuit she’d picked up at the dry cleaners. It’s a great color but not the most flattering fit. The pants are fine, but the jacket’s boxy, and she’s wearing a plain pink blouse underneath, buttoned to her throat, a thick silver necklace threaded through the collar. There’s a pair of glasses perched on her nose, and she’d changed into sensible flats.

She’d learned her lesson last time, at the first meeting where she’d been the project lead. She’d been called ‘Honey’ and other more annoying pet names and asked to serve coffee and fetch snacks. She’d received skepticism when she’d introduced herself. By the end of that first meeting, Caroline had wanted to scream her credentials – a B.A. and a Master’s in Civil Engineering, a whole pile of certifications, several prestigious internships, and stellar work references, thank you very much – at most of the people in the room.

Ultimately, the project had been successful, but Caroline had experienced frequent bursts of frustration that bordered on rage. Her suggestions were met with questions that made it clear her intelligence was doubted, her corrections with condescension, even though she’d usually been the only one in the room with any significant scientific expertise.

Expertise that’s kind of crucial in designing a water park. It wouldn’t have been a good look, or a sound investment, if guests were to end up injured or dead after paying exorbitant ticket prices and expecting a fun day.

Her skin has thickened considerably, but Caroline hopes that’s less necessary this time. Her boss had assured her that this job would be easier, and Caroline’s choosing to believe her. It’s even potentially exciting – these clients own several international resorts, the park she’s pitching on will be built in Spain.

Being project leader, she’d traveled to oversee construction on the nightmare build, but Tennessee doesn’t carry quite the same appeal as the Spanish coast, at least from the photos Caroline’s seen.

At the very least, it can’t be a worse experience. She hopes.

She hears Katherine coming her way, takes a final deep breath before Kat breezes into her office. “What are you wearing?” Kat asks, sounding both mystified and vaguely disgusted. She pauses in front of Caroline, fingers pinching her lapel and tugging. “Is this polyester?”

“Maybe. I thrifted it.”

Katherine’s face twists in the sort of revulsion one would expect if Caroline confessed to grave robbing the ensemble.

“Ew, why?”

“Figured I needed a costume. To make sure that this time, no one in there thinks to call me ‘sweet cheeks.’”

She’d been paired with another designer last time, Matt Donovan, who was a nice enough guy but had been pretty useless in the having her back department. Caroline likely wouldn’t have cried into her Ben and Jerry’s quite so often had Katherine been her partner. Kat has the unique and impressive ability to make demands and issue orders and have people thank her for it.

Kat snorts, “Elijah Mikaelson would never. He’s aggressively polite. I haven’t spoken to him yet, but I doubt Niklaus would either. I assume he has the same hot accent.”

That’s a new name. Caroline doesn’t like surprises. “And who is Niklaus?”

“A brother. And a business partner. He wasn’t originally scheduled to be here but is unexpectedly in town. What do you think the British equivalent to sweet cheeks is?”

Caroline’s eyes go wide, a few puzzle pieces clicking together. British brothers, twenty minutes early for a meeting. What are the odds?

Crap. Had she been flirting with a client? In front of another client?

There’s a tap at the door, her boss’ assistant’s head poking in, “They’re ready for you in the conference room.”

Ugh. Maybe she’s cursed.

* * * * * 

The presentation goes fantastically.

Katherine had been correct – the Mikaelsons don’t seem to labor under the misapprehension that a conventionally attractive blonde woman can’t grasp complex concepts. They’d shaken her hand when she’d arrived; Niklaus (or Klaus, as he apparently prefers) had looked a bit puzzled when they’d been introduced, Caroline had chalked that up to the outfit. He’d said it was nice to see her again. Explaining her mad dash to the elevator, and Klaus’ assistance, to the room had broken the ice nicely.

Kat kicks them off, and her design is gorgeous; Elijah and Klaus appear suitably impressed. When it’s Caroline’s turn, her nerves fall away by her second PowerPoint slide. She knows her stuff backward and forward, and she’s incredibly pleased with her innovation.

She also begins to feel less bad about the flirting once she sees that Kat throws Elijah a few looks that are borderline inappropriate for the office (that he seems pretty pleased with).

They ask questions, pour over the mock-ups and technical drawings Caroline and Katherine had prepared. Their ideas are actually good, which is a nice contrast for the last project. She’d done far too much lying and finessing to attempt to steer the previous park into a less terrible direction. The Mikaelsons have far fewer notes than Caroline had anticipated, and she promises to put together an update ASAP. They schedule another meeting.

She thinks Klaus’ handshake lingers when they say goodbye, but maybe she’s just riding high on adrenaline and imagining things.

She kind of hopes she isn’t. It’s probably too messy to date a client, but a girl can fantasize, can’t she?

Caroline helps herself to the cookie tray, pleased by the generous helping of oatmeal raisin she finds. Kat’s disappeared, but she knows their boss will want to debrief. Caroline collapses into one of the conference chairs, pulls out her phone to check her messages.

She replies to a few emails before she notices one that’s just arrived.

 Hello Caroline,

I enjoyed your presentation today. I look forward to the next.

Warmly,

Klaus

 She grins to herself, slumps lower in her chair. Clearly, she hadn’t imagined anything if Klaus is emailing her when he’s barely out of the building. She takes a risk and sends a slightly more casual reply than she’d usually attempt at this point.

If he reacts badly, she can up the formality later on. If he doesn’t, well… she’s only fostering a good working relationship. That’ll be essential if they land this contract.

And she’s like 90% sure it’s in the bag.

 Hi Klaus,

Thank you!

The photos your team sent over of the location were gorgeous; both Kat and I were inspired. I think this is some of our best work to date. I’m excited to dive into the updates and meet again next week.

Best,

Caroline

P.S. Thanks for the cookies.

His reply comes minutes later.

Caroline,

I believe it. Your work is impressive, as I’m sure your new ideas will be. Have you ever been to Spain? The pictures hardly do it justice.

Warmly,

Klaus

P.S. You’re welcome. Which coffee order was yours?

 Well, that’s the opposite of a bad reaction.

Caroline sets her phone aside, tells herself she has to be smart here. She’s reasonably sure she’s not doing anything that’s prohibited. The emails will speak for themselves, and they live on the company server. Neither she nor Klaus are offering anything untoward for the contract. If things go well, she may just have to fill out an HR disclosure form. She’ll double-check the firm’s code of conduct.

Just in case.

[catharsis-in-a-bottle]

AHSDHFHHJKKHD

THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT. WAS SO FUCKING GOOD. 

[spoilers below if you haven’t seen it and you want to]

Here are some of my (not in any particular order) bullet points. This is gonna be long as hell because, you know, brain dumps amiright

First off, Anya Taylor-Joy’s acting. Is just incredible. In particular moments, you can tell what she’s thinking with a simple hand gesture or with the tiniest raise of an eyebrow. She develops Beth’s signature facial expressions and movements throughout the show, and you just feel like you know her. And during her chess matches, sometimes it feels like she’s staring into your soul. Especially when she gives that badass chin-on-the-hands look and she knows she’s going to win. Powerful energy.

Secondly, I fucking knew I recognized Harry Beltik from somewhere else but my mom didn’t BELIEVE me and then I looked up the actor and he’s DUDLEY DURSLEY, I WAS RIGHT MOTHER, I WAS RIGHT

I love love love how they didn’t make, like, a major romantic plotline. Beth doesn’t end up with a partner - she ends with a bunch of super supportive friends that have her back by the time she gets to Moscow, and like, she has a crush on Townes but they end up being just like super good and healthy friends and I love it?? So much?? Thank you producers

Townes. Just, in general. I really like his character, he’s super nice and his voice is oddly soothing

BORGOV. I LOVE BORGOV. HE IS SO GODDAMN RESPECTFUL. Like, he seemed like a very cold character at first - well-mannered and extremely professional, yes, but rather cold. But when she wins in Moscow? “It is your game. Take it.” I LOVE THAT SO MUCH. AND HE HUGS HER AND STARTS CLAPPING AND THE AMOUNT OF RESPECT AND ADMIRATION AND AFFECTION IN THAT SCENE IS INCREDIBLE. And you don’t see any of that in Borgov’s face when he’s playing. His facial expressions do not change at all. But then his face when she wins!! He’s HAPPY! He’s like, goddamn, I’ve spent my whole life mastering chess, it’s about time somebody fucking beat me! I know I’m repeating myself but just his RESPECT I absolutely adore it

And Beth’s officer-watcher-person in Moscow was all like “ahhh be wary of the Russians! communism!!” but they absolutely did not make this yet another evil Russian show, like please that trope works for plots but it’s about time somebody did something different - they showed the US government as suspicious of the Soviets but then they showed the solidarity between the chess players that Benny talked about earlier (”The Russians work together, Americans work alone” or something like that), and then they showed the kind and excitable people on the streets, and the amount of support they would have had no matter WHO won that goddamn match. The old man she plays at the end. Everyone is a community.

Continuing that - I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the old man with the very puffy white hair, but I loved him too. He sees Beth as the rising star she is, and he respects her. He admires her. The dynamic there is absolutely immaculate, contrary to the dynamic between Beth and the man she beats earlier, the one who walks off and doesn’t even talk to her. We don’t like that man - we like the ones who admit defeat and respect Beth!! I love them!! They are extremely professional, and they show the warm-heartedness that often doesn’t show with all of the cold stares and glares that pass between players during matches.

Joline. I’m so glad she came back. I love her. She’s extremely independent but she comes back for Beth because Beth needs her but she’s also like “I’m not your savior! Get your shit together!” which is fucking awesome. And the fact that the two of them interacted like the best of friends even after years of separation was really sweet to me.

I nearly cried when Beth went back into the school. (I say ‘nearly’ because there were other people in the room and naturally I can’t do that in front of other people. If I was utterly alone, maybe on my own planet, I would have.) Because of all of it. Because of her trauma, because that’s where all the shit began... and the music during that scene. It was hauntingly beautiful, especially when the melody began switching to cello. And then Beth saw all the pictures and newspaper clips that Mr. Shaibel had saved, because he cared about her so much, because he started it all - he’s the reason she’s going to national tournaments, to Paris, to Moscow. And in that scene, we know he’s too old to be alive anymore, and she does too. The whole school scene in general just feels so ghostly and ethereal. 

I love Borgov, did I say that already? I just... strive to exude his energy. I want to be good at things but I want to hold deep, genuine respect and admiration for others who are also good at the thing, because sometimes I just have the biggest fucking ego and I can get carried away. ‘Borgov, Borgov, Borgov.’ A mantra. He wins respectfully and he loses respectfully. 

BETH’S MOTHER (the second one) JUST FUCKING DIED OUT OF NOWHERE?? AND I WAS SO SHOCKED? Which is really an accurate reflection of reality because death often comes out of nowhere, but DAMN I was not expecting that shit

And the fact that the mother just,,,, let her chug a beer,,,, oof

THE ADDICTION. BETH’S DOWNWARD SPIRAL. IT MADE ME FEEL SO HORRIBLE BUT IT FELT SO REAL. Everything about her progression through addiction was just... I can’t find an adjective. But when she just fucking inhaled that bucket of pills as a kid and then collapsed. When that addiction lasted into her adulthood - it’s really impactful and horrible and just so real. She needed proper care throughout this entire goddamn show and she never got medical care, she just got supportive friends - which, btw, that’s one thing that kind of threw me off. Like, she didn’t have withdrawal in Moscow, she went from chugging like four bottles of wine a day to... not drinking at all?? Without withdrawal symptoms?? And I’m proud of her for throwing away those pills but honestly it felt really fast, idk

GIVING CHILDREN TRANQUILIZERS WAS AN ACTUAL THING THAT HAPPENED. I DID NOT PREVIOUSLY KNOW THIS. BUT LEGITIMATELY, IT HAPPENED. HOLY SHIT.

HARRY BELTIK. He was like, awkwardly in love with Beth and that shit didn’t work out but even afterwards he FUCKING CARED. He’d seen his father drink himself to death and he knew that would happen to Beth and he was scared. So he came back, he tried to help her, and at that point (when she had that fucking scary eye makeup, yeah that was rock bottom) she didn’t care much about the outside world anymore. She was angry, and she was closing herself in. It made my stomach clench in physical pain. Which is a good thing. But also not.

Harry Beltik in general just being so supportive and wanting to help her though, like yeah it was very awkward, but they were vibing

AND BENNY WATTS IS FUCKING GREAT. THAT WHOLE COWBOY LOOK, COWBOY CHESS PLAYER, NOW THAT’S AN AESTHETIC. He was concerned for Beth too. He wanted to help her. He wanted to create that American solidarity that he knew the Soviet competitors had, and ultimately he did when he and everyone else called her in Moscow. Benny is... chaotic good? Neutral? He is quite an interesting character, and Beth’s persistent social awkwardness fades away with him because he knows how to interact with her. He’s a dedicated and smart narcissist, and I’m here for it.

The fact that they made me love and hate Cleo at the same time, and also question Beth’s sexuality when she first met Cleo. Like, she’s from Paris. She considers ‘tomorrow night’ to be a very long time away. I love her mysteriousness. But also, she was the catalyst for Beth’s downward drinking spiral before the match in Paris, so like... I like Cleo’s personality, but not her choices in those previous moments.

The music. Did I mention the music? The soundtrack. The orchestrals. That one song that the mother plays on piano that I hear all the time and I still don’t actually know what it is PLEASE HELP. The music is melancholy in the right moments, upbeat in the right moments, intense and suspenseful in the right moments - and also absent in the right moments. There’s tacet. There’s silence. And it’s always been my firm belief that silence can hold just as much impact as sound. 

Just an interesting note, my mom watched the whole show before me and then re-watched it with me, and when Mr. Shaibel showed up she quickly reassured me that he wasn’t a child molester, because quote “it may be a creepy basement but he’s just really nice” so...  I was reassured

I love Mr. Shaibel, and Beth just kept sticking up for him in front of the press and,,, yeah

I hated that bitch from the high school, what was her name?... The one who showed up in the store with a child? It makes me think about the fact that so many kids are just jerks in high school simply because they can be... and occasionally their fuckery lasts into adulthood but oftentimes it doesn’t. You don’t have to be a jerk when you’re an adult, and you don’t have to be a jerk in high school! People remember, people always remember! So, to the bitch from the high school: fuck you for making Beth feel like an outsider and then trying to reverse gears and accept her, cuz Beth isn’t falling for that shit.

The twins, Matt and Mike. They’re so doubtful of Beth in the beginning but then bam, she’s competing nationally, and I adore how the three of them become friends. All those men playing chess in Kentucky in the beginning seem so condescending, but ultimately they show respect because Beth absolutely fucking deserves it.

I enjoy the fact that we never *really* know Beth’s age. It’s just like... she’s 9, she’s 15, she’s 17, she’s... twenty something? Who the hell knows? As many characters say, when it comes to skill level, age ultimately isn’t an important factor. This young woman beats the oldest man with the bushiest white hair in Moscow and age. Does not. Matter. 

The Jesus people lmaooooo when Beth said “because it’s fucking nonsense” I just. Mad respect ma’am, don’t take their money, go be a communist and “sPrEaD tHe aThEiSt AgEnDa”

Wow I really just... wrote all that didn’t I damn wish I could write essays this fast at reasonable hours of the day

Beth’s relationship with her foster mother is so fucking sweet until she fucking dies

And fuck Beth’s legal father. He is an asshole. That is all.

The mother deserved Manuel, she deserved that sketchy Mexican salesman goddammit

As my final bullet point: This has made me want to play chess. This has made me want to get good at chess. You know that thing where you like, download the personality of the coolest character for like a day after you watch something... I don’t do that anymore (maybe), but I want to download those mad chess skills. This has made chess seem so cool. I want to wear a fancy suit and compete with people. I just have to, you know, actually develop some strategy and stop losing brutally against people online. I wAnT tO pLaY cHesS dO yOu HeAr mE

I’m going to stop now, but I just,,, peeps, I love this show. I’m absolutely going to require a re-watch in the future. I just love it. The characters and their development, their relationships with each other, the progression of time and of Beth’s maturity... it is simply incredible. This concludes my brain dump.

[anika-ann]

The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - Pt.2

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & Part 3),  Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock & reader        

Word count: 2600

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a wanted man and you don’t have Steve’s back; ableit for good reasons. And then it gets worse.

Warnings: mentions of terorrist attack, mentions of violence and death, language, angst

A/N: This part of Melting Hearts’ verse follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing them and kinda expecting the readers to know what’s up ;)

Posted in double chapters (1st &2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1)

Previous part

────── ·❆· ──────  

3. (Running to Stand Still)

Back at the hotel after the funeral, another punch straight to his face came; all news channels were broadcasting about an attack in Vienna, exactly where the conference about The Sokovia Accords was taking place. Several people had been killed and the king of Wakanda had been among them.

And they had a suspect: James Buchanan Barnes.

Now Steve was hundred percent sure the world had gone crazy and the universe simply hated him.

“I have to go,” were the first words coming out of his mouth.

You sighed behind him, your fist against your mouth. This was officially the worst day ever.

“And I have to go to work,” Sharon uttered, watching the news as horrified as everyone else in the room. Except for Steve; for him, the tragedy was to be measured on a whole different scale.

“I… I should go to work too.”

Steve’s head snapped to you in shock, his heart positively stopping. Were you… were you gonna come after Bucky too? After Steve’s best friend? Who had clearly nothing to do with this, because he had disappeared from the face of Earth and was definitely not bombing conference rooms with the highest representatives of 117 countries?

Your eyes were a sea of regrets and dilemmas when his accusing glare met with them. It mollified him a little – after all, you didn’t know Bucky. Sure, you heard stories about him, every single one Steve could remember because you were willing to listen, but you weren’t even close to truly knowing his persona.

“I understand, Steve. He’s your friend. He’s done terrible things, but you believe in redemption. I love that about you. And you know I trust your judgement. If you believe this wasn’t him… I trust you. But… I don’t know if I should come with you. With all the tension building up, if I don’t show up at work…”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, not liking it at all; but you were right. They had better chance at getting to Bucky – who might not even be in Vienna for all they knew – if it was just him and Sam coming. Lower profile.

Also, it kinda meant a lot that you were still putting so much trust in his judgement, at least when it came to people’s character.

“You’re right. You should go with Sharon. We don’t know what happens, even if we succeed. I… I can’t ask you to come with me.”

Your expression shifted into a gentle one, the worries softening into something much more affectionate. It surprised him to be honest – and he instantly felt bad for thinking ill of you. He knew you were a kind person. Why was he letting the circumstance make him doubt it?

“You could, Steve. And if I believed I would be helpful, I would come. I know we don’t agree on everything… but the only reason why I’m not coming along is because I believe it’s a way to make it easier for you.”

He gulped, taking a hesitant step towards you. The moment you noticed the tinniest movement of his arms as if he was debating himself whether he should at least hug you goodbye, you threw your smaller arms around him, enveloping him in a warm embrace. Steve closed his eyes at the feeling, welcoming the indescribable relief at the little piece of familiarity in this terrible mess. Having you in his arms always felt right.

“Good luck, Steve. Please, be careful,” you muttered into his suit and he let himself to have a few more moments of peace, pulling you closer so your body could almost merge with his. He took a deep breath with his face nuzzled in your hair, enveloped in everything that was you.

No matter the dispute you two had going on, it felt good to know some things didn’t change and he could find a support in you in the time of crisis after all.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Steve barely managed to step on the breaks and swerve the wheel before he would crash into the debris in full speed. He jumped out of the car, having to sprint in front of the vehicle so it wouldn’t smashed him against the road since it overturned and was now coming his direction uncontrollably.

His escape turned into a chase when he saw a person in what could be a costume (an armour?) of a wild black cat standing over Bucky’s lying figure.

And then he caught a glimpse of a movement coming from above.

You landed gracefully next to the tangled mess of limps of Bucky and the assailant, a mass of ice sending the strange figure flying off Steve’s friend. Steve stopped abruptly since he had no one he wanted to throw off now and for a second, he allowed himself to breathe in. He had no idea where the hell had you come from, but he was eternally grateful. And a little bit scared for you, because he had seen what the metal claws of your opponent could do.

Your hand hit the ground, walls of thick ice shielding you all from cars coming from both directions, slightly curved on the tops to cover you from the sky where the flapping of the approaching helicopter was coming from. The panther figure was not included in your little shelter.

Bucky climbed to his feet, staring at you with his eyes wide in shock. Steve wasn’t any less shocked to be honest – but unlike his friend, he was more baffled at you materializing out of nowhere than your powers.

You all heard the sirens approaching rapidly from behind the icy shield, just like you could hear scratching of the metal claws against your barrier reaching tens feet to your right and left. Steve quickly looked around for the quickest and safest escape route as the loudspeaker-powered voice almost deafened you all.

“You’re surrounded-“

Steve sprung to his right, but he didn’t manage a single step. Columns of ice trapped his legs from the ground, reaching above his knees, his shield knocked out of his hands as he was hit by a burst of your powers. He gasped when he saw Bucky unable to move as well and he shot you a desperately perplexed look.

The wall around them melted just enough for you to come through with your hands above your head – about forty riffles immediately aimed at you, together with Rhodey’s repulsors. You sought a leader of the bust and since you didn’t find anyone else, you spoke to the man in the metal suit.

“They surrender,” you exclaimed firmly. “Don’t shoot.”

Steve glared at your back in disbelief, his adrenalin spiking to dizzying levels. What the hell did you just do?!

Rhodey nodded and you glanced at the man in a black costume, only to see no other than the son of the recently deceased king of Wakanda. Prince T’Challa.

Steve honestly thought this was the weirdest nightmare he had ever dreamed. Except it wasn’t a dream; the walls of ice slowly went down, revealing just how many men were ready to shoot at him and Bucky from both the front and the back.

You slowly lowered your hands, putting them behind your back so the agents could cuff you as well. But Rhodey just patted your back to let you know they were not gonna arrest you.

“Good job, kid.”

You grimaced and looked up at Steve. His eyes glinted behind his mask as he watched you with an emotion you certainly didn’t want to decode.

The shock of the Black Panther revealing his face was nothing. The icy needles cutting into his skin and muscles were nothing.

What burned him the most was your betrayal. Yes, you had iced T’Challa away, but you also stole their last chance to run – and what was worse, you had used your powers against him. Against him. You had done something he had thought terrified you, the memory of giving him a frostbite still haunting you. But here you were, doing what you had done so many years ago – except this time deliberately.

He saw the tears in your eyes, the desperate and torn expression on your face as the agents approached him and you let the ice around his hands melt so he could be cuffed. Then his legs were free too, but he couldn’t care less, feeling frozen from the inside.

What Steve couldn’t see was the three different snipers positioned at the edge of the pillars previously aiming at each of them, now with their guns cracking under the extremely low temperature, and their hands buried in ice. What he hadn’t seen before you let the walls crumble, was the number of men with itchy fingers, now lowering their weapons because the suspects were secured. Blinded by the anger, he couldn’t see a lot of things.

He couldn’t see you had just saved their lives.

────── ·❆· ──────  

4. (Poisoned Words)

Steve knew – he had known the moment you hadn’t gone after him when he had stormed out of the room after the fight with Tony. He had known you had made up your mind a long time ago – and not even the idea of Wanda being practically held prisoner had changed your spirit. He had known when he hadn’t seen you fight after the psychiatrist did something to his best friend – neither the brainwashed escaping Bucky, neither anyone else at the facility.

Yet it still broke his heart when you hadn’t showed up at the airport with Sharon, who had brought their gear. The shield. Falcon’s wings. He should be grateful to Agent Carter, but it still felt as if she had come empty-handed. She didn’t bring the most important item. You. But that wasn’t on her.

“She’s staying with Wanda Maximoff. Keeping her company,” Sharon said simply as if she guessed Steve’s thoughts and he nodded hastily, pretending the incredibly tight knot in his stomach didn’t exist. That he could breathe. That he didn’t want to scream, but could easily draw enough air into his lungs to do so. That he didn’t feel tears prickle in his eyes.

“Thank you, Sharon. I owe you.”

“I’ll put it on the list. Right under this,” she said softly, pulling out an envelope from the inner pocket of her jacket.

Steve sucked in a breath as she held it out for him. Mentally, he let out a sarcastic laugh. A letter. You had left him a letter. Just words. Just like when you had left him the last time when you abandoned him, even for a whole different reason. The last time, you were protecting him; this time, you were protecting yourself.

Steve wondered if this was you laughing to his face. He didn’t even want the stupid piece of paper.

“Thanks, but… if it’s from the person I think it is, I don’t want it.”

That was a lie.

He did want it. He itched to have it. He craved for it, because he would love to hear what you had to say to all this. To him. Were you trying to justify your actions? How? Was it because you truly believed you were so bad in your core? Because your insecurity about you keeping control over your powers rooted so deep? Or because you didn’t believe he was doing the right thing, you didn’t believe his judgement anymore? Were you thinking he was not doing the right thing, saving a man, who had been turned into a weapon against his will, becoming just a tool?

It didn’t matter. You weren’t here.  Whatever you had to tell him, it didn’t seem to matter, because you leaving him in lurch hurt so fucking badly.

He almost jumped when a small hand took his and he snapped from his trance, seeking the point of contact with his gaze. Sharon gently uncurled his fingers, pressing the envelope to his palm. When he met her eyes, they burned with sincerity and seriousness.

“She was very desperate for me to get this to you. She sought me out – because she figured I would come to your aid. Don’t underestimate her, Steve. Don’t judge her. I believe that the letter is truly important.”

Steve sighed, but tugged the envelope into the pocket of his jacket, planning on reading it never. Probably. Maybe someday. Who knew what was next. Who knew if he’d live that long.

Sharon smiled at him reassuringly and helped him to move the equipment to the trunk of their distinctive get-away car. The letter stayed in his jacket, burning with the tinniest hope. Maybe Clint would bring you along with Wanda, since you were staying with her. Maybe…

He didn’t.

He gave Steve an apologetic and pitying look instead; it only made the supersoldier sick. Because now, he was nothing but sure you didn’t give a damn about either him or doing the right thing.

And he had no clue how he had never seen it before. It almost looked like he should be grateful that you hadn’t stopped Clint and Wanda from wandering off at least. God, he had been so stupid—

“Steve-“ Wanda started from behind Clint, her voice sounding urgent,  but from her expression, Steve could tell the matter she wanted to talk about; he just shook his head.

“Good to see you, Wanda. Thank you for coming,” he said with a strained smile, pushing the thoughts of you to the back of his mind. They didn’t have time for his self-pity now.  

She returned the smile hastily, but opened her mouth again to speak.

“Please don’t. Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”

“But you should-”

“Not now,” he opposed sternly, regretting his tone when Wanda winced. “Please,” he said, softer. “Not now, Wanda.”

Clint’s gaze flickered between them, unsure whether he should intervene. Honestly, he wasn’t quite certain what was happening between you and Steve, or how much bad blood the Accords poured between the two of you. He had noticed what could be a brief wordless exchange between you and Wanda at the compound and assumed you had wanted Wanda to send your sorry to Steve. He could understand why Steve didn’t want to hear it, especially now, but that was as far as his knowledge of the situation went.

“Clint, thank you. I wouldn’t call you if I had another choice,” Steve turned to him, a tiny grateful smile on his lips. His face spoke volumes about a lot of things, but Clint could tell the gratitude was genuine. He accepted his hand and shook it.

“Hey, trust me, you’re doing me a favour. And I owe a debt.”

Steve just nodded in acknowledgement when he noticed the tiny gesture towards Wanda.

“Thank you both for having my back.”

“It was time to get off my ass. I know where my loyalty lies. And I’m not the only one,” the Scarlet Witch commented lowly.

It earned her a raised eyebrow from Clint when Steve drew in a sharp breath.

Fuck, that hurt.

Steve would think it was just a slip, but the Sokovian tilted her head to side almost mockingly as if she knew exactly what she had said and was provoking him on purpose. Challenging him for whatever reason. Steve swallowed against the lump suddenly grown in his throat.

“What about our other recruit?”

And with that, the matter of you not coming along was dropped.

Steve wished he could get rid of the thoughts about you and his feelings just as easily.  

────── ·❆· ──────  

Part 3 (the fifth time and the +1)

────── ·❆· ──────  

Thank you for reading!

[loftec]

Hi! in this prompt, could we know about Mickey's ex boyfriend or something? I think his name was Matt?

thank you for participating + pre NTW - Mickey's POV 👀

Anon: tell us about Matt

Yevgeny: his name was Mark

Mickey, pinching the bridge of his nose: Martin, and no. I’m not gonna tell you about Martin.

Narrator: little did Mickey know that he had zero say on the matter, let’s goooo.

April 13, 2013. Saturday.

Mickey is just off the L when his phone rings. For a moment, he considers ignoring the buzzing in his pocket as he lights up a cigarette and bounds down the metal steps. The list of people likely to call him is very limited, and most of that list is very welcome to fuck off to voicemail on a Saturday evening. Work can fuck off, telemarketers can doubly fuck off. On this particular Saturday, even his extended family can fuck off. It might be Martin, wondering where he is, but he can quite frankly also fuck off, seeing as Mickey is no more than five minutes away from their agreed rendezvous.

That only leaves one, and the thought alone is enough for Mickey to step out of the flow of people rushing to and from the platform, and check the damned call. Seeing the ID, he quickly picks up, pressing the phone to his ear.

”What the fuck?” he asks, unsure if he should be annoyed or alarmed and figuring this would best cover a bit of both.

”Hey dad,” his son says, unexpectedly.

”Yev?” Mickey says, inching towards annoyed. At least his son is unharmed enough to dial a phone, so it can’t be too bad. ”What’s wrong? Where’s Sonya?”

”She’s right here,” Yevgeny says, he sounds fine, normal, good, ”we can’t find the cake poking thing.”

Staring at the empty space in front of him, Mickey feels the rest of his mood swan dive head-first into annoyed. ”The what?”

”The thing we use to poke cakes, to check if they’re done? We can’t find it and we need it, the cake is almost done.”

Taking the forgotten cigarette from his lips, Mickey angles the burning end away from his face as he rubs at the deep line between his eyebrows.

”Kid,” he says, trying to sound calm, ”give the phone to Sonya.”

There are some muffled noises over the line, and then Mickey can hear his son’s distant voice. ”He wants to talk to you.”

”Hey Mickey,” Sonya comes on, breezy as anything. ”Is it supposed to be in the cutlery drawer? Been rifling through that thing for a good minute already.”

”Are you fucking kidding me?”

”What? It’s not such a weird guess, is it? I’d say it’s cutlery adjacent at least.”

”I’ve been outta the fucking house for less than forty minutes!” Mickey says, calmly. He is absolutely not screeching loud enough to have people on the street give him concerned looks. ”And you call me about some fucking–, I don’t have anything like that! Who has a thing specifically for poking cakes?!”

”Oh please,” Sonya scoffs. ”Plenty people do, you being one of them!”

He wants to point out that this is categorically not what he meant when he said ’call me if there’s an emergency’, but he’s got a feeling that this is only going to get him into an argument about the definition of ’emergency’ that he’s not going to win, and besides, he’s got bigger fish to fry right now.

”I absolutely do fucking not!” he splutters, glaring at a couple throwing him side-eye as they rush past him. ”Are you outta your mind?”

”I know you have one, because I gave it to you,” Sonya says, clanking sounds in the background from where she’s still presumably rifling through Mickey’s shit. ”Remember? When you moved in? I got it in Sweden when I was visiting for my cousin’s wedding. It was hand crafted, Mickey, you better not have thrown it out!”

”That thing?” Mickey balks, smoothly electing to not point out that they both know Sonya came home from her trip with like ten of those in her luggage and then spent the next two years giving them to all her friends and family whenever she’d forgot about getting gifts for an occasion. ”I stuck it in Merida.”

The silence on the other end of the line is palpable, and it takes a second for Mickey to hear what he just said.

”Who is Merida, and do I want to know why you stuck my hand-carved Swedish cake poker in her?”

Mickey sighs, and decides that he doesn’t have to answer that. He can try, at least. ”Tell Yev it’s in Merida.”

”I most certainly will not tell your sweet summer child that you’ve stuck the cake poker in–,” her increasingly high pitched voice abruptly falls to a hiss, ”–Merida, who is Merida?”

Luckily, Mickey can hear his son in the background, saving him from having to explain. ”It’s this thing?”

There’s another silence, Mickey takes the opportunity to smoke and accept the inevitable.

”Two questions,” Sonya says, her usual good humor back in her voice. ”One, you stuck my hand-carved Swedish souvenir in a potted plant? And two, you named the plant Merida?”

”It’s cartoon character–,” Mickey starts, before realizing what he’s saying and cutting himself off, ”I didn’t name it, obviously.”

”But you still call it by its name.”

”Whatever,” Mickey blows out a puff of smoke and can’t help smiling. Sometimes he just has to stop and take stock of how fucking ridiculous his life has turned out. And how much he fucking likes it, despite himself. ”Congratulations, you found it. Any other emergency you needed me for, or can I get back to my–”

He swallows, catching himself mid-sentence, suddenly unsure of how he intended to end it.

”–thing.”

”You’re there already?” Sonya asks, sounding genuinely remorseful now. ”Sorry, you left so late I thought for sure you’d missed the train and would still be en route, or I wouldn’t have told Yev to call. How’s the date going?”

Mickey swallows again, throat dry. He starts walking down the street in the direction of the bar.

”It’s fine, still on the way,” he says, ”and it’s not a date.”

”Like heck it isn’t,” Sonya tuts, ”you’re out on a Yev weekend for the first time since I’ve known you, and I saw that shirt you’re wearing.”

He runs a hand self-consciously along his belt, his button-down still tucked in and in place. He refuses to worry about it.

”You looked good, Mickey, I meant to tell you,” Sonya continues, and she doesn’t even sound like she’s teasing anymore which Mickey knows even less how to handle. ”And you’re undeniably on a date.”

”Shut up,” Mickey mutters and smiles to himself when Sonya laughs. Feeling a little more himself, he chucks his cigarette to the curb and stops to look across the road at his destination. ”Maybe.”

He hadn’t really considered the possibility, before Martin asked him. But the sex was always good, they got along really well, and when Martin looked up at him from his bed as Mickey was pulling on his jeans, his hair rumpled and lips still shiny, and asked if he wanted to go to some kind of hipster showcase gig together, Mickey had barely even hesitated.

”About time, too,” Sonya says. ”Was starting to think the guy wasn’t all there, taking his sweet time. Maybe he was waiting for you to ask.”

”Ey,” Mickey shakes his head, ”it’s only been a couple of months.”

”Try six! That’s half of a whole year.”

”Try minding your own fucking business,” Mickey says and frowns. Maybe it has been that long since the first time they hooked up, but it’s not like they’ve been fucking on the regular the whole time since then.

”Just happy for you, Mickey,” Sonya says, like it’s an easy thing for her to say. ”You like him, right?”

He doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t outright deny it either, which probably tells Sonya everything she needs to know.

”Gotta go,” he says instead, ”and don’t call me again unless it’s an actual fucking emergency. See you tomorrow.”

Not waiting to see if she’s got something to say to that, he hangs up and shoves the phone back into his pocket. Staring at the unassuming building across the street, he allows himself a moment to take it all in. He’s just casing the joint before he enters, it’s normal fucking behavior. He isn’t stalling.

It doesn’t look too busy from the outside, there’s no line, and no bouncer or guard by the propped open double doors. The walls of the building are littered with layers of posters, on both sides of the doors and across the covered windows. Not much can be seen through the doors from his vantage point, but he assumes that it’s a front room leading to whatever’s going on inside the building.

There’s a guy standing off to the side of the doors, smoking. He’s got a lanyard shoved down his back pocket, ID badge dangling in clear sight. Most likely someone working at the bar, out on a break. His shoulders are hunched and he’s got a phone clutched to his ear, head bent and lips pressed together in a thin line. He nods at whatever is being said to him over the phone. Mickey looks up at the worn sign above the door.

”Fuck it,” Mickey mutters and, pushing aside the last of his niggling doubt, makes his way across the street and through the doors. It’s dark enough inside that his eyes need a second to adjust, before he quickly orients himself and heads toward the noise and lights leaking out from behind a set of swing doors beyond the coat check.

”Excuse me!” someone pipes up behind him, and he turns back to raise his eyebrows at the girl standing behind a counter by the entrance. ”We’ve got a showcase tonight, you need to buy a ticket.”

She makes an apologetic face as Mickey gets closer and pulls out his wallet.

”25,” she says when he gives her a questioning look.

”Christ,” he mutters, but forks over the money. ”This better be good.”

”We’ve got a really exciting lineup tonight, all local acts,” she says, obviously relieved now that he’s payed and she can tuck away his hard earned cash in her little lock box. ”I’m hoping I can take a break soon so I can sneak a peak of the headliner.”

She winks at him as she hands over a ticket, and he has zero fucking clue what he’s supposed to do with any of that.

”Okay?” he says and accepts the ticket. ”What’s this for? I’m already here.”

”In case you want to go in and out,” she says, and then tacks on when she seems to remember something she’s supposed to say; ”there’s no smoking in the venue.”

Mickey shrugs and pockets the ticket, biting back the urge to tell her that there’s no fucking smoking anywhere these days, thank you very much. The girl is still smiling at him when he turns his back on her and heads for the bar.

”Have fun!”

Finally inside, the place seems to be a collection of smaller rooms with some walls knocked down to make a larger, oddly shaped space. The bar is crowded, three bartenders moving around each other and pouring drinks in the narrow space behind it, and all the tables tucked away in the dark half-room next to it seem occupied. In the main room, Mickey finds the small, raised stage with a bigger crowd gathered in front of it. There’s a guy on stage, talking about something and looking like he’s about to cry while getting thoroughly ignored by a majority of his audience.

Mickey included, when he spots Martin a bit to the left of the stage. He’s talking to a couple of people he must have met in the crowd, smiling in that carefree way of his, eyes squeezed together and head tossed back when he laughs. He seems to do that a lot, laugh and talk and make friends wherever he goes. Open about himself in casual throw-away lines as he lets Mickey into his apartment, takes his clothes off, catching his breath, seeing Mickey off again. It’s nice seeing him out here, in the real world.

Maybe this could work. Mickey really should have tried harder to be on time, leaving your date to make new friends while he waits for you to show up seems like a bad move, now that he thinks about it.

Shit. Here goes nothing.

”Hey!” Martin exclaims, face lighting up with a wide smile when Mickey walks into his line of sight. He doesn’t sound upset, really doesn’t look it either when he pulls Mickey in for a quick kiss. It’s over before Mickey’s had the chance to do much else than blink in surprise.

”I’m late,” he acknowledges and hopes Martin will take the attempt at an apology for what it is.

”It’s fine,” Martin gins at him, tilting his head in the direction of the stage, ”you haven’t missed anything good.”

”– have you ever noticed that?” the guy on stage mutters into the microphone, ”I mean–, uh, I’ve noticed, that–, sometimes–”

Tuning the guy out again, Mickey looks past his date at the two people still standing on his other side, regarding them curiously.

”We got a problem?” he asks them, raising his eyebrows further when the woman just smiles at him.

”Oh,” Martin says, angling himself so the four of them make a little semi-circle in the crowd. ”My friends, Nora, Ethan, this is Mickey.”

Mickey stares at the side of Martin’s face for a moment, before he notices Ethan’s outstretched hand. He feels confused enough to grab it in a quick handshake. The woman, Nora, just keeps smiling.

”Nice to meet you, Mickey,” she says, clearly hiding something. People generally aren’t this smiley without an agenda, in Mickey’s experience.

”Sure,” Mickey says, glancing at Martin for some clue as to what he’s supposed to do now.

”You wanna go get yourself a drink?” Martin asks, pointing in the direction of the bar. ”This comedy train wreck should be over soon, hopefully.”

”Sure,” Mickey says again, wrong-footed by the whole odd situation and frustrated with himself for not being able to shake the feeling that he’s made a huge mistake.

”Go with him!” Nora says, making Martin take a half-step closer to Mickey by shoving lightly at his shoulder. ”We’ll save the spot.”

She gives Martin a pointed look and some kind of silent communication seems to happen between them, ending with her looking victorious and Martin dropping his head back with an exaggerated sigh. Then he turns to Mickey and playfully gestures for him to lead the way.

”Sorry about her,” he says once they’ve reached the bar, leaning in closer to speak directly into Mickey’s ear. The warmth of his breath makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. ”I keep telling her to back off, but she’s got it in her head that we’re doing something we’re not.”

Mickey swallows and turns his head to look at Martin when he leans back.

”And what are we doing?” he asks, and he doesn’t realize how it sounds until he sees Martin’s gobsmacked expression.

He lets out a startled laugh. ”Are we really gonna talk about this now? Here?”

And technically, Mickey agrees with him. He really doesn’t want to have the ’what are we’ conversation, and he definitely doesn’t want to have it now, here. But he’s already said it, and now he needs to know.

”Maybe,” he says and frowns when Martin just stares at him for a moment.

”I don’t know?” Martin eventually says. ”We have fun, right? I didn’t think you wanted it to be more than that?”

Mickey can barely hear his own thoughts over the noise from the bar, but he can practically feel his heartbeat in his throat. ”Do you?”

Martin makes a pained face, like it’s an involuntary reaction to the mere idea, before he shrugs helplessly and gives Mickey an uncertain smile.

”We don’t really have anything in common, Mickey,” he says. ”I don’t know, I just don’t see it going anywhere.”

”Thank you for participating,” the guy on stage says, his voice louder and verging on hysterical. It gives Mickey a reason to look away from Martin’s face for a second, hating the sympathetic twist to his lips. He feels like a fool.

”You suck!” someone yells in the audience.

”Yeah? Right back at you buddy!”

”Get off the stage!”

”Sure,” Mickey says, and nods. ”No, sure. You’re right.”

”Sorry?” Martin says and grins when Mickey rolls his eyes. ”And we can still have fun, right? Hey, I’ll buy you a drink! What do you want?”

”Anything, a beer,” Mickey tries to focus on Martin, on the list of prices pinned to the wall behind the bar, but there is suddenly too much noise, too many people, too much… stuff. ”I just gotta–”

He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, so he stops. He doesn’t know what he wants, but getting out of this room would be a good start.

Martin looks confused, and then tuts reproachfully when Mickey pulls out his pack of smokes and gestures in the direction of the doors. He hates it when Mickey smokes, always makes him brush his teeth before they do anything. Guess that’s another thing they don’t have in common. Mickey hadn’t given it much thought.

He leaves Martin by the bar to fend for the bartender’s attention on his own and goes back outside, ignoring the surprised look on the girl by the door when he strides past her. Once outside, he’d hoped the fresh air and relative silence would knock him back on track, but it doesn’t. Everything is exactly the same, only now he can add ’running away like a pussy’ to the list of tonight’s embarrassments. He hates this, this isn’t him.

He should go back inside, show Martin and his friends that he doesn’t give a shit. Have a couple of beers, get through the night, make that asshole suck his dick until he can’t feel anything but a warm mouth and his own pleasure. But he’s not repaying any favors, not tonight, let that shithead take care of himself, since he can’t see it going anywhere. Fuck that. It’s fine.

”I know–, no, I know…”

Wrapped up in his own bullshit, Mickey hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone. The same man from before is still on the phone, and he looks if possible even more miserable than he did when Mickey first arrived.

”That isn’t–, no, I know you didn’t… listen–”

Mickey ignores him, taking out a cigarette putting it to his lips. Might as well, he’s already out here. He lights it up. He, lights it up… come the fuck on, he lights it up. His lighter is out. Fucking great.

”Ey,” he says and turns to the guy on the phone, ”you got a light?”

The guy stares at him, and Mickey absently thinks he looks even worse up close. Like, disturbingly hot and built enough to properly toss a guy around if he wanted, but absolutely worn down by whatever it is he’s doing with whoever’s on the phone with him. Whatever, not Mickey’s problem. He shakes his empty lighter when the guy doesn’t immediately react.

”Oh,” the guy blinks, his eyes are red. He digs out a lighter from somewhere and hands it over. ”Here.”

”Thanks,” Mickey steps close enough so he can reach out and take it, and consequently hear the distant sound of a man’s voice on the other end of the line. He can’t make out any words, but the tone is unmistakable. The guy frowns and turns away slightly.

”Jesus, Jace, what the fuck?” he says, voice low and sharp. ”Are you serious right now? I’m not–, you know what?”

Mickey lights up and takes a couple of steps away to give the guy some privacy, but might still watch him out of the corner of his eye and hear pretty much everything he says. Call him a nosy bitch, but he really needs the distraction right now.

”I can’t do this right now,” the guy sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. ”We’re on in like ten minutes and I can’t–, I can’t do this with you right now. I asked you for time.”

He listens, and whatever it is that’s being said to him seems to hit a nerve. The general air around him of annoyed resolve slowly shifts into something more resigned.

”Yeah, I know… I’m sorry,” he says, and Mickey doesn’t know him or his situation, but he knows this can’t be right. ”Tomorrow, we’ll talk. I promise. Yeah, thanks… I will. Love you, too.”

Mickey shouldn’t be listening to this, he should finish his cigarette and go back inside. Find Martin and enjoy the night, have some fucking fun. Maybe he should, but he doesn’t want to.

He wants to go home, put on some fucking comfortable clothes and watch a movie with his kid.

”Heads up,” he says and waits until the phone guy looks up before he lobs the lighter back at him. He fumbles, but catches it. ”Fuck him, you deserve better.”

The guy stares at him, and rightly so. Mickey doesn’t know why he said that, he doesn’t know anything about it. But the guy looks… he looks a bit like Mickey’s feeling, deep down and buried many times over.

He looks lost.

”You deserve better,” Mickey repeats, because he already said it and he’s nothing if not all in. The guy opens his mouth on a shaky exhale, but he doesn’t say anything. Probably thinking of ways to get away from the freak accosting him on the street with unsolicited affirmation bullshit. Which, fair enough. Guess that’s Mickey’s cue to fuck off. If the guy would just stop staring at him like that.

A hand-holding couple suddenly walks right through their intense moment, heading for the doors. Mickey comes back to himself and, thinking quick, he takes out his ticket and waves it at the couple to get their attention.

”No thanks,” the man said, probably thinking he’s trying to sell it.

”Just fucking take it,” Mickey grumbles, shoving the ticket at them.

”Uh, thanks?”

Mickey waves a dismissive hand at them, already on his way.

”Thank you!” someone shouts after him.

He can’t wait to get home. Kick off his shoes, wash out the gel in his hair. Untuck his fucking shirt. Investigate whatever that cake poking business was about, hopefully cake. Watch his kid watch a movie, see his little face light up and mouth along with the words. Absolutely ignore Sonya’s inevitable attempts to get him to ’talk about it’.

His life is fucking fine the way it is, he doesn’t know why he got it in his head to try and make it something it isn’t.

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 3

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 3. Click here for part 1 | part 2

-- 

You’ve never seen Will nervous.

And, okay, you know he gets nervous. You asked Zach once, if his teammates still got nervous before big games the way Zach himself does, and Zach said yes, especially the younger guys; Mitchy, Willy, Matts.

“There’s more pressure on their shoulders than you or I could ever understand,” he’d said with a pointed look.

You think Zach carries a fair amount of pressure himself, but to be fair, he rarely seems to be bothered by it.

So, you know Will gets nervous before big games, but you don’t really ever see him, then, so you’ve never seen him nervous. That’s why it’s so weird now.

“Are you afraid of flying?”

Willy’s head snaps up as he looks at you with a puzzled expression.

“Of course not. I fly for work all the time.”

You’re sitting in the plane to Calgary, which Will, at the very least, paid for. It’s your second event together; Will’s cousin’s baby shower slash gender reveal party.

“Well, you’ve been fidgeting.”

At your words, Willy’s hand stills from where it’s been plucking at the thread of his hoodie for the past 20 minutes. He’s also been pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and digging his teeth into it, the way he does with his mouthguard sometimes during games.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Will admits. He’s refusing to look at you, now, staring out of the little plane window as if there’s anything to see there except white puffy clouds that reach as far as you can see into the distance.

“Why? You love your family.”

It’s a fair question, because if there’s one thing you know about Willy, and kinda like about Willy, it’s how vehemently and outwardly he loves and cares for his family. He’s always talking about his siblings accomplishments, and he never lets a call from his mom or dad go unanswered. Whenever Alex is around, he’s beaming with happiness, all bright smiles and laughter, and one year he was over at Zach’s Christmas party because he couldn’t make it home to Sweden that year for Christmas, and he was so miserable you couldn’t feel anything but really sorry for him.

However, the question gets Will’s hackles up. You see it immediately in the way his face hardens, emotion carefully tucked away beneath the mask.

You hate it, when he gets like this. You didn’t used to ever see it, but then the contract stuff happened and people started asking dumb questions and you saw it more and more.

To be honest, you always thought it was born out of arrogance, a how dare you question me – attitude, but it hits you now that it’s just a shield, designed to protect himself.

You don’t know what to think of the fact that apparently you know Willy enough to see that, now.

“Of course I love my family,” Will says, and his voice is sharp. “I just know I’m going to have to answer questions I don’t wanna answer.”

“About me?” you hazard a guess. The way Willy looks at you tells you you’re right.

He sighs. “About me bringing someone, yeah. They worry about me a lot, and after what happened with my last girlfriend, they don’t really trust me to make good decisions when it comes to relationships, anymore.”

Your frown must be questioning enough, because he continues.

“She broke up with me during the contract negotiations. Apparently, if I wasn’t Toronto’s favorite anymore, I couldn’t be hers, either.”

Despite everything, your heart breaks a little, for him.

“So I’m gonna have to convince them I’m not after fame and good fortune, huh?” you try to lighten the mood, keeping your voice cheery. You even go as far as to bump your shoulder into Will’s, because that guy thrives on physical contact – you didn’t make that up, Zach actively makes fun of Willy for it all the time – and he looks like he could use some support.

It works a little, because Will smiles, but the smile is tinged with sadness so it doesn’t work as well as you’d hoped.

“Don’t worry, they won’t believe you are. Dating me will get you the opposite of that in Toronto, nowadays.”

For the first time since you’ve known Will, you really want to tell him that’s not true.

The conversation in the plane kinda throws you, a little bit, to the point where the cab ride from the airport to Willy’s cousin’s house is so quiet that Will grabs your hand and squeezes when you get out of the car.

“They’re gonna like you,” he mumbles. “I promise you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll worry about the questions, you just go eat some cakes and look at baby clothes with my sisters, or something.”

It’s nice, that he’s trying to put you at ease like that, but to be honest that’s not what you’d been thinking about.

You’d been thinking about him.

Will can be loud and boisterous and there’s almost always a cheeky twinkle in his eyes that makes you feel like he’s not taking anything serious. He’s hot, and everyone thinks so, and he knows everyone thinks so, and you always kinda assumed he thought he was the best thing since sliced bread.

This side of him, the vulnerable side, is something you hadn’t expected to ever see from him, because you didn’t think he had it. Zach has told you, of course, over the years.

“Willy’s not like you think” and “he’s different when it’s just him and his close friends.”

“So he’s acting?” you’d challenged. “As if that’s better.”

“Not acting, really,” Zach had answered, unbothered by your bad mood at the time. “He really can be like that, fun and impulsive and he loves people and being around people. But he has a vulnerable, insecure side. He just keeps that side closer to his chest than most.”

You hadn’t really believed Zach. You thought you were a good judge of character, and William Nylander, to you, was nothing but another rich privileged handsome male who assumed life would simply work out in his favor because he’d never known anything else.

Now you’re doubting that. And it’s messing with your head.

Because if Will really cares about what people think of him so much… Well, let’s just say you’re suddenly feeling a little guilty about all those thoughts you’ve had behind his back.

You don’t say any of this, though, because it’s time to turn on the charm the way Will had for you, at the wedding.

“I’ll try not to flirt with your cousin’s husband,” you mumble, and Will’s laughs sounds a little more like himself, before knocking on the door.

“William!” The door gets opened by a beautiful blonde woman with a massive belly. Willy’s cousin, you assume. Her eyes immediately catch on you, and her smile is laced with surprise. “You brought someone.”

“Hey, Alice.” Will leans in, kisses both her cheeks the way Europeans do, sometimes. “This is Y/N, she’s my plus one for today.”

You notice he doesn’t call you his girlfriend, per se, but for some reason you expect that’s the conclusion his family is going to reach anyway.

“You didn’t even tell me you were bringing a plus one,” Alice scolds, but there’s nothing but fondness in her voice. “Luckily we have enough cakes.”

She ushers you into the house and suddenly you’re surrounded by beautiful blond people all yelling Will’s name.

“Calm down,” Willy giggles, as he starts kissing people’s cheeks and ruffling little kids’ hair.

You get introduced, but it all goes so quick and there’s so many people, you forget their names as soon as Will says them. The only ones you make sure to remember are the names of his siblings; Alex, of course, you’ve met before after games, and then there’s Jacquline, Michelle, Stephanie and Daniella. The girls especially are all over you right away, but not in a bad way; they’re asking you about your shoes and compliment your hair, and what do you do for a living and have you ever been to a Swedish baby shower before?

“They’re not any different from Canadian baby showers,” Will rolls his eyes at that, but there’s nothing but fondness in his eyes when he looks at his siblings. 

His hand lands on your lower back in protective fashion, as he starts guiding you out of the house. When some of his sisters follow, he shoots them a pointed look, then barks something in Swedish.

You kinda like how melodic his voice sounds in Swedish.

His sisters talk back, but then they all disappear.

“What did you say?”

“I told them that they couldn’t steal you away from me before I even get you a drink,” Will answers, something cheeky laced in his voice. “So, blue or pink lemonade? Depending on whether you think boy or girl.”

The garden is bigger than you expected based on the size of the house, and it’s beautiful, flowers blooming everywhere. There’s standing tables with people everywhere, and a buffet table where the drinks are.

“Have you looked around?” you giggle. Almost all of the kids are little girls. “Pink.”

“Nah, no way.” Will hands you a pink one, and takes a blue one himself. “With this many girls in the family, we have to get a boy now.”

“That’s what we said when we got Daniella.” The voice is tinted with accent, light and welcoming. Will’s face lights up when he hears it.

“Mom!” They hug, and you can see how Camilla squeezes her son tightly. It pulls a smile out of you; loving family dynamics have always been foreign to you, but it’s nice to see. “This is Y/N,” Will says, when they break apart, and Camilla shakes your hand with a smile.

“So nice of you to come,” she says. “Will didn’t tell us he was bringing someone.”

“Uh, that’s on me,” you lie through your teeth. “I wasn’t sure I could make it.”

“We’re all glad you did.” Camilla looks at Will, and you can see the question in her look, but she doesn’t ask it. “I’ll go tell your dad you’re here.”

As soon as she’s off, you turn to Will.

“You didn’t tell her I was coming? They’re all gonna think this is so weird!”

Will’s eyes glitter with mischief. “Yes, and that’s why the plan works.” You must look confused, cause he laughs. “If they’re all busy speculating about who you are and why I brought you, they’re not gonna ask me about my ex, my lack of a love life, or the fact that I haven’t given them any grandkids yet.”

He looks smugly proud of his idea, and you can’t stop the eye roll.  

“Right, no, perfect plan,” you snide. “I’ll just take all the hits and have everyone looking at me as if I’ve got two heads all day.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Will waves in the general direction of the garden. “Soon they’re gonna announce the baby’s gender, and then nobody is gonna care about you anymore.”

“Gee, thanks.” But you’re teasing now, and it’s clear Will gets that because he leans a bit closer and winks.

“Except for me, of course.”

--

You shouldn’t have worried. The Nylanders turn out to be a friendly bunch and they immediately include you in every conversation you happen to stumble upon. To their credit, they don’t ask you even once what you’re doing there or what Will is to you.

You suppose he’s having less luck, because you look over and find Camilla talking to him intently in Swedish, and him staring at the floor like a scolded toddler.

You’ve been barely standing alone for two seconds when Alice appears next to you.

“You’ll have to excuse everyone’s curiosity,” she says. “Will didn’t tell us he was dating anyone.”

“Uhm.” What the hell are you supposed to say to that. Luckily, it doesn’t matter, because she keeps talking.

“We’re all glad that he is, though. We were all a bit worried about him. Anyway, can I ask you a massive favor?” she asks. “We’re about to let out the balloon to reveal the gender, but it’s in the garage and I kinda don’t wanna squeeze in there.” She laughs and motions to her massive belly. “Could you go get it for me?”

You immediately say yes, not only because she’s nice but because you’re glad for the opportunity to do something useful. You haven’t seen Will in a while, and you suppose that’s fair enough because you kinda left him to his own devices at the wedding last week, too, but Will is good at socializing and you aren’t, so you’ve been feeling a bit out of place.

Besides, if Alice starts asking more questions, you don’t think you’ll have the answers. Damn, this is harder than you thought it would be.

The garage is filled with boxes, bikes, and even a washing machine, so you have to squeeze through a pretty tight fit to get through the boxes that say balloons on them.

You hadn’t really expected there to be so many of them.

Everything happens way too fast and simultaneously in slow motions, then. You realize there’s no way of knowing in which box the massive balloon is, so you open one of the boxes. There’s nothing in it.

“Y/N, are you in here?” Willy’s voice calls.

You open the second box at that exact moment, and before you realize what’s happening, there’s a blue balloon floating out of the garage, up into the sky.

“No,” you breathe, and Will’s eyes widen almost comically as he realizes what just happened.

It’s a boy! the balloon reads, and then it floats too high to even read anything at all.

“It’s a helium balloon,” Will deadpans, as if you hadn’t noticed that by now.

“Oh God.” You just ruined their entire party. “Oh God oh God oh God.”

You’re starting to panic, and it’s not funny at all, but then Will starts laughing, uncontrollable giggles as he clutches his stomach, and you can’t not laugh with him.

Even if you’re on the brink of crying.

“I told you it would be a boy,” Willy giggles. “I can’t believe you messed up so much worse than me!”

“Will, stop.” You manage to quiet down your hysterical giggles only to clutch at Willy’s arm. “We have to fix this! Imagine what Alice is gonna say.”

That stops Will’s laughter, too, although he’s still smiling.

“I’ll stop laughing if you stop looking like you just murdered the baby. It’s just a balloon, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…”

Will shushes you by wrapping an arm around your shoulder and carefully leading you out of the garage. He must feel that you’re on the edge of a mental breakdown, because he keeps his arm there, heavy and steadying, as he starts leading you back into the house and up the stairs.

It’s kinda nice.

“I’ll fix it,” he promises, and he sounds an awful lot like Zach, suddenly. “I’ve got an idea.”

You would hope his ideas are better than Zach’s, but unfortunately they seem pretty on par, because Will grabs a regular, non-text blue balloon from the study where they’re all stored, and a waterproof sharpie.

“This is so not gonna work!” you protest. “I should just come clean.”

Willy pulls a complicated face. “After I’ve just had to listen to twenty minutes of my mom telling me that you’re amazing, and she has such a good feeling about you, and if I let you go I’ll not only disappoint her but set myself up for disappointment for the rest of my life? No thanks.”

He turns the balloon so you can see it, and you decide to focus on it because you can’t unpack all of that right now. 

“I think the balloon company might get a pretty angry email, but that should be it.”

On the balloon, there’s written It’s a boy! Except in Willy’s scrawly handwriting it looks a lot less good than the balloon that’s currently floating somewhere in space. In fact, it looks a little like it says It’s a 6oy!

However, you also don’t fancy Camilla’s disappointed face, so you allow Willy to shove it in a box and bring it outside.

The entire family gathers around, and Alice and her husband Otto are standing with their arms around each other in front of the box, when Willy’s hand reaches out and grabs your, lacing your fingers together.

And you’re totally gonna ignore the dumb little skip your heart does at the contact, because that’s not how you and Willy work; surely he’s just trying to sell the story of you dating to his family.

Even though nobody is looking at you. 

Either way, you are grateful to him for saving your ass, there.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, soft enough for only him to hear. “About the balloon.”

“Don’t be.” Willy’s smile is genuine. “I’ve never laughed so hard at a baby shower before. And my entire family has come up to say that they love you, and nobody has asked me when I’m gonna get serious about my life. So I should be thanking you, if anything.”

You’ve barely talked to half the Nylander family, and you wonder how awful his previous girlfriend was that they’re all fawning over you, now, but you can’t think about it too much because then someone is counting down.

3, 2, 1…

The box opens. The balloon floats up. There’s silence for one beat, two beats, and you swear they’re gonna call you out, but then someone cheers and suddenly Alice is crying and Otto is being manhandled by some other guys and everyone is clapping, and Willy grins.

“It’s a boy,” Alice calls out.

“I’m so glad she could read that.” Willy’s voice is deadpan but the twinkle in his eyes is still there, and suddenly you’re laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much at a baby shower, either,” you tell him truthfully, and it probably shouldn’t make you feel something that Will looks quietly pleased, at that.

[dercolaris]

The Tower

Fandom: Batman Arkham Verse

Characters: Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane

Relationship: Edward Nygma & Jonathan Crane (Lovers)

Genre: Angst, Drama

Word length: 2140

Warnings: Religious content

Status: Complete

Short summary: The Riddler is visiting Scarecrow in his study and catches a glimpse into his lovers mind.

Enjoy!

The small brushes of the paintbrush timidly touched the barely visible details on the meeple, giving the imposing armour some individual highlights with the silver paint. Edward pushed the bulky magnifying glasses over his forehead and carefully turned the plastic around, studying each side with sceptical eyes. It didn't seem like there really was much work left to do. The tinkerer looked up from the figure and stared a little lost at his almost finished masterpiece in front of him. For the past two months he had dealt almost non-stop with the role-play game, eagerly learned the rules by heart and bought all the necessary add-on sets in order to be able to experience the adventure visually. The Riddler stroked his tangled hair. It had been a hell of a job painting all the small little objects himself. The black-haired man put his work on the table and stretched slightly, then rose from his stool. It was time for a well deserved break. The paint had to dry first anyway. Edward shook his hands out to relax them a bit and glanced at the clock in his workshop. Almost midnight. Time always flew by when he was absorbed in his work and not distracted by unnecessary disturbances every two minutes. The younger yawned heartily. A coffee would surely work wonders on him now. The tinkerer didn't bother to be quiet walking around the old house. He had no doubt that his partner would still be awake. Understanding Jonathan Crane's daily rhythm was an almost impossible task. Edward had tried often enough to memorize certain key points in the older man's daily life, but the longer he lived with the dark professor, the more the initial logic eluded his observations. Whenever the Riddler woke up from nightmares during the night, Jonathan was wide awake too. The inventor rarely saw his partner actually sleep or eat.

This only raised further questions. Questions, Edward hadn't yet had a plausible answer to. Anyway, there were a number of other things that puzzled him in dealing with the former psychiatrist and preoccupied him more than he wanted to admit. They had been living together in the old mansion for three months and every day brought out a new, interesting detail about the older man, which at the same time literally begged for further explanations about it. Already the first week in the own four walls was enough to show the black-haired man painfully that he actually knew next to nothing about his lover – despite one whole year of a stable relationship. The Master of Fear evaded a meaningful categorization and seemed to want to hold on to it, much to the displeasure of his curious partner. The tinkerer grumbled quietly as he washed his beloved coffee mug thoroughly in the sink. The formerly bronze gears, which served as a special handle, slowly faded to a matt grey. To his astonishment, the coffee machine had just finished running and was still full of hot, well smelling coffee. The Riddler poured himself some of the black gold, then hesitated a little. He stared at his distorted reflection in the cloudy liquid. For a moment, the inventor had the feeling that he was being dragged deeper into the broth and was facing an unknown abyss. Strange. The younger one broke away from this thought and left the kitchen with the mug, sipping the coffee lightly from time to time. Should he visit Jonathan for a moment? Mostly, the older one was busy day and night perfecting his fear toxin. The black-haired man shrugged his shoulders slightly and made his way to his partner's small study. When moving into the house, the former psychiatrist only insisted on being able to work as far away from his workshop as possible so as not to be suddenly interrupted by noise during complicated calculations.

The tinkerer took another sip of his coffee. In general, the Master of Fear was the definition of the word calmness itself, clearly enjoying the silence around them. Edward knocked on the sturdy study door, then waited a few seconds. He would probably have to wait an eternity for an answer or invitation, but the inventor respected the dark professor's privacy and gave him time to prepare for an unexpected visitor. After a while the younger entered slowly. The air in the study was unnaturally difficult to breathe. Even if Jonathan hadn't handled chemicals today, there was a constant, almost odourless haze in the air. The subdued light in the room also had visible difficulties penetrating the small particles. This didn't seem to bother the elderly in the least. The Riddler looked at his partner, who was probably brooding over a complicated text. The pitted forehead was furrowed and the bony fingers fidgeted restlessly on the yellow page of the book. Before the black-haired man could say anything, the former psychiatrist anticipated him coolly: "Can I help you with something, Edward?"

The person addressed winced slightly. Why did he still feel not welcome in this room? Despite the uncomfortable feeling, the inventor pushed the second chair at the table back slightly and sat down on it, then cast a cautious look at the text. The letters didn't look familiar to him in any way. The low voice of the Master of Fear rang out quietly next to him: “Please don't bother trying. The book is written in Hebrew.” The Riddler frowned. His partner placed a bookmark in the book and slowly closed it, revealing the cover. This was in a simple blue tone, but the gold letters seemed to be in Hebrew as well. Unreadable for the inventor. Jonathan sighed cautiously and said calmly: "The word Tanach is a name for the Hebrew Bible." The Riddler had to hold back a laugh. That had to be a really bad joke from his partner. Edward smiled a little and replied, slightly amused: “Why in the world are you reading the Bible, John? I thought you were a passionate scientist. Don't waste your time on theological nonsense.” The thin man literally froze into a pillar of salt. His eyes were half closed and fixed the letters on the simple cover. An unbearable silence returned between them. The tinkerer felt that something had suddenly changed in the room. Something started raging and reaching for them. Jonathan's body in total still didn't move, but the sinister professor spoke in his scratchy voice: "Your words in connection with this book can stir restless spirits, Edward." His heart was suddenly beating louder in his chest. What was going on here? Had the brown-haired man poisoned him again? The Master of Fear picked up a second book on the table and opened it, turning slowly to the desired page. A monstrous structure could be seen on it. The former psychiatrist stroked the picture and went on almost in a whisper: “The Tower of Babel. A presumed plan of mankind to reach the heaven of God without his help, which forced the almighty Being to confuse the peoples with different languages. They couldn't longer communicate with each other and were scattered all around the world in anger and hate about their failure. An impressive story of pure arrogance.”

Edward looked at the structure and gave a slight shudder. He still didn't understand what his partner wanted to point out. After a while the sinister professor asked without any emotion: “Aren't we all prisoners of this deceptive arrogance in the end?” The Riddler slightly scratched his three-day beard and replied insecurely: “Why do you call the behaviour arrogant, John? If people were able to build the tower successfully back then, weren't they entitled to be proud of it or what?” Scarecrow sank deeper into his thoughts. His fingers grasped the pencil with which he slowly drew his own building on the paper. After a while he said quietly: “Should we really be proud of it just because we supposedly can do things like the Tower of Babel? Isn't it more the case that we humans dare to tackle projects that sooner or later grow over our heads and throw us back when they ultimately fail? The construct of humanity is fragile. Way too fragile to even come close to doing justice to the word God.” The inventor thought hard about what had been said. He finally shook his head and hesitantly replied: “Why all these weird questions right now? They make me depressed just listening to them.” The sinister professor snorted in amusement. He took the mug next to him and took a sip of the coffee, warming himself on the porcelain. The Master of Fear ran his free hand through his straw hair, replied in a whisper: "I am only thinking critically about whether I am not creeping up on the same arrogance of the people of Babylon in my research and whether this arrogance will bring me down at some point, if I don't stop striving for senseless perfection in life."

Another minute of silence came between them. That was clearly a way too difficult topic for a harmonious evening. Edward looked almost concerned at the older man's petrified face. Pride. Arrogance. Perfection. These topics were not unknown to him either. The Riddler looked down at the picture again and replied meekly: “I don't think so, John. You're not trying to reach God or even be God. Or are you trying to do that?” The person addressed began to laugh softly. Again something in this room seemed to want to reach for those present. The former psychiatrist tapped the building on the paper a few times with the pencil and mumbled, barely understandable: “Who decides who is God and who is not? In the end, a god is only a supernatural being in the simple definition, who has a great and not scientifically describable transcendent power. For my victims, this may apply to me at a certain moment also, so we are faced with an insoluble dilemma.” The inventor gradually got a headache. He massaged his temples lightly and closed his eyes for a moment. These in-depth conversations with the former psychiatrist made him absolutely fearful. Jonathan loved to deal with his own impermanence and at the same time to consciously question others – in fact, he did not show any consideration for the poor souls he met on those days. The younger one sighed lightly, tried hard to put words together in a meaningful way. The gaunt man suddenly opened a drawer on his desk and took out a small box, carefully lifted the lid. There were innumerable pieces of broken glass in the box in different shapes and colours. The Master of Fear began carefully to pile the pieces on top of each other. He said calmly: “I often have to remind myself that I am only human, Edward. My existence alone serves no higher purpose and any interpretation is a disastrous mistake. Also in my body there is only a weak heart that will stop beating at some point. My shell is ruled by a cold soul and an irrepressible spirit that is looking for more in this bleak life. For years I have been hungry for knowledge without knowing what I actually want to know and every search ended in an unsatisfactory compromise of the all-encompassing ignorance of human existence when no answer can be found."

The tower grew taller and taller with every word spoken. The black-haired man remained silent even after this explanation. Only rarely did the elder give insights into his thinking and his motives. He appreciated it all the more when Jonathan volunteered to tell him what was going on in his mind. This didn't make the thoughts any less terrifying or disturbing. The next words, however, caught the younger one completely unprepared: “The Bible helps me to recognize my own humanity and to accept it grudgingly. The scriptures show where we come to our limits with our intelligence and where conjecture finds its place, no matter how confused and tumultuous it may be. Everyone has the right to believe what they want and scientists also have the right to believe, whether in current laws of physic or long-outdated theories. So it is not my right to stand over it in my inadmissible arrogance.” The tinkerer nodded slightly and stroked his beard again. It all made sense somehow, even if the choice of words bothered him a lot. He still had a question on the tip of his tongue: “I understand somehow what you want to tell me, John, but why do you know how to read Hebrew? Where the hell did you learn that?” The sinister professor smiled mysteriously and closed the book with the illustration. He put another mosaic on the erected tower and replied calmly: "Some questions don't always have to be answered immediately, Edward."

[danwhobrowses]

AEW: Booking Hangman's Title Win

Hangman Page seems all but destined to be the man who takes the belt from Kenny Omega. Two different stories have unraveled since their break as a tag team with Kenny the heel world champion and Hangman the babyface man of the people. But it does feel like this long story still has plenty of chapters to go, and while we wonder how this story will continue to unfold, this is how I would do it.

Kenny unravels as Hangman Rises Omega's road to All Out is a turbulent one, and since chances are he won't go to NJPW, NWA or ROH to continue his belt collection, I think the Belt Collector's time is about to come to an end.

July 17th will mark the end of his Impact reign, losing to Sami Callihan at Slammiversary. Don has already been 'fired' from Impact so he will have little leverage to save him this time around, I don't think even TK can give him any special treatments either. Then in August 14th, he will lose the Mega Championship at Triplemania XXIX to Andrade El Idolo. Not only does this give Andrade gold to carry around on AEW but also will cement the fact that he can beat Omega - which will come into play much later.

This leaves the illustrious belt collector with one: the AEW World Championship. Because Omega's character has been super cartoonish, I expect him to grow very self-conscious about the fact that people want to take his title, think Gollum crossed with that coach in The Waterboy. Unhinged Kenny will juxtapose a much more mentally together Hangman, who keeps on winning clean. This all leading to the third destination

Kenny Omega vs Hangman Page at All Out.

Elite Mind Games Although he is the top of the ranks, Hangman has often dodged the question regarding the world title. Deep down Hangman is still has mixed feelings regarding the Elite, and whether he is worthy or able to defeat Hangman; he's fallen short multiple times after all. This is Kenny's in to get the mental edge over Hangman.

Because their split didn't have a full stop, Kenny will pretend to his adversary that they are still friends, he will lure Hangman to doubt himself by giving him what he desperately wanted last year: forgiveness from the Elite. Feigning the olive branch with the Bucks, the Elite will poison Hangman's mind to be unprepared for shenanigans, they will draw him away from the Dark Order and at All Out, Hangman will go to face Omega alone.

All Out - Kenny Retains...just It could start as a clean contest, but the moment Hangman starts looking like he will succeed, the madness of Omega will once again show itself. Without anyone to help him, Hangman will be forced to push his babyface fire to the limits, he will fight through the entire Elite: the Good Brothers, Nick and then Matt. He'll hit the Buckshot, the Deadeye, 1, 2, Don stops it. Hangman will dismantle Don but then it's Kenny's turn, V-Trigger, One Winged Angel, 1, 2, 3.

On the second battle, Kenny wins once more, but it took every trick in the book he had to bring him down, the opponent he felt was a sure thing after his mind games, and it shows on his face. But it also shows on Hangman, because he fell for all of it and now he's alone again.

The Madness of Kenny / The Isolation of Hangman Becoming so close to losing will put Kenny at his most possessive, his most desperate. Kenny will grow erratic and hostile with each title defense, cheating all the more blatantly and willfully, a collection of OC, PAC, Andrade, Archer and Kazarian all knock on his door for specials like Grand Slam, Full Gear and the 2nd Anniversary but Kenny survives through his madness until he is a full shadow of himself.

Hangman though descends beyond rock bottom, not even feeling like he deserves forgiveness for pushing away the Dark Order. Hangman too will completely lose himself, losing his motivation to even wrestle let alone associate with anything relative to the Elite. We'll only see him at rare times, hiding in dark corners trying to avoid Marvez or completely drunk out of his mind in a pile of bags or coats, a sad sight to behold.

"If you all sit there and ignore it, you're all cowards!" Along the list of opponents waiting to face Kenny, Eddie Kingston must be near the end. Kingston, Moxley, Penta, PAC, Christian and Kazarian all at different times found common ground to try and defeat the Elite, but the distractions have proven too much.

Kingston will unsuccessfully challenge Kenny, but after his defeat he'll run into Hangman and dress him down, a scolding never before seen because Hangman is the one that he is disappointed with the most. Hangman overcame the numbers, he had Kenny scared but he has simply sat there and let the Elite continue this reign of terror while he throws a pity party for himself. Refusing to let Hangman regress either, Kingston will push Hangman into fighting him, so he can let out his frustrations and fears, but the Elite will be wise to this too.

Before Kingston and Hangman can have their rubber match, the Elite will attack Kingston and kayfabe injure him, preventing Kingston from making any more progress with Hangman. They'll feign their reasoning to not involve Hangman and feel like the deal is done, because Hangman - despite being in the top 5 - has disappeared once more.

Evening the Numbers At this point of booking I would see Kenny being the sole titleholder in the Elite. The Bucks already lost their tag titles a while ago and they fell short in a Trios tournament, so now they're mainly dedicated to keeping Kenny as world champion.

We'll have one more special where Kenny successfully defends his title again, let's say it's Winter is Coming. As the Elite celebrate a full year of Kenny's title reign in the ring, the music changes. Out comes Hangman, next in line due to the rankings, the Elite look concerned but confident that they can take him, but then around the ring they realise they have company: the Dark Order surround the apron and that leads to a brawl. The Dark Order have the advantage but Kenny is using the belt as an equalizer, taking out anyone that moves, but as he turns he eats a Buckshot Lariat and the show closes on Hangman standing tall, his eyes driven and focused on the prize.

Revolution: The Win Personally I would've liked to have done this for Full Gear or All Out, because there'd be the narrative there of either the beginning of Page's self-doubt (Full Gear when the Bucks kept mocking his physique in comparison to PAC) or his first failure to capture the title (All Out vs Jericho), but I don't think we can wait another full year for this, so it happens at Revolution. And Revolution is still sensible too, it was the tease of divide between the Elite and Hangman during their tag battle and it's the PPV after Kenny's anniversary as champion.

When Revolution's main event goes down Kenny is uncaged and will look to put Hangman away early, and every time Hangman fights back he becomes more and more scared. Every attempt at shenaniganry by the Elite will also be blocked off, either by the Dark Order or returning enemies like Mox, Eddie, Death Triangle, Daniels and Kazarian, not in Lumberjack style but in a way where we see that the narrative is AEW vs The Elite. This is the time where Hangman kicks out of the One Winged Angel, we'll tease it in the match but have him reach the ropes so the fans think he can't possibly kick out of a second or third one. When the lid blows off and Kenny is all out of options, he'll try begging, low blows, belt shots, chairs, anything he can muster to keep Hangman down, even mocking Hangman with a Buckshot variant of his V-Trigger for that extra spice of scumbaggery. But it comes to a final clash, both men on either side of the ring, wounded, exhausted, barely able to stand, but not looking away. One Last Move. Hangman's Buckshot, Kenny's V-Trigger, both collide but the Buckshot breaks through the V-Trigger, 1, 2, 3.

The majority of the locker room (I mean I don't expect the likes of IC, Andrade, Miro and Pinnacle to be all happy days about it) and maybe even the crowd can then invade the ring to celebrate with Hangman to close the night, completing the story while bringing up several other talents and keeping story opportunities for Hangman and the Elite to venture off on their separate ways.

Personally I feel like this - if done how I imagine it of course - would be a perfect closing of the Hangman saga, but others may not think so, and maybe AEW has thought of something I haven't which makes it even better, only time will tell. But I felt like getting that off my chest.