#I mean you can also hack out love conversations but its a bit ridiculous at that point

[shinelikethunder]

So what is with Hannibal. I mean, I know the basic concept of the series, but what is compelling about it. I ask you this as someone whose tastes are very similar to yours. I also ask you this as someone who has always been morbidly fascinated with cannibalism, but like... survival cannibalism, not "this dude is one sick fuck" cannibalism

Oh god. Uh. How do I even begin to explain what is with Hannibal. The closest analogy I can come up with is “in musical theater terms, take the id appeal of The Phantom of the Opera but make the execution even more Sweeney Todd than any production of Sweeney Todd that’s ever been staged.” That doesn’t do it justice though. It is so many things and all of them are ridiculous:

“Let’s take a series of iconic psychological-thriller novels and adapt them into... a 3-season-long pretentious art film that’s initially forced to masquerade as a network-TV crime procedural!” Which is ludicrous enough. But on top of that, halfway through first season, the “retelling” has already shown its hand as fanfiction: they don’t have the rights to all the source material? Fine, then they will mix, match, remix, embroider, recontextualize, and allude to whatever they want to--it’s a freeform improvisation that’s based in loving, respecting, wanting more of, and also fixing (and occasionally roasting) the canon.

The pretentious art film’s aesthetic goal, which it is utterly relentless about, is to take you on a ride that obliterates the boundaries between hungry, horrified, and horny. Everything is beautiful, especially things that shouldn’t be. Everything looks disturbingly appetizing, even things that aren’t food. Everything is weirdly sexy and alluring. All of this is accomplished without flinching from how horrific the subject matter is. And it’s all intercut with characters having Deep and Thematically Relevant Conversations that sound like a bunch of vampires smoking weed and talking about their feelings. It’s just... a hell of a headspace to get drawn into.

Highly stylized yet unexpectedly earnest and heartfelt meditations on mortality, trauma, and every human’s relationship with their own potential for darkness? The more any particular character looks purely like a victim and a poor wounded bird to others, the more complicated their actual relationship to their own agency and what they've done to survive. There’s a beautiful, thoughtful, heartbreaking subplot about a marriage between two strong and dignified people when one of them falls terminally ill--and it plays out in tandem with Grand Guignol bullshit about, like, an aging serial killer who commemorates his own life’s legacy by digging up all his corpses and hacking them together into a totem pole. It’s batshit. It shouldn’t work, and yet.

It’s so incredibly fucking funny. If you’re into humor of the pitch-black and/or gallows variety. The entire show is a comedy anchored in the dramatic irony of “none of these very serious characters know they’re on a show about Hannibal ‘The Cannibal’ Lecter, Notorious Serial Killer Whose Dinner Parties You Should Avoid At All Costs.”

The central relationship is... I don’t even know how to put it. It’s operating in the same “gothic horror and/or romance” territory as, say, most vampire fiction--locating and exploring and ultimately wallowing in the part of the psyche that finds darkness alluring. But it’s very eclectic in what it pulls into that dreamscape, and it manages to sustain an incredible amount of ambivalence between allure and acknowledgement of how awful everything that’s going on really is--between giving in and trying to maintain control over your darkness. And it’s a show where “giving in” means not just acceptance but participation--it’s about falling in love with the monster, but also about people identifying with and potentially becoming monsters themselves.

And also, like, unexpected bonding between weird, fucked-up, lonely people who are used to being looked at but not used to being seen and understood and accepted. And constant power struggles between people who will never settle into a stable dynamic where either of them comes out on top. And weird relationships to vulnerability. And games of manipulation that leave room for, even celebrate, the inherent non-deterministic and unpredictable nature of even the people you know the best.  And, you know, problematic murder queers who appreciate the intimacy of a good stab wound.

If you want to try it out: Watch the first 2 episodes for essential setup/context and to get a feel for how the show works. (And whether the way it does gore and horror is going to be too much. The case-of-the-week in episode 2 is... uh, it’s A Lot.) If you want to continue, awesome! If you want to keep sampling before you commit, here’s a few recs:

Peak dark-comedy romcom episode, minimal spoilers, minimal additional context needed: 1x08 Fromage, aka the human cello.

(Runner-up: 1x07 Sorbet, which is a bit structurally odd and less representative of how the show rolls, but still a fun time.)

Peak “that’s it that’s the show” episode, if you don’t mind spoilers through mid-s2 and are OK rolling with lack of context: 2x08 Su-zakana, aka the nightmare turducken.

Peak id-fic episode, spoilery as fuck and probably akin to an acid trip without context: 3x06 Dolce, in which everyone bleeds real pretty and marinates in Yearning up to their eyeballs, except the murder lesbians, who are the only ones sensible enough to just fuck already

(Runner-up: 2x10 Naka-choko, aka Relationship Status: Both “In Cahoots With” and “It’s A Trap”, aka peak inappropriately horny episode.)

[detectivesofty]

staking your claim | j.h.

Summary: Natalie has problems with Nina and you’re helping out, like the good future sister (in-law??) you are

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Doctor!Reader / Natalie Manning x Will Halstead / Nina Shore x Will Halstead

Song I listened to while writing: Bust Your Windows by Glee (cuz it’s a fucking bop)

Author’s Note: I literally wrote this in one sitting bc I got inspired lmao. This is very heavily centered around Natalie and Reader’s friendship, because I feel like Nat needs someone in her corner. This takes place in Season 2, Ep. 19 of Chicago Med and I know Jay and Reader’s relationship doesn’t make sense canon-wise, but this is a fanfic after all, so let’s just pretend that Jay and Reader have been in a commited relationship with each other for a while. Happy reading!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1,9k

“Hey Y/N,” Nina greeted you and you barely glanced up to greet her back, your focus entirely on your notes. Nina then turned to Natalie, who was standing right next to you.

“Hey Natalie. Can I ask you a favor?”

Natalie, held a finger up. “Uhm, one second,” she said, turning back to April. “Hey April, can you try and track down Connor for me?”

“Alright.”

“Thank you!” Natalie turned back to Nina, the stress written all over her face. “Sorry. What’s up?”

“I was going to give this to Will, but he’s busy. Can I leave it with you?”

That suddenly got your attention. Why would Nina ever ask Natalie for a favor regarding Will?

Natalie paused as well. “Sure,” she then replied, reaching a hand out for the jersey.

“He’s going to watch the game with his brother tonight. I slept in it last night and when he left this morning I was still in bed,” Nina added with a laugh and you furrowed your brows, while you kept your head down. 

“I’d leave it in his locker but I wanted to make sure he gets it.”

You rolled your eyes, but put on a smile when Nina looked at you. She wasn’t the best actress and you could see right through her act, even if Natalie didn’t.

Natalie seemed a bit lost as she held the jersey, glancing at you briefly. “... Okay?”

“Thanks. You’re the best. Bye Y/N, see you later!” Nina called over to you before leaving the ED. 

You forced a smile and waved at her, before turning to Natalie. She was still staring at the jersey in her hands and you nudged her gently. 

“Hey you okay?” 

Natalie nodded quickly, putting the jersey away. “Yeah, I am fine… But Nina was acting weird, right?”

Chuckling, you shrugged with your shoulders. You didn’t really like Nina with Will, if you were honest. She seemed nice enough, but you never clicked with her, despite her constant efforts to spend time with you. In your eyes, Natalie was the perfect one for Will. Especially because you knew of Will’s feelings for Natalie, you know, before the thing with Nina started. 

“Duh. She’s trying to mark her territory, it was so obvious.”

“What?” 

“I am pretty sure that she sees you as a threat, Nat. And the other day-”

“Doctor Manning, Doctor Y/L/N! Incoming, vehicular accident, two girls and their mother!”

Natalie gave you a look, which meant she was in no way done with this conversation. But for the meantime, you took care of the two hurt girls. Unfortunately, the day didn’t progress as you had expected it to go. The hospital’s server got hacked and you had to resort to old-fashioned blackboards, without knowing patients’ medical history. 

At the end of the day, you were completely exhausted and just wanted to fall in bed. You threw your jacket on and grabbed your purse, when Natalie came into the lounge. 

“Hey Y/N, are you going home?” 

You gave her a tired smile and nodded. “Yeah, I am beat.”

“I wanted to talk about the thing you mentioned this morning…?”

Frowning, you thought back to earlier until you finally remembered. “Oh yeah, uhm. Do you maybe want to come over? Jay’s watching the game at a bar with Will so I’ll be alone tonight.”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. I’ll just swing by Helen real quick to check on Owen, and then I’ll come over, yeah?”

Nodding, you gave her a thumbs up, rubbing her shoulder. “See you later, Nat.” With that, you left the ED and drove home to an empty apartment. The moment you stepped into your home, you let out a loud sigh at the sight of Jay’s shoes being all over the place. Moving in together was Jay’s idea. Your jobs ate up a lot of your time and when Jay was on a hard case, you often had gone days without seeing each other. Living together had a lot of pros, but that was before you knew Jay loved leaving his shoes where he took them off, which could be basically anywhere in the apartment. 

But you loved that man, so you’d put them away for now and kick his ass later. 

Dropping off your purse on its designated place, you headed to the shower straight away. After a refreshing shower, you ordered pizza for you and Natalie, when a text from Jay came in.

Jay: hey babe, you home yet?

You: yeah, just got out of the shower

Jay: Without me?😜

You: First of all, ew You: second of all, you’re too old to be using emojis

Jay: 😭

You: nat’s coming over now and I just ordered some pizza

Jay: okay, have fun, love you Jay: save me some slices!

You: Love you too. And no!

At that moment, the doorbell rang and you put the phone away to open the door, expecting either Natalie or the delivery guy. But instead, it was Natalie, the delivery girl. 

“I bumped into the delivery boy on my way up and paid him,” Natalie said and you beamed at her, ushering her in. 

“You didn’t have to do that. Come in!”

You grabbed a bottle of wine and two wine glasses, then situated yourself on the couch with Natalie. The two of you devoured a couple of slices before Natalie spoke up. 

“So. About what you said this morning… Why would Nina see me as a threat? I don’t see Will that way.”

Pouring yourself another glass of wine, you gave Natalie a look. “Really? I see the way you look at him, Nat. The two of you have always been dancing around each other. Nina has eyes, she can see that.”

Natalie opened her mouth, frowning, before she closed it again. 

“I never did anything while they were dating, I swear,” she insisted and you gave her a smile. 

“I know, Natalie. No one thinks that, I promise.”

“It’s just…” She sighed. “At first, I didn’t want to rush into a relationship, because I haven’t worked through my grief yet. And then Will wanted to move on, which I totally understood. And with Jeff, I thought he was the right one, considering his history with my Jeff. But then he turned out to be the complete opposite. And now… Will’s with Nina and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“At this point, I think you should just let their relationship run its course. I know it sounds kind of mean to say that, but I don’t think that they’re a good fit. You and Will are. You challenge each other, but also make each other better. I can see how you look at him when you think no one is watching; Will looks at you the same way, Nat.”

You could see the hope glimmer in her eyes and while you didn’t want your friend to get hurt, since Will and Nina are in fact still dating and even living together, you knew how right you were. You spent endless hours talking to Will about Natalie and you knew that feelings like that didn’t disappear overnight. 

“I just don’t want Nina to think I am trying to step on her toes and ruin their relationship, you know,” Natalie added. “The way she acted today kind of intimidated me.”

“Yeah I totally get that. She was acting a bit crazy,” you laughed and Natalie grinned at you, nudging you with her shoulder. 

“Enough about me and my problems. How are things with Jay?”

“Oh, things are good.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur while you and Natalie talked about everything and everyone. Nights like these were much too rare and you enjoyed spending time with your friends outside of work. It was nearing one am when you heard keys jangling at the front door, you and Natalie instinctively turning to the door. 

As the door opened, Jay stilled in the doorway, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Hey Jay.” 

“Hey babe.”

Jay waved, slightly abashed as he took his shoes off. “Hey guys, thought you were already in bed,” he mumbled, walking over to the couch to press a kiss on your head and high five Natalie. “I am just going to go to the bathroom real quick,” Jay told you and disappeared into the bathroom. 

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Natalie said, yawning loudly. “Don’t want to be too tired for work tomorrow.” 

You walked her to the door and leaned against the doorway while she collected her things.

“Thanks for today, Y/N. I really needed that.”

Smiling, you pulled her in a tight hug. “Anytime, Nat. That’s what friends are for. Get home safely, okay?” 

“I will. Say bye to Jay for me,” Natalie answered and you nodded, waving before you closed the door. With a yawn, you locked it and trudged over to the coffee table to clean it up, throwing the pizza cartons in the trash and putting the wine glasses in the dishwasher. You looked up when Jay came out of the bathroom, looking around. 

“Nat already left?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Yeah. It’s late and we have work tomorrow. You okay?”

“Mhm,” Jay nodded, leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was short and sweet, which made you smile against his lips. You pulled away after a while, observing him. His cheeks were flushed and it was obvious he’s had a few beers. 

“What did you guys talk about?”

You snorted out a laugh. “Uh, about Will.”

“What about Will?” Jay raised a confused eyebrow. 

“You know. Will and Nat. Nina came up to her today, trying to stake her claim. Waving around Will’s jersey like it was a prize. It was ridiculous.”

Jay laughed, shaking his head. “She did? Nina’s crazy.”

Shrugging with your shoulders, you pursed your lips. “I kinda get her. I mean, if anyone would even think about getting with my man, I’d whack them.”

“Yeah?” Jay asked, smirking at you in amusement. “You’d be willing to go to prison for me?”

“As if you’d let me go to prison,” you snorted and he chuckled, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah you’re right. Can’t let anyone hurt my girl.” 

You felt warmth spreading in your chest, just like it did everytime Jay called you his girl, even after all this time. 

“You wanna go to bed?” Jay asked softly and you nodded, looking up at him. 

“Carry me?”

He groaned out, but complied anyway, hooking his arms under your thighs to hoist you up, carrying you into the bedroom. The two of you quickly got changed and slipped under the sheets, cuddling up. 

“You know,” Jay murmured, nosing along your neck. “I think you’re right about Will and Natalie. He’s still got that look in his eyes when he talks about her.”

“Yeah? I thought so. He should stop leading Nina on, then. It’s not really fair.”

“Tell him. He listens to you more.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted Jay’s hands away, reaching for your phone to text Will.

You: Get your head in the game, Will. If you still have feelings for Natalie, you should end things with Nina. It’s not fair for either of them. 

Unsurprisingly, ellipses popped up a minute later.

Will is typing…

Will: You’re right. Thanks.

[peachyteabuck]

study buddy, part v

series summary: after crushing on you since freshman orientation, Natasha finally gets the guts to ask you help you pass her postmodern lit midterm, to which you agree.

chapter summary: one restaurant date, two confessions, and three grades that will make or break natasha’s degree

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 4,881

trigger warnings: overstimulation, use of a safe word, teeth rotting fluff, strap on sex, ball gags, explicit conversations about whorephobia, orgasm control, angst if you squint

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

part one, part two, part three, part four

The warmth of the sun filtered through blinds is what woke you, wrapped tight in Natasha’s arms. The sex-stained blankets were as messy as can be, some of them hugged your intertwined bodies like a tightly wrapped burrito while others were nearly falling off the bed.

It was messy, beautifully and wonderfully so. If you felt the need to move (which, of course you didn’t because who in their right mind would try to disentangle themselves from such a lovely human person) you doubt you could’ve; Natasha held you with arms too strong and heart beat too soft. You wouldn’t dare disturb her if the house was on fire; then again, if the world was burning down around you – you’d rather die in her arms than reach for uncertain safety. It’s there that you fell back into sleep, tucked under her chin and running your fingers through her hair.

Eventually the growling of your stomachs woke the both of you up, each respective organ desperate for nourishment – and the two hard-boiled eggs, sour gummy worms, gluten-free bread, and half a container of mustard wasn’t gonna cut it. The waning sun was an ominous sign of how long you’d truly gone without food, and you soon didn’t feel all that bad about poking your poor g-

Poking poor Natasha awake.

You didn’t feel all that bad poking Natasha awake as your insides beg for sustenance and your head feels light and holy shit, if you didn’t eat right then you were going to start taking bites out of her – and, for the first time, not in a fun and/or sexy way.

“Hey,” you pressed your forefinger to her nose. “Nat.” You poked the end of each eyebrow, then at various locations of her forehead. “Natasha!” Still, she remained asleep, and buried herself further into the blankets as some unconscious act of survival. “Nat.” You poked her right cheek. “Naat.” You poked her left cheek. “Naaat.” You poked each cheek with each hand at its softest part, pushing until you felt her teeth.  “Nat wake uuup.”

She just grunted and pushed you away before she nuzzled back into the covers. “Go away. I want to die here. Let me become a body without organs.”

She paused.

“Or is it organs without bodies?”

You sighed but make no move to displace her. “One, Natasha, we have the midterm coming out soon. If you do not know the original work done by two far left authors from the sarcastic critique by another far left author, I’m breaking up with you. Two, that’s not what that means and you making a vague reference to some postmodern concept does not mean I am going to stop being annoying. Three, would you like to come get dinner with me?”

Natasha shot up, flame-red hair messy and shirt disheveled – it made her look like the top of of a thicket of trees during a forest fire. Along the side of her face, you could see indentations from where her skin was pressed to the pillowcase. “Food?”

You nodded, pushing the strands from her eyes. “Yes, darling, food.”

She wiped at her face and pushed the covers from her legs, eyes half-closed. “Food.”

You picked some of the crust from the corner of her eyes. She blinked indignantly at you but made no move to stop you. “Do you care where we go?”

Natasha shook her head left-to-right silently, then moved to wipe her face once more.

“Okay. There is a very good Chinese place that I want to show you. Is that okay with you?”

Natasha nodded and made a mmhmm noise.

“Cool.”

You kissed the tip of her nose before you got up and scrounged together a passable outfit that would cover the bruises that still littered your body and shield you from the cold. After a few moments, Natasha opened her eyes wide enough to see a few feet in front of her and did the same.

There was s a wonderful silence that filled the air, the comfortable kind. Like the day of that quiz, it’s a wonderful kind of cozy – soothing and sweet.

You could get used to this…

It was a short walk to the restaurant, one you were all-too familiar with due to your many, many nights there. It was the first place you ate at on campus (that wasn’t one of the mind-numbingly mediocre cafeterias) the day you moved in and it had become some pseudo-home, the place always warm and waitstaff always nice (and always willing to let you eat as much as you pay for and abuse their free WiFi).

The menu hadn’t changed much (by “much,” you mean they’ve fixed two of the five typos) since you first started going there, so you should have already known what you want. Still, you opened the folded, laminated paper and read each item with genuine interest, just as Natasha did.

You looked up at her once and awhile just to see her again. Every time you tried to keep her out of your line or sight for more than a few seconds you’d almost burst at the seams, like a sunburst than could only be quelled by looking at her.

“What year are you?” Natasha asked, which broke your unbelievably tender train of thought.

Your brain, which was still very fried, did not compute. “What?”

She reached over to point to the Chinese zodiac calendar on your menu with one of many of her fingers that was inside you last night. “What year are you?”

You mumbled something and shrugged, fake-intense-reading as your neurons attempted to rebuild your capacity for speech. Luckily, Natasha seemed determined to continue the conversation.

“I’m the year of the dog,” she said, nonchalant, as if you were not losing your goddamn mind on the other side of the table. Your brain was fried, your mouth was gaping like a fish out of water, and were your hands shaking? What the fuck were you supposed to say? How should you respond?

Think, you fool! Think!

“There’s a feminist critical theorist who fucks her dog,” you blurted.

Natasha just smiled – god her smile was so big and wide and beautiful - and laughed. “Part of me thinks you’re lying, but part of me worries you’re telling the truth.”

You laughed then, too, smiling big as she did. It set the tone for the rest of the night, mood light and happy as the tired, probably-high waitress took your order and then brought you the food a suspiciously-short amount of time later. It was good, very good.

“And my mom turns to me and she goes,” you wrinkled your noise in an effort to properly invoke your mother’s nasally tone. “This family does not get Fs or Ds or Cs. You better fix this or else.”

Natasha almost choked on her soft drink at your impression. “You were supposed to make an omelet for a foods and nutrition class, what did she want you to do!?”

You took another bite of orange chicken before you rolled your eyes and shrugged. “I have no idea what that woman wants from me now, let alone when I was fuckin’ fourteen.”

You were both laughing as you took food from each other’s plates and swapped small stories. Natasha told you about her own coding mishaps (apparently it was easy to hack into news websites and create fake stories involving certain celebrities and a certain large bird and many, if not too many, phallic objects), you told her about the time you stress-cried in the bathroom so much the janitor kept tissues in a secret compartment for you.

One hand from each of you remained occupied as you held hands on the side of the table farthest from the prying eyes of fellow college students (as if any of them were sober enough to notice, though. Along with being great to you, the restaurant’s very greasy menu meant it was a good spot to quench munchies or quell the pain of an especially bad hangover).

A phone – your phone, you realized – vibrated obnoxiously on the other side of the table. Previously forgotten, you broke from the moment to reengage with the (seemingly) hundreds of people who were attempting reach you via text. At first you thought it’s an email from a client – but then you realized it was a text from a classmate. Specifically, the girl who sat front and center in the lecture hall you and Natasha shared.

“Who’s that?” Natasha asked.

You furrowed your brows as you texted, swallowing the last bit of food. “Oh, Lindsay from our class. She wants to know what I got on the quiz.”

Natasha then realized she never bothered to figure out her grade, and it brought all her anxiety about graduating on time and also making sure you’d never leave her and oh my god what if she failed this fucking quiz?

A few moments of soul-crushing silence passed before you put your phone back down. Natasha watched you like a cat stalking a fake mouse on a string, or a drunk mom at a Christmas party eyeing a dessert table; the drive was genuine, but the goal? Ridiculous. Absolutely, totally ridiculous.

You didn’t press her like she expected, though, didn’t even stare at her with that evil eye Natasha’s sure you got from your mother on more than one occasion. You just went back to eating your food, and put your phone back out of reach.

You noticed her staring at you when you went to borrow (steal) another piece of food from her plate.

“What?”

Natasha furrowed her brow. “Don’t you…Don’t you want to know what I got on the quiz?”

You shook your head as you stole another few bites worth of food. “Not unless you want to tell me.” You shrugged as you swallowed. “I’m not gonna, like, push you if you don’t want to tell me. I’m not my mother.”

Natasha smiled at that and left the conversation there. She was unnaturally quiet for the new few minutes as she listened intently while you told more stories and commented on the food and thought out loud about school and the rest of your life and should you go shopping soon?

Throughout all of it, Natasha remained incommunicative – to the point you started to worry.

“Are you okay?” you asked and reached across the table to put your hand over hers. She smiled, softly, before she replied.

“I really care about you, you know,” she said, low and almost inaudible. You said nothing in return. “And I’m very bad at this. I’m so bad at this. I spent a lot of my childhood in rooms with therapists who said less than I did. I’m not good at,” she waved her hands as she tried to find the right words. “I’m not great at emotions. And expressing them and telling people about them and all that shit. Okay?”

You swallowed the last tastes of duck sauce that coated your back teeth. Despite the sweet substance being a liquid, it felt like a waterfall of boulders cascading inside your throat. “Nat, I-“

“This isn’t me saying I love you, but I want…” Natasha was on the verge of crying, just as you were. She averted your gaze as she continues, staring at the booth cushion directly behind you. “I want to commit to you in some way. I like you, I like the person I am when I’m around you. And I don’t want to lose you because I was too much of a pussy to make a move.”

You said nothing, did nothing. Despite her not looking at you, you stared at her very serious facial expression and watched every muscle twitch for some signs of lying. You saw none.

“I…,” Natasha met your eyes as you spoke. Your mouth was so dry you nearly coughed – but the idea of making any sound terrified you. “I…I need some air.”

You didn’t wait for a reply as you pushed yourself out of the booth and ran out the front entrance.

Natasha didn’t wait for the door to close behind you before she chased after you. She left both of your phones and wallet at the booth, not wanting you to get out of eyeshot but also terrified of the waitstaff thinking the both of you were dine-and-dashers (and terrible ones, at that).

She followed you outside, ache in her heart an excellent distraction from the nighttime chill that dug tiny knives into her pale skin. Still, as her breath was visible in a faint fog in front her, no pain was as unimaginable as the one as losing you.

“Babe, plea-“  began, voice small and nonthreatening as possible.

You interrupted her and avoided looking into her eyes and picked at a loose thread in the sweater you were wearing – Natasha’s sweater you were wearing.

You worried it was the last time you’d ever see her again, and yet you refused to look at her. You refuse dto look at her large eyes and the bags under them, at her nimble hands – thin and agile from years of typing; at her plush lips or beautiful hair or-

Wasn’t that the cruelest irony of all? Of the cognitive dissonant fear of missing something while desperately avoiding looking at it. Still, you chose to jump off the proverbial cliff with your eyes clenched shut and nails digging into the pads of your soft palms and blood rushing in your ears louder than anything you’d ever heard in your life.

“I’m a sex worker.”

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed and she breathed heavily, like when your mom got mad at you for bringing home that C your freshman year. “There’s-“

“I’m a sex worker. I make my own porn. I sell my nudes. It’s my main,” you sighed. “It’s my only source of income. It’s how I make money. It is how I will continue to make money. It’s how I stay mostly-independent from my very judgmental mother. It’s how I plan on staying mostly-independent from my very judgmental mother and my very judgmental family and the very judgmental world. And if you think that’s morally wrong of whatever, or that I’m some sort of sub-human, or that I’m evil, or that I should stop…”

For the first time that night, you looked her straight in the eyes. No smiling, no laughing, no wishing to see her beautiful face. Power. Authority. Truth. You tried to channel the red you saw on all those feminist theory books you’d had to read for the class that brought you and Natasha together.

“If you don’t believe in the validity of my labor I cannot and will not date you,” you were snarling as you stomped toward her until your toes nearly touched. “I’m not going to let someone who can’t love what I do love me.”

As you stood there, teeth bared and hands balled into fists, stories of rage flashed like lightning in your brain. Narratives of horror from your media studies class, of actresses whose only chance to scream was in front of a camera. If you had sharper nails, sharper teeth, glowing eyes that would be some award-winning monologue where people clap and call it “mind-blowing” and give it “five out of five stars.” You’d be a prime example of how satisfying rage can be as a subversive practice.

But no. You were no antihero(ine), no supernatural being caught on tape. You were not on the silver screen, you were not being streamed on some overpriced platform, you were not the subject of dissertations on media studies or really good articles on feminism or whatever else academics were doing with their time in tenure. You had filed-down nails and wide eyes and soft skin and an uneasy stomach and shaking hands and breath that faintly showed in the air when you exhaled. You had tears that threatened to fall. You had fear.

Natasha’s eyes flitted nervously, her lip between her teeth. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Natasha was the one to speak first. Her voice sounded as terrified as you felt – with words that were spat through a set jaw and teeth bared.

“Who hurt you?”

You took a half-step back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? Natasha, what the fuck are y-“

“Who hurt you?” she whispered, words like knives and eyes just as dangerous. You stepped back, almost scared of her and what she could do to you.

You were pressed against the side of the building then – you could feel the brick and mortar itching at the skin of your back through your top. “Natasha what the hell are you talking about? I don’t kn-“

“Yes,” she stepped back, but grasped at your left hand as she did so. She was a ship tethering to a dock, floating out on the water but always willing to come back to port. “Yes, you do. You know exactly who, what, I’m talking about. What they did. Just tell me who they are, and I’ll ruin their lives.”

You looked for the joke, the punchline. You looked for a glint in her eye that said she was fucking with you and was waiting for you to laugh it off. When you were in seventh grade you got asked out as a joke and the football player made the exact same facial expression you now hunt for.

But you found nothing, no teasing or set up in a larger scheme to mock you. She was serious as you’d ever seen anyone be. “What in the fuck-“

“Tell me who they are. Tell me the name of every person who ever made you feel like shit and I’ll ruin their lives. I’ll steal their identity. I’ll make it so they can never get a job, or a car, or a house again. I’ll do it in a heartbeat,” Natasha let go of your hand and held your face in her food-warm palms. “I will destroy the very existence of every person who ever made you feel like this, because you deserve someone who will protect you from all that bullshit. And I want to be that person.”

The silence was painful, almost. But also comforting. Still, you broke it so speak. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Natasha smiled, and pecked your lips. “Good. Now come finish my food with me, it’s getting cold and our waitress is definitely judging us.”

You broke into a fit of laughter, nearly wheezing as she guided you back inside. The food was good, even though it had cooled considerably while you were both outside – greasy and thick with flavor and hot in your mouth along with your soul and Natasha held your hand on the table and fed you with her fork and you stole bits of her food while she was distracted. At one point, Lizzo played on the restaurant soundtrack and Natasha sung low with you, and you ordered more food to take home and it was hot, too hot in your hands as you carried the large brown paper bag soaked with grease to her apartment. Maybe you were going eat the food in the morning, maybe you were going eat it later tonight. It, truly, did not really matter.

There wasn’t much time between when you put the leftovers in the fridge and when Natasha pushed you onto your knees in her (and your) (it was now shared) bedroom. There also wasn’t much time between when your knees hit the ground and when Natasha grabbed the ball gag from its place in her toy drawer.

“I’m so happy you’re mine,” Natasha cooed as she adjusted the matte black straps. She kissed at your temples when it was secured, murmuring sweet words into the top of your hairline. If there was anyone else watching you, if there were some voyeur witnessing this profession of ownership, you doubt they could hear her. The entire world could be gazing at the two of you under a microscope and they would know nothing. Wasn’t it something wonderful, to share such, dare you say it, love that cannot, will not be observed by a single being outside your pairing? “Such a pretty little thing, a beautiful little toy for me.”

You didn’t dare move, worried even a flinch would disappoint her. Even as spit began to fall down your chin and between your breasts, as it pools in the gap between your legs, you successfully resist the urge to wipe it away. Natasha walks to the end of the bed, perching herself on the covers. The silence isn’t thick or uncomfortable, rather something closer to electric, something you can feel on the insides of your nose as you sniffled.  

Slowly, she raised her right hand and crooked her first finger. You understood immediately and you got on your hands and knees to crawl across the room to her. When you reached the end of the bed you waited, obediently, for her.

Like at the restaurant – you were nearly bursting out of your skin with excitement as you awaited instruction.  

“You’re so pretty, baby,” she cooed. “Now come up on the bed and let me wreck that pussy.”

You do as you’re told without hesitation, scrambling to get on the bed and onto your back. Natasha grabbed a bottle of lube out of seemingly nowhere and poured it over the same strap from the first time she fucked you.

You moaned deeply and reached for something, anything; you whined high in your throat as she pounded into you, the bed smacking against the stained wall with each thrust.

“You’re too pretty for your own good, you know,” her voice was breathless as she spoke. “Normally I would try to keep my toys intact, try to keep them in good condition, but I just can’t seem to help myself around you.”

With each word your back arched farther, your fingers tightened around the sheets.

“F-fuck,” you moaned around the thick plastic sphere in your mouth as you tried to push your back closer to Natasha’s chest.

She grabbed your hair and bit at the curve of your ear before she spoke in a low voice that sent another wave a slick down your inner thighs. “What do you belong to?” she hisses. “Who does this pussy,” she slapped your cunt and you cried out at the stinging pain. “belong to?”

You didn’t hesitate. “You Mommy, I belong to you!”

In that moment, you wondered whether Natasha’s neighbors could hear your screams. But in the one right after, you realized you really, truly, di not give a single flying fuck what they could hear.

“Fuck yes, you’re mine,” she growled as she pressed your face into the sheets, as she loomed over you like a god would punish some human exercising an unholy level of hubris. “Don’t you fucking forget it.”

You couldn’t speak because of the ball gag – didn’t even try to – yet Natasha seemed to know exactly what you wanted to say.

“You wanna cum, love?” she cooed, still fucking into you. “You wanna cum over Mommy’s cock?”

You nodded, the whines high in your throat resembed something close to a please yes please Mommy please I wanna cum I wanna cum I wanna cum.

Just like the lube, Natasha grabbed the hitachi out of thin air before she turned it on low and pressed it to your neglected clit. It was something, it was enough, but only just so. Your muscle tensed and you wailed out as you bucked your hips, as you tried to fuck yourself harder onto the toy. Natasha notices and slows her thrusts, laughing as you become more and more desperate.

“You’re so pathetic,” she hissed. “Such a pathetic little toy. You’ll do anything to cum, won’t you?”

You nodded; words garbled.

Natasha laughed again. “Of course you would, slut. You’d do anything for me, right? You’d do anything I told you to? You’re just a mindless little toy for me, just a dumb little thing with no thoughts besides how you can please me…”

You were drooling around your gag so much it covered your cheeks and pooled on each side.

You’re blissed out, eyes glazed over and body wonderfully lax. Natasha’s isn’t done with you yet, though, because of course she isn’t. You’re now officially her girlfriend, officially hers, and maybe it’s that satisfaction or excitement or whatever in her blood but it it’s letting her stop, not now, not when you look so ethereal with a halo of sweaty hair and the sheets looking like wings and your skin practically glowing.

Not just any angel, her angel – her perfect little blessed creature, sanctified even as she degrades you in such a sacrilegious way.

“I want you to cum when I count to ten,” Natasha murmured as she pushed the sweaty hairs that had escaped their confines from your eyes. “Alright, baby?”

You nodded and tried to chase the fleeting feeling of her fingers as they dusted over your feverish skin.

She turned the Hitachi up a setting, smiling as it met your clit and you cried out.

“One,” she mumbled, rubbing the head against you in small circles. It was something, but certainly not enough.

“Two.”

Natasha knew this. She knew you didn’t orgasm all that easily.

“Three.”

Regardless, she agonizingly slowly turned the toy up a setting. Just as you feared, it remained insufficient.

“Four.”

God, nearly halfway there and you were terrified what would happen if you couldn’t cum. Part of it was exhilarating, but part of it gnawed a small hole in your stomach that left you…empty, somehow.

“Five.”

She ticked it up one, two more settings. You sighed in relief and moved your hips with what little mobility she’d allowed you.

“Six.”

She increased the vibrations again and reveled in your squeals.

“Seven.”

You cried out and wanted to beg for mercy.

“Eight.”

You didn’t.

“Nine.”

You felt like you’d forgotten how to breathe, lungs shriveled up into nothingness. It was as if you could feel each of your cells as they begged for oxygen, as your blood desperately tried to each your heart and brain.

“Ten.”

You came with a deafening scream, your whole body shaking for what feels like forever.

When you came down, your girlfriend was next to the bed, holding what you could only is another section of rope. What she planned to do with it, you had zero idea.

“How ya doin’, baby?” She asks. Natasha could sense something was off, but worried about misreading the signs.

It’s obvious she was not incorrect, though, when you tapped at your thigh three times.

Immediately, Natasha drops the toys in her hands and rushes over – untying the gag and freeing your limbs.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She scanned your body – terrified of finding blood or something worse. “What do you need?”

You swallowed what little spit you could find, your voice hoarse as you spoke. “Red,” a pause as you attempted to swallow once more. “Water.”

It was  all Natasha needed before she was rushing off to the fridge to grab a chilled bottle of the stuff and one of those reusable straws she stole from your apartment.

When she returned to the room she pulled you into her lap, keeping you upright as she leaned against the wall.

Natasha watched every muscle, every twitch as you drank from the straw. Your body seemed unwilling to move itself, relying on Natasha to hold you upright enough so that you didn’t choke. The room was silent except for the sound of your noisy swallowing (and, soon, the slurping of last droplets of water). You were about to ask for more, but Natasha found an unopened plastic water bottle within reach and held that for you, too. It reminded you of the first time the two of you fucked, and suddenly the world didn’t feel so cold anymore.

“I’m done, Mommy,” you told her when half the water was gone. “I’m good.”

“You sure, babygirl?” her voice laced with deep, genuine concern. Her eyes reflected the same emotion.

You nodded, leaning into her and rubbing your knuckles where they laid against her thigh. “I’m sure, Mommy. Thank you.”

Natasha closed the bottle and tossed it into the half-open bedside table drawer before she wrapped you in her arms. “Of course, honeybee. I’m proud of you for using your safe word, thank you for trusting me.”

You mmmed and laid there for a moment, your breathing in rhythm with Natasha. You two sat there, comfortable in the silence. If there was anything else to say, you’d say it – but for the while you enjoyed the wordless space you and her existed in.

It took a long while, after your heart had slowed and your breathing had evened out, but you eventually fell asleep in Natasha’s arms. It was peaceful, deep – somehow impossibly more satisfying than any of the other times you’d fallen asleep, even the times you’d fallen asleep with her. There, secured from harm in her arms and wrapped in blankets, you felt secure. It was indescribable, it was wonderful, it was safe. And to you, in that moment, it was heaven.

[steponmepinkjun]

do you have any thoughts on the love interests as different monsters? like mermaids, werewolves, vampires, etc. I feel like there’s not enough monsterfucker arcana content, ya know? also I love your work so so much!! you’ve got a fantastic writing style and sense of humor!!

Now I say this all as a sort of... Part-time monsterfucker? Monsterfucker Jr? Idk. It doesn't always check the boxes for me. So I can't say any of these are terribly creative takes lmfao, I'm a pretty basic bitch in that category. But this is the result of banging one out in under five minutes in the grocery store parking lot, so 'ave at it, luv 😁😘

I mean let's be honest here, let's not lie, Lucio and Julian are definitely on some homoerotic Anne Rice type shit, they're Interview With A Vampire all over again and I LOVE that for them. Aesthetically, it just works, they both already love ridiculous frilly outfits, and vampire lore is already so chock full of natural angst and self-loathing and manipulation of others that it's perfect for them. Just two dumb immortal idiots trapped in love/hate till the end of time, throwing lavish parties and fucking their human partners to death. Ideal, really.

This may be controversial, but I actually love the idea of a darker—intentionally darker, more malicious—side of Nadia. Less of the "live long enough to see yourself become the villain" and more "do anything and everything to win." Something in the vein of AHS: Coven would be hot for Nadia, somewhere between Fiona Goode and Marie Laveau, you feel me? But if we're talking much more mythical, Nadia is a siren, for sure. Oooooooo or a succubus 😳 can you fucking imagine? OOF. I just live for evil Nadia. It's so dope.

Asra, Muri, and Portia all have very fae vibes to me, obviously, but let's go beyond that.

Mermaid Asra literally owns my whole pussy and both ovaries, so jot that down. When I think of Mer!Asra, firstly I think of my beloved @stealthbaguette's hot as fuck Mer!Asra fic, le oof it's spicy, but secondly I think of a little creature called the Flamboyant Cuttlefish. Fascinating creatures, really, and beautiful. I highly recommend doing a quick google. They posed a very intriguing conundrum to researchers for many years, as they are incredibly tiny, completely defenseless, and not terribly mobile, yet they use their tentacles like legs to fearlessly walk along the open ocean floor. How could such an easy meal survive, even with its astounding intelligence? It was discovered only a few years ago that just as their brilliant purple, black, and yellow coloring would suggest, they are strikingly, terrifyingly poisonous. I think Mer!Asra would be much like that. Gorgeous, tropical, brilliantly intelligent, cunning, beguiling, and deadlier than sin. Conversely, Asra would be stunning in any role like that of Facilier, the Shadow Man. But that doesn't really count since that's not a mythical creature.

I'll be honest with you, kittycat, I'm hesitant to propose any ideas for Muriel. The fandom at large has a real hard-on for policing content concerning him, and I just don't feel like walking the tightrope between saying something glaringly obvious, and trying to be creative and thus getting called problematic. No judgment to Muri stans, I just can't hack that conversation today.

Although I think Portia could easily embody all the best (and most evil heheh) traits of many mythical monsters, but there's something about her that just makes me think she and Calcifer are kindred spirits. Tell me you can't picture his little, "I am a great and powerful fire demon! Blehbleheheh" coming from Portia, you'd be lying! I love the idea of all her moxy and charisma housed in an equally small and adorable package in mythical form. But she's versatile. She's a little bit Alice Cullen, little bit lady werewolf, little bit seamonster, little bit fire demon. Y'know? Give Portia a sort of Spirited Away arc, make her a dragon, that shit would be TIGHT. I'd actually lose my mind for that. All opalescent scales and fiery red mane and tail? Yessum, that's it for me.

[krixel]

So, I’ve had a horrendous fucking week (family, am I right?) and I have, admittedly, had more than one glass of Scotch to drink (family, am I right?) but I was doing a dive into my old Beyblade Tala/Trey WIPs, which were written entirely for me because I’d never ever considered the thought of coming back to posting fanfiction, let alone Tala/OC fanfiction - that joke is forever on me but GLU is my trope riddled passion project baby that you can pry from my cold dead hands - and I’d forgotten about this bizarre Tala has a twin, whose identity he stole, government experiment mess of an AU that I still love.

So yeah, here’s the less than 2,000 words start of that story, because why not? So, if you’re at all interested in another Tala/Trey AU where they’re established and Tala has a twin... here it is. Also, my writing is rough, because it’s from 3 years ago, and I wrote it on my phone while I was making dinner.

The door opened once the stairs had been secured, and the ball of tension that had started in his stomach crawled up Kai’s throat. There was only a single passenger on the private jet, and the afternoon sun gleamed against his blond hair as he emerged. A laptop bag was slung across his body and he gripped the handle of a small suitcase. Kai would never get used to seeing him; a grownup version of a past ghost. Kai pushed off the hood of his Mercedes and moved to meet the newcomer as he reached the tarmac. Blue eyes - hollow and colder than the snow that fell around them - gave him a once over before he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Kai. I see my brother still has you running his errands like a good dog.”

“Mikaela. I see time has done nothing to improve your charm,” Kai said, resisting the urge to scold the other for his casual use of his relationship with Tala.

“Forgive me. Unlike others, I cannot put on a false face when looking at one of the people who ruined my life,” Mikaela said, striding past Kai and towards the awaiting car.

Kai rolled his eyes but followed the other to the car. He popped the trunk but did not offer to put away Mikaela’s luggage. His unwelcome guest took the hint and did it himself. He climbed into the passenger seat, and Kai was hitting the gas almost before the door closed. “We did give you a choice,” Kai said after a while. “You chose to keep breathing.”

Mikaela huffed, the sound brushing against amusement, and eyed Kai from his peripheral. “I have always been curious, Kai. In all these years, other than the one obvious crime, you seem to be a decent sort of person. How do you stomach calling a monster like my brother friend?”

Kai’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, but his tone was a notch above boredom. “Tala is my best friend,” he said. “And if I have ever given you the impression that I was decent, then I apologize. Tala was the one who wanted to let you live. I told him it was smarter to kill you. You're a liability.”

“How quaint, after all, was I not Tala, once upon a time?”

“Not in any of the ways that matter,” Kai said.

Mikaela clicked his tongue but said nothing else for the remainder of the drive, just propped his chin on his fist and watched the once familiar city pass by the window. As Kai pulled into the underground parking for Tala’s building, Mikaela tensed, gloved hands curling into fists at the pressing darkness. Kai scoffed as he shut off the car. “Relax, Mikaela,” he said. “You're the one who wanted an in-person meeting, so don't act like we're going to drag you out back and shoot you.”

“Given past experience, can you blame me?” Mikaela asked as he pushed open the car door, hiding his relief at finding it unlocked.

Kai shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets as he waited for the other to retrieve his suitcase. “Like I said, you’re the one who wanted to be here.”

“Wanted is an exceptionally powerful word. I was put in a situation that was unsafe to express by any other means,” Mikaela said. He popped the handle on his suitcase and followed Kai to the side door of the building. A man with a buzz cut and arms the size of tree trunks opened the door for them, acknowledging Kai with a grunt and frowning at Mikaela.

Kai returned the nod, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Leave him be for now. Tala will let you know if that changes.”

Mikaela bristled at the threat but under the brutal look from the guard - more like ex-military or grizzly bear fighter - kept his mouth shut. As Kai cleared both the retinal scanner and fingerprint, Mikaela lifted an eyebrow. “A bit paranoid, isn't he?”

“Can't imagine why?” Was the dry response as Kai turned his key and the elevator finally started its ascent.

Despite the massive height of the building, the elevator ride was quick and silent, and Mikaela’s lip curled in disgust at the lavish foyer beyond the wrought iron gate. Kai unlocked it and pushed it aside, then motioned Mikaela out first before he followed. Mikaela towed off his boots by the door, but made no effort to remove his jacket or scarf. Kai patted him on the shoulder as he walked by, his smile just the dull side of vicious. “Island life thin your Russian blood? Or are you not planning to stay long?”

“He won't be staying long.” Tala stepped out of the living room, the sound of the tv still audible in the openess of his penthouse, and stood with a hand braced on his hip. “Hello, Mika.”

Blue eyes clashed, one pair narrowing while the other glittered with deceptive amusement. Mikaela fought down a snarl, but his expression remained blank. If he let Tala rile him so soon, they would get nowhere. “Yuriy.” Mikaela looked around their surroundings before his attention returned to the redhead. “It looks like you are doing well for yourself.”

Tala’s smile sharpened against the whetstone of the taunt. “You act like I don't share it with you,” he said. “Or is there something you want that I haven't given you?”

“What I want cannot be bought, no matter how much wealth you accumulate,” Mika said.

Tala shrugged. “I better not have flown you all the way here just to rehash your grievances against me, Mika,” he said. “Getting you back into the country undetected wasn't easy.”

“I wasn't aware I existed, as far as anyone else was concerned.”

Before the rising tension could escalate further another set of footsteps sounded from the direction of the living room. Trey came around the corner, eyes flicking towards Kai, then the newcomer, and then back to Kai. “Damn. I thought you left to get pizza,” she said. “Is that even a thing here? You guys do have pizza in Russia, right? Oh my god, if not I need to go home, right now.”

Tala snorted at his girlfriend, his shoulders easing despite the proximity of Mika, and Kai resisted the urge to hug Trey for her brilliance. There was no way she'd missed the rising threat in the foyer, but she diffused Tala with the expertise of a bomb unit. She moved to Tala’s side, tucking herself under his arm and against his side. “Why do all of your friends look like they walked off magazine covers? Seriously?”

“We are not friends,” Mika said, eyes surveying Trey with confusion. He was the dirty little secret Tala kept locked far away from him, and yet Tala did not seem at all concerned about the girl’s presence.

“Co-worker? Arch nemesis? Is that still a thing?”

“Twin brother, though I suppose arch nemesis isn't entirely out of the question,” Tala cut her off.

Even Kai’s eyebrows lifted at Tala’s casual admittance to Mika’s identity. Trey blinked, and waited for the punchline, though as she looked closer it was impossible to deny the resemblance - really it came down to Tala’s ridiculous hair. And then with the horror of someone who has just realized they left their child at a store, said, “You mean there's two of you in the world?”

“It's still up for debate which one is the evil one,” Kai said, as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“You knew?” Trey asked, then frowned at the obvious question. “Of course you knew. You just picked him up from the airport.”

Tala smiled as Trey devolved into her nervous rambling, and tightened his arm around her. “Why don’t you go spend some time with Kai while Mika and I catch up?”

Trey blinked at the obvious dismissal, but nodded. Tala tended to tell her the truth, so if he wanted her gone for that conversation then he had good reason. Trey lifted on her toes and Tala tilted his head down to meet her kiss. He lifted his arm and Trey shuffled away from him, sparing a glance for Mika. “Um… nice to meet you?” Mika stared at her without expression and said nothing. “Right, or not, I guess.”

Tala’s eyes narrowed but said nothing, and Trey crossed the foyer to Kai, who rolled his eyes and ushered her towards the stairs. “Ignore him,” he said. “Mika hates Tala and anyone associated with him. It's nothing personal to you.”

“So, Tala has a twin?” she asked. “And they hate each other, but no one thought to mention it.”

Kai ran his hand through his hair, expression pinched with frustration. “It's complicated, and probably better left for Tala to explain,” he said. “I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm sorry he showed up now, though, while your here. It’s not going to make for the best vacation.”

“It seemed serious,” Trey said, remembering the black mood Tala descended into after that particular phone call. “And you seemed surprised Tala introduced us?”

“I was,” Kai said, opening the door to the game room and letting Trey step through first. “Tala is - guarded - about Mika.”

Trey flopped onto one of the couches in the room, propping her chin on her fist. “You thought Tala would lie to me?” Her tone walked a delicate balance between curiosity and hurt, and Kai realized his next words needed to be careful.

“Yes,” he admitted, and took a seat on a chair facing Trey. “About Mika’s identity, at least. It's hard to explain without explaining everything, but no one knows about Mika except me, and Ian because he hacked Tala’s files once.”

Trey laughed. “Tala had to be furious.”

Kai’s smile was faint. “Ian stayed with me for a couple of weeks while Tala calmed down,” he said. “I think that's the maddest I’ve ever seen him at Ian, but it worked out. Ian lives here, better for him to know.”

“But not me?”

Kai shook his head. “If that were the case, Tala wouldn't have introduced you. Believe me, I’m relieved. Don't mistake my surprise for judgment.”

“Why is the fact that Tala has a twin such a big deal?”

“Because, if the wrong people found out, it would end me,” Tala said.

Kai and Trey looked up at the intrusion and Tala smiled. He sat down beside Trey and adjusted when she cuddled against his side. “Mika’s getting settled,” Tala said to Kai’s look. “I figured you’d be giving her cryptic explanations, and thought it'd be better for me to just explain.”

“I wish someone would,” Trey said, elbowing Tala in the ribs.

Tala kissed the top of her head. “Knowing my darkest secrets isn't as appealing as it might seem, just ask Kai,” he said. “Last chance to bow out.”

“Tala, you were a psychotic lunatic I used to hate. Let's be clear that my opinion of you is pretty low, already,” Trey said.

The tension in Tala eased again and he relaxed against her. “Right. Somehow, I keep forgetting that bit.”

[judehayward]

lady gaga voice slowly fadin in: ju-Das juda-ah-ah… this depressed goblin bastard is honestly my fav male muse like i dnt typically stick w male muses tht long i struggle bt................. i’ve played him the longest of them all n always seem to return to him. jst cnt stay away. way 2 attached to this absurd little man. it’s nai btw!!!! (josefine on the main). launches right in to jude’s intro without further adieu..... (u can also find his playlist here) 🧙‍🎨

「douglas booth & cis-male」⇾ hayward , jude, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a pisces and 23 years old. he is studying ART, living in moris and can be protective, laidback, nonsensical & apathetic. when i see him i am reminded of wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects, lead marbles instead of eyes. ⇽「nai & 23 & gmt & she/her.」

he pinterest:

me in the voice of a card magician performing on the street: round up round up pick a pinterest any pinterest!

ta-da it’s aesthetics:

lead marbles instead of eyes, a stolen hearse careening down the wrong lane, wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, bags under the eyes that are so big they could pack enough clothes for a three week vacation, a cigarette wobbling from your bottom lip as you squint against the sunlight, passing out on a stranger’s rooftop, placing sunglasses over the eyes of a biology lab skeleton, gangling around the place like shaggy minus his scooby snacks, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects

about tha Bitch:

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot

jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t fully Bad bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans. pretty absent n irresponsible. they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they properly knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care the way parents shd. they lost his birth certificate n dnt remember what they put as his middle name so he’s jst kind of like hmmmm............. n gives himself a diff one every time ppl ask. past variations hv included: jude pauly hayward, jude maureen hayward, jude van winkle hayward. says all of these w a very straight face

despite this he does hv some nice memories w them. usually he definitely sees them fr holidays. frm being rly young their christmas tradition hs been to get a bunch of chinese food like a Banquet Feast n spend all day smoking n drinking into the early hours. perhaps not the healthiest or most responsible bt 😔 jude rly likes it it’s kind of the one time of yr he feels he has a proper family

they r both suuuuper into the arts. rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a successful gallery in sheffield n san fran

(trauma tw) as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws being responsible n looking after someone. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed bt he also??? has some gd ones..... it was a strange environment bt he’s a survivor

(death n grief tw) he hd to do community service bc he kind of… hd a bit of a breakdown before the funeral of his elderly neighbour who bsically raised him bc her kids rly didnt care abt her they jst wanted her inheritance?? so he… stole the hearse w her casket still in it n ws jst like… drivin around the place sort of… tryin nt to cry…..KJJFHSFKJGHKFG i mean. it isnt funny its actually sad bt :/ in a very bizarre n jude way. he gt caught n taken in fr questioning bt her son kind of realised hw… broken up abt her death jude ws n had a heart n didnt press charges. regardless he stil hd to do community service bc it ws like taken seriously even tho it ws his first proper offence. doin it rly exhausted n depressed him so when he wsnt doin tht he ws just hibernatin in his room……. this ws like 4 months ago nw............ just some fun lore fr u all

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing he’s jst going fking wild on the keys in a trance...... i mean he’s gd bt… chill

he’s rly sarcastic n so deadpan like he’ll say smthn completely ridiculous bt he’ll say it w his whole chest so sincere.... it’s rly hard to tell when he’s joking or serious honestly. has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably secretly draw them. does NOT share these drawings w the person he hates being openly sentimental. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women like tht energy...........

he has rly bad insomnia so he like never sleeps idk how he’s Alive straight up. please go to bed sir............. he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at radcliffe doing art, focusing on fine art like painting is............... the thing he luvs most...... his style is kind of.......... taking normal things n painting w surreal colours.... he likes A LOT of colour in his paintings which is kind of a stark contrast to his personality bc his world’s so.... washed out n grey............ lovs art n philosophy n literature n photography n music.... 

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges on all his clothes. wandering the streets in plaid pj bottoms n dr martens eating frm a cereal box without care in the world. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a laidback time....... doesn’t rly like when ppl take themselves too seriously........ likes strange ppl thinks the world is mde richer by them n likes when ppl can jst bounce back jokes at him without being like erm. u dont make sense mate. bc frankly he can come up w some strange stuff sometimes.............. talking to him cn b like navigating a dark n bendy road without a flashlight....... 

(drugs tw) once did shrooms n woke up naked in the woods curled up in a pile of leaves. to this day he recounts this as his werewolf transformation. hs no idea hw he ended up there n when ppl r like are u not. concerned jude. tht is so strange? he jst shrugs like.............. dunno....................... suppose i’m jst a werewolf upon occasion. so casual abt it. jst truly does Not care abt most things at all..... almost to the point tht it’s concerning (sometimes way past the point tht it’s concerning too :/)

this is the desc on an aesthetic i mde of his style once n sums it up well!! ‘additionally: too many pairs of trousers, a hideous amount of white t-shirts all somewhat stained with charcoal, a jumper so thinly knit it almost looks sheer, chipped teale nail varnish, a cream corduroy jacket with a cigarette hole singed onto the cuff, vintage wiry reading glasses he almost never wears, a freshly rolled cigarette behind his ear, a thrifted t-shirt with a warped bart simpson wearing a stethoscope with the caption ‘bard knwos cardiology’ and two crops hacked that way with kitchen scissors that he sometimes wears to paint.‘

EXPERT at rolling spliffs like jst. mkes them so precise n neat....... it’s his super power. his fav thing to smoke frm is banana flavour papers.................... linking 2 this he’s like. bad w emotions bt he does try..... once his friend (maggie) ws sad so he brought her a spliff wrapped in grape flavoured paper bc it’s her fav fruit n jst like. wordlessly gave it to her. it’s the thought tht counts.....

PLOTS!!!!!

plays bass in a band which cld b a fun connection to get together??? i picture the music being like surf rock type like........... mac demarco...... bt he also luvs elliott smith n glass animals n the cure n metronomy n neutral milk hotel n talking heads n radiohead n mazzy star n wolf alice...................... idk jst like.... within tht ballpark i suppose i imagine it being................

mayb ppl he shares classes w?????? i’d like someone tht does a similar course n they hang out tgether when it comes to trips fr the module to museums or exhibits or wtever................ they both stand in front of paintings analysing it rly wrong n saying stuff like hmmmmmmmmm....... i do declare i see a, uh..... large phallus protruding from the centre of this image...... moves something in me.......... n some elderly person looking at it besides them is like Ergh. sickened n disgraced. leaves w a brow severely furrowed

someone he smokes w on the moris rooftop late at night when he cnt sleep??? mayb they’re up n cnt sleep either fr whtever reason n it’s become an unspoken kind of ritual where they always clamber out n find each other there n jst wordlessly keep them company

jude is kind of like. protective almost to a fault sometimes........... mayb some guy he’s punched......................... if they hurt someone he cares abt........... typically it wld hv been a girl he ws kind of like. affected by his first relationship bc she had a bad home situation n ever since jst wnts..... to Protect it’s kind of like an automatic instinct ingrained in him nw 😔 all sounds very noble n well bt sometimes it cn b a bit of an escalation i wnt lie

perhaps a few hook-ups??? jude doesn’t tend to sleep w ppl he rly knows bc he just..... likes it to b an impersonal thing doesn’t like getting attached fr various reasons so mayb they only kno each other via this OR mayb he bent his rules a bit..... cld either work seamlessly or hv added drama if one side hs mre feelings or whtever

currently living in moris w 2 roommates bt i’d love some neighbours perhaps..... mayb someone tht lives directly nxt door to his room n is like ://// bc he plays music loud n weeds always drifting frm his window n mking their room smell if theirs is open too................. or mayb they get on..... mayb there’s a rly mean seagull tht lands on a branch n poos on pedestrians n they both commentate on it frm their windows like david attenborough...... they’re like he’s at it again. they’ve named him n everything

HONESTLY anything if u have an idea hmu i’d love 2 hear it.......... rubs my hands tgether in excitement to plot up a storm w u all

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Level 4

How is everyone doing? Are you enjoying the seasonal shorts? I hope so :) I’m getting ready to head out of town for the Holiday’s but never fear! I’ve got everything all cued up for your viewing enjoyment!

Tagging: @loudartanimeeclipse

Master List here or check the tag Ikesen AFK.

Warnings: None

Happy Reading! T~

Level 4

You logged yourself in at 6:35pm. Deciding that it would be a good idea to get all your shopping done before you were supposed to meet up with everyone. You didn’t want to be the only one unprepared. Then Yuki’d really never let you hear the end of it, and you super didn’t want to deal with that. With the flick of your joystick, you headed for the market to grab the lance you’d been eyeing for a week now. Making sure to snack between conversations with the shopkeepers. 

Once your business in town was finished, you headed to your meeting point, arriving with five minutes to spare. After a few moments of fiddling around with your headset, your control began to vibrate.

*Nin-nin0217 has invited you to a group chat.*

With a smile on your face, you happily accepted. 

Braves6Coins → Yo! Where you at? 

Nin-nin0217 → She’s sitting over there. Near that bush.

With a smile on your face you prompted your avatar to wave. Sticking your tongue out at Yuki when he flipped you the bird.

Ur a child. ← WildCyt0m3try

TigerOfKai681 → Oho, she’s got spirit. I like it. The name suits you, Wild.

God_of_War → We’re wasting time. Let’s go

RoseW@terHeals010 → Were you seriously about to leave with out me!? Jeeze, hold your horses wouldya

God_of_War → The only one here with a horse is Brave, and you and I both know he’s got no clue how to ride it.

Braves6Coins → Hey! Wth man!

God_of_War → Are you done? Can we go? 

RoseW@terHeals010 → Oh my gosh. @Brave6Coins did that hurt? Do you need ice?

Braves6Coins → Shove it!

TigerOfKai681 → Now, now. Is that any way to talk to a lady?

Fine_as_art1156 → Technically no, but how can you be so sure Rose is, in fact, a lady? Depending on stat growth, it makes more sense to play as a female character if one wishes to have access to the gremory class later on.

RoseW@terHeals010 → Now that’s just uncalled for. I’m a bonafide female. Both Brave and Nin can vouch for me there. 

Brave6Coins → Who said I wanted too? 

Nin-nin0217 → Rose is indeed a female.

RoseW@aterHeals010 → Thank you Nin! At least someone here wants to be healed today. 

God_of_War → If you don’t plan on doing your job, why did you even bother showing up?

RoseW@terHeals010 → I came specifically to piss you off.

TigerOfKai681 → Ladies, gentlemen, War...we have a guest, we’re being very rude.

You’re being hysterical, is what you’re being. xD You guys are crazy! ← WildCyt0m3try

TigerOfKai681 → Happy we could entertain you, my lady. *bows*

You rolled your eyes at the wall of text that quickly began turning into another argument. At least this wouldn’t be boring. How did they find the time to get anything done bickering like this? You wondered as you followed them out of town and into the swap map. At least you’d get to take out a few good beasties tonight.

The group of you weren’t on the map long before you got the notification to turn your headset on. 

“Is everyone here?” A voice you knew to be Sasuke’s asked over the intercom.

“Yes.” A deep baritone came through your speakers. It came out a low rumble though a bit domineering, instantly commanding your attention. Who the hell was that? 

“Tiger of Kai also present.” The light tone of his voice made you smile, that certainly wasn’t what you had been expecting. At least his response narrowed down your question.

“Fine Art is here.” His voice lower, yet slightly more nasally than Tiger’s, though he spoke slower with a draw on his vowels. 

“Brave checking in. I’m all good to go!” Yuki’s voice played, urgent and familiar as ever. 

“Rose here, reporting for duty.” The soft soprano of your friend’s voice was in stark contrast to the voices she followed. 

“Wild is present.” You spoke into your microphone, choosing to speak after everyone else had gone through the roll call, oddly nervous for them to hear your voice. 

“Oh, see! Wild most certainly is a girl!” Tiger exclaimed in excitement. “No, a woman. With the voice of a goddess!”

“Uh, I think that may be a bit much.” You responded, wondering if this guy was for real. Then again, Rose had warned you at lunch he was a major flirt.

“She’s a boar is what she is,” Yukimura called out over Tiger’s ramblings. 

“So you know Wild as well then?” Art questioned over the ensuing argument. 

“Does it matter?” The man you assumed by now was War asked, the exasperation clear in his voice. “Can we get on with this quest? Or do you all plan to just stand around and blather all day?”

“I’m just trying to get to know my teammates,” Tiger responded defensively. 

“Best not to let him get to know you too well, ladies,” Sasuke responded, sending the whole group into a tizzy. It wasn’t often that anyone got to hear him use that tone of voice. 

You were so busy enjoying the conversation the group had to offer you almost missed the change in music as you pushed forward through the swamp.

“Uh guys, beasties. Twelve o’clock.” You called over the mic. Taking down a low-level monster that had come careening through the forest in your direction. 

The entire group sprung into action, moving around the map to better defend yourselves and the area. It didn’t take long to take care of the surprise attack, and the intercom system came back to life quickly as everyone became less concentrated on using their unit for battle. 

“So, you’re not completely useless.” War commented as you hacked at another enemy. 

“Uh, thanks. I think?” You responded in near confusion as a new mission header popped up across your display. 

*Mission: Defend the base for 12 turns, or defeat all of the enemies. Fail: The base falls, all units defeated.*

It looked easy enough, but that didn’t mean anything. This game was quickly becoming known for its ridiculous curveballs. With its initial success and players becoming more and more adept at defeating the challenges, the creators had become increasingly creative at taking down the higher ranking players. So it was better to watch out. Especially with someone in a Master Class on the team. The last thing you wanted to do was be smacked across the swamp by some weird-ass beast that regenerated every two turns if you couldn’t defeat it fast enough. Not on your to-do list for the evening. 

As each player accepted the mission, positions were distributed, and the map was enlarged in the top left corner of your TV. So you had all been separated. 

“So, what’s the plan? It looks like they divided us to the far corners, with Art being the closest to the base. Are we all bee-lining to take defensive measures, or do we just want to cut down anything we come across?” You asked wondering how your new team wanted to go about this.

“A beautiful voice and brains! Where did you find this woman?” Tiger asked in a sing-song voice.

“In a dungeon. Can we please move on?” Yukimura seethed. Technically he wasn’t wrong. You and Rose did work in the basement of the hospital, it was an apt nickname for the lab. 

“I say we split the jobs.” Sasuke cut in. “Tiger, you’re not going to make it very far, so I say you do what you can and obliterate anything that’s dumb enough to get near you.”

“That I can do.” The smile was evident in Tiger’s voice. 

“Art, are you okay to hold down the fort? Blow things away from a distance? We’ll send Wild in as back-up. Her movement stat is exceptional, and she can cover the most ground the fastest.” Sasuke suggested, and you preened internally at the compliment.

“I would love back-up. Wild, whenever you can get here would be wonderful.” Art spoke through his mic. 

“Rose, you should work your way towards the middle of the field where that forest is. You can hide in the terrane while also healing using your wide faith magic range to your advantage.”

“Roger that,” Rose responded with enthusiasm. 

“Brave, since you’re on the horse do what you can to take out as many beasts as you can before they reach Rose. Once you get there and the forest is secured for her, make your way around the field.” Sasuke suggested.

“So take down as many beasts as possible for Rose. Got it.” Yuki replied, a little too smug.

“War, please feel free to do as you always do,” Sasuke spoke, quick to interject the fight that was bound to start with Yuki and Rose. 

“Of course.” His voice was drawn out, and you could sense the smile. War was going to enjoy this. 

“I’ll wander the map, open up any gates and chest I see before making my way towards the base. Sound like a plan?”

“A very good one.” You replied, excited for the battle to begin. The muddled confirmation of your teammates could be heard in your headset. You couldn’t make much out with everyone talking at once, but that didn’t matter to you. This was still going to be a blast. 

[primedirection]

Gray Area- Part 2

Warnings: Angst Drama & a maybe a hint of fluff...

AN:

I had too much fun writing this and it's gonna show. I'm so sorry😅 Enjoy!

To the untrained eye dinner was going on without a hitch. The chatter was buzzing and lighthearted around the table. Attendees were in the best of spirits for camaraderie while drinks were poured before receiving great food. Yet, under the surface, Harry wondered why he even bothered to come at all.

For starters he'd forgotten why he was so excited about it in the first place, its couples night and watching his friends so lovey dovey when going through his own turmoil was a form of exceptional torture he could hardly stand. Which was odd given that he himself was usually a lover of love and absolutely lived for cheek kisses, stolen kisses, full on kisses, hand holding, and meaningful glances between people because he found it so endearing. Especially with you and yet here he was totally miserable inside.

Second, everyone is paired up with the exception of himself and his infamous ex, who's partner also happened to be away for work. So what better way for his friends to rectify their 'loneliness' than by seating them together!

As if on cue at the thought she leaned in close just to mention, "So H, I took a consensus but I'm still waiting for your vote." A mischievous smile painting her lips.

"Ehm, that's great." He had to force himself not to smile awkwardly tight lipped, "Don't think you really need it anyway, m'not really in any place to say." As he immediately dived into the menu, he missed seeing the fallen look on her face. Now it would be even better he couldn't sense it.

Despite feeling completely uncomfortable, Harry made the best effort to remain neutral. Fearing he'd draw unnecessary attention and ruin their nights as well on one hand. Then again on the other he meant what he had said to you, when he'd said that he'd done nothing wrong. So he shouldn't even be feeling any guilt towards her at all.

As far as he was concerned the pictures you 'found' not that they were hidden to begin with, were out of his control. Yes, not all of his friends dressed modestly but it surely wasn't his place to tell them how to live their lives. Everyone should be free to do as they please if it makes them happy and as long as it's not hurting anyone. And yes some old photos were still there only because that's exactly what they were, old. He wasn't trying to keep them as a memento he literally saw them once and never thought about it again. So he honestly felt like there was no point in purposely digging it up and deleting it unless he actually had something to hide.

More importantly, he thought that he'd been astoundingly clear you were the only one that he had eyes for. That there wasn't a single soul on earth, whether fully clothed or completely nude that could break the tether he had to yours. Sometimes like now, it scared and infuriated him to no end when you couldn't see it.

Harry would delete the pictures and block every single contact that you wanted if necessary, but he also had to be realistic. Once irrevocable boundary lines are crossed there is no turning back. He's learned firsthand how unhealthy it is to be a prisoner in your own relationship. When insecurity becomes doubt and doubt becomes paranoia. Worst of all when paranoia delves into control. No one is happy, trust is an insincere joke, love is completely lost, and all that really remains is either becoming or owning an object of property.

Surely this case wasn't that extreme, but he wasn't oblivious to how it starts. However it also wasn't lost on him that you both needed to come to terms of agreement in order to move forward. As long as you were within reason, he'd be able to deal with it and vice versa.

With that being said his urge to be social diminished drastically in comparison to his urge to make things right. Thus why he stopped engaging in everything around him altogether and directed his attention towards finishing up cleaning out the useless junk in his phone. Ensuring that if he ever lost you, it'd never be over something as ridiculous as an outdated picture.

As time went on Harry hadn't even discovered the conversation being drawn to him. He jumped suddenly at the realization Clare had been calling out to him. A soft question finally coming through the loudness of his thoughts. "You good, Har?"

It was also then he noticed that everyone had been watching him pointedly now. Tucking his phone away he forced a strained smile and pushed his fingers through the knots in his hair, feigning nonchalance, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because Y/N is here and you still haven't noticed." Mitch deadpans.

Frowning unsure he heard correctly, Harry's gaze briefly swept the room and his heart almost launched right out of his chest upon laying eyes on you. Approaching stoically, arms crossed even from across the room he could easily tell you are unimpressed by tonight's seating arrangement. He also knew better than anyone that you'd be too polite to bother protesting about it. Eventually he stood and offered you his chair while he quickly found himself another, so stunned by your presence he'd forgotten to greet you properly altogether.

"Hi guys! Sorry I'm late, got a little side tracked on the way here," You openly admit accepting his offer, not in the slightest surprised to see his ex's visible disappointment. All the while everyone else greeted you with heartwarming enthusiasm.

"Glad you're here love," Harry finally spoke with a sincere and appreciative smile, unable to help himself from leaning in and planting a quick kiss on your cheek.

"Is anyone even really surprised? I mean, you're practically attached at the hip these days. No offense." His snotty ex snickered bitterly into a sip of wine.

That. That right there is exactly what brought you here tonight. You couldn't ignore Harry's point of having no control of everything he receives, because he was right everyone gets spam one way or another. But there is one common variable that separated the innocent from the inappropriate, and that's the intention behind it.

To be quite honest, after seeing her pictures you went on a downward spiral for a bit. Beating yourself up and asking all the wrong questions. Like why weren't you enough for him? What did you have to do to make him see? And so on and so forth. But with just a little more time alone, albeit a ride home and a mini Instagram stalking session, you were able to think more rationally and even form a different perspective from a few hard facts. Eventually revealing the real answer to your problem had less to do with either of you individually and everything to do with her ill will towards you two being together.

She was literally, a first class attention seeker. Plain and simple. Born into it whether she aimed to be or not. To the extent that whenever she or anyone else she's related to so much as hint at gracing a controversial cover, it became top news worldwide overnight. This one 'cover' should be no different but alas it is, because it doesn't exist.

"Of course we are he's my best friend," You retort genuinely cool calm and collected. Earning a round of admiring 'aws' from around the table bringing up another point, your announcement, "Speaking of friends... Did everyone here get a chance to see your little outtakes? Dying to know which one you picked for the cover."

Her complexion noticeably pales almost instantly, "I- no it's still in editing nobody is supposed to see until it's finished...how did you—" she rambles suddenly nervous.

"Harry showed em to me." You lied happily with a smile just to get under her skin and it worked, seeing as she tosses him a skeptical glance but he's already looking her way with a disappointed frown, "Thought you said you asked everyone?"

"I-I-I was," She stuttered, "I just didn't want to risk it getting leaked...you know I get hacked all the time."

"Oh c'mon, Harry? He's got the worst taste here," Nick teases and receives a pointed glare from him and laughs, "Can we at least get a tip on which cover?"

If you hadn't known better, then you'd be like everyone else and maybe even a little concerned watching her become visibly uncomfortable. But currently you're all too happy to watch her struggle to come up with a believable lie. "Well... its still in the works right now too so I can't really say."

It's kind of funny how you haven't had a sip to drink and yet you felt drunk with power. Well not even necessarily power but it felt damn good to reclaim all the shitty energy she caused you in that short period of time. People like her deserved to be exposed as the malicious fraudulent snakes that they truly were. Cut out root and stem, defanged and hung out to dry.

At the moment you were thrilled and petty enough to do it with a smile, "From what I saw my first guess was honestly Pornhub." Mid swallow on a rather large gulp of wine the self proclaimed supermodel began to choke loudly. Eyes wide while unceremoniously sputtering it up through both her nose and mouth onto the fancy table setting in front of her. You laughed completely unabashed, running on a high of her karma but politely pat her back in aid quietly adding, "No offense."

Fortunately for her, her coughing fit didn't last long as she angrily pulled away from your touch.

"It's a nude piece?" Nick gasped with his hand pressed to his cheek shocked and intrigued all at once, the journalist coming out of him.

"According to what she sent to him. Then again I find it super strange that someone like her would do a shoot of that type of...nature, get it done, and still not know where it's being published." You cheerily answer for her.

However everyone else seemed to be in a battle of mixed emotions as all the clues came together. Sitting back watching silently. You dully noted the disdain and unease directed at she and Harry. Who currently had a deep frown set in place, upset at how things just unfolded.

"Unless you know, there was no intention for them except to go straight to his phone? And yet then again you and your family like to keep it saucy so." Shrugging you grab Harry's glass and take a sip from it. "Mmm, wish this was tea."

"Okay, can you shut the fuck up!" She snarls irritably, passing her hands over her flustered face. "You're seriously annoying!"

Bringing a full fledged smile to your face, "Oh honey, if you're that upset then why don't you come make me? I promise you'll get everything you deserve and more."

"You think you're so tough. I'll kick your fucking ass right now dude and you won't even see me coming!" She snaps pushing away from the table and onto her feet. Causing you to flat out laugh at her attempt of intimidation as well as gain the attention of poor unsuspecting patrons just trying eat their meals in peace.

"Uh oh, someone better fetch security for miss John Cena over here."

"Alright, that's enough let's go." Harry suddenly commands rising to stand in front of you as if he were some type of bodyguard. Wanting to leave now on your own while you could, instead of being removed disgracefully. "Already? I just got here and things are really getting interesting." You playfully tease pouting but get up anyway.

"I'll say." Nick laughs thoroughly amused waving goodbye.

"This is why people like you don't belong in our world, you're scum bitch!"

Again you laugh as Harry begins to usher you towards the exit by the waist calling back, "Sweetheart, you're the one pursuing taken men with staged nudes. You are bacteria! Keep your filthy world and choke!"

In your side peripheral you're able to catch glimpses of people's phones going up to start filming the discourse. The official cue to shut up and get out before an even bigger spectacle was created. You'd apologize to everyone else for the drama later if and when given the chance.

Your more immediate focus right now was Harry, tense and silent stalking off ahead of you in the parking lot. Bee lining for his black SUV. He hasn't asked and probably didn't care to know, but you Ubered here. Regardless he most likely would have made you ride with him anyways.

It's only after climbing inside and shutting the door that he speaks, "Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on with you?"

"You asked me to come to dinner and I showed up. What's the problem?"

His expression became incredulous, "You made a scene."

"Actually she did that. I only called her bluff and ruined her scheme of potentially ruining your honor. You're welcome by the way! From now on, to prevent shit like this from happening I need you not to be passive when they're making passes." You glare at him pointedly.

Harry frowns hard at that suddenly angry, "Fair enough, but I didn't need you to defend my honor Y/N. It was never at stake, and you'd know that if you took my word for it in the first place. Bloody hell woman, do you really think that I don't know how lucky I am to have someone like you in my life? That I'd throw this all away that easily for nothing? I'm not an idiot!"

You sigh heavily from a strong wave of guilt hitting you in the gut at the reminder but manage to fold your arms across your chest stubbornly, "Yeah well it would have been so much easier to believe without all the evidence against you,"

"S'not evidence it's stupid and childish and completely ridiculous!" He argues scratching the bridge of his nose with his index.

"If it's all that then why keep it?" You shrug.

"I'm not, it's gone. Got rid of it all after you left." He honestly admits passing over the item in question itself and with a quick awakening of the screen you instantly find out just like before the pass code is still deactivated. Leaving all accessibility at your fingertips. "Before you go through it though, I need to know something." He turns to fully face you in his seat.

"Okay?" You encourage a little uneasy but mirror his action.

"Do you trust me? And I mean genuinely trust me Y/N. Harry the human that loves sleeping in with you on Sundays, and Harry the same human that has to tour around the world 6 to 8 months at a time and might not have as much access to you as he'd like?"

You practically feel insulted by his need to ask at all but answer him anyway, "Of course I do!"

But he's dead serious, taking ahold of both your hands in his massive ones. Staring deep into your eyes with electric intensity. "Are you sure? Coz' he's the same bloke in charge of that inbox, and those dms, and that browser history! If we're gonna have any chance at all, I need you to understand that."

For a brief moment his sharp liquid green eyes flit back and forth searching for any and all doubt. Though you genuinely have none. "I do Harry, I promise."

Emotion floods in his eyes before he shuts them and shakes his head slowly but surely getting vulnerable, "I only ask this of you because love I can't- I literally can't even stomach the thought of us ever being toxic.. Losing you that way— losing you at all..." You take it upon yourself to free one of your hands just to cradle his warm cheek. In turn he tried to smile in appreciation but his eyes have already begun to burn from the prick and swell of tears, his chest and throat tightening. "You're my everything." He professes softly, "My world, my sun, my stars, my moon, my entire universe. I love you."

You smile in admiration completely smitten getting a little emotional yourself, "I love you too Harry." Pulling him close to kiss him once, twice, thrice, and then just hold on to him a little longer with his face buried in your neck.

"M'sorry for being a crybaby," he mumbles into your skin and you laugh. Then and only then does he come up for air leaving a trail of follow up kisses before putting the previous space back between you. He reaches down on the floor of the driver's seat and retrieves the long forgotten phone. Placing it back in your hand, "S' all yours lovie."

Insanely relieved and extremely giddy at the moment. You simply roll your eyes toss the damned device in the cupholder without hesitation, "Never needed it."

AN: First of all thank you all so much for the support and feedback it was truly inspiring. Hope this turned out alright! Let me know. More blurbs are coming soon so keep an eye out!

[popculturespiritwow]

THE WICKED + THE DIVINE: 1923 AD AKA A WORK OF ART(IFICE)

This issue is the Peakiest of Peak Gillen -- Gillen to the Power of Peak to the Power of Peak, if you will, #MathisCool. It’s a comic book masterpiece of research, reference and storytelling and I’ve been so daunted at attempting to comment on that it’s taken me months to make the attempt. You only climb Everest once, people!  (Shut your mouth, Nat Geo.)

WAGNER VERSUS WARHOL, FIGHT!

In format the issue involves a back and forth conversation/rap battle between high and low art. On the one hand, we have novelistic chapters rich with description. “The island looked like a threat, a fist of rock that had forced its way through the waves.” The island and Ananke both...

Then we cut to what at first glance seems like your standard comic book, but in fact is actually a riff on the early days of film, complete with title cards (which themselves get so silly the font might as well be comic sans #IllBeHereAllWeek) and everything shot in a wash of black, white and brown, except for the splashes of red at the scenes of death—victims’ blood, Lucifer’s apple, and my favorite, the red seaweed around Neptune.

Love that red seaweed.

The heart of the plot follows a similar back and forth, as the elitist “classic” artists, the TS Eliot/Ezra Pounds and Ginny Woolf-ish-types of the Pantheon, want to kill the more popular art types, the Shirley Temples and Buster Keatons and Robert Johnstons, to initiate a nightmare scenario that will supposedly give them control over the zeitgeist of the future. It’s an incredibly disturbing take on some of the giants of the early 20th century -- and one Gillen found based in fact.

It’s fascinating, too, for as much as the real object of venom is the truly popular artists, the movie star types with their simplistic narratives and opium for the masses, the elitists focus on killing figures who from our perspective sit far closer to them – Lucifer (F. Scott Fitzgerald), Poseidon (Ernest Hemingway), Dionysius (Pablo Picasso) and the Morrigan (James Joyce). I wonder if it’s something about the chaos those specific figures represent, the way that their particular forms of art end up undermining not only the structures but internal belief system of the modern world. If Baal-Et-Al’s idea is to work with Joe Goebbels to coopt pop culture for their own We Will Keep Control project, in a sense a Picasso or Joyce was doing the reverse, presenting in the formats of the elites only to deconstruct their validity. (Gillen’s notes on the Morrigan point in this direction. Also, his description of Set as coming off “a little like Tahani from The Good Place made me laugh out loud.)

In the end our good guys will stop the bad using their own popular media, film from a train, which was in real life the very first motion picture, and terrified people back in the day for exactly the reason that they feared the train was real and was going to leap off the screen and kill them all. 

Writing perfection.

HISTORY IN REPETITION AND RHYME

As we’ve seen throughout these specials, we get lots of echoes between periods here. Lucifer is once again the first one killed, the Morrigan is once again a character all about voice and drama (I love his self-narration so much, please sir can I have a spin-off?), the Norns are still trying to figure everything out, Susanoo=Dandy Baphomet, complete with his own complicated dating relationship (those rings made out of light, though, such a pristine beauty of a moment that Baph never gets), and Woden is once again a gross racist hack misogynist -- that submarine has got to be phallic, right? -- who has stolen his tech powers from someone else to produce content that is entirely derivative while secretly playing the gods and being used by Ananke.

There is also another mechanical creature, “Little Brother”, which we see only for a few panels, and that is not nearly enough because it is an adorable looking flying squid. (SCREW YOU BABY SHARK, BABY FLYING SQUID IS EVERYTHING.) Ananke also works from her standard playbook here, the Prometheus Gambit – you can gain some life if you kill others, which Baal et al will then use for bat#!% crazy purposes, which of course is also part of her plan.

And Minerva is also once again a child who seems maybe to be working with Ananke. It’s clear right from the start that the whole Shirley Temple schtick, lots of Yays and Gollys, is just an act, part of her “character”. And we get a glimpse of the real her again at the end.

That doesn’t have to mean she’s in league with Ananke. (Just read the next arc; she’s totally in league with Ananke.) But she also comes to know what happened to Verdandi, when she wasn’t with the group that discovered him. (Dude: She’s totally in league with Ananke.) And it gives her an excuse to leave Morrigan at precisely the right moment for him to get murdered by Ananke. (Yes, exactly, because she’s in league with Ananke.) And she will kill Set herself without a second thought; it’s all still just hint and innuendo (UGH NO IT’S NOT STOP), but given what we’ve just learned in the present day that’s all we need for now.

Meanwhile Baal is in some ways the opposite of ours, a racist white elitist who dismisses James Baldwin-type Amon-Re as incapable of being an artist given his “nature”, and Set is her own thing too, a snobby name-dropping Virginia Woolf.  Most intriguingly, the Norns have internal divisions that break them down, which make me worry a little bit for Cassandra and her friends. 

Best take care of your family, Cassie. Remember, in #WicDiv no one is just a sidekick…

CREATURE(S) IN EBONY This is the second special where the Fall of the Gods involves the introduction of a new being created by the gods by way of a classic Ananke “Definitely Don’t Do This (wink wink)”.  In 1831, Lucifer and Morrigan resurrect Hades to create an energy vampire that after killing them merged with Woden Shelley to create Steam Punk Elsa. This time the being – again a woman – is described as “looking like some ancient ancestor of the Metropolitans, but made of living poetry and bleak lightning rather than simple metal.” Which sounds an awful like the 1831 Creature.

She also emerged from “an ebony luminescence with streaks of blue beyond blue”, which again, sounds a lot like Mary Shelley Elsa Frankenstein.

Almost 92 years later we’ve heard nothing from her. But Kieron never forgets anything, INCLUDING YOUR BIRTHDAY, SO WATCH OUT. What could this all possibly mean…

ANANKIERON CHRISTIE

For me the most interesting element of 1923, though, is everything to do with Ananke. We come into the special, like the last two, knowing she is our Big Bad (probably, I don’t know you guys, I think in the next arc Kieron’s going to make me feel bad for her and I don’t want to). (No worries, he didn’t, or did he, wait, there are two Anankes now, I don’t know, what?)

But here for the first time we enter into the story alongside her. In fact, in that very first shot it almost seems like she’s looking right at us.  

Time’s running out, she’s got to get to the murder-y and behead-yness stat, and this time we get to watch her do it. Awesome!

It’s almost like we’re partners in the exercise, even; right before they’re about to go in for dinner and discover Lucifer Ananke seems to stop and look at us again.

Us and the millennia-old serial killer of children--High fives all around!

For the last 30+ issues I’ve been asking why Ananke is she always wearing a mask, and now finally I get it: just like the Pantheon, she is an actor giving a performance.

Here specifically she presents herself as a classic Agatha Christie protagonist, finding herself along with everyone else in the Remote Place version of a locked room murder mystery and slowly working to uncover the truth of what’s going on while others continue to die. And Then There Was Fun!

Except in fact Ananke is not The Marple but Christie herself, author of the entire series of events that happen, which makes this to my mind pretty much the greatest Christie story ever, and also reinforces the belief of All of Us that Jessica Beatrice Fletcher is the Greatest Fictional Serial Killer that Ever Lived.  

But wait, though. Doesn’t that make Ananke basically…a writer? Like um, this guy…?

But that’s crazy. We’ve spent the last five years with him. He’s fine.

I mean yes, both he and Ananke fashion fictional Big Bads (Note: this issue has absolutely no trace nor mention of a Great Darkness, despite the fact that this entire Pantheon has been around almost to their Use By) and also Ways to Save the World which motivate the characters down paths which lead to their eventual destructions.

And okay, true, in this issue Kieron does spotlight/ridicule parts of the storytelling mechanic, the machines characters are always trying to find/build/repair as nonsense. 

Such rituals are actually simple. It is about will and art. The machines…in my experience, they are little more than props. All that matters is your action and intent. They killed so the world would die. You die so the world can live.

But still, if we were to accept that Ananke is Just Kieron’s, er, Mask, then it’s like this whole time he’s been the one doing terrible things to all these characters, including the characters that he made me want to love.

And then this question which I’ve been chewing on since 455 AD, whether the characters can ever be free of the roles they’ve been assigned, in a sense becomes a question about whether they can ever escape not Her but Him…

Or what about us? The Audience. The ones that Jamie and Kieron and the others are creating this for.

This isn’t And Then There Were None, is it? No, this is Temple of Doom. Kieron may be Mola Ram, but I’m the Ever-Hungry, Never-Satisfied G--D-- Kali.

All along, Kieron has thrown in these moments where we get glimpses of the broader world, the way it feeds on the Pantheon. And I can get to the end of 1923 AD and say there’s a fascinating battle going on here about the ethics and/or violence of being a writer. But maybe there are also deeper questions being asked of me as a reader.

Maybe the issue begins with Ananke looking at me like that for a reason.

STOP IT, ANANKE. YOU’RE MAKING ME UNCOMFORTABLE. LOOK AWAY.

WORLD WARS, IRL AND URL A last point: 1923 AD is unusual for the degree to which it is haunted by something external, aka war. Even as the story takes place in the effervescent champagne bubble oasis of the Roaring 20s, both the nightmare that was World War I and the possibility of another war which is somehow impossibly much much worse than it hangs over the characters. That’s an insightful take on the period, but also an awe-full twist on the sense of doom that we’ve witnessed in the 21st century Pantheon, their own personal oncoming catastrophes expanded to the scale of disaster for the whole world.

It makes me wonder whether the last act of The Wicked + The Divine will involve something of a similar scale, whether the underlying momentum of the book has not always been toward the culture of celebrity, insofar as it engenders adoration, mob-think and a lack of fundamental care for and curiosity in one another, as sign of our own massive social crisis. (See: Brexit. Trump. The Fights My Dad Gets in on Facebook.)

Are we doomed? Do I still have time to tweet a thread about it? I really think it could make a difference, you guys.

[iatethepomegranate]

Blue is the New Red Chapter 46

Masterlist

Note that due to tumblr being ridiculous, I no longer post external links on individual chapters. If you prefer to read on AO3, please refer to the masterlist link above.

Rated: M for torture, flashbacks, trauma reactions, PTSD, sexual assault of minors, consensual sexual content and related freaking out about it, drug references, non-consensual drug use, possibly underage drinking, homophobia and biphobia, references to self-harm, suicidal ideation and attempt. Chapter warnings:  animal cruelty, allusions to the sexual assault of minors, mentions of Wally's jerkass dad, hints of PTSD

Main Pairing: Birdflash

Status: Multiple chapters, in progress

Overall summary: Nightwing has finally made his return to the Team, but he finds the events of the past two years aren’t quite done with him yet.

Chapter notes:  Batgirl is participating in her first team mission, and Nightwing is finally back on active duty after his long absence.

Additional notes (and an apology): It's been far too long since I last updated. I'm so sorry. I wish I had a good explanation, but the fact is I just could not get myself into the right mindset to write this, let alone reread what I've written so I can remember how it goes. (See a longer explanation on the AO3 page)

Reminder: dialogue in bold is said through M'gann's mind link.

Chapter 46: Reconnaissance (Maybe)

It took Batman three tries before he was able to let Nightwing on the bioship the following morning. If it hadn't been for the smorgasbord of trackers embedded into every piece of Nightwing's uniform, he probably wouldn't have been allowed to go at all.

Batgirl squeaked when the seatbelt fastened itself over her chest. Nightwing, very charitably, he thought, did not laugh.

“You control the ship with your brain?” she asked Miss Martian once she'd recovered.

Miss Martian nodded. “I can also make her respond to commands from non-telepaths. I'll show you how to fly her one day.”

Batgirl rubbed the seatbelt between her gloved fingers. “Maybe once I've gotten used to this.”

“Wait until you see her shapeshifting,” said Kid Flash.

“You just want her to turn into that version of you with boobs again,” said Nightwing.

“Who can blame me? I'm hot.”

“Oh, grow out of your hormones already,” Artemis complained. “You don't hear Nightwing going on like this anymore.”

There was a very specific reason for that, but Nightwing made a conscious decision not to ruin the mood. At least it shut Kid Flash up, probably because he'd had the same thought. Artemis winced and opened her mouth to apologise, but Nightwing waved her off before she could. Better to just move on.

Miss Martian smiled awkwardly and called Batgirl over to show her how the bioship controls worked.

“Batman said he added colour change options to these suits, didn't he?” said Artemis, pressing various spots on the chest logo of her cold-weather uniform until it switched to her usual green. She pressed it again to switch back to white. “Nice.”

“I told him we wouldn't be very covert if we wore white indoors,” said Nightwing. “Nice to see he listened for once.” Nightwing hadn't had call to wear his new cold-weather uniform until today. Similar design to his usual costume, except in white, plus the cowl that had featured on his cold-weather Robin uniform. For the first time in a while, he felt naked without a cape. If the weather proved too punishing, he might have to add one for future missions.

“You stole that idea from me,” Robin complained. Seeing him in the same cold weather uniform Nightwing once wore brought on a feeling of nostalgia that he thought he'd finally gotten over.

“You snooze, you lose,” he said, shaking it off.

Everyone strapped into their seats and Miss Martian willed the ship into flight. It would take a few hours to reach their destination and Nightwing could barely contain his excitement. After such a long time of being stuck on the sidelines due to a never-ending parade of bullshit, he was finally back where he wanted to be, with his best friends in the whole world. There was that nagging fear in the back of his mind about what would happen if they came across the al Ghuls, but the likelihood of that happening was so remote that it didn't take more precedence than that.

Besides, there was nothing better at sharpening his focus than a good old-fashioned team mission. He already felt a thousand times smarter and they'd only just left home base.

“This is exciting,” Batgirl admitted. “I had no idea there was a team like this until a few months ago. How did you convince the Justice League to let you do this?”

“Well, to be fair, it started when KF, Aqualad and I broke into a supervillain's science lab without anyone's permission,” Nightwing said. “Then we found Superboy in a pod and busted him out. We also may have blown up the place, just a little bit.”

“Then we had to wait a thousand years for them to officially approve the team,” Kid Flash added. “Supey crashed at my place in the meantime.” The corner of his mouth tightened. “Well, I wouldn't call it my place anymore...”

“You've mentioned something about your dad before,” said Batgirl. “Ages ago, at that gala where you embarrassed Nightwing with that Enrique Iglesias song.”

“I'm amazed you remember that,” Kid Flash replied. “I don't even remember what I told you.” At least that eased some of the pain out of his expression, even if they were still talking about it.

“I have an eidetic memory,” Batgirl said. “Comes in handy. You mentioned Dick's—I mean Nightwing's—dad took the news about you two better than your own dad did.”

“Yeah...” His mouth tightened again. “He kicked me out of home last year. Been staying with my aunt and uncle.”

“That's horrible. I'm so sorry.”

Kid Flash shrugged, but no one believed he meant it. “My aunt and uncle have had all of us in the same room for a family dinner so it's not like he and Mum are out of my life completely. Just... mostly. I'm gonna invite them to my graduation. No idea if they'll show. No point dwelling on something I can't do anything about.”

Nightwing rested his foot on the edge of Kid Flash's seat; they were too far away for hugging, even if that's what he really wanted to do right now. A friendly foot of support would have to do.

“You really remember everything?” Zatanna asked Batgirl, who grasped onto the change of topic.

“No one remembers everything,” she replied, “but I can get pretty close.”

“Impressive,” said Aqualad.

The conversation very pointedly moved on, but Kid Flash had this faraway look in his eyes, even as he went through the motions of smiling and nodding at what the others said.

“Hey,” Nightwing said quietly. Superboy would hear, but he was pretty good at pretending he couldn't.

Kid Flash sighed. “I'm fine, babe. I just miss them sometimes.”

“I know.”

“I don't know whether I'm more afraid they'll come to my graduation and be horrible, or they won't come at all.”

“You sure you wanna invite them?”

“Yeah. I wanna know they care. If they care.”

“Whatever happens, you're surrounded by people who love you. And we're fully prepared to fight your dad if you want.”

Kid Flash snickered, just a little bit. “Please don't. He'll think we're moving into the final phase of the gay agenda: eliminate the heterosexuals.”

Nightwing cackled. “I'll pencil it in after brunch.”

The issue wasn't resolved, but the levity helped in the short term. Kid Flash relaxed in his seat over time and his father slowly filtered out of everyone's minds. There'd be time to deal with that can of worms later. No need to let it spoil the upcoming excitement of the mission.

Nightwing was so ready for this.

Miss Martian had to land the bioship a mile away from the facility due to a lack of surrounding cover, plus the thermal imaging at the base. Small groups wearing insulated costumes would have a better chance of slipping in undetected.

The team split into their squads and put some distance between each other, the better to trick the sensors. Zatanna prepared a teleportation spell for alpha squad while Nightwing hopped on Kid Flash's back for beta's run to the facility. Rocket expanded her bubble to include Superboy and Robin to improve the speed of gamma.

Alpha would arrive first and relay any immediate findings to the other squads. Batgirl was already a talented hacker and could handle any low-risk hacks, though anything more serious would have to await Nightwing's arrival. Batgirl was a quick study and would surpass him eventually, but that wasn't today.

Nightwing buried his face against Kid Flash's shoulder as they began to move. They screeched to a halt maybe a minute later, but he didn't get the chance to climb down before Batgirl's voice was in his head.

“I've got a virus into the external cameras. Nightwing should be able to take out the infrareds with minimal interference.”

“Thanks, BG.” Nightwing climbed off Kid Flash's back and they pressed themselves against the dull stone wall that surrounded the entire complex.

Miss Martian dropped to the snowy ground and rolled a few times. “There. My body temperature should blend into our surroundings if I'm quick. I'll find the sensors for you.” Martians already ran cooler than humans anyway. She camouflaged and phased through the wall.

“We're definitely safe from the infrared cameras here, right?” said Kid Flash.

“As long as we stick to the wall,” Nightwing replied. “The walls are insulated and the exterior cameras angled to watch for approaching invaders, remember?”

“I may have dozed off in the briefing a little bit.”

Whatever smartass reply Nightwing was cooking up had to be aborted when Miss Martian reappeared. They hugged the wall as they slipped in through a gate, the guard already unconscious, and then legged it to the security station.

Said station was a rickety little shack with a tin roof and a door thicker than its walls. Nightwing slipped inside with Kid Flash while Miss Martian stood guard outside.

Nightwing found a port on the three-monitor computer's CPU and pulled a plug from his wrist computer. He went slowly at first, just poking around in the guts of the programming to see what he had.

“Looks like the al Ghul techs added a shutdown sequence in a hurry,” he said, leafing through the programmers' documentation attached to the code. “Not part of the original programming. It's tied into some functions deeper in the facility.”

“Can you turn them off without alerting anyone?” asked Aqualad.

“I can make it look like a malfunction, but they're gonna know about it.” It wasn't ideal, but that's what he had to work with. “Are you in position? We won't have long to get inside, and we'll have trouble getting out again if they fix the system faster than we can work.”

“Perhaps we should consult Batman. It may affect the League's mission if we are discovered.”

“Make it quick. We had to knock out a guard to get here and I don't know if there are any alarms in this system.”

There were a few tense moments, each longer than the last. Nightwing half-expected they would have to fall back, but Aqualad's voice filled his head again, giving the go-ahead to shut down the infrareds.

It only took a moment. He'd had plenty of time to plan how to do it, after all. Then they hurried out of the security building and through the nearest door, Miss Martian taking point. Invisibly.

“I found an alarm system,” Robin said. “Doesn't look hard to turn off but, you know...”

“Looks can be deceiving?” Nightwing replied.

“Well, this is Ra's al Ghul we're talking about.”

“If you are concerned, perhaps we should leave it alone,” said Aqualad.

“Sure thing, boss,” said Nightwing. “We'll avoid detection the old-fashioned way.”

Kid Flash stifled a snicker beside him. Old-fashioned for him meant tripping over things and falling right into the people they were trying to avoid. So maybe they wouldn't do that.

“Our priority is reconnaissance,” Aqualad pointed out. “No unnecessary risks.”

“You ever notice how our recon missions always end with explosions?” said Kid Flash. Aqualad didn't respond, but his annoyed vibes through the link got the point across. The link wasn't typically strong enough to pick up on specific emotions, but Aqualad was uniquely talented in that regard. He'd certainly had plenty of practice making his frustration with the team's nonsense clear without uttering a word.

The corridors were long and made of soulless concrete. It was not like Ra’s at all. He preferred old-fashioned stone whenever possible, but maybe it didn’t hold the heat in this climate.

“What’re you thinking?” asked Kid Flash

“This place doesn’t look like an al Ghul original,” Nightwing replied. “Maybe it’s an adaptation for the cold weather, or he doesn’t care about aesthetics in a facility he’ll rarely visit. I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Maybe he didn’t build it,” suggested Artemis. “He could’ve found it abandoned or killed the original inhabitants.”

“Possibly. If he was desperate enough.”

Unfortunately, Nightwing had been hoping for a more traditional interior, because there tended to be little alcoves that made good hiding spots. No such luck here. He spotted a heating vent and Miss Martian floated up to test if it would open, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Fused shut,” she whispered. Damn it.

“That’d be too easy,” Nightwing muttered. Ra’s knew about the batfamily’s tendency toward air vents and had clearly taken steps to thwart their use.

“I could get it open,” Miss Martian said, “but it would make too much noise.”

They continued, peeking into solid metal doors as they went. Each room looked like a horror movie version of an examination room, some with beds or dental chairs or even metal tables. No computers or samples yet. Nothing they could work with.

“Found something,” said Batgirl. “In the heart of the facility. Some kind of computer server. There are cages, too. We haven’t gone inside yet. I think there may be an elevator in there. Get here quick.”

“On our way,” said Nightwing. Kid Flash’s running would be too loud, so they ran at a Nightwing-level pace instead. Well, Miss Martian flew a little ahead with her camouflage.

If there really was an elevator, maybe that would explain why there was so little of use on this level. It made sense, really. Any infiltrator worth their salt could get in here. Maybe the central chamber was more difficult, or at least the fact it was central would deter all but the most determined snoops. Ah, language.

All three squads met up at a giant pair of metal doors, all taking turns to peer inside. The door was electrified shut, linked to a keypad beside it.

“Does anyone else think it’s strange we haven’t seen anyone aside from that one guard?” said Robin.

“Super strange,” Nightwing agreed. He pressed a button on his mask and scanned the keypad, lighting up four fingerprints that denoted the most commonly-used buttons: 5, 7, 1, 4. There were 24 permutations of those four numbers, and trying them all in a brute-force strategy would undoubtedly trip another alarm.

There was a camera on the wall behind the team, which was dead. It must have gone off when the infrareds did… Nightwing hoped. If he could break into the system and find the camera footage for the code.

“I need to find another security room to have any chance of cracking this without ruining the mission,” he said. Sadly, Ra’s al Ghul knew better than to use WayneTech. “Think there’s one inside, or do we have to go all the way outside again?”

“We passed one on our route,” said Batgirl. “It’s a few doors down that way.” She pointed behind her, to Nightwing’s right.

“What do the rest of us do in the meantime?” asked Rocket. “I feel silly just standing around.”

“We look for alternative entrances,” said Aqualad. “I want everyone to know this place so well they could walk it blindfolded.”

“Now you sound like Batman,” said Robin, as Nightwing took Miss Martian and Kid Flash down the corridor to find the security room.

“I will take that as a compliment. Begin searching.”

The security room was the third door on the left of the concrete corridor. Nightwing had to swallow bile, because the stack of cassette tapes on the wall reminded him too much of Skinner’s compound. He shook his head to clear it.

“Get a fucking grip, Nightwing,” he muttered, crossing to the computer on the cheap grey desk before Kid Flash or Miss Martian could question or comfort him. It was a modern computer with a flat-screen monitor, and it took him moments to break in. Fortunately, the video records were archived on the computer itself. The tapes must’ve been old. Good. He didn’t want to look at them again.

Nightwing also didn’t want to delve too deeply into the video archives. He found a digital map of the facility with all the cameras marked and downloaded a copy to his wrist computer. He also passed copies to Robin and Batgirl.

He found the central chamber on the map and made a note of the camera’s codename: AX253. He then found that folder in the archive and started sifting through the footage until he found someone using the code. It was a bad angle, but it was all he had. He ran the video a couple of times and finally figured out the first digit: 4. That brought the possible number of combinations down to six. Better, but still too many to risk a brute-force approach. Most systems got antsy after more than three attempts, especially in places such as this. If he could piece together at least one more digit…

“What’s taking so long?” said Superboy. “Whatever you did to the cameras could’ve been fixed already.”

“It hasn’t,” Nightwing replied. “I need a few more minutes. Got one digit figured out. Need at least one more to make brute-forcing an option.”

“Genius takes time,” Kid Flash added. Nightwing would’ve elbowed him and told him to shut up, but he was busy.

He sifted through the footage and found a shorter person. Both people had been wearing labcoats. This one was a woman, and she fumbled the combination the first two times because her hands shook. She got it on the third because she went slowly, enough that Nightwing could pick up the whole combination. That was nice. He also knew the keypad could take at least two mistakes.

The combination was: 4157.

“Got it,” said Nightwing. “Anything cool on your end?”

“No luck,” said Zatanna. “That door is our only way in and out.”

“Wonderful.”

They headed back to the door and Nightwing keyed in the combination. The door buzzed and released. Aqualad tested the handle, and it turned.

There were more metal tables in the room, and fur was stuck in some of the cages. Nightwing made a beeline for the enormous computer that took up an entire wall, dragging Robin and Batgirl with him.

“Find another way down if you can,” Aqualad said. “I would prefer not to use the elevator.”

“Bit of a fire hazard if it’s the only option,” Kid Flash quipped.

“Would Ra’s al Ghul care?” said Robin.

“Probably not,” Nightwing replied, pulling a cord from his wrist computer and plugging it into a port. “As long as he gets out in once piece, most of his people are expendable. Hell, even he is to an extent. Yay, Lazarus Pits.” He shook off a sick feeling at the green memory and focused on breaking into this computer, explaining his steps to Robin and Batgirl as he went.

It was a simple enough task to log in and poke around in the files.

“Nightwing, what are we dealing with?” asked Aqualad, who was examining the elevator across the room.

Zatanna had freed some fur from a cage and was feeling it between her fingers. “This is real fur. A wolf, I think?”

Nightwing found some research notes. “I’m not sure what I’m looking at yet yet. KF, get your science brain over here and help me make sense of this. I think we’ve got some test results.”

“All the test subjects have codes,” said Batgirl, pointing to the screen. “Can we find what those mean?”

“Sounds like a good starting point,” said Kid Flash, zipping over to them. He rested his hand on Nightwing’s shoulder, leaning in to get a look as Nightwing sifted through the files until he found a name authority file. “Maybe that’s it.”

Nightwing opened it. “Each code translates to a Latin name and a number.”

“Scientific animal names?” Kid Flash suggested.

“Makes sense,” said Robin. “Zatanna, can we look at that fur?”

Zatanna brought it over. Between the five of them, they were able to identify most of the Latin animal names. Lots of wolves, which made since given the grey animal fur. There were also foxes, various kind of large-breed dogs, large canines, and even horses and a bear or two. Nightwing swore he saw the scientific name for an African elephant as well, which was just upsetting and made him think of the circus.

“So, they’re doing animal tests here,” said Kid Flash. “Can we save some of this data? Uncle Flash would have a field day.”

“I’ll save as much as I can,” said Nightwing. “We still need to take a look downstairs.”

“The elevator is not code-protected,” said Aqualad. “It would appear we are clear to use it, if there is no other option.” He sounded less than enthused. Nightwing couldn’t blame him. You never wanted to get stuck in an elevator when you weren’t supposed to be there at all. Sure, they could try the elevator shaft, but it was a bad idea when you didn’t know if you could get in and out of the elevator if the need arose.

Nightwing went back to the test results, but even knowing the code meanings wasn’t much help. He downloaded those records and went searching for a thesis statement that would explain all this.

Finally, he lucked out:

Mission: devise a method to command dangerous animals to control human population levels.

Classic Ra’s al Ghul. Environmentalism through genocide. How exactly was he trying to command these animals?

“There a lot of information,” Nightwing said. “We should probably leave a small team here to gather as much as possible and keep a lookout for any patrols. There has to be a reason we haven’t encountered many people yet.”

“Robin, Batgirl, are you confident continuing Nightwing’s work here?” asked Aqualad. “We may need him underground.”

“We can do it,” said Robin. “He’s done the hard work already.”

“Very well. New squad assignments: Robin, Batgirl and Rocket are to stay here. Everyone else, with me. Should we need to split further, I want Superboy and Kid Flash protecting Nightwing.”

Nightwing almost made a smartass comment, but it did make sense. He was the only hacker going underground. If something happened, the rest of the team could become trapped if they were unlucky.

They headed to the elevator and peeked inside. There was a hatch up top. Superboy gave Nightwing a boost so he could test the opening. It budged without too much effort, so Aqualad pressed the down button and they all climbed out the hatch. If anyone was in the room below, better they saw an empty elevator than one full of invaders.

Nightwing crouched on top of the elevator beside Zatanna as it lurched downwards. He checked over the blueprints he’d downloaded, but they didn’t provide any information on the bottom floor. They were going into this without any knowledge of what was down there.

“I figured out why the infrared cameras need to be turned off,” Robin said.

“We figured it out,” Batgirl cut in. “These animals are controlled by radio and light signals. The canine and feline animals are controlled by high frequencies, but some of the others are controlled by low frequencies.”

“The cameras interfere with the signals,” said Robin. “Also, they’re probably jammed full of machinery. Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” said Aqualad. Aloud he whispered, “Be ready. We could find anything down here.”

The elevator shuddered to a halt and the doors pinged open.

“Hello?” came a voice. “Who’s there?”

“Oh, god, has someone come to rescue us?” came another voice.

“Please, show yourselves.” A third voice.

The team shared a look.

“I’ll go,” said Superboy. “They’ll recognise my logo.”

“And you’re harder to shoot,” Artemis added.

Superboy didn’t dignify that with a response. Aqualad gave the okay, and he dropped through the hatch.

“Superman?!”

“That’s Superboy, genius. God, I thought you had a PhD.”

“Care to tell me what’s going on here?” Superman said.

“We were kidnapped months ago to work on cybernetic animals.”

“Are there more of you?” asked Superboy.

“Yes! Are you going to get us out?”

“Sure.”

Superboy followed the three people out of earshot, so Superboy narrated through the mind link.

“They’ve taken me to another door. There are dozens of scientists in there. One of them is telling me they have been stuck here for days. They have to swipe identity cards to get back in the elevator, but they stopped working. Someone needs to stay in the elevator to keep it open for us.”

“Can you get to the scientists?” asked Aqualad.

“We should… no. Their cards have stopped working on this door and they don’t know what would happen if I broke it. We need Nightwing.”

Aqualad nodded to Nightwing, who dropped into the elevator with Kid Flash.

This room had even more cages, and the metal tables were covered in fur and stained with blood. Kid Flash shuddered. Superboy and the three scientists were on the other end of the room. Someone inside the room was beating against the glass.

“Hi, everyone,” Nightwing said. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.” A scientist offered her key card and Nightwing tested it on the keypad. It didn’t respond at all. “Do the upstairs security features affect these cards?”

“No,” said the scientist. “We have to swipe for all the rooms around here. We can’t do our tests if we can’t get the doors open.”

“Are there any animals left on-site?”

“No,” said another scientist, wiping sweat off his brow. “Soldiers came in and loaded them onto trucks a few days ago.”

“Did they leave us to die in here?” said the third. Nightwing decided against answering, because the answer was absolutely yes.

“We’re here now,” he said instead. “What kind of security measures are down here?” The keypad didn’t accept any codes and had no way to plug in and open it with his computer.

“Not many,” said the first scientist. “We have emergency buttons to shut down everything, but I don’t think anything happens with the keypads.”

“Okay, but just in case, we have to get everyone out quickly,” said Nightwing. “Aqualad, we might have to smash the security measures to get people out of this room. Are we ready for that?”

“This is supposed to be recon only,” said Aqualad.

“I know. Call Batman while I see if we’ve got any other options?”

“I will. One moment.”

“I’m going to see if there’s another way to get this open,” said Nightwing, “but there’s a very good chance I’ll have to ask our muscled friend here to tear it off to get at the wires instead. Do you have any computers you can access?”

The scientists showed him to a few laptops. He saved the research files on there but couldn’t find a way to get into the security system. He hadn’t expected anything, given these scientists were prisoners and possibly geniuses, but it was worth a shot.

“Batman gives his approval to get the scientists out. He is sending backup to take them from there. We are to rendezvous at the front of the facility and then head home.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Nightwing. “Okay, I can’t see any other options. Superboy, could you rip that keypad off the wall for me?”

Superboy tugged it off like a piece of gum from his shoe. The door was still shut, so Nightwing dug around in the wires until he found the right two and tapped the copper ends together to complete the circuit. The door slid open.

“Everyone out, please!” he called. “Go straight to the elevator. No dawdling.”

The trapped scientists flooded out and headed for the elevator. Nightwing nudged their three new friends to join the crowd. Not everyone could fit.

“We’ll take this group up and come back,” said Aqualad. Nightwing relayed that to the people stuck in the room.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he promised. “Our teammates will be back with the elevator in a few—”

A growl erupted from one of the other rooms.

“Um,” said Kid Flash, “didn’t the scientists say those soldiers took all the animals?”

Well, shit.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

My Eyes - Part 6

Pairing: Bucky; Steve x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 4,721

Story Description: Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.

Story takes place post “CA: CW” and all tension has been resolved.

Previously On...

                                           2 YEARS LATER

Despite Fury’s threats, Bucky tried to find Y/N. He exhausted all of his resources. When he couldn’t sleep, which was far too often, he would try to find her. After the first few months, he even tried calling her family. But either Fury or Y/N had already thought of that and must’ve changed all their contact info.

The rest of the team was so heartbroken by Y/N abandoning them that they couldn’t find the energy to go looking for her. They didn’t think she wanted to see them anyway. If what she wanted was to disappear, they decided to let her.

Bucky obviously didn’t see it the same way. Months turned into a year and then the year turned into another year. Eventually, Bucky ran out of leads.

Without the objective of finding Y/N and without Steve, Bucky had never felt so lost. He handled it the only way he knew how: fighting. He took on every mission that was offered. Bucky volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, offering to go unaccompanied and lowering the risk of anyone else getting hurt. Everyone knew what he was doing.

After a year of it, Sam intervened. He’d seen just about everything when it came to how soldiers dealt with the loss of a loved one. After countless yelling matches, Sam finally convinced Bucky to see a therapist. Even with the impossible hole Steve left in Bucky’s life, Sam tried his hardest to fill it. The dangerous missions didn’t stop, but at least Bucky could talk about why he was doing it with a professional.

It was a hot summer night in upstate New York. The sound of grasshoppers and other lively critters used to be comforting. But now they gave Bucky another excuse for being restless. He decided to go for a run in the surrounding forest. He didn’t return until 20 miles later, at 3 o’clock in the morning.  

Bucky was surprised to find Natasha standing in the grassy opening outside the compound. She was wearing a cotton robe and had her infamous smirk on her lips. It was obvious she had been expecting him.

“You put a tracker on me, Romanoff?” Bucky huffed, still trying to catch his breath from sprinting the last couple of miles.

“Your habits are too predictable for me to ever need one.” She replied.

Bucky wasn’t wearing a shirt, just baggy shorts and running shoes.  An iPod was strapped to his bicep. It used to be Steve’s. Bucky suspected that Y/N had been the one to fill it with music since it was organized in playlists based of their genre and/or era. He’d grown pathetically attached to it.

“Did you need something?” Bucky asked bluntly, not trying to be rude but knowing she didn’t just happen to be outside in the middle of the night.

“Fury left a little bit ago.” She said as if she hadn’t heard his question.

“That so?” Bucky hummed uninterested, putting his hands on his hips.

“This is the only area that doesn’t have audio surveillance and I can easily erase the video footage after.” Nat stated.

Bucky was now slightly more interested. “Romanoff, what the hell is going on? Are you planning on killing me and hiding the body?”

With that wicked side smirk, Nat stepped forward and held out a piece of paper to him.

Bucky took it without breaking her gaze. When he glanced down, there were coordinates written down in Natasha’s flawless handwriting.

“That’s where she is.” Nat clarified.

It took Bucky a couple seconds to put together what he was actually holding. And once he did, his eyes snapped up to Nat’s in utter disbelief.  “H-How…?”

“It’s been a process. I would’ve gotten it sooner, but Nick made one hell of a firewall for me to get through. It also changed its coding every month, so there were occasions when I wasn’t fast enough to break it in time. I kept having to start over.” She explained the process so modestly, like she hadn’t just hacked into a system that was more protected than The White House.

Bucky’s grip on the thin piece of paper turned vice-like. “Nat…I-I don’t understand…Why?”

The smirk on her lips finally disappeared. “Do you remember that 4th of July after you first moved here? We forced Steve to celebrate his birthday. But he would only agree if it was just the team, that way Y/N could be with him.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, but he nodded.

“It’s always the moment I go to when I try to think about when we were altogether and just being…happy.” Nat sighed as she got a dazed look. “Tony, of course, managed to get all of those ridiculous fireworks to be set off at midnight. We were all watching them. But I just happened to glance at you. And right when I did, you were looking at Y/N. She was in Steve’s arms, staring up at the sky. We all were. That’s how I almost missed it. I must be getting rusty, because it took me almost a year to catch you. I must admit, you were good at hiding it… because I never caught it ever again. Everything else made sense after that: why you never talked to her and how, when you did, you were so unfriendly.”

Bucky’s hands were clutched into fists. Then he looked at the ground in shame. “Do you-…Nat, do you think he knew?” He barely had the courage to ask.

“I don’t think so.” She assured him.

Then Nat was closing the distance between them. Her hand lightly cupped his cheek, bringing his head up. “I’m sorry you lost both of them. I didn’t know how else to help without upsetting you. This was all I could think of.” She gestured to his flesh fist that was protecting the piece of paper.

“Fury’s not going to be happy with you.” Bucky warned.

She shrugged. “Let me handle Fury.”

Bucky stared down at the numbers, memorizing them without realizing it.

“Hey…” Nat softly grabbed his attention. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. I just thought you should have it.”

Bucky had been so focused on looking for Y/N that he never thought about what he would do when he finally found her.

---

                                        ONE YEAR LATER

It took him another year just to have the courage to finally jump in a car and go.

The coordinates put Y/N’s location in the middle of Montana. She sure hadn’t messed around when it came to seclusion. It took Bucky over a day just to cross the state lines. He knew he could’ve borrowed a jet, no questions asked. But he needed the drive to calm his nerves and help him think of what he would actually say.

Bucky’s hands started shaking over the steering wheel when his mind drifted to Steve. Guilt seeped into the forefront of his mind when he remembered a conversation they’d once had.

Steve and Bucky had been flying a jet back from a mission that just needed the two of them. It was an easy in and out. But that didn’t stop the relief they both had as they took the journey back home.

Steve’s cellphone was ringing with constant text message alerts. They must finally have service and he was receiving all of them at once now.

Steve asked for Bucky to grab it for him since he was flying the jet.

“They’re all from Y/N.” Bucky informed him without looking at them. “And one’s from Sam telling you a spoiler from the Game of Thrones episode the other night.” Bucky chuckled.

Steve smiled at that. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Game of Thrones? You better not. I haven’t started the damn thing yet.” Bucky groaned.

“No…” Steve smiled, but there was a new seriousness in his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you about Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked carefully.

“I know you two still haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other.” Steve prefaced. “But I just need to ask you something man to man.”

Bucky swore he was sweating. Had Steve figured everything out? He sounded so pleasant. But of course Steve would still be pleasant, even after finding out his best friend was in love with his girl.

“If anything were to ever happen to me… Can you promise me you’ll look after Y/N?” Steve glanced over at Bucky, jaw clenched.

Bucky felt a wave of relief. “Steve, that’s never going to happen.”

But Steve was expecting this situation. “We didn’t think we’d both become super soldiers. Neither of us ever expected to live past the new millennium, Buck. We don’t really know what’s going to happen.”

Bucky knew he had a point.

“I just need some peace of mind that she won’t be alone. I shoved this life onto her and I know it’s not fair that I can’t always promise a forever… at least not really. Just make sure you look after her. I know I’m asking a lot Bu-”

“Of course I will, Steve. You never even had to ask.” Bucky cut him off.

“When she moves on…” Steve looked down at the thought. “Please make sure he’s a good guy. She deserves that, especially after dealing with me.”

Bucky reached over and gripped Steve’s soldier. “Steve, I promise. Nothing would ever happen to her.” And his words rang true.

But Bucky drove to Y/N fully knowing he had broken his promise to his best friend. The optimistic or self-indulgent part of his brain (he couldn’t figure out which) told him that it wasn’t his fault Fury hid Y/N so well. But the devil on his shoulder told him that he hadn’t tried hard enough.

---

Y/N jumped awake as her tablet started ringing an alarm on her nightstand. Her heart raced as she realized it was alerting her of an intruder. She lived in a small cottage on a huge piece of land. The dirt road had multiple warnings about trespassing and it could not have been clearer that whoever lived on the property would alert authorities… or just shoot them.

Of all the time she’d lived there, nobody had ever tripped Y/N’s sensors. She lived so removed from society that no one even accidentally ventured far enough into her property to get an alarm. It just added more anxiety to Y/N as she whipped the covers off her body.

Porthos jumped awake and as he heard her shuffling to the vault in her closet. He growled when he spotted her pulling the rifle out.

“Come on, boy.” Y/N commanded as she raced down the stairs.

She opened the front door and saw headlights moving through the trees. Whoever was in the car, they were driving with too much of a purpose. They knew she was here and they were looking for her. There was no way someone, who was just lost, would get this far.

Y/N put the rifle to her dominant eye and placed the butt of it against her shoulder. She tried to calm her breathing. Porthos growled at the car, ready to protect his master as soon as it was necessary.

Y/N cursed to herself when she realized that if the person got out of the car, they would have the advantage of their headlights blinding her.

The car stopped, making Y/N’s heart beat even faster.

The headlights were right in her face, almost obscuring her from seeing even a silhouette.

“You’re trespassing on private property!” Y/N called out. “Legally, I can shoot you right now…so I advise you get back in your car and head back to the main road.” Her gun was aimed. Perhaps not well, but it would definitely do damage.

Porthos let out some terrifying snarls to add to her threat.

“When the hell did you learn how to shoot a gun?” The intruder asked.

Porthos suddenly whined and the ridges on his back relaxed. He knew that voice. The dog sniffed the air and then bolted towards the person.

“No, Porthos!” Y/N yelled, but kept her gun to her eye. However just as she yelled her command, she caught a shimmer on the person’s left arm. Even at night, without so much as a streetlight, she could tell they had a metal arm.

“Bucky?” Y/N whispered. Her gun lowered a little bit.

He was crouched down to his knee now and petting Porthos, who was attacking his face with kisses. The car’s headlights must have been on a timer once the engine was off, because they finally dimmed.

Y/N blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness once again.

“Doll, can you please put the gun down? At least for Porthos’ sake?”

Y/N was in disbelief as she reluctantly lowered her rifle.

“What-What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Her voice was so disconcerted that it sent a wave of guilt to Bucky’s gut.

“Nat helped.” Bucky admitted sheepishly.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Y/N gaze darkened.

Bucky was finally walking toward her now. She didn’t seem to like this at all and walked backwards toward the steps of the front porch. Her expression was anxious while still remaining disconcerted from his intrusion.  

Bucky misinterpreted it as fear. She was scared of him. He held up his hands in surrender, hoping it would ease the worry on her face.

Y/N was a few steps inside her house, the gun still hanging tightly at her side. “Bucky, please, just go.” She begged him. Her eyes held no welcome, somehow stopping him from entering the home. So his large frame stood right outside.

“Y/N,” His voice was so soft. “I just came to check on you.”

Her jaw clenched at that. “I don’t need to be checked on. I don’t want to be… that’s why I disappeared.” Her eyes darkened. “Thought everyone would have taken the hint.”

Bucky opened his mouth to defend himself.

“Mommy?” A tiny and tired voice said behind Y/N. Porthos ran around Bucky to get to the child and give him a greeting by licking his face. The boy was so small that he made the dog look like a giant wolf.

Y/N’s eyes shut in defeat for a moment. But then she quickly shoved the gun into Bucky’s grasp before the child could see. Bucky caught on and hid it against the wall on the outside of the house, away from the boy’s view.

Bucky looked beyond Y/N to see the little boy. His heart stopped when he saw a carbon copy of Steve Rogers. The child had the same sandy hair and baby blue eyes. Even the tired, yet inquisitive expression was Steve’s.

“Jimmy, you’re not supposed to be out of bed.” Y/N reprimanded, but her tone was still gentle.

The little boy ignored his mother’s scolding. “Who is that?”

Y/N lifted him up into her arms and angled her body so Bucky was no longer in his view. But he still tried to twist around in his mother’s hold to look. Y/N disappeared around the corner and up a flight of stairs.

Bucky was frozen in place, unable to move his body.

Y/N returned a few minutes later. He saw her hand tremble as it ran anxiously through her hair. She took in a deep breath, clearly going through too many feelings and contemplations in her head. Finally she eyed Bucky, who still stood outside the house.

“You can come in, Bucky.” She sighed.

He didn’t move. “Jimmy?” It was practically a whisper.

“It’s short for James.” She shrugged innocently.

“Yes, I know what it’s short for.” He responded softly. “Y/N…I thought-you said you were going to…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I know. You deserve an explanation, I know.” Y/N admitted. “Please, can you just come inside?”

This finally broke Bucky’s daze. He slowly stepped into the tiny house and closed the front door behind him.

“Fuck, I need a drink.” Y/N muttered to herself.

Next thing Bucky knew, the two of them were sitting at the dinner table with beers in both of their hands. Y/N’s eyes were distant as she mindlessly messed with the paper logo on the bottle. Bucky just watched her patiently, waiting for her to start talking when she was ready.

“I was going to do it.” She finally muttered. “I was at the appointment. They were about to do the procedure and I just panicked. I realized that he was the only thing I had left of Steve. I-I started crying. I completely freaked out the doctors as I sobbed that I couldn’t go through with it. And… that was it.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Bucky asked.

“My family knew.” Y/N defended, finally lifting her gaze up to look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” He corrected.

“Because I was mad at all of you, I was mad at your world. I thought if I bring a child into this life, I don’t want them to ever be a part of that.” Y/N didn’t mean to sound angry, but the words still hurt. “It was what that took Steve’s life.”

Bucky realized she was holding on by a thread. He felt even guiltier for his arrival. She tried to protect her and Steve’s child from danger and here Bucky came, bringing it right to her doorstep.  

“You named him James?” Bucky asked tenderly, trying to change the subject.

Y/N gave a shy smirk. “James Wilson Y/L/N.”

Bucky smiled at that. He knew Sam would probably try to hide the tears if he ever found out that Y/N named the boy after the two of them.

“I think it’s what he would’ve wanted.” Y/N wasn’t present in the room anymore. A few tears slid down her cheek. But she quickly wiped them away and sniveled. “Sorry… I haven’t talked about it in so long. Seeing you just reminds me of him so much.”

Bucky suddenly felt like there was no good he was doing here. He disrupted the sanctuary Y/N had created for not only her son, but also herself. The longer he stayed, the worst he was going to make their lives.

Suddenly he stood up. It was so abrupt that it made Y/N jump slightly.

“You’re right.” Bucky admitted. “I shouldn’t have come here.” He started walking toward the door.

Y/N rushed after him. “Bucky, wait!” He paused.

“The nearest motel is almost four hours away.” She warned him.

“It’s fine. I can sleep in my car.”

Y/N grabbed his shoulder. “It’s supposed to storm real bad. I’m not going to let you sleep in your car. You drove all the way here. God knows how long it took you. Buck…you can at least spend the night.”

Bucky read her expression for a moment. “I spent all this time trying to find you. But I never even considered the reasons for why you would want to hide in the first place.”

Y/N nodded. “I know you’re here because you feel you owe it to Steve.” It was the excuse she told herself that made her offer for him to stay. “Come on, you can sleep on the couch.” She added before he could say anything on the matter.

---

Y/N managed to sleep soundly. Maybe it was because she knew her and Jimmy were safe while Bucky was downstairs. But her sleep was interrupted when a crack of thunder practically shook the small house. Her eyes snapped open.

Jimmy would be sprinting into her room at any moment. He was terrified of thunderstorms, no matter how many times she assured him that they couldn’t hurt them. After the first fearsome thunder, he always came crawling into her bed like clockwork.

That’s why Y/N was confused when she hadn’t heard his little feet scurrying down the hallway to her bedroom. She must have fallen back asleep because the storm had been going on for some time now.

Y/N decided to go to Jimmy’s bedroom and check on him.

But his door was open and his bed was empty. Y/N would have panicked if she hadn’t heard voices from downstairs, in the kitchen.

She tiptoed down the steps, hoping to eavesdrop before they noticed her interruption.

“I used to be scared of thunderstorms…” Y/N heard Bucky say. In that moment, she realized she’d never seen him interact with a child.

“When you were a kid?” Jimmy asked curiously.

“Yeah, but even as an grown-up.” Bucky admitted lightly. But Y/N caught the dark truth behind his words.

“Usually I go into mommy’s room. She pretends to be scared too. So I feel like l protect her.”

Y/N smirked at her son’s cleverness.

“So why’d you come down here?” Bucky asked curiously.

Jimmy was quiet for a moment. “I wanted to spy on you.” He whispered it, like it would be less of a confession that way.

“Well it’s probably good that we let your mom sleep. She’s had a rough day.”

Y/N’s amusement disappeared at that.

“Why?” Jimmy asked with the innocence of a child who didn’t know the troubles of adulthood yet.

Y/N took this as her cue to interrupt and save Bucky from answering the tough question. She turned the corner to find that the two of them were sitting at the kitchen counter with mugs of tea.

Her heart hurt at the sight. For a moment, she saw Steve and a glimpse of what a happy life would have been with the three of them together…like a family.

She smiled sadly and Bucky caught it.

“What did I say about talking to strangers, Jimmy?”

“But he’s sleeping on our couch!” Jimmy pointed out and then giggled.

Bucky gave her an apologetic look.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed after you finish your tea, trouble monster?” Y/N asked, coming up behind her son and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Jimmy just nodded, remembering the scariness of the storm as another flash of lightning hit. He chugged the rest of his tea.

“Go get comfy. I’ll be upstairs in a second.” Y/N stated.

Rain stopped the kitchen from being completely quiet as Bucky and her were left alone. Y/N leaned her forearms against the counter top, across from where he sat.

Y/N was the first to speak. “I’m sorry that he woke you up.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N. He’s a sweet kid.” Bucky gave a small smile. “I can’t get over how much he looks like him.”

Y/N sighed. “If I didn’t give birth to him, I wouldn’t believe he was mine.”

“He’s got more of you than you think.” Bucky assured her.

She scoffed at that.

“He came down here to investigate me. When he saw that I was awake, he offered to make me tea… said it helped him when his mom made it for him during storms.” Bucky looked her hard in the eye. “It reminded me of you, not Steve.”

Y/N gave him a thankful look.

“I decided to take over the tea making when he was trying to climb on top of the counters to reach everything.” Bucky added with a chuckle.

A thunder crash of thunder boomed.

“Mommy!” Jimmy whined from upstairs.

Y/N stopped leaning on the counter. “That’s my cue.” She was at the edge of the kitchen when she turned around. “I’m glad you got to talk to him, Bucky.”

---

Bucky had miraculously passed out after his little tea adventure. He was shocked that the noises in the kitchen weren’t the ting that woke him. Instead it was the feeling that someone was watching him. He blinked his eyes open to see Jimmy staring at him, barely a foot away from his face.

“Mommy said to wake you up for breakfast. She said not to touch you because it might scare you.” Jimmy whispered.

Bucky chuckled at that. He slowly sat up and rubbed his face. Then he glanced over to Jimmy, who was watching him curiously.

“I like your outfit, kid.” Bucky smirked.

Jimmy was wearing a dinosaur t-shirt, a pink tutu, and yellow rain boots. He seemed very pleased by the compliment.

“Mommy’s making chocolate chip pancakes.” He stated excitedly. But it was like he was telling himself for the first time because he became thrilled and sprinted out of the living room, into the kitchen.

Bucky slowly sauntered in to find Jimmy dancing around the kitchen to the music that was softly playing.

“Morning.” He greeted through his rough voice.

Y/N gave him a shy smile. “There’s a mug for you next to the coffee pot.”

“Can I help with anything?” He offered as he poured himself some.

But Y/N just shook her head.

Bucky sat at the table, taking in the home in the daylight. It was cozy and homey. But he didn’t expect anything else from Y/N.

Jimmy must have gotten tired of dancing, because he was now sitting across from Bucky. His blue eyes studied Bucky like he hadn’t met him last night.

“Are you my dad?” Jimmy asked out of nowhere.

Y/N was putting down a plate full of pancakes right when it happened.

Bucky watched as her entire body tensed.

“No, Jimmy.” She tried to it say casually.

Y/N gave Bucky a warning look, making sure he didn’t intervene.

“This is your Uncle Bucky.” Y/N added.

“Why is your arm metal?” Jimmy quickly moved onto another subject.

“Jimmy!” Y/N scolded. “That’s a very rude question to ask!” Bucky tried to give her a face that said it was all right. But she wasn’t having any of it.

Jimmy, suddenly looked very sad and disappointed in himself. He hadn’t realized it was rude until someone pointed it out. Now he felt bad. “I’m sorry for being rude.” He blubbered, eyes cast down.

“It’s okay, bud.” Bucky tried to reassure him. “I lost my arm in an accident awhile ago. This is just a prosthetic.”

“It’s really cool.” Jimmy commented honestly.

This made Bucky grin.

They ate breakfast with zero awkwardness. Jimmy kept telling story after story to his mom. Most of it was mindless and a lot of it didn’t make any sense. But Y/N paid close attention. Jimmy seemed to accept Bucky’s presence very easily, behaving how he usually did when it was just him and his mom.

After breakfast, Jimmy was playing in the living room without a care. Bucky offered to clean up since Y/N had made breakfast. He ignored her when she argued that she could do it herself.

“You haven’t told him anything about Steve?” Bucky asked as he washed the dishes and Y/N dried.

Her eyes turned down and she shook her head. “He understands that he doesn’t have a dad. He goes to friends’ houses for play dates and realizes that there’s another person there that he doesn’t have. But he doesn’t know anything about the Avengers or superheroes. We don’t have cable and he doesn’t go on the internet. He’s seen pictures and stuff at stores… but he just thinks they’re make believe.”

Bucky stopped washing dishes for a moment and gripped the edge of the sink. He looked over at her with a serious gape. “You can’t keep it a secret from him forever, Y/N. He deserves to know who his father is.”

“Not until he can keep it a secret.” Y/N defended. He gave her a disapproving look. “Bucky, if people found out Steve Rogers had a son… do you know how dangerous that would be?” She chucked the towel on the counter in frustration. “We couldn’t even bury him because of what he was! Steve kept me so hidden... Do you think he’d want to the world to know about his son?”

“Y/N, we’d never let anything happen to either of you. I’m going to keep you safe.” Bucky’s expression was so soft and affectionate. It surprised Y/N. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come out.

“Mommy? There’s a red robot in the yard.” Jimmy called out.

They looked at him in confusion.

Then they both realized who it was and snapped back to each other’s gaze.

“Goddammit, Stark.”  Bucky almost growled.

Y/N hurried over to grab Jimmy.

“Y/N, stay in the house.” Bucky ordered before going out the front door.

---

Part 7

Please message, reblog, whatever. Because I need constant validation HAHAHA. 

[may-shepard]

surviving (and maybe even thriving) in the sherlock fandom after s4

...OR, maybe even kind of sort of learning how to enjoy oneself again while being a johnlocker.

This is a post for people who are on the fence / still turned off by s4 / still struggling with how to frame it for themselves. 

In light of the upcoming fic writers’ retreat, in anticipation of (I hope) having a conversation or two about this very topic, and in partial response to comments that my good fandom friends have dropped recently about their struggles with feeling like they don’t want to engage with the show or the fandom after s4, I’ve been thinking about how to continue on as a johnlocker, and why I feel more motivated than ever to find a way to have a relationship with the show (albeit a substantially altered one than before), and what fandom engagement means to me. 

It probably doesn’t look like it, because I’ve participated full throttle in all kinds of conversations about the show since s4, but I do get why s4 was entirely offputting for a lot of people. While I strongly suspect that mofftiss are doing something interesting and unusual with s4, that whatever-it-is came at a heavy price: a series that looks like a hot fucking mess and actively does things that one should never do (i.e., constantly throwing into question the reality status of the story one is telling) if one wants to avoid frustrating the shit out of one’s audience. 

What’s worse, the series was promoted with a promise of FINALLY answering the question of who Sherlock loves, without delivering on that promise in a way that was in any way definitive (John? Molly? Irene? Chips?) or satisfying (JOHN???). We got a scene that was really close to the kind of thing we’ve always wanted to see, at the end of The Lying Detective, an episode that also brought us an interaction between John and Sherlock that was so awful, it singlehandedly ruined the show for a lot of people. 

Even though I love the shit out of talking about the puzzle of s4, I love it because I love how smart everyone in the fandom is, and how much I’ve learned about Doyle, and the many many intertexts the show engages with. I love how stunningly great people here are with teasing complex arguments out of this hot mess. 

I don’t love that we got this weird thing to figure out instead of actual story. I don’t love that for some reason a major plot point was John and Sherlock detonating their relationship even more profoundly than they had before. I still think that the more skillful thing to do would have been to make a puzzle for viewers to figure out, but make it actually enjoyable to watch. (Personally, I did enjoy TLD, but I’m a sucker for Nick Hurran’s direction, I thought Ben and Martin performed incredibly, and I have a high tolerance for creepy shit and violence, so.)

SO: WHAT TO DO?

I’ve been thinking about a few of the strategies I’ve put in place / fallen back on for approaching all of this. I don’t know if any of this is helpful but here it is, for what it’s worth.

Acknowledge that the showrunners are human people and human people make good choices and bad choices and questionable choices

Before s4 aired, I wrote about the fact that mofftiss had set up a highwire act with extraordinarily high stakes, as of the end of s3. This meant they could pull off an astounding feat of storytelling, or they could fall. Instead they sort of burned down the circus tent and re-encoded all the elephants...not what any of us were expecting. I mean, surprises in storytelling can be great, but this was like hey everyone, suddenly the show is going to be performed in Esperanto instead of English, have fun with that.

Questionable at best.

To sum up: good choices resulted in the following:

Ben and Martin in s1 and 2 creating this beautiful dynamic together, eyesex and all the subtext and a tragic love story with mistakes and denial and pining and hope. s3, which bumped up the subtext to the point of ridiculousness. And TAB, which doubled down on that subtext EVEN HARDER. The purple shirt of sex and the swishy coat of alone protects me and a stalwart and broken John who is finally strong enough to partner his Sherlock and enough sexual and romantic tension to drown the population of the earth planet and a Mary Morstan who is actually Moran and there’s always two of us and hey did I mention romance yet?

We got all that, and then we got--this s4 thing.

Let me tell you about writers (speaking as one). They shit the bed all the time. They make weird choices. They have strange ideas. They fail to stick the landing. When that happens, it’s their tragedy. It doesn’t have to be yours. 

Maybe this story isn’t done yet. I don’t think it is. I’m willing and able to reserve judgement, but this post is for those of you who aren’t, or can’t. 

You can still like the parts of the show that you liked before. You weren’t wrong for liking what worked for you before. You would not be wrong now, for still liking those bits. All the shitty choices the showrunners could make, did make, and might still make, do not make you wrong for liking the bits you liked.

You can still like the parts of the show that you liked before. 

Need permission for that? Here it is: BECAUSE MAY SHEPARD SAYS SO. I’ll make you a certificate if you want. 

Need more specific help? Here’s another idea:

Get selfish. Get really, really selfish.

Remember that you are here for you. You came here, probably, because thinking about John and Sherlock together is something you enjoyed. Back immediately after s4 aired, and I was still stuck firmly in the wtf zone, I had to have a talk with myself about this. 

I asked myself what I liked about the show. Why John and Sherlock, together, were so crunchy and beautiful to me. It came down to one thing: the fact that I read the show as a love story. 

I’m here for my own entertainment. This is my happy place. This is where I come when my regular writing is stuck or I want to try to hack out a new part of my skill set. I get a lot out of thinking about John and Sherlock, as characters.

I still read the show as a love story, and I will continue to do so.

That means, in light of s4, doing a lot more reading in to the little moments than I used to have to. It means cherry picking a lot harder. It means ignoring vast swaths of what we actually saw onscreen. (The fact that this is the current state of meta too helps a whole heck of a lot.) 

Playing the what if game a lot harder than I have previously has become the rule of the day. 

What if John and Sherlock are in love? They are. For me, they are, and they always will be. Will they be in canon? Get yourself to a place where this question doesn’t matter, where your personal happiness doesn’t hang on this. We’re several months on after s4. It’s time to give your head a shake and remember that John and Sherlock love each other and will always find their way back to each other, because we say so. 

If you don’t believe this, try because May Shepard says so. I’ll say it until you believe it, too: John and Sherlock are in love. The show is a love story.

I will read the show as a love story, regardless of whether it wants me to. Hey show, get ready for some sweet sweet interpretation. I hope you’re in the mood.

Still not convinced? Try this thought experiment:

Put Some Distance Between You and S4

So a few nights back I was chatting with @laughing-at-the-darkness​ (who is the best, go follow her immediately), and I jokingly said that what we need in this fandom is a reset, like the kind of perspective you can only get ten years after a television show has finished airing. 

Try this on for size:

The year is 2027. You’re looking for some good content to watch. You remember hearing, dimly, about the fact that, a while back, BBC made a Sherlock Holmes adaptation with some pretty famous actors. 

You read about it a bit first. Ah yes: the adaptation that everyone was raving about, but that did a weird thing in its fourth series. Bearing this in mind, you decide to watch. 

You’re charmed by series 1-3, and the one-off Victorian special. You decide to watch s4, bearing in mind what you know about it, that it seemed to go off the rails relative to everything that had come before. You watch, prepared to laugh along at Mary’s bullet tango and the way she just won’t seem to go away and Sherlock has a sister who is also an X-Man? What???? 

You watch it. You shrug. You carry on thinking that s1-3 and TAB are great, like you were prepared to do. 

We know what we know now: that s4 is a difficult part of canon, a stumbling block for a lot of us. If you can accept that, then you can move forward, liking the parts you like, and leaving the parts you don’t.

Moving On

I still personally have some questions about how to deal with s4 as a fic writer. There are so many potential interpretations--how does one go about sorting through the detritus? A lot of people don’t want to / can’t bring themselves to rewatch, so how much can I assume they do and don’t remember about the episodes? But these are mostly logistical issues, and solvable with some rational decision making. (I did start a fic a while back based on TST, but I wasn’t ready to finish it, and I don’t think people wanted that type of fix it in that particular moment.) s4 changed the stakes for a lot of people, so writing fic now is all about writing to a different emotional register, I think. I’m personally having fun with that, while sorting through the implications for the wips I started before s4 aired. I’m hoping we can talk about some of these issues, as writers, and as fans, but that’s a post for another day.

In any case, I’m here, John and Sherlock are in love, and I hope this is helpful in some way. I don’t want anyone to lose the thing that used to give them enjoyment, nor (on a more selfish note) do I want to see people still leaving the fandom if they don’t have to. 

[theadrogna]

So I skipped a couple of weeks because I didn’t know what to make of the mess that was Vietnam and then last week the show wasn’t on (crossover? what crossover?). However, I am back with the fun frolic to the Viking age that was Beebo God of War, so here we go with this week’s episode review.

Spoilers under the cut.

Let’s start with the good stuff:

Sara was great in this episode. She felt like she was leading from the front and when it looked like they couldn’t deal with the problem on their own, she called on the Time Bureau for help. It was nice to see that she wasn’t antagonistic towards Ava Sharpe or the Bureau, and Ava and Sara worked well together. Sara made smart choices, and when she didn’t, she listened to the team and adjusted her thinking. She was clearly affected by Martin’s death, acknowledging that it had been hard on the team and that she felt responsible as Captain.

Jax was a real stand out in this episode. Franz did a great job of showing the hurt that Martin’s death was causing him. There were so many nice moments for his character and the hard decisions he was making. I also liked the way that Zari was the one to support him when it came to trying to save Martin, showing that she still believes you can hack history. He couldn’t resist the loophole, but of course, he wasn’t that surprised by Martin’s refusal to take it either. Sara definitely knew what he was doing, and whilst she didn’t exactly approve, it was pretty clear she wouldn’t have stopped him either.

I actually really like the way the first shot we get of young Martin is him in his ridiculously delightful Hanukkah jumper. It’s celebrating the life he had with his family, but also reminding us that this isn’t just Christmas time. In fact, the entire episode seems to want to hit home that Christmas is one religious festival amongst many, and its origins are in yuletide and old pagan traditions. It made me very happy that Ava uttered the words “Beebo Day”, and it’s kind of interesting to imagine what kind of world we’d be living in if Christianity hadn’t become the dominant religion of the Western World.

We got confirmation that Rip’s in Time Jail and that the Tribunal didn’t go well. I’m pleased that at least they had a conversation about him, because so often Legends seems to avoid the obvious conversations. It was good to see the Legends using the Time Bureau (or trying to) as backup and acknowledging that they could. I hated the forced antagonism between the two groups and this relationship seems to be much more natural. I’d have liked some more explanation of what exactly they were charging Rip with, and given that they all seem to acknowledge that Mallus is a threat, why they haven’t let him out again now that they know he was right. It was really nice to see a slightly softer version of Ava Sharpe and that she actually works well with the Legends when they’re being sensible.

Someone finally pointed out that Mick always having a beer in his hand is unhealthy, and, well, that the only person who can fix that is Mick himself. The Leo and Mick interactions were well played, but I have some issues with them, but more about that in the bad stuff.

The Viking plot was kind of fun and bringing in Young Martin at this point was both twisting the knife and a clever way of giving the characters a chance to address their grief on screen. Jax bringing him a cup of tea, just the way he likes it is actually just utterly heartbreaking given the circumstances. It was very interesting to see the way that everyone reacted to him, and it felt like good characterisation all round.

John Constantine turns up at the end! Oh my heart leapt for joy with his opening line. It was just so perfect, and he’s there with his lighter and cigarette looking exactly as he should. I hope the rest of his characterisation is as good as those few seconds, and he gets a great story when they come back in February.

I can’t finish off the good stuff without mentioning Damien Darhk’s turn as Odin, who did seem to be a bit confused and be trying to be Thor with his lightening, but I’ll let him off. The moment when he realises that Eleanor is down is very interesting and we got to see how much she means to him. Damien is at his best when he’s being the comic book, mustache twirling villain, but this was an interesting twist.

And the bad stuff:

I admit, it’s fun to have this different version of Snart being all touchy feely and trying to get everyone to deal with their grief over Stein. We hardly ever get moments in Legends where people are given a healthy way to process their feelings about trauma, or even an acknowledgement that trauma has happened, however the puppet was rather disrespectful and I hated it. And Mick punching the puppet was actually just horrible. I can only imagine the uproar if Snart’s death had been treated that way back in S1. It’s really unnecessary given the already hurt feelings about how Stein died.

And I know that Snart fans are delighted to have their favourite back on screen, but I’m not sure what we’re gaining from it. This Snart is definitely not Earth1 Snart, so he’s not giving us new information about him, and we know he’s only here temporarily. I don’t know why the team would trust him to be their grief counsellor when they don’t really know him, and I can understand why Mick thinks he’s interfering. Also the chances of anyone reprogramming Gideon are slim to nil, unless she allowed it. Even Zari couldn’t manage it and she’s a hacker from the future. I’m just kind of baffled by what the show is doing with Leo.

Once again we have villains turn up and cause trouble but no real reason for them to do it. We don’t know why the Darhks want to do this, except that it’s somehow in service of Mallus. It’s getting just a little annoying that we keep having a total lack of motivation for the forces that they’re up against. And of course Eleanor Darhk getting fridged to motivate her Dad is just yet another example of a horrible trope that this show loves, but needs to die.

Rip spends Christmas in jail, after spending last year’s Christmas a brainwashed puppet of the Legion of Doom. Can we not just give the guy one happy memory, please? Also I would have killed for any sort of scene of him in jail or failing to persuade the Tribunal that he is right.

Jax left. I may cry. There were about a hundred ways that they could have lost Martin and kept Jax. We’re losing a great character there, as well as the Waverider’s mechanic, and I think the show will really miss him. It’s also a blow to the diversity of the cast, which could use more POC and not less.

So that’s it for this review. We now have to endure a long hiatus until February, so it’s back to the fanfic until then.

[the-fauxpas]

four / vodka sunrise

UNI AU co-written with @ineffably-styles

a story of late nights, unorthodox household plants, and a trip to Vegas that changes everything

“No,” Louis all but yelled. “If you sing another High School Musical song around me, so help me god-”

“Please don’t give her any ideas,” Alexa said quickly, accepting the bag that Savannah offered her.

“Don’t be a sour puss,” Reyna scoffed. “What song should we sing, Sav? I was thinking We’re All In This Together.”

chapter three / story page

A collective sigh of relief could be heard from Savannah and her coworkers when the bell at the cafe door dinged, announcing the departure of their last customer. They hadn’t had a moment to catch a breath since the opening of the cafe and were glad to see the tables empty.

“I can’t believe this shift is finally over,” Maeve - one of Savannah’s closest workmates - groaned, untying her apron and pulling it off. She slumped down in one of the chairs, Savannah following suit as they both rested their heads against the table and closed their eyes to rest.

“That was actually ridiculous. I hate Saturdays,” Sav agreed, trying to keep herself awake. She still had a party to go to that night so passing out just wasn’t an option for her. “Did you lock the door? Because if you didn’t, I might just yell bloody murder at the next person who dares to walk in here.”

“That’s beautiful customer service right there, Sav,” Christian, one of their kitchen hands, grinned. He set two sandwiches down by her and Maeve’s heads. “BLTs to go,” he explained, “thought you guys might need an energy boost on the way home.”

“The man, the myth, the legend everyone,” Maeve exclaimed thankfully, clapping loudly as he mockingly bowed graciously.

“Thank you, thank you. I live to impress my loyal subjects,” he joked.

“Oh get over yourself,” Savannah brushed him off lightly. “Thanks for the sandwiches though, it’s really nice of you,” she added, watching as his cheeks tinged slightly pink at her compliment.

“It’s fine, I didn’t want all that food to go to waste,” he said nonchalantly, shuffling slightly. “Anyways, I better clean up and go home. Got an assignment to finish.”

“Ah, sounds brutal,” Savannah winced, grabbing her sandwich and unwrapping it to take a bite. She and Maeve waved solemnly to Christian as he disappeared behind the kitchen door.

“He’s such a nice boy,” Maeve commented, also picking up her sandwich.

“He is.”

“He’s also crazy about you,” she continued.

“He’s also eighteen,” Savannah countered.

“Age is nothing but a number,” Maeve joked, taking a bite of her snack and grinning angelically at Sav.

“Until it’s illegal,” she replied dryly. “We need to find him a nice girl.” The cogs were already turning in Sav’s mind, and she knew that if either Reyna or Alexa were there, they’d be stopping her plan in its tracks. Luckily for her though, Maeve wasn’t quite as intuitive as her two best friends were and so was completely oblivious to her plan.

“Yeah, if he ever had eyes for anyone else, that might actually work,” she replied sarcastically. “Anyways, have you got yourself a boy yet? Kinda leaving it a bit late, aren’t ya?” she joked.

Savannah rolled her eyes, throwing a scrunched up napkin at her friend. “Firstly, it will work. I’ll make it work. And secondly, no,” she replied, not bothering to elaborate on her last point.

“Have you been out playing the field though? I mean, you’re single, gorgeous, and you need to show Cameron how much better you’re doing without him too,” she added slyly, a grin playing on her lips. Maeve had always disliked Savannah’s ex-boyfriend - she had always prided herself in her ability to read people accurately. She’d known from the get-go that he was going to break Sav’s heart and when he finally did, she’d had to repress her urge to hunt the guy down.

“Ugh, you don’t even have to worry about Cameron. Completely surprised me, if I’m being honest,” Savannah shrugged. “I thought it would take a lot longer than it did for me to get over him.”

“That’s good,” Maeve said excitedly, finishing off her sandwich and brushing off the crumbs. “I always told you I never liked him, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Savannah smiled, “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Ah,” Maeve leaned back, brushing off her words. “You had to find out for yourself. And I’m glad that you did - you’re already stronger from the experience.”

At this, Sav couldn’t help but smile. As messy as the breakup had been, she was glad that she’d come out of it a lot stronger than before. Maeve had always been the voice of reason and guidance for her. Wise beyond her 26 years, Savannah found that going to her for advice always resulted in a completely new perspective on any difficult topic that she encountered and she was glad that of all the people she met in life, she’d crossed paths with Maeve.

“Thank you,” she said honestly, smiling at her friend before finishing up the rest of her food.

“How are you guys getting home?” Christian asked, walking back into the front room a few moments later. He’d changed out of his work clothes into something more casual, tugging a bag onto his back as he carefully ran his eyes over the cafe once more to make sure everything was intact. It still surprised Sav how much he seemed to like the little cafe her mum owned.

“Dunno,” Maeve shrugged, grinning over at him.

“I can give you guys a lift if you’d like?” he offered, sounding a little unsure of himself as he glanced from Sav to Maeve and back again. “I mean, it’s my mum’s van and the backseat smells a little because of my brother’s soccer uniform, but it does the job,” he blabbered.

“You had me at ride,” Maeve nodded eagerly. “Anything’s better than taking the bus,” she scowled. “It always smells like dog. And don’t get me wrong, I love dogs as much as the next person but seriously, come on.”

Christian laughed lightly before nodding at her in agreement. “Sav?” he offered, jingling his keys in midair.

“Thanks, Christian,” she smiled kindly. “But Lex is coming to pick me up in about ten,” she checked her watch, “so we can get ready for the party tonight.”

“Ah,” he nodded easily. “Next time, then. Did you want us to wait with you until they got here?” he offered.

“Nah, it’s fine,” she waved them off. “You two get going. I need to check the register and lock up anyway.”

“Alright,” Maeve shrugged, “don’t do anything I haven’t done,” she sing-songed, moving around to give Sav a quick hug.

“Really?” Savannah stared at her. “There’s like nothing you haven’t done.” “I know,” she winked. “And I’m all the wiser for it. You’ve said so yourself,” she defended.

“Bye, Maeve,” Sav said pointedly, making Christian laugh from by the door. “Oh, and leave the door open would you?”

“No problem. I’ll see you on Monday?” he questioned, holding the door open for Maeve as she made her way towards him.

“Definitely,” Savannah nodded. “I’m going to talk to my mum about a possible pay-rise for you, Chris,” she teased, making him blush.

“Have fun tonight,” he said before bading her a final farewell and letting the door ding shut behind him.

It was only a few minutes later when Savannah was locking the register and doing a final quick sweep of the backroom that a banging could be heard from out front.  

“Oi, Sav, let us in,” Louis was yelling. “I’m going to freeze my knob off!”

“Good,” Savannah heard Reyna quip. “That way you won’t be able to procreate.”

“Nah, be honest,” he drawled. “My kids would be cute.”

Reyna snorted. “Your kids would be cursed. Poor lads never saw it coming - ending up with a dad like you.”

“That’s no way to speak of our future children, Rey-Rey,” Louis mocked.

“If the weather doesn’t freeze your knob, I sure as hell will hack it off for you,” Reyna said in a sinister voice.

“Bloody hell, would you two knock it off?” Alexa cut in, clearly sounding annoyed and Savannah began to wonder just how long this conversation had been going on for. If she had to have a guess, with their history, she’d assume that it was the entire car ride and possibly even beforehand.

“Hey guys,” she said with resignation was she pulled open the door for them to come through. “It was unlocked, by the way. Did you think of turning the knob?”

“Haha, knob,” Louis snickered as he made his way inside, earning himself eye rolls from all the girls.

“Grow up, you’re horrid,” Reyna scolded, her nose wrinkling at his immaturity. “Sav, are you about done yet? Party’s in about an hour and I’d suggest we get going if you want to get there before it finishes.”

“Why’s he here?” Savannah replied, nodding towards Louis who was yet again stealing another muffin from the basket on the counter. “I hope you’re going to pay for that,” she added, glaring at him as he took a bite from a chocolate chip one.

“He didn’t want to be the first one there, and seeing as Harry’s not coming, he decided to grace us with his annoying ass,” Reyna explained, crossing her arms annoyedly.

“Hey! People would kill for my company,” Louis argued. “I wonder why I keep you around sometimes.”

“You? Keep me around-?” Reyna started.

“-Okay, maybe we should get going?” Alexa suggested, looking pointedly towards Savannah who hurriedly grabbed her bag from behind the counter and hitched it over her shoulder.

“Better get out of here before they really go at it,” she muttered, following Alexa out the door with Reyna and Louis trailing close behind, still bickering.

“It’s not my fault you guys have a shite sense of humour,” Louis was saying as they made their way over to the car.

“So,” Savannah interrupted loudly before Reyna could respond. “Harry really can’t get out of dinner plans?”

“Nah,” Louis shook his head, easily distracted from the argument, while Reyna glared at her well aware of what she was trying to do. “Dick Styles is exactly what his name suggests, a bit of a dick.”

“His dad’s name is dick?” Reyna frowned.

“Well, it’s Richard,” Louis admitted.

“But people call him dick,” Alexa concluded.

“Actually, no one calls him dick,” he grinned sheepishly, polishing off the muffin and throwing the wrapper at Reyna who punched him in the arm.  

“I give up,” Savannah sighed, settling into the passenger seat as she tried to ignore the arguing coming from the backseat.

“We all do,” Alexa agreed.

-

“Look at the way his eyes keep flickering around the room,” Louis said gleefully, watching his friend manoeuvre his way through a conversation with the very girl he’d been avoiding for months now.

“Looking for an escape?” Alexa guessed, taking a lazy sip of the non-alcoholic drink she had in her hand. Unlike the rest of them she wasn’t drinking tonight, unwilling to risk a hangover when she had work the next day and lecture notes she was already behind on.  

“Definitely looking for an escape,” Zayn sidled up to them, having caught the last part of their conversation.

“He’s been dodging Emily’s advances for months now,” Zayn’s roommate - Niall - cut in, a drink in each hand. Savannah quirked a brow, wondering if they were both for him.

“Poor guy looks like he’s in pain,” Alexa observed, tilting her head as though she was observing a painting.

“Maybe someone should help put him out of his misery?” Reyna suggested, looking from Zayn to Harry and finally resting on Sav.

“What?” she narrowed her eyes, realisation dawning on her as Reyna continued to stare pointedly at her before flicking her gaze over to Harry. “No way!” she protested. “I barely even know him. Besides, it’s Zayn’s party.”

Zayn merely shook his head. “Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t even invite her. You can blame Louis for that,” he backed away from them carefully. “Besides, I’ve got to go around and check nothing’s missing,” he sighed. “Someone always steals something.”

“I’ll help,” Alexa piped up. “Make sure no one breaks anything,” she rushed out, cheeks tingeing a little red when everyone stared at her.

“Oh,” Niall frowned, eyes lighting up sheepishly as he followed them. “About that…” his voice trailed off as the three of them weaved their way through small groups of people who were already gathered and chatting over drinks.

Savannah turned her glare onto Louis. “Why did you invite her?” she demanded.

“She heard me talking about it and it would’ve been rude if I’d told her not to come,” he shrugged. “Plus Harry said he wasn’t going to show up so I thought it was safe.”

“You’re a complete buffoon,” Reyna shook her head. “Go save the poor guy, Sav. He looks ready to rip his hair out.”

“Is that sympathy I detect?” Louis jeered at her. 

“Shut up,” she scowled at him. “We both know how stressful family dinners can be, poor bloke didn’t even have a chance to change. Look at him, he’s still got a bloody tie around his neck. Go pretend to be his girlfriend or something before he turns it into a noose.”

“Ok, ok,” Savannah rolled her eyes. “I get it. I’ll go save him. Be his knight in shining armour,” she grinned at the thought, walking over towards where Harry was playing with the tie around his neck.

“You should grow out your hair,” Emily was saying as she reached over to play with a strand of Harry’s hair.

“There you are,” Savannah interrupted, grabbing Harry and practically dragging him away, leaving Emily standing with her hand fluttering awkwardly in midair. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she said in a falsely cheerful voice.

“Uhh,” Harry frowned, allowing her to drag him away. “Did I miss something?” he asked once they’d reached Reyna and Louis, who were stood watching amusedly.

“You’re welcome,” Savannah scoffed, thinking they were in the clear only to have Louis choke on his drink as someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” the girl she’d just pulled Harry away from spoke, glaring at Savannah, “but we were in the middle of a conversation.”

Savannah glanced over at Harry who looked nervously between the two, his hand once again moving to fiddle with the tie around his neck - it annoyed her more than it should have. “Stop that,” she scolded him, swatting his hands away, completely aware that she was sounding like a controlling girlfriend.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, feeling too scatter-brained to argue.

“Why don’t you just take it off?” Reyna cut in, completely ignoring Emily’s presence.

“Yeah,” Louis agreed. “You’d look a lot less like a twat that way,” he said seriously.

“Thanks for that guys,” he glared at the two of them, before pulling his tie apart and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Savannah demanded, sounding frustrated.

“Trying to look less like a twat,” he deadpanned.

“Ahem,” Emily interrupted, four sets of eyes falling once again onto her. She turned to look at Harry. “Can we go somewhere more private?” she fluttered her eyes up at him.

Harry opened and closed his mouth, unsure of how to gently turn the girl away without sounding like a complete dickhead.

“Great fish impression,” Reyna said coyly, taking a sip of her drink while she watched Harry with amusement as he struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“Oh, bloody hell. Look, I’m sure you’re super nice,” Savannah began, stepping in front of Harry. “But Harry isn’t interested. He’s just escaped from some super stuffy family dinner and all he really wants to do is get drunk and forget his own name.”

Emily rolled her eyes, trying to step around Savannah only to have her way blocked with every attempt. Finally she gave up. “No offense but, who are you?” she demanded, sounding thoroughly frustrated.

Savannah glanced behind her, noting the panic on Harry’s face and the expectant, eager looks on Louis and Reyna’s. “I’m his girlfriend,” she muttered, not looking away from her friends as their eyes lit up gleefully and twin smiles formed on their lips. “So, please leave,” she turned back to Emily, patting Harry awkwardly on the back as he choked on his own tongue.

“I - what?” Emily spluttered, looking from Harry to Savannah.

“We’re dating,” she enunciated. “What don’t you understand?”

“You never told me you were seeing someone,” Emily said to Harry, looking fairly upset.

“Uh,” Harry stuttered, looking at a loss. “Yes?”

“God forbid he ever has to defend anyone in a criminal trial,” Savannah heard Reyna mumble from behind her. She turned around to glare at her friend only to find a phone pointed directly at her. “Remind me not to hire him. For anything. Ever.”

“Dammit, Rey,” Sav grumbled, holding her hand up to hide her face, no matter how useless she knew it was. “I need a drink.”

“Maybe Harry can get you one,” Louis said slyly. “Looks like he’s in need of one himself, anyway,” he nodded over at his struggling friend.

“I can get drinks,” Harry nodded eagerly, feeling slightly guilty at the sight of a forlorn-looking Emily.

“Go with him, Sav,” Reyna bossed her, looking at her best friend roll her eyes.

“Bu - fine,” Sav said, deciding it would be best not to argue.

“C’mon, Em,” Louis wrapped an arm around the girl who’d once again been ignored. “Let’s go find you someone to dance with,” he said leading her away from the others.

“Hey, what about me?” Reyna demanded, chasing after them and leaving Harry and Savannah alone.

“Well-”

“I need a drink,” Harry cut Savannah off. “Sorry,” he apologised immediately, following the glare she shot him.

“A little gratitude for saving your sorry ass would be nice,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and jogging a little to catch up with his long strides as he led her into the kitchen.

“I didn’t need saving,” he flicked his eyes over towards her momentarily.

“That’s not what it looked like to the rest of us. We were worried you were going to end up strangling yourself with your tie at some point.”

“And what if I was actually interested in Emily?” he pulled out a couple of beers from a hidden compartment in Zayn’s fridge. “It’s where he keeps the good stuff,” he explained.

“If you’re so interested, I’m sure Louis can bring her back,” she challenged, accepting the drink he handed her. “I’ll go find him for you,” she turned to head back where they’d come from, only to have Harry grab her elbow and hold her back.

“Ok, ok,” he conceded. “Maybe I needed some help. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said smugly.

“Although,” he grinned after a couple of seconds. “Louis didn’t tell you Emily was quite the blabbermouth, did he? Now everyone’s going to think we’re dating,” he flickered her nose mockingly.

“Wait, what?”

“So what should I call you?” he mused. “We’re going to need couple names, you know,” he said pointedly.

“I don’t do couple names,” she monotoned back at him.

“Sav is too common, everyone calls you that - we need something just for the two of us,” he leaned back onto the counter, crossing his legs at his ankles as he stared at her in contemplation.

“Stop staring at me like that,” she glared at him.

“Like what?”  

“Like you’re trying to read my mind,” she folded her arms across her chest as though it would protect her from his piercing gaze.

It was silent for about half a minute, the only sounds that could be heard was the buzz of the party going on around them. Savannah began to fiddle nervously with the necklace around her neck, causing Harry’s eyes to zero in on the Disney pendant.

His eyes lit up after a few ticks of the clock. “I’ve got it,” he exclaimed.

“What?”

“Your nickname. It’s Simba,” he declared proudly.

“I don’t think so,” Savannah scowled at him.

“But it’s perfect!” he tried to argue. “Just hear me out-”

“No,” she cut him off, turning to walk away.

“This isn’t over, Simba!” Harry yelled after her, choosing not to follow.

Savannah flicked him the bird before disappearing into the crowd.

-

“Hey, uh, Zayn?” a tap on Zayn’s shoulder halted their conversation, interrupting him mid-sentence. Savannah glanced at the boy, nervously gesturing behind herself. “I think someone’s throwing up in the bathroom.”

“Ah, fuck,” Zayn swore, before excusing himself and rushing down the hall. Savannah watched him leave before turning back to the guy he’d been chatting with who was now staring unashamedly back at her.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied skeptically, studying him as his eyes washed over her.

“What’s your name?” he asked before taking a sip of his drink, gaze still firmly latched onto her.

“Savannah,” she replied carefully, still wary. “And yours?”

“Sean,” he smirked. “Wanna dance?” he gestured behind him, toward a group of people who’d turned Zayn’s living room into a makeshift dancefloor.

“Not right now, I don’t think so. Thanks for the offer though!” she said sweetly, catching Reyna’s eye from across the room where she leant against makeshift bar counter, talking to Louis and some friends. She watched them warily, silently asking if Savannah needed help.

With a slight shake of her head, she turned back towards Sean who was still looking at her expectantly. Suddenly, Savannah felt a lightbulb go off in her head and began searching the room, hoping the person she wanted to see hadn’t given up and gone home. Her eyes found said person sat on the couch, playing with her drink while trying to avoid touching the couple who was making out beside her.

“But I can think of someone who will,” she grinned, grabbing Sean’s arm and pulling him along with her. They skidded to a stop in front of Emily, who looked up at them with an expression of both confusion and apprehension upon recognising Savannah.

“What do you guys want?” she asked, eyes darting between Savannah and Sean and the hold Savannah still had on him.

“Hey Emily. It is Emily, right? Anyway,” Savannah began cheerfully. “Seeing as you were so desperate for a dance partner before, I’ve taken it upon myself to find you one!”

“What?”

“Meet Sean. Sean, this is Emily. She just loves to dance. Have fun you two!” Savannah darted off, leaving Sean sputtering while Emily’s glare deepened.

In the mood for another drink, she made her way to the kitchen where she began searching around for a clean cup. She began rummaging in Zayn’s cupboards for a glass when one was shoved in front of her face. She followed the hand to find herself face to face with Harry once again.

“Here,” he mumbled, “You’re not going to find anything breakable in this kitchen. Zayn’s hidden it all in his bedroom cupboard.”

Savannah lifted an eyebrow before taking the drink. “You know, they say to never accept a drink from strangers.”

“Good thing I’m not one then,” he smiled, clinking their cups together before taking a sip of his. Savannah followed suit, and had almost successfully downed half the cup before she found herself shoved into Harry who caught her before she lost her footing.

“Bloody hell, Louis!” Alexa sighed, pulling Louis to the side where he couldn’t cause any more damage. “You could’ve broken her face.”

“Oh please,” Louis brushed it off, “It was barely a nudge. Look, she’s fine isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah, just peachy,” Savannah said sarcastically, her cheeks tinged pink as she brushed herself off while Harry had silently gone back to sipping on his drink.

“Besides, Reyna and Zayn could doctor her right back up,” he insisted, ignoring Savannah’s jab.

“Anyway Sav, I was just about to head off,” Alexa explained. “Reyna said she needs to look after this one,” she nodded towards Louis who grinned, “so she’ll probably get home later, but I was just wondering if you needed a lift?”

“Yeah I’ll come,” Savannah replied, finishing off the rest of her drink and nodding at Harry. “Thanks for that, Styles. I’ll see you at uni.”

“See you later, Simba,” he said innocently, grin widening as he noted the scowl on her face.

“What was that?” Alexa asked curiously once they were out of earshot.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Savannah said resignedly as they went to find Zayn to say goodbye.

-

“Whoa, what happened to this place?” Alexa asked, pulling her sunnies from her face and dropping her keys on the table by the door. Savannah appeared behind her, waving hello at Zayn before surveying the mess in front of them with disgust. “Did you guys sleep in this?” Alexa continued, wrinkling her nose.  

“Hope you guys have a cleaning crew booked because this needs some serious elbow grease,” she joked, eyes resting on the disheveled forms of Louis and Niall passed out on the couch, arms wrapped securely around one another.

“Yeah, they’re booked in for about tomorrow night. Earliest we could get them,” Zayn shrugged, hopping on a stool and thankfully accepting the cup of tea Reyna passed him.

“I was, uh… joking,” Savannah trailed off, internally shaking her head at the fact that he would actually hire someone to do the cleaning. But then again, this was probably how the other half lived everyday.

“Tomorrow night?” Alexa blanched, picking up a stray cup that had fallen over and studying the stain it had left on the polished wood. “I don’t think you can survive that long.”

“Don’t think I have any choice,” Zayn said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I’m scared I’ll wreck the floors if I try and get that out myself.”

“Look, we’ll help,” Savannah piped up decidedly, still by the door. “Where are your rubbish bags?”

“Underneath the sink. Why? What’s happening?” he replied curiously, watching as Savannah started rummaging in his cupboards for the cleaning supplies.

“Oh, no,” Reyna mumbled dejectedly from beside him, causing his eyes to focus on her for a moment before Savannah was calling his attention once again.

“Do you have any Dettol?” she asked, lining up everything on the counter as everyone watched her, wide-eyed.

“You know how to clean?” Zayn asked, the surprise evident on his face as Savannah started stacking cups in order to make more room for her army of cleaning products. For someone who had obviously never cleaned up after a party in his life, Zayn sure did have a lot of sprays in his cupboard.

“I’m very domesticated, if I do say so myself,” Savannah replied smugly, grabbing the roll of garbage bags out and unrolling one. “Here, start organising.”

“Uhh, what is going on here?” Harry piped up from the entrance to the hallway, dressed in a pair of trackpants, still towelling excess water from his hair.

“Savannah’s gone mad,” Reyna replied seriously, eyes darting to her friend cautiously. “She wants us to clean.”

“Oh good! You’re up!” she chirped, handing Harry a black rubbish bag.  “Here, take a bag and start cleaning. Whatever wasn’t here 24 hours ago goes in that bag,” she explained slowly.

“Don’t bother arguing, she’s sporting the crazy eyes,” Alexa groaned from beside the door, earning a chuckle from Zayn as he watched on amusedly.

“Oi! You two! Wake up! We have lots to do,” Savannah sing-songed across the room at Louis and Niall who groaned loudly before squinting up at her.

“What are you on about?” Louis replied grudgingly, trying to shield the light that was pouring in from the windows beside him. “Bloody hell, could you keep it down? Some of us are still hungover.”

“Aye,” Niall agreed weakly slowly untangling himself from Louis and sitting up on the other end of the couch.

“Well, drink some water because we’ve got a bit of cleaning to do,” she countered happily, crossing the room dropping a plastic bag on each of them.

“Why did you let her in?” Louis complained loudly at Zayn who just smirked knowingly. “I can’t believe your poor choices in life affect my sleep now too.”

“It was the only way I could avoid having to peel you off my couch before noon,” he replied. “I’d listen to her if I were you, though. She looks scary.”

“She looks like she could burst into song at any moment,” Harry observed, still in the same position as before, except this time he was holding a plastic bag.  

“Please don’t give her any ideas,” Alexa said quickly, accepting the bag that Savannah offered her.

“Don’t be a sour puss,” Reyna scoffed. “What song should we sing, Sav? I was thinking We’re All In This Together.”

“No,” Louis all but yelled. “If you sing another High School Musical song around me, so help me god-”

“I don’t see any of you guys cleaning,” Savannah cut him off, glaring at each of them as she began throwing cups into the bag that she was holding. “The faster we all do our job, the quicker we’ll get everything done. That’s what my mum always told me,” she said proudly.

“Yeah, it’s also just common fucking sense,” Louis deadpanned from his position on the couch, still obviously annoyed that he was woken up from his sleep.

“Shut it,” Sav quipped. “Now get up and help us, you bum.”

Three and a half hours later, the group found themselves collapsed on the floor of Zayn’s living room, their surroundings spotless save for the pile of rubbish bags by the front door.  

“I’m so hungry,” Louis whined, cradling his stomach while Niall nodded in agreement. “I can’t believe you made us do that.”

“You’re a monster, Sav,” Niall agreed, looking pointedly towards her.

Savannah only grinned, gesturing around them. “How good does this place look, though? I’m so proud.”

Everyone glared at her.

“Okay then,” she said, pulling off her gloves. “Who’s up for lunch?”

“Ooh and a movie!” Reyna spoke up from her position on the couch.

“Lunch and a movie it is,” Zayn decided before an argument broke out. Savannah silently thanked him for it, considering the last time they’d tried to make plans, it had taken them about an hour to decide what to do.

“Ok, I’m game. But I’m going to need to go home and shower first,” Reyna piped up, wrinkling her nose as she glanced down at her grimy clothes.

“Deal,” Harry said, getting up to collect his stuff. “Meet in half an hour?”

“You’re funny,” Reyna deadpanned, gesturing to her hair. “An hour at least.”

“An hour then,” he agreed, finding his keys before grabbing Louis and heading towards the door. “See you guys soon.”

They all watched them leave silently, too tired to really comprehend what had just happened.

“Well,” Zayn spoke up, eyes sweeping around his spotless house. “Guess I better cancel the cleaners then.”

-

“No, you hold the popcorn, I’ve got both the drinks in my hands!”

“Ouch Louis! You just stepped on my foot, you idiot. Watch where you’re bloody going!”

“Well if your feet weren’t the size of the entire walkway, I wouldn’t have felt inclined to step on them. Also, it’s fucking dark!”

“Oi! Shut the hell up you twats, we’re trying to watch a movie here!” someone a few rows above them yelled.

“See? Now you’ve done it. Got the whole cinema yelling at us now,” Reyna hissed, tempted to try and trip him as he made his way past her.  

“Well if your ass didn’t get so restless halfway through, we wouldn’t be having this problem, now would we?” he hissed back at her.

“I didn’t get restless, I got hungry,” she corrected him.

“Oh my god, can they please shut up,” Savannah murmured from her seat on the other end of the row. “They’ll get us all kicked out in a second.”

From beside her, Alexa laughed. “Well, this was your plan to begin with so I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“It’s not like I picked the movie,” she whispered back. “I wanted to watch whatever rom com was showing. But no, Reyna and Zayn just had to insist we watch some superhero film. Besides, I said lunch, Reyna suggested the movie!”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Zayn agreed, “We should just leave now - spare us the shame of having to leave when the lights are on.”

“Or, we can just kick the two of them out,” Harry suggested from Sav’s other side, his eyes fixed on the screen where Deadpool was discussing his KFC-spork hand. The whole cinema seemed to erupt in laughter, but the people surrounding Savannah were making too much of a racket for her to concentrate on the movie.

“And risk a bloodbath? That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had, and that’s saying something considering you almost killed us on the way here,” she countered, digging into her popcorn.

“Hey! That loser cut me off, it wasn’t my fault!” he argued, leaning up from his seat to face her.

“If you weren’t doing something illegal, it mightn’t have happened,” Savannah shrugged.

“I have to agree with that,” Zayn piped up from Alexa’s other side. “You were the idiot in that situation.”

“Alright then, if you guys are so against my driving, why don’t you all catch a lift with Louis home then? See if you guys survive that journey,” Harry retorted defensively, crossing his arms and slumping back against the seat.

“Oi!” Reyna’s voice called to them from the other end of the row. “We’re trying to watch a movie here, keep the volume down would you!”

From beside her, Louis snorted. “We already saw this last week when it first came out. You literally made me cancel my shift so we could see a midnight screening.”

“What the hell, Rey?” Savannah glared. “Why are we watching it again if you’ve already seen it?” she demanded.

“Why not?” Reyna shrugged.

“If we get arrested, I’m blaming you,” Harry whisper-shouted towards Savannah. Reyna stuck up her finger at him, thinking his comment was directed towards her. “Oi! I wasn’t even talking about you.”

“That was rude, Rey,” Savannah felt inclined to agree with Harry.

“When we get out of this hellhole, I’m kicking both your asses,” she replied back to them before turning away and directing her focus towards the screen.

From beside her, Louis let out a loud laugh, “Ha ha, you’re both getting your asses kicked.”

“I’ll kick your ass too,” she glared at Louis.

“Oi!” someone called out from a couple of rows in front of them. “Shut up or I’m calling security!”

It was just over an hour later when the film finished and Savannah was more than ready to get out of there, only to have Harry pull her back down. “What?” she glared, anxious to get out of the cinema and away from the dirty looks people were throwing at her.

“There’s an end scene,” he whispered, tugging her arm until she’d sat back down.

“Don’t tell me you’ve already seen it, too,” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I haven’t,” he shook his head. “But all Marvel films have end scenes,” he shrugged, turning back to the screen.

“I can’t believe you guys made me stay back to watch that thirty second clip of nothing,” she glared at Harry as they finally made their way out.

“If I hadn’t, someone else would have,” he shrugged completely unperturbed.

Savannah huffed and folded her arms across her chest as she followed him to his car, making Harry laugh.

“You can’t fool us, Sav,” Alexa nudged her. “You enjoyed the movie.”

“Yeah, what I saw of it,” she scoffed. “I’m honestly surprised we weren’t thrown out. I’m never going to the cinema with you lot ever again.”

“How are you going to get there on your own?” Alexa quirked an eyebrow. “You know, since you don’t have a car... or drive for that matter.”

“I’ll take the bus.”

“Wait, you can’t drive?” Harry demanded, unlocking the car.

“How do you get around?” Zayn asked, settling into the passenger seat beside Harry.

“She makes me drive her,” Alexa rolled her eyes.

“Hey, sometimes I walk or take public transport,” she pouted. “Yeah, like once a week.”

“We need to teach you how to drive,” Harry mused, reversing and waiting for Louis to cruise up behind them before they left the parking lot.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Lex muttered. “Rey and I tried to teach her plenty of times.”

“So anyway,” Sav interrupted. “Where are we going now?”

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged. “Home probably.”

“Good. I have an lectures to work on and work later this evening,” Alexa nodded approvingly.

“The semester’s barely started,” Harry said, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

“And I’m determined not to fall behind.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Savannah mumbled as she texted away on her phone.

“Coming from the girl who has all her notes colour coded,” Alexa snorted from beside her.

“Oi, it helps me remember!”

“Or it could just be your OCD peaking,” Lex retorted.

“Man, I wish I was that organised,” Zayn sighed from the front seat, shooting a disapproving look at Harry as he drove over a roundabout.

“We’re going to die,” Savannah muttered, all thoughts of flying out her head as she looked up to watch Harry drive.

AN: i’ll keep this one short and sweet, let us know what you thought of the chapter!! 

[unavenged-robin]

Family portraits

Batfamweek 2017, day #1: family.

Read on AO3

It starts with a casual comment, one that shouldn’t bother him so much. And it doesn’t. Not right away.

“You don’t have any photo on your desk”, the new girl says. She started working at WE two weeks ago and Tim thinks her name is Kathy, or July, or something like that. He’ll pick it up eventually. Now he just blinks up at her from behind the pile of reports he’s working on.

“Sorry?”

She bits her bottom lip, now looking embarrassed at her own straightforwardness, and vaguely gestures at his desk again.

“No photos”, she repeats. “People usually have photos on their desk. Family. Girlfriends or boyfriends. You know?”

Family, girlfriends, boyfriends. Yes, Tim knows.

“Well”, he smiles politely. “I’m just trying not to look like I’m fifty and live only for my work, to the point to spend all my time in my office and need photographic reminders of what my family looks like.”

Kathy or July or something like that frowns at him.

“Beside, my family is really ugly”, Tim continues, going for less subtle sarcasm, but the joke doesn’t really comes out his mouth as a joke, and KathyJulySomethingLikeThat looks more confused than before.

“Mister Wayne Senior is not ugly”, she argues.

Tim doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or scoff at that.

“No, Bruce is not ugly, I suppose.”

“And he has a lot of framed photos on his desk”, KathyJulySomethingLikeThat points out.

“That he does”, Tim agrees weakly and there must be something in his voice, an undertone of, what?, bitter irony or hidden resentment, something Tim’s too tired to keep in check and away from other to see, and the result is that they look uncomfortably at each other for a moment and then the girl blushes.

“My apologies, Mister Wayne”, she says. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Tim. And don’t- it’s okay, really”, Tim sighs. “You do have a point, Kathy.”

“My name’s Ju-”

“July, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Jude”, the girls finishes.

“Right. Jude. Uh”, Tim feels like he’s blushing too, now. “Great talk, Jude. I hope you like working here.”

“I’d say so”, Jude agrees, settling a box full of documents against her hip to open the door of Tim’s office. “I’ve been working here for two years now.”

Tim doesn’t know how to answer to that so he just buries his face behind a ledger and wishes to never meet her again.

*

He forgets about the awkward conversation for a couple of days, until he comes back to his office and cleans out the last pile of documents waiting for his signature.

That’s when he finds out that they now bothers him, the empty corners of his desk.

He stares at it in its entirety: files folder and memo holders, laptop and mouse pad perfectly aligned, dozens of different pens stashed in their pen pots depending on their color, the gold plate with his name engraved in it in elegant cursive and… well, nothing else without the skyscrapers of pending work.

Tim’s never had a desk so organized before in his entire life. He supposes that it marries well with his professional image, and yet it still bothers him to no end.

Also, he used to love photography. Having pictures all around like little windows on the past, familiar faces keeping him company during long nights and exhausting days. When did he lost that? When did he start to have empty corners and empty walls?

Probably when you started losing people to fill them with, he answers to himself, then shakes his head.

He asks for all the review files of their new acquisitions to be brought into his office. It’s basically half of the current year archive, enough stuff to keep an entire department busy for a month. He dismisses his secretary’s frown at the dozens of boxes now decorating his office with a tired smile.

*

The next week he’s already breaking even with the work, so he brings a photo of Stephanie for a test drive.

She’s not doing anything particular in it, just fixing her hair with one hand, barely smiling, looking like she’s a million light years away, but it’s still one of Tim’s favorite. And it’s nice to have it there. Really nice.

He keeps it.

*

He tries adding a photo of his parents on their wedding day. Has to take it off right away and hide it in the bottom drawer. It still hurts too much.

*

With Kon he doesn’t even bother to try. He has dozens of photos of him and he never even looks at them, only smiles at their memory. No way he could bear to have that painful reminder framed and displayed on his desk like that.

Beside, most of them are not appropriate to be shown in a professional environment anyway.

*

Stephanie sends him a photo of her and Cass wearing ridiculous crazy hats and laughing like mad women, and Tim smiles, prints it and adds it to his desk without thinking too much about it.

Now he has two photos of his girlfriend and one of his sister, and it feels right. Normal-right. Enough not to make him look like a sociopath to his coworkers, at least.

*

A few days later he tries again with a second set of parents. He says to himself that it’s out of obligation and not much else. Bruce and Alfred stare at him with a serious but not unkind look, and a younger version of himself smiles at Tim from his spot in the middle of them. It’s what it used to look like, long, long time ago, when Dick was often too busy for them and Jason and Damian were both still hidden threats.

He brushes the glass with his fingertips, ready to put that one away too, but in the end he doesn’t. This hurts too, but it’s a different kind of hurt, one he can bear to look at. One that he learned to live with.

*

He debates with himself about his brothers. They’re visibly missing now, but Tim has mixed feelings about it, to use an euphemism.

Also, he discovers straightaway that he doesn’t have any photo of them. The gallery of his phone is full of memes and snapchat’s photo from his friends, Stephanie and Cass, but not much else. So, even if he’s still dubious about it, he does the only sensible thing he can think about: he hacks Dick’s phone.

And Dick doesn’t fail him, for once. There are so many half-naked selfies of him that Tim could assemble three or four numbers of a new porn magazine out of them. Which sounds like a great revenge plan, if he’d ever need one. Dick better not piss him off too badly.

But looking at the photos, Tim finds himself smiling for a reason that totally has something to do with how much he used to love this man, his first and only brother for so many years. Not that Tim doesn’t love him still, but he just doesn’t remember how it feels like, to look at Dick and feel only amazement and affection, instead of the bittersweet mix of anger and nostalgia he feels now.

Lots of Dick’s selfies include Damian too. Obviously. And the brat always looks annoyed or exasperated in them, but Tim knows better. He can see the little twitches at the corners of Damian’s mouth, the soft arch of his eyebrows like he’s really trying for a scowl but can’t feel it, no matter how hard he tries. It’s... cute. It’s also weird as hell to see, because surely enough Tim’s never had one of those soft expressions ever thrown his way. That’s why, in the end, he decides to add one of those photos to his ever-growing collection: it’s not too bad to remind himself that Damian’s changed too.

Another reason, Tim acknowledges while fixing the last framed picture closer to the Bruce and Alfred’s one, is that it’s difficult for him to think of one without the other. And strangely, that doesn’t hurt as much as it used too.

*

Adding Jason is now a question of integrity.

Dick’s photos of him are all meant to be blackmail material, so Tim has no use for them. And the photo Tim himself has of Jason date back to a time none of them like to remember, even if for different reasons.

And it’s still stupid, but it’s also a project, now. One that Tim’s liking because he’s doing it for himself, even if it didn’t start that way. So one night after patrol, when they’re hanging out in their civvies in Jason’s apartment, drinking beers and playing video games, Tim just takes his phone out of his pocket and gestures for Jason to get closer.

“What?”, his brother asks, tilting his head to get a look at what Tim’s doing, and when he sees him open the camera app, flip it and hold the phone as far away for them he gives Tim an incredulous look.

“Are you serious now?”, he asks again.

Tim only shrugs.

“It’s what cool kids do nowadays, didn’t you know?”

“Tim, you’re not a cool kid.”

“Neither are you, Jason.”

“Excuse you, you are the one begging to do a selfie with me”, Jason taunts him, but his grin is more full of fondness than mockery.

“I’m not begging”, Tim retorts. Just shut up and try not to look too emo.”

He pays the photo with a cuff on the back of his head and twenty more minutes of teasing. Overall is not too high of a price.

*

“You’re running out of space here”, a known voice says, and Tim looks up in time to spot the smile on the new girl’s face. Jude, he remembers to himself. And she’s not new.

“My family takes up a lot of space”, he agrees, shifting his gaze from her to the collection of framed photos in front of him. There are at least ten now, standing on his desk. Barbara, Duke, Harper, Titus… they are all there now. Turns out that once you start, it’s difficult to stop. The walls are getting crowded too.

Most of the new photos Tim took by himself, and nobody protested his renewed interest in photography. Well, he had to pay Damian in photos of his pets in order to make him not smash his camera, but even that wasn’t so bad in the end (and Damian’s pet are better behaved than Damian himself anyway, so win-win).

“Can I?”, Jude asks and Tim nods at her with half a smile. The girl steps around the desk to get a better look, and she’s silent for a few minutes, examining the pictures one by one.

“I have to say that they’re not ugly at all”, she comments eventually. “You actually look like a family of super models.”

“That’s what we do at night”, Tim agrees solemnly, finding it very difficult to suppress a laugh. “Just don’t go tell it to anyone, okay?”

[whitesilverandmercury]

Just fuck me up with a Klance exes meeting again after not speaking for years au pls

fic prompts ☆ fuck me up here

disclaimers: don’townprompt: see above, @slotheyes hope you like ;)a/n: bc keith as a barista with that stupid little ponytail and lance wearing a star wars t-shirt was the first thing i saw, pls excuse my ridiculous music references, what i listen to as i write always goes into the finished product bc i’m a dweeb

also☆ here ☆on AO3

BITTER SHOTS.

There are plenty of awkward moments in life, some moremortifying than others, some less. Falling up the stairs. Swimming into someoneelse’s lost Band-Aid at the public pool. Working at a late-night coffee shop ona slow, soggy Tuesday evening — hiss and grind of espresso machine, rattle andclink of dishes in the sink, soft hum of the building’s heater overlaying shopmusic as the last few regulars pack up, last few non-regulars drift out, ato-goer hurries with his umbrella poised to open — and turning around fromwashing some house mugs to find your high school ex staring at you from theother side of the Square tablet and register.

Keith stops short, dish towel still crumpled in dried hands,and stares at Lance as Lance stares back, kind of frozen half-leaning on thecounter, one shoulder cocked, free hand hovering forgotten at his side.

“Oh,” Lance says, slight lilt of surprise. “Uh, hey.”

“Hi,” Keith replies.

“You work here?”

Keith raises his brows slowly.

Face pinching, Lance issues a tight little chuckle. “Ha, I mean,obviously you work here. Duh.”

There is a short standoff — though devoid of the samepotential for violence, just an awkward moment of uncertainty, on edge, afriction between them as Lance runs his hands through his burnt cinnamon hairto lace his fingers at the back of his neck and Keith shifts his weight to onefoot and then the other, palms pressed to the counter, shoulders bunched up.

Overhead, soft and low from the shop speakers, musicbounces through the quiet, dulls the clink of more dishes being washed in theback, machine parts being cleaned and air-dried. Keith hooked up his phone tothe stereo not too long ago, music on shuffle — this is Clairity, infectiousbeat, smooth voice, synthpop. One of those retro-spacey-sexy sort of songs. I’m dancing with my elbows, I hack into yourcell phone, the cool kids got those shell-toes, but I look good in Velcro —And it is so comically unfitting for this moment that it is awkward in its ownhilarious right and it kind of uncoils the tension in his shoulders becausewhat a fucking movie moment, right?  

Lance McClain, class of 2014 heartthrob, varsity baseballteam star pitcher, throat firmed up a little and his chest broadened, buthis face is still smooth and soft as ever, those stormy blue eyes and darkbrows. Lance McClain in a thin, rain-freckled anorak jacket and open hoodie, Star Wars shirt underneath, while Keithgawks from his side of the coffee bar, dark hair pulled back in a stub of ahalf-back that is all the ponytail he can get without pieces falling loose atthe nape of his neck, at his ears, across his brow. Black T-shirt and blackjeans, scuffed floral-printed Converse, the toes of which are milk-stained andsyrup-sticky, like the tiny hip-apron he’s already taken off for the night andtossed in the back. And the synth beat bounces on.

Fall asleep to techno,I make up my own tempo, a prom date told me hell no —

Glances dance around, swerving too close, veering away,avoiding. Evading. There’s a guy that came in with Lance, off by the sofas atthe window, busy on the phone. Landmine. Field of emotional landmines.

“So what do you want?” Keith asks.

Lance laughs, his awkward laugh, that slightlyraspy, edge of sarcasm chuckle. “Man,” he says, “just as chipper as ever, huh? I mean, I want coffee, obviously, this is a coffee shop. I know it’s late forcoffee, but, you know, long day, long night — ”

“Yeah,” Keith grunts, “I mean what do you want, what are youordering?”

Flustered, Lancechuckles again, this one more kneejerk and genuine. Just a little open-mouthedgrin and knotted brow. A smile tugs at the corner of Keith’s mouth; he bites itback, almost unsuccessfully.

“Yeah, can I get … ” The smile goes out like a light andLance twists around to the guy near the windows. “Hunk, what did you want?”

The guy — Hunk, apparently — leans away from his phone callto say: “House dark, black.” His big brown eyes veer to Keith; his face dimplesin a friendly smile, apologetic. “If you still have some. You don’t have tomake a new brew or anything!”

Keith doesn’t wait for Lance to repeat the order. “You likeFrench press?” he asks. “It’ll be fresher for you.”

“Sure,” Hunk says.

Keith pulls over the coffee grinder, eyes flickering up tothe guy and back to Lance and down to the coffee again. He knows. It’s beenthree years and he can still read Lance like the Highlights back page scavenger hunt when you’re a kid sitting alonein the dentist’s office —

“So what are you up to?”

Keith cuts Lance a look as he rolls open a bag of wholebeans, the smell blooming rich and sweet below his nose. “What, now? Or inlife?”  

Lance inclines his chin, shrugs limply, shoves his hands inhis pockets. “Both,” he suggests, and cracks one of his uniquely charmingsmiles. A little more subdued now, less reckless and misplaced. It’s weird and terrifying how much he’s grown up in three years when Keith doesn’t feel like he has himself, at all. 

“Well.” Keith straightens, tossing hair out of his eyesbefore flipping on the grinder. Through the growl of it, his eyes roam theempty coffee shop, the few little sweeping piles waiting to be dusted intobroom pan, half the tables with chairs stacked, leather sofas near the window,repurposed patio lights strung along the one brick wall. His gaze finds Lanceagain and he presses his mouth in a firm line, raising his brows. “Working,” hereplies dryly. “Or, trying to. I’m in the middle of closing, but. You know,customers.”

Lance snaps his tongue against the roof of his mouth, alittle tch sound as he gives Keith apointed look. Ha ha, that look says. Funny.

Keith can’t bite back a grin fast enough so he tries to hideit, but he knows Lance saw it. Some sort of tension releases in Lance’sshoulders for it. He drums his knuckles on the counter, smiling faintly inturn.

“School,” Keith says then as he adds the hot water to theFrench press and starts a pocket timer. “I’m graduating next spring. Trying todecide whether I want to accrue more debt for grad school or not.”

“Oh, right on.”

“What about you?”

Lance rolls his shoulders back in a little shrug, heaving along sigh as if unsure whether his reply is appropriate for a firstconversation after three years. Always so exaggerative. Always so entertaining.Finally he says, “Well, I really want to go to school for film, but I’m puttingit off for a little bit … ”

“I meant your drink,” Keith murmurs. “But … also all that.”

Lance flushes faint pink, stutter of sheepish laughter. “Oh.Uh … ”

Keith watches him grind his tongue along the ridge of histeeth as his eyes scan the chalk board menu overhead. Dishes rattling in theback. On the shop stereo — Nobody wantsto dance with me, don’t wanna dance with nobody, I don’t wanna dance withnobody … Rain whispers at the window. Hunk laughs, on the phone. Lancegrinds and grinds his tongue and Keith remembers how he tastes like metal afterthat, tastes like blood, and at one side, he picks at his thumbnail with hismiddle fingernail and Keith snaps, “You’re doing that thing with your mouth youdo when you’re nervous. Why are you nervous?”

With a flutter of lashes, Lance jumps just a breath or two,before his face pinches in gentle defense. “I’m not nervous, I feel pressured.You’re staring at me and I don’t know what I want to drink. Surprise me.” Morewords hover on his lower lip for a moment, and his face darkens a tiny bit more— no, he retreats, and when Lance’s smile retreats like the tide, it makes Keith nervous. Nice to know that muchhasn’t changed, either. It’s very weird to feel like he knows him yet doesn’tknow him. He is like a ghost. Ghost of a first kiss, ghost of dark bedroom,blue sheets, making out in the high school black box theater, brush of tanskin, midnight laughter, the unopened condom that got lost between the mattress and thewall, borrowed shirt smelling like laundry detergent, deodorant, skin, the waysunlight fell at a slant across a book in a coffee shop and lit dark hair aburnt cinnamon sort of color —

“And yes,” Lance husks, eyes burning into Keith. “Yes, I’mnervous. I didn’t expect to run into you. At all. Are you happy now?”

Are you happy now?

It’s probably supposed to be sarcasm, defiance. There, happy now? But it comes out likehe’s asking something else. His voice is thick. He says Are you happy now? and it doesn’t feel like attitude.  

Are you happy now?

Without me?

And that’s not fair. They were seventeen, eighteen. Theywere dumb and they were teenagers and dumb teenagers crazy in love are neveractually in love, love comes after, when the maelstrom of hormones levels out,and attraction softens from obsession into something more rational, lessdesperate, more lucid and focused, and queer awakenings are always fucking hard—

“Yeah, I’m happy,” Keith says. His voice tries to flattenitself to the roof of his mouth. He clears his throat. “But I wasn’t unhappy. With you.”

Lance doesn’t seem to know what tosay. His eyes flicker elsewhere, anywhere else, and Keith wonders if it’sbecause he didn’t mean to ask that,if he didn’t want to ask that, or if he secretly, subconsciously asked anddidn’t realize until Keith answered.

“Are you?” Keith saysnext over the grind and hiss of the espresso machine, tapping Lance’s to-go cupon the counter idly to channel the mild discomfort somewhere. Mildguilt. Mild frustration. Mild excitement to see him even if he feels like aghost. Mild regret for the things said, the things done. Mild ache forunfinished business. Stale resentment that just doesn’t feel as satisfyinganymore, not at all.

“Yeah.” Lance nods resolutely. “Yeah, I’m doing good.”

“Good.” Keith nudges the bar fridge shut and pours milk intothe steam pitcher with one hand, stirs Hunk’s French press with the other. Overhead,the music — new alt-J, Deadcrush.  

Keith finishes Hunk’s drink, snaps the wand down into the pitcherof milk for Lance and as the shriek of steam rips between them, he sighs. Tosses the dampsanitizer rag hand to hand, hooks one ankle around the other and leansagainst the counter, tipping his head and waiting for Lance to meet his eyes.

“So,” he says, nostalgic smirk plucking at the corner of hismouth, “did you spill coffee all over himto pick him up, too?”

Lance scoffs, kind roll of the eyes. Ah, the bittersweetability to laugh about things in the past, not quite comfortable but distancedenough. “No,” he says. But then herealizes he’s admitted without even admitting, and he scrambles to save face.“Wait — what? What do you mean? Who?”

Typical Lance. Such a well-meaning dummy sometimes. AndKeith had really been hoping that what happened between them might have changedsomething. Make all that shit at the end worthwhile. But now he’s worried that’s not the case. He nods towards the guy waitingpatiently at the window, still on the phone speaking rhythmic andbeautiful that Keith guesses is something Native, or Islander. Pretty, whateverit is. The guy, Hunk, he laughs and it is the sweetest sort of man giggle thatsomehow goes perfectly with guys like him, real bears in stature, broad anddense, yet somehow soft at the same time.

Keith finds Lance’s eyes again, raising his brows as if tosay, New type?

Lance is blushing and flustered and tongue-tied for a momentand that is enough of an answer. Keith smiles to himself, satisfied by that. Hetransfers the foamed milk, follows with espresso shots over top.

“Fuck, Keith, you know that was an accident,” Lance mumbles,meaning the spilled coffee, at a different coffee shop, on a different day. Theday they first met, actually. Spillcoffee all over him to pick him up, too?

Keith’s smile broadens to an idle grin, tiny flash of teeth, chuckle like half a breath. He knows it was an accident. Hejust doesn’t think he’ll ever stop giving Lance shit about it.

“At least he didn’t give me a fake number like you did,”Lance mutters.

Keith leaves the spoon in the milk pitcher and grabs the seasalt sprinkles, the bottle of sweet drizzle. He laughs, tapping one toe behindhis heel, in the same realm as twiddling one’s thumbs when guilty of notfeeling guilty. “I was being cautious,” he reminds Lance playfully, and itgives him pause, the way Lance looks at him as if hearing him laugh issomething in which he’d lost hope.  

But Lance recovers quickly, picks back upthe teasing after a moment.“Did you do that to your new boyfriend?”

“No.”

Lance slaps a hand on the counter gently, points a finger.“Aha! So you have a new boyfriend, too — ”

“Hey, babe,” Shiro starts saying, poking out from around thecorner near the sink, where front of house becomes back of house, his hair afinger-combed mess and a splash here and there from the back sink on his shirt.And if that is not the most typical, yet cruelest joke of perfect timing life could play —

Keith jumps, almost drops the milk pitcher and spoon on hisway to the sink, and Shiro sees the last two customers of the night andhis tired informality instantly recoils back into assistant managerprofessionalism, a more reserved and responsible sort of sociability — embarrassedfor saying babe in front ofcustomers, unprofessional as he fears it is. He clears his throat and saysunder his breath so he doesn’t make the to-goers feel rushed, “You wrapping upafter this?”

“Yeah, I mean, I have to finish cleaning and then I’ve gotto pull the till and stuff … ”

“I’ll do that for you, just let me know when you’re done.”

“Okay.”  

Shiro smiles, nods at Lance, at Hunk, and ducks back ofhouse again. In his wake, Keith stands at the sink staring at Lance and Lancestands at the counter staring at Keith and there is nothing but blushing andstaring and the hum of music in the background.

Finally, Keith says, “What do you want to ask me?”

Lance blinks, face pinching. “What? Huh?”

“You’re doing it again, that thing with your tongue that youdo when you want to say something but you won’t.”

Lance doesn’t even hesitate; his face goes cool and evenlike the bay on a windless night and he says flatly, “You went ghost,Keith. You just … stopped talking to me.”

Keith opens his mouth to reply, but there is nothing. Littlepause, dimple of guilt, skittish glance — eyes darting away lest Lance catchthe chagrin, the remorse, the lingering injustice on his end. A cold, grimfrown more like the husk of a pout blooms on his face. He shifts his weightfrom foot to foot, slipping his hands in his back pockets and finally findingLance’s eyes again.

“I mean, think about what happened,” he says half throughhis teeth, but it is not cruel. It is a bruise.

Lance nods slowly; now it’s his turn to slide his gaze away,brow knotted. Eyes churning like the tides. Keith knows that shadow. He feelslike it’s his fault. He knows it’s not. Not entirely. Lance cares. Keith knowshe cares. He cares too much. He always has. And it’s not like Keith is any lessguilty of his own crimes.

Clearing his throat, Lance points to thehot drinks, still behind the counter. Keith crosses back over, passing themforth.

“You want to, you know, catch up sometime or something? Getcoffee?” Lance says, just shy of his usual confidence — and not because he’s nervous,but because he just seems tired. “I miss you.”

He throws it in there so simply. Keith bristles, cutting hima look. His stomach pinches; his heart bottoms out fast and brief beforelurching back to his chest. I miss you.

“This isn’t a young adult novel, or a rom-com or something,Lance. We’re not getting back together.”

“Wow,” Lance saysthrough his first sip of coffee, smack of lips and wide, stunned eyes. “Bitteras fuck.”

Keith scowls. “What?”

“The coffee,” Lance parries, flash of a glance. “The helldid you make me?”

“Sea salt and hazelnut macchiato.” Keith crosses his arms,leaning back against the counter. “Sorry, I must have burned your shots,” hemumbles, because it was definitely a shitty thing he just said, a selfish andself-centered assumption. Little bit humiliating, considering the way Lancelooked at him like he is crazy for even suspecting such ulterior motives. Getting back together. Like it’soffensive or something. And really, it is, to accuse him of that. Foot inmouth, for sure.

“Nah, I’m kidding.” Lance waves a hand and digs for hiswallet. “This place has the best coffee.”

“You come here a lot?”

“In the morning.”

“Oh. Yeah. I always work nights.”

“I just meant I miss you as a person.”

Keith freezes up again, this time in the most defenseless ofways, almost a flinch as the words cut straight to his soul swift and sharp asan arrow. Miss you as a person.

“I’m different,” he blurts, because three years’ worth ofwords are crowding in his throat but he will not speak them. Cannot. Not here,not tonight, not first thing. “I mean, I’m different than I was. We wereeighteen, Lance. And I’m sure you’re different, too.”

Nothing but the music and the staring again.

Hunk ends his phone call and starts wandering over. Lancejumps. “Oh, shit — Hunk, I have your coffee,” he says, motioning. He pulls outhis debit card.

Keith waves it away. “We can get coffee,” he concedes, voicefrail but not flat. He glances at Hunk, who looks perfectly confused but notbothered enough to invade their conversation. “And catch up. Sometime. Yeah?”

Lance falls still. He looks at Keith, looks at him but doesn’treally seem to see him. Waiting, perhaps, for the punch line. Wondering if it’sa good idea. Regretting asking, maybe. But then he smiles, and it’s no sunbreaking free of the clouds but it’s warm enough. “Cool,” he says. “Cool, Ilike that idea. Okay. Well, I’ll see you around, then.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Bye, Keith.”

“Have a good night, guys.”

Lingering eyes, pause heavy with words like the clouds hadbeen heavy with rain all day. Apology. Vindication. Stubbornness on both endsto say it aloud. What happened. Thinkabout what happened. You stopped talkingto me. We’re different so maybe it’s okay to be friends again —

Yes, they are very different now. And, now, thinking back onit, Keith isn’t sure they were ever friends to begin with. Not like peopleprobably should be before they start doing things together, anyway. And datingLance was like playing on the shore in a storm, and dating himself, heimagines, is like playing with matches, and it’s been three years but if hehasn’t forgotten what it felt like drowning, then he’s sure Lance has notforgotten what it feels like to be burned.

But — Keith sort of feels like he knows how to swim now, andit sort of seems like Lance has learned to play with fire.

So maybe the shots won’t pull so bitter next time.

end.