#also having to help my dad through some awful paperwork and the person who's SUPPOSED to be helping him is just ignoring him

[invisiblerhythmcat]

we've hit the point of bad brain where I forget to eat a second after saying "I should eat" and identifying exactly what I will eat

this is tons of fun

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Underground Tomb edition!)

Hello friends and degenerate sinners, this is basically a mini headcanon set for Luci’s kid!MC about how the incident with Luke and the Grimoire would go down in this AU to tide you all over until Part 3 comes out! Enjoy!

It was a normal night in the good ol’ HOL... Lucifer was doing paperwork at an ungodly hour of the night, Beel was in the kitchen, and Mammon was screaming and running for dear life. Ah... sweet normalcy.

The custard incident remained the same, MC got force-fed custard and Beel threw a truly fantastic hunger tantrum that culminated in the wall connecting to MC’s room collapsing.

Cue lecture from Luci-father.

“I am very disappointed in you three.” Lucifer rubbed his temples as MC, Beel, and Mammon awkwardly stood in his room. Mammon of course, was trying to avoid the death glares MC was giving him. Poor bastard.

“Especially you two, MC and Beel.”

“Whuh?!” Mammon sputtered. “What about me?!”

“I expect this from you. These two on the other hand,” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at MC who was awkwardly trying to suppress a laugh at Mammon’s aghast expression. “Should know not to act like this.”

“We’re *snrk* sorry, father,” MC paused to try and muscle through a giggle. “It won’t happen again.”

“He ate my custard...” Beel pouted.

“So, MC won’t be able to use their room anymore due to the wall... collapsing.” Lucifer gave Beel a pointed glare.

Mammon smirked, and if he were sitting on a couch, we would have leaned back and kicked his feet up. “Well, obviously since I’m a kind and generous soul I’ll open up my room for poor MC to stay in. My babysittin’ rates are quite high though-”

“BABYSITTING?!” MC snarled, giving Mammon a death glare that could probably kill lesser demons.

Lucifer felt a twinge of pride upon seeing his child give someone his signature bone-chilling glare, if he weren’t supposed to be disappointed he would have given MC a pat on the head and let them hang Mammon from the ceiling.

“Uh- heh- MC, I’m your favourite uncle! Me babysittin’ ya should be an honour!” Mammon was sweating bullets and desperately looking to Beel for help.

“Levi is rapidly approaching favourite uncle status.” MC crossed their arms and huffed.

“Levi?! Wait- does that mean I was your favourite-”

Lucifer was almost tempted to stick MC in Mammon’s room just to have MC punish Mammon so he could get some sleep, tragically, his common sense won out. “MC will be staying with Beel. He has an extra bed in his room after all.”

MC looked over at Beel and smiled. “Could be worse, right? I’ll replace the custard.”

Beel’s smile upon hearing the last part could have lit up the entire Devildom. What a sweetie.

MC still chilled in Beel’s room. They finally got to ask more questions about Belphie, and Beel is more inclined to share what’s up because MC is his big bro’s kid after all!

Because of MC’s half demon-ness, they hadn’t met Belphie at that point in the story unlike in canon. They were just curious about their missing uncle. They ALSO already knew what Belphie looks like because Lucifer gave them an in depth tour of everything and he pointed out all the portraits.

MC, being the sadistic sweetheart they are, went out and bought themselves and Beel replacement custard. MC made sure to eat it right in front of Mammon.

But my oh my, who was texting them? *gasp!* Luke!

MC obviously let their little angel buddy into the house (Luke did not know about MC’s parental situation at that point, keep that in mind). Luke was fun to tease a little after all! And it was nice to have another kid around, but MC would never admit it.

Since MC had literally no reason to be afraid of their dear old dad, they went right up to him and asked him if Luke could stay over. No fear.

“Father?” MC leaned on the doorway to the backyard, Lucifer was playing fetch with Cerberus. MC had never seen someone play fetch so robotically.

“Yes, MC?” Cerberus’ middle head dropped a slobber covered squeaky toy into Lucifer’s gloved hand, the other two heads snapped at the middle one.

“Can I have a friend over?” MC asked, trotting over to give Cerberus some pets. On the first day the dog had tried to eat them, but after giving him some much tastier bacon treats, Cerberus was sweet as pie. Murderous and dangerous pie, that is.

“Do I know this friend?”

“Yes, it’s Luke. Can he stay over?”

Lucifer wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. “Cerberus is right here, you have access to a dog. Why on earth would you bring the chihuahua over?”

MC snorted and gave Cerberus’ right head some scratches behind the ears. “He’s not a chihuahua all the time, come on, it’s for the good of the exchange program!”

The two had a stare down for a little while, and to his absolute horror, Lucifer felt his resolve cracking. This child of his was too adorable for their own good. “Fine, MC.”

“Yes!” MC fist pumped as Cerberus’ middle and left heads tried to join in on the ear scritches.

“But note,” Lucifer continued. “I expect a full report to give to Lord Diavolo on this whole experience.”

MC frowned and debated sticking their tongue out at their father, they decided against it. “A paper? On a sleepover? Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Lucifer gave MC a flick on the nose. “Like you said, it has to do with the exchange program. Now go make sure the chihuahua doesn’t die and leave you with a mess to clean up.”

The look of complete terror Luke gave MC when they told him that Lucifer said he could stay over was completely worth the paper they were going to have to write.

“What?! You weren’t supposed to tell him I’m here!”

“He said you could stay.”

“Why?! Oh no... did he demand your soul as payment or something?! MC! You shouldn’t have put yourself in that nasty demon’s debt! Don’t worry, I’ll get your soul back somehow.”

MC should have been offended... but they weren’t. I mean, could you stay mad at Luke when he just offered to fight arguably the second most powerful demon in the Devildom to get your soul back?

Now that Luke’s presence in the house was known to everyone, the challenge was no longer keeping Luke hidden, it was making sure Luke didn’t say anything that would get him killed and making sure none of the demon bros made Luke cry.

Mammon was the main culprit of the teasing because Lucifer actually had better things to do. And he had a (totally not a) date with Diavolo so he’d be back late and wouldn’t be home to tease the chihuahua.

Mammon’s status as favourite uncle was hanging by a thread by the end of the first day.

Asmo thought Luke was positively adorable and also very annoying. He offered to paint MC and Luke’s nails. Luke declined, but MC was all for it. (Their cuticles were a MESS by the way, they needed the manicure.)

Luke’s nails were painted gold to match the gold on his outfit! Asmo was quite proud of his work, and was very offended when he was not allowed to try and braid Luke’s hair.

“It looks so soft!”

“You’re not allowed to touch my hair, demon!”

Satan still disliked MC on the basis that they were just a mini-Lucifer and hung out in his room or the library to avoid them and Luke.

It was incredibly annoying when Luke and MC burst into the library to look for cookbooks and treat recipes after Luke told MC about his baking endeavours. Satan debated ordering a pair of ear plugs on Akuzon...

Or perhaps a laser gun...

Both would make him stop hearing the children’s grating voices.

“You two, be quiet.”

“We haven’t spoken since we got in here...”

“You’re breathing too loud.”

Beel remained the only brother who was actually decent to Luke, they all played Go Fish in Beel’s room.

Levi was in his room playing his new video game just like in canon, but he could hear Luke and MC running around outside his room.

He was fully prepared to do that introvert thing where you stay in your room until you hear someone say goodbye to the guest.

Levi’s eyes were glued to his computer screen, just eight more skeleton monsters to kill and he’d get the achievement! His attention crumbled the moment he heard the dreaded sound of...

Guests...

“Hey MC! Whose room is this?”

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall caused Levi to jump in his seat. Oh no... his worst fears were realized! There was another person in the house!

“That’s Asmodeus’ room. Luke you shouldn’t go around opening everyone’s doors-”

The sound of another door opening and shutting made Levi pause his game and look at Henry 2.0 for help. Maybe if he jumped into the tank and wrapped himself in his tail he’d camouflage into his surroundings...

BAM!

AAAAA! Not enough time! The guest was drawing nearer... he was going to have to... *barf*... SOCIALIZE!

“How about this room?”

Levi braced himself for the incoming social contact... Fs in the chat everyone...

“We shouldn’t bother Levi, let’s do something else.”

HAJEKDJSJSJSJD- BEEL! BEEL JUST SAVED LEVI’S LIFE!

The poor third born slumped back in his seat, the awfulness of socialization avoided. He uh... hadn’t actually left his room in maybe three days... maybe he should actually go outside... enjoy the nonexistent sunlight, y’know?

...nah. Levi went back to his game.

Since the kitchen was broken, Beel, MC, and Luke went out and get AkuDonald’s. They were all out of the toy that Luke and MC wanted so that trip was a disaster! A disaster I say!

Just the image of Beel happily chomping on his eighth burger while Luke and MC angrily pick at their fries makes me want to laugh.

Now the question you’re all waiting for, did Lucifer try and kill Luke and Beel and then MC for trying to take the Grimoire?

N O

“Whose room is behind that door?” Luke pointed to the door to the attic staircase.

MC shrugged and hit their knuckles against the door a few times. “It’s just the door to the attic. My uh- Lucifer said not to go up there because it’s just full of old junk.”

Normally MC would scoff at the idea of being told what not to do and do it out of spite, but MC was a child, and like most children, they hated scary attics. They hadn’t even attempted to open the door in the month they had lived in the house.

“Hm, maybe he’s hiding something...” Luke puffed out his cheeks and knocked on the door. When met with no answer, Luke turned the doorknob. The door creaked open, and the two peeked inside.

A tall spiral staircase greeted them as they tentatively stepped inside. Not so-good Lord, the room was freezing, but it didn’t seem to bother Luke as he walked further into the room.

“What do you think’s up there?” Luke asked, craning his neck to try and get a look at what could be at the top of the stairs.

MC shuddered and crossed their arms. “Like Lucifer said, junk. Nothing important.”

There was a tingling feeling at the base of MC’s neck, their hand flew to the spot only to find nothing, but the uneasiness didn’t cease. Something was very... very off. A shudder creeped up their spine as Luke stepped closer to the staircase.

“Come on,” Luke tutted, placing a hand on the railing. “Demons are known liars!”

Luke was quite difficult to be friends with sometimes, MC had to admit.

With every step Luke took up the stairs, the sense of dread brewing in MC’s gut grew, but they remained rooted to the spot, it was almost like something was physically stopping them from getting closer to those stairs.

Luke stopped on the sixth step and craned his neck to look up again. “Hello?” He called out.

His little voice echoed up the staircase, he was met with no reply for a moment, until a massive shudder wracked both his and MC’s spines.

“Hello.” A voice replied.

Quick as lightning MC dove forward, taking three steps up the stairs despite what felt like electric shocks stabbing into their skin, and yanked Luke back down the stairs and out the door, closing it behind them. MC heard a lazy, carefree chuckle reverberate through their head, and a message that only MC could hear.

“Leaving so soon, Lucifer?”

...

Spooky right?

Anyway- back to Luke and MC being idiots together.

They headed back to Beel’s room to watch some Devildom kid shows, I assume Tom and Jerry just played on repeat.

Luke explained the reason he ran away from Purgatory Hall, and MC legitimately debated whether or not they should throw Luke out of the nearest window for all the jabs he was taking at demons.

“Simeon was going to go out for tea with Diavolo! He even said that I could ask Barbatos to instruct me on the finer points of baking!”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“They’re demons, MC! Simeon and I are angels from the Celestial Realm! We shouldn’t be consorting with demons.”

Once again, bless Beel and his lack of murderous rage when it came to anything other than food.

“MC, Lucifer would be upset if you broke a window.”

“What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing Luke, nothing you need to worry about.”

Don’t worry, no angels were harmed during the visit.

On day two of the extended sleepover, Luke and MC decided to go running around the house again.

“And this is the basement.” MC put their hands on their hips and kissed their teeth as they looked around the Underground tomb. “Perfectly creepy.”

Luke shuddered. “Is this house nothing but one creepy room after another..?”

MC smiled and stuck out their tongue. Their fear of the attic did not extend to the underground tomb. Not that they were actually afraid of the attic or anything...

“Why? You scared some big monster is gonna getcha?” MC teased.

“No!” Luke gasped. “I’m not scared!”

MC began to walk backwards into the darker depths of the tomb, their teasing tone echoing off of the walls. “Then come on! Don’t be chicken!”

Luke looked back and forth from the door out of there, to the rapidly disappearing figure of MC, he rushed after MC.

“I’m not scared of some dark basement.” Luke huffed.

“Why not~?” MC snickered. “There could be ghosts down here... tortured souls of those who were damned to Hell for all eternity~!”

MC swiped Luke’s hat and placed it on their head, Luke jumped at the sudden contact and began to try and get the hat back from MC.

“Stop trying to scare me!” Luke yapped, MC laughed and began to jog deeper into the tomb.

“Maybe there’s a monster that eats chihuahuas down here too! Who knows!” MC twirled the hat with their fingers and ran a little faster when Luke ran after them.

“I AM NOT A CHIHUAHUA!”

Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best course of action to tease and scare one’s friend instead of telling them what they said earlier was mean, but MC wasn’t the best at decision making.

When MC reached a dead end, they stopped and looked around, Luke crashed right into them. He managed to swipe his hat back from a now disinterested MC.

MC’s gaze landed on a book being held up by a statue, they padded over and looked up at it.

“Luke, do you know what that is?” MC asked, turning to look at their now very miffed friend.

“The... book? I don’t know.”

Truthfully, MC didn’t know either. During their first tour of the house, Mammon had interrupted the Underground tomb segment and Lucifer had to cut the tour short.

“It’s uh...” MC pursed their lips and tried to think of a convincing lie. “A spell book. Lucifer told me that it makes your magic really really strong, so he stuck it down here to hide it from Solomon.”

“Did I now?”

MC and Luke screamed and whirled around, there stood Lucifer himself, not looking terribly pleased with the two of them.

“MC, care to explain why you and the angel are so close to the Grimoire?” Lucifer’s words were icily calm, and MC knew that meant if they didn’t come up with a good explanation they’d be in big trouble.

“W-we were just playing down here...” MC trailed off, looking to Luke for some kind of backup before realizing what a stupid idea that was.

“Y-yeah! We were just-”

Lucifer stuck his thumb over his shoulder and glowered at the two. “Out.”

“Yes sir.” Luke and MC mumbled as they stepped away from the Grimoire, Lucifer relaxed slightly as the two walked past him and down the hall.

When the two got back up to Beel’s room, Luke suddenly gasped and turned to MC.

“You said it was a spell book!”

After that, MC got the feeling that Luke was no longer welcome in the house. What was the big deal about almost touching the Grimoire anyway? It could only override pacts and control demons-

Oh.

Balls.

Simeon got called to pick up Luke and before the two of them left MC assured Luke that he could come over and hang out anytime as long as he texted first.

Beel said Luke could come over and bake when the kitchen was fixed, poor Beel would have to do without Luke’s baked goods for a little while longer.

MC rested their chin on the coffee table they were kneeling in front of, stewing in annoyance. Their unfinished homework was practically mocking them, but the Demonology textbook was not what had them in their funk.

“MC, do your homework.” Lucifer said from the living room couch, he was comparing his phone to notes in a binder that was placed on his lap.

A grunt from MC caused him to raise an eyebrow. Their grasp on demonic language had improved, but Lucifer did not approve of them using their new skill to sass him.

“MC.” Lucifer chided, MC turned to look at him with a deadpan expression. “If there’s something wrong, either tell me, or do your work without complaining.”

MC turned back to their homework and tapped their pencil against the textbook, before puffing out their cheek and turning back to Lucifer.

“What’s in the attic?”

For the briefest of moments, Lucifer froze, he forcibly relaxed and went back to his work.

“Junk.” Lucifer replied. “Did you try and go up there?”

MC shook their head. “No, I went into the staircase room, but not up the stairs.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed, he then took a deep breath and looked at MC. “Good, there’s nothing of interest up there anyway. If you did go up there you might break something or hurt yourself.”

“Okay.” MC sighed, trying to push the voice from the attic out of their mind. “What about the Grimoire? Why is it down in the tomb?”

Lucifer could feel his patience growing thinner and thinner with every question. “So it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Why not just destroy it?” MC asked, their question wasn’t meant to be taken as an insult or be malicious, it was just legitimate curiosity. “Wouldn’t that be safer?”

The first born hesitated before he answered. He looked over MC, before shaking his head. “...I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

MC’s eyes narrowed, but they went back to their work all the same. It would be about ten minutes of quiet before MC spoke up again.

“When Belphegor gets back from the human world, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do, huh?”

Lucifer’s eyes snapped up to look at MC, who still had their back turned to him as they scribbled notes from the textbook. His grip on his DDD tightened as he replied.

“Why do you say that, MC?”

MC didn’t seem to register their father’s clipped tone, and shrugged. “Beel said that he isn’t answering his texts or calls, and when he sent up a letter Belphegor didn’t respond to that either.”

“The life of an exchange student is a busy one, as you can see.” Lucifer forcibly injected his last bit of remaining calmness into his words as he gestured at MC’s homework. MC laughed at that.

“Yeah well, I still make time to call my friends and ren back up in the human world.” MC giggled. “And I’m sure those text notifications about his older brother discovering that he has a child would make him pick up the phone.”

“Belphegor might have a much larger workload.” Lucifer retorted, trying to keep himself from snapping at MC.

“But still, you’d think he’d call his-”

“MC-” Lucifer snarled, MC whirled around, the fear and shock in their eyes caused anything Lucifer was going to say to die in his throat.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, before Lucifer took another deep breath and turned back to his work.

“Not right now, MC,” Lucifer whispered. “I’m working.”

...

To be continued...

[jinx-jade]

Contagious adoption Part 2: Creatures

Marinette and Tim were sitting in the living room of one of Tim’s apartments. They had flown in from the Tibet village about thirteen or fourteen hours ago.

Tim had filled out all the adoption papers and any other legal papers his newly claimed daughter would need. To his surprise, Marinette had identification papers. He had thought the little deity didn’t need them. After all, Marinette had lived on the hill to grant wishes, why would she need identification papers.

Unless she didn’t live on the hill her whole life… 

Thinking back to what Marinette had said when he asked her why she stayed up on the mountain all alone. Tim had a feeling she’s been abandoned before.

Back on the mountain, Marinette had shifted from one foot to the other a few times before answering his question. She seemed to have been contemplating what to tell him. Or was it how much to tell him? 

Her answer, “Because I have nowhere else to go and no one waiting for me anywhere.” was a well-thought-out way to respond. 

If no one wants you, then no one waits for you.

If no one waits for you, then you have nowhere to go.

“... ake, Mr. Drake,” Marinette called for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry about that, guess I got lost in my thoughts,” Tim said with a sheepish smile. “Did you need something? Oh, and you can just call me Tim, or any variation of dad that you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t need anything… ” The little deity trailed off. “But, uh, does… does Papa work?”

Tim gave his daughter a soft smile.

‘His daughter. Now wasn’t that a strange thought.’ Tim couldn’t help but think to himself.

“You can call me Papa if you want.” He said with a smile, before adding, “I can speak French and a few other languages.”

Tim was unsure why he felt like mentioning that he can speak French was important. However, when Tim saw Marinette look up at him in awe, he couldn’t help but think It was the right thing to say.

“Now, what is it you wanted to do,” Tim asked, picking his daughter up so she doesn’t have to look up at him the whole conversation.

“Can we make cookies? It’s… It’s been a long time since I’ve had any…” Marinette trailed off again.

“Of course we can make cookies. What kind did you want to make?” Tim asked with a soft smile.

Life continued like normal for the young CEO, vigilante, with the addition of a small deity. However, there were a few changes to his lifestyle.

Tim was now able to cook and bake, not as good as Alfred, but he figured that Alfred won’t ban him from the kitchen.

Tim also registered Marinette Drake-Wayne as being homeschooled. Which was fine since Tim was technically qualified to homeschool his kid. However, Marinette flew through the classes like they were nothing. Her teachers wanted to have her IQ tested, but Marinette said she didn’t want to, so no one pushed it.

Tim also worked from home, only ever showing up to meetings. He also seemed to have a little helper when it came to some of the paperwork. Turns out, Marinette knows how a business runs, and how to run one. It was slightly concerning, but his daughter waved his concern off.

Tim took a break from being a vigilante. He still helped out by sending the bats reports of the rogue of the day, or sometimes a week, that they were tracking. Marinette helped out with this as well. Apparently, she’s been a vigilante before. To say that Tim was concerned was an understatement, but his concern was once again, waved off.

After a month of living with his adopted daughter, Tim had his first in-person meeting at W.E.

“Hey bean, do you want to come with me to work?” Tim asked while making breakfast.

“Am I allowed to?” Marinette shot back in response.

“I mean, B. always took his kids to work so, I’m just gonna say you’re allowed to,” Tim answered with a shrug, setting the food at the table.

Marinette shrugged back.

“Sure! I’ll go ahead and call H.R. and let them know I’ll be making my first appearance as Marinette Drake-Wayne.” Marinette informed him, before digging into her food.

Tim chuckled at that.

“You’re definitely gonna be H.R.’s favorite.” He claimed before he began eating his breakfast.

“Papa, I used to grant magic wishes on a hill with mythical creatures, that is my version of normal. I’m willing to bet that I will be H.R.’s least favorite person by the end of the year.” Marinette claimed, causing Tim to laugh.

“Bean, sweetheart, you’re about to call H.R. to let them know about a mess they will have to clean up. The rest of the Waynes, myself included, usually just let them find out through the tabloids and news stations. You’re definitely gonna be their favorite.” Tim informed his daughter.

_______________________

Tim stepped out of his car and walked through W.E. up to his office. He was aware of the attention that was on him, not bothered by it in the slightest.

He looked down at his daughter to see that she was trying to hide from sight. She was clearly not comfortable with everyone looking at her. Well, everyone looking at her and the lack of magic. He really should have remembered that Marinette has extremely bad anxiety whenever she can’t freely use magic. In his defense, it seemed that neither of them had remembered due to having barely left the apartment the whole month Marinette has been living there.

Tim looked up and around the workplace. He raised a brow at the employees that were just watching, most of them scrambled to work, or simply turned their attention away to seem busy.

When Tim and Marinette finally made it to Tim’s office, they thought they could relax, only to see the rest of the Waynes sitting inside.

Bruce looked like he was about to ask something, but stopped when he caught sight of the little girl hiding behind Tim.

Tim of course, ignored his families questioning stares in favor of calming his daughter.

Tim sat Marinette down in his office chair with a cup of coffee, before turning his attention to the others in the room.

“I wasn’t aware everyone started working at W.E.” Tim joked with a raised brow. A clear question as to why they were in his office.

“Not all of us do,” Dick answered looking towards the small child. “Did you just give the tiny person coffee?”

Tim shrugs the question off easily, “Caffeine helps calm her anxiety when she’s too overwhelmed.”

“And who exactly is she?” Damian inquired, sounding a bit more like a demand than a question.

Tim looked over to Marinette who seemed to be doing slightly better. There wasn’t much else they could do besides give her more coffee and random tasks to do. He gestured for her to come over and talk, a simple task to take her mind off the lack of magic. She slowly made her way off the office chair and towards the group of people.

“Marinette, this is my adoptive father, brothers, and sister, Bruce, Barbara, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, and Damian. Guys, this is Marinette Drake-Wayne, my adopted daughter.”

Marinette gave a small, shy wave and smile before hiding behind her father once again.

“You disappeared for a month, and apparently adopted a kid.” Jason states. “Damn, and here I thought it was supposed to be my job to stress B. out.” He claimed with a chuckle.

“Could one of you watch Marinette for me while B. and I are in the meeting? I had asked her this morning if she wanted to come since I couldn’t leave her at home alone, but I don’t think either of us thought It would be this bad for her anxiety.” Tim states.

“How about those of us who don’t have a meeting to attend will go back to the manor, and we can watch over Marinette,” Barbara suggests.

Tim looked to Marinette to see if she would be ok with it, only to receive a shrug from the little deity.

“Ok.” Tim agreed after some hesitation. “If Marinette starts getting too anxious then give her something with caffeine in it and have her draw, or bake something,” Tim informs them.

After Marinette and Tim say their goodbyes, Marinette follows Barbara, Dick, Cass, and Steph out to the limo.

The drive to Wayne manor was awkward, to say the least. None of the Waynes had known that Tim adopted a kid, and they weren’t sure if she knew about their nightly activities, so they stayed quiet.

Tim’s daughter didn’t seem to mind the silence. Marinette was looking out the window calmly with no signs of her previous anxiety. However, every once in a while her hand slightly opens and closes as if grabbing something.

When they arrived at the manor, Dick was immediately grabbed into a hug by his daughter. Mar’i speaks too fast and excitedly for them to understand, unknowingly grabbing the attention of most of the Waynes.

Cass however, noticed the youngest and newest Waynes flinch at Mar’i’s unexpected appearance. Cass quickly and quietly, moved away from the other Waynes, bringing Marinette with her, inside the manor.

“Would the two of you like anything to drink or snack on?” Alfred asked when they entered.

“Tea. Muffin,” Cass says pointing to herself. “Coffee. Muffin?” Cass said pointing to Marinette.

“Of course, why don’t the two of you relax in the garden,” Alfred suggests.

Cass nodded her head leading them to the garden while Alfred left to prepare their snacks and drinks. Marinette seemed to be stuck in her head and simply followed Cass silently.

Marinette and Cass spent the afternoon in the garden, the plants seemed to have a calming effect on the smaller Wayne. After Marinette being in the garden for a while and drinking her coffee, Marinette seemed to have calmed down.

However, not all of Marinette’s anxiety and nerves were calmed by the coffee and plants. Cass just wasn’t sure what else could be calming the little bluenette.

After a few more minutes had passed, some small creatures started gravitating towards Marinette.

A white rabbit, some squirrels, birds, even a butterfly landed on Marinette’s nose making the girl giggle.

Cass could only watch in awe as the small creatures came closer. None of them wanted any food, water, or shelter, they simply wanted Marinette’s attention.

Then Cass noticed that the few small injuries and bruises she had received from last night’s patrol were fading away.

No.

They were healing.

Cass took out her phone and quickly recorded her injuries healing too fast to be normal, this seemed like the kind of thing the other bats would want to know. 

Cass also took a video and a few pictures of Marinette playing with the animals. She had to admit, the pictures looked adorable, so of course, she sent some to Tim. 

Chat: Tim

Cass: one attached picture*

Tim: good call on bringing her to the garden

Cass: Alfred idea

Tim: where are the others

Cass: Mar’i frightened? Marenet?

Tim: KEEP MARINETTE AWAY FROM KORI AND MARI

Cass: why

Tim: Marinette isn’t

Tim: normal

Cass: one attached video*

Tim: yeah

Tim: her anxiety is caused by not being able to use magic freely

Tim: should have mentioned that before

Tim: sorry

Cass: I text others?

Tim: Yeah go-ahead

Tim: Lunch break is over

Tim: I'll see you guys when the meetings are over

Cass: ok

Cass shot a quick text to Dick, warning him that Tim doesn’t want Kor’i or Mar’i near Marinette till he was at the manor, before looking up from her phone to check on Marinette. She seemed to be relaxed, definitely not as anxious as before. Cass probably wouldn’t have been able to tell that Marinette has anxiety from looking at her right now.

Marinette looked up from the little creatures she seemed to have befriended, with a smile. She got up with some plants in her hand and made her way towards Cass.

Marinette placed a flower crown on Cass’s head with a giggle, before running back to the animals.

Cass couldn’t help but think that Tim had a lot of explaining to do when he gets to the manor.

‘But that’s not my problem to deal with.’ Cass thought to herself as she took a picture of the flower crown and sent it to the family chat.

[sierraraeck]

Love Somebody

Spencer x GN!Reader

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: After your big fight, both you and Spencer are filled with guilt. Is there any way to salvage your relationship? Part four.

Category: Angst and fluff.

Warnings: Cussing. References to past fights, and a very brief mention of drug use.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Inspired by the song “Love Somebody” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

Start by talking to Spencer.

You’d been mulling over those five words for days now and it was driving you absolutely insane. The whole reason you wanted to talk to a therapist in the first place was so you could find some peace and be able to focus better at work. Instead, you were even more distracted than you had been before, thinking about all of the different ways that the conversation could go.

Start by talking to Spencer. Oh yeah, sure, I’ll just talk to him. You know, like ‘hey, Spence, remember when you said you never wanted to see me again? Well I’m here now because I wanted to see you and work things out.’ Like what? That was never going to work.

Hey Spencer. I know it’s been a over a month since we talked and we basically broke up and the last thing I said to you was about your drug addiction, but-

Your mind faltered at the thought. It was painful to go back there and remember how cruel you’d been to each other, and then another thought popped into your mind. Is he back on drugs? Oh god, could he be passed out somewhere?

You shot straight out of your chair before thinking through what you were doing. What would you even do if you showed up and he was just fine? Plus, it’d been a month, you were sure his team could handle whatever was going on with him. Then you started wondering how he’d been handling everything. You certainly hoped better than you had. Than you were. Maybe his team would know. You weren’t super close with them, but close enough you could ask them, right? No, definitely not. Actually, now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t seen any of them for a really long time. Not even accidental run-ins with them coming or going from work or in the break room. You started to wonder what they were up to. What he was up to.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Spencer felt awful. The moment he slammed the door to his own apartment after your big fight he broke down into a heap of tears. So much had happened over the past 13 months, and the full weight of it all was just now coming down on him. He lost Maeve. He found you. He lost you. He lost himself.

Spencer never thought he would say things like that. He never thought that he could be so cruel as to tell the person he loved that he would have rather died for his ex-girlfriend than be with them. Granted, he never thought you would say what you said either, but perhaps he deserved it. He’d treated you poorly leading up to that, and he’s a profiler, it shouldn’t have come as a shock. But it did. Because he was blind. All the pain and trauma and desperate attempts to stitch his life back together using your needle and thread blinded him. He couldn’t see how much you were doing for him and how much you were struggling to keep your relationship together, and he couldn’t force himself to see how much he was struggling to hang on to any semblance of the past. Any semblance of a normal, trauma-free life. He couldn’t see it. He refused to see it. And it cost him.

He took the rest of the week off and then the weekend to himself, fighting a constant battle between feeling pathetic for not being able to go into work like you probably had, and feeling like he made the right choice considering he could barely force himself to eat. He blamed you, he blamed himself, he blamed the whole damn universe for constantly fucking him over. He used Maeve and his social awkwardness and his past as excuses for his behavior, and immediately hated himself for it. He hated himself even more for fantasizing about doing exactly what you’d told him to. He knew who to call, he knew he probably still had a tourniquet around his apartment somewhere, and he knew how much it would hurt you to know that the last thing you said to him came true.

Then I guess you’re real happy you know where to get the drugs that can help you finally do that.

He hated you. No, that wasn’t it. He hated that he drove you to hate him. Did you hate him? He figured you had to after everything he put you through. And for what? So he could feel better after what he’d lost? So he could ignore the grief and the sorrow and bury it in your selfless compassion? So he could, as you said, rip apart your life?

No, that couldn’t be the end. He couldn’t have yanked you from your life for nothing. He had to make it up to you. But he didn’t even know where to start. You probably didn’t even want to see him, let alone give him the air space to explain himself. He deserved as much.

But you didn’t. You didn’t deserve that, he kept repeating to himself. He was going to make it up to you somehow. You were the most important thing in his life, one of the only people who supported him through everything, and he cared about you, more than anything. And he loved you. He would not have the last thing he said to you be ‘fuck you.’ But first, he had to make it through his first day back to work.

No one questioned him. No one said anything about his absence, and he was both grateful and irritated. Grateful that he didn’t have to explain himself, but irritated that it seemed like no one cared. Maybe he’d gotten too used to that, no one seeming to care. Maybe that’s why whenever you asked him how he was doing, and pushed him for more than a simple ‘fine,’ he felt like you were interrogating him. He wasn’t used to having to communicate like that, especially about his feelings, which he’d never been able to communicate well. Not like he’d ever practiced that. Not like dad stuck around long enough to have him practice that. Not like his mother ever noticed or remembered long enough to make him practice that. Not like any of the people he considered family ever pushed him far enough to practice that. The most frustrating part was that even Spencer didn’t know which way he preferred to go about it, talking or not talking. Neither, he supposed.

But, communication is key, something you seemed to understand to a nauseating degree, and a concept his big brain couldn’t seem to wrap around.

He didn’t see you at all that first day. Or that first week. Or that first month. He started wondering if you’d requested a transfer to a different field office, or maybe asked for your old job back. He wouldn’t know either way. He could ask you, but that would require actually talking to you, something he’d been trying to force himself to do for what felt like forever.

The first time anyone actually questioned his behavior was when the team got back from a case and were headed out for drinks. He declined the offer, making up some excuse about a head start on paperwork. The team exchanged some glances before packing into the elevator, leaving him alone with his thoughts, an occasion that was becoming way too frequent for Spencer’s liking.

He’d just started reading through his third file when the sound of the glass doors swinging open caught his attention.

A very colorful Penelope marched over to him in what he thought would be uncomfortably high heels. She grabbed the rolly chair from the desk next to him, rolled it over to his desk, and plopped down right in front of him.

“What is going on with you, my Boy Wonder?” she asked in a soft, yet demanding voice.

Spencer shrugged, “What do you mean?”

Penelope gave him a pointed look. “I thought you and Y/N really liked coming out with us?”

“Not tonight.” Spencer kept his answers short, not wanting to lie to one of his best friends, but also not wanting to get into it.

Penelope reached out for Spencer’s hands which he hadn’t realized were trembling until then. She kept them tightly pressed between her own and looked him straight in the eyes. “I know I’m not a profiler, but it doesn’t take one to know when a friend is hurting. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that I’m always here and ready to listen.”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the water brimming at the surface. He nodded at her, and she gave his hands one good squeeze before releasing them. She waited for a few moments longer, hoping that he’d decide to say something but he didn’t.

It wasn’t until she’d almost reached the doors to leave when he called her name. “Penelope?”

She turned around and took a couple steps back toward him. “Yes?”

Then, in one quick motion, he stood up and enveloped her in a hug. Tears were already flowing down his face as Penelope held him as tight as she could, wanting him to know that she was going to support him no matter what. “Shh,” she tried to comfort him, moving her hands in soft strokes up and down his back, “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” Spencer’s voice cracked, “I messed it all up.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Penelope cooed. “Would you tell me about it?”

He told her everything. How you’d gotten the job at the FBI, how you constantly fought, how his mother started getting worse, how you found out about Maeve, and how you’d left each other that last time. He was a blubbering mess spouting about how much he still cared about you and how he’d certainly screwed it up, and Penelope tried to keep her composure, even as she felt all of his pain so deeply. “Nothing is irreparable, Spencer. If you really love Y/N that much, I think you should try to make it work.”

“But I’m not sure if they still love me.”

“I’m willing to bet they do.”

“How can you say that? You didn’t see them the last time we fought. I think I might have really destroyed us.”

“Because I’ve seen the way they look at you. If after everything you’ve been through together, you still feel this strongly for them, I bet they feel just as strongly for you. You know what, I bet Y/N is having all the same thoughts you’re having right now. If you really want to be with them, you should talk to them,” Penelope encouraged.

“What would I even say?”

“Exactly what you said to me.” Spencer gave her a questioning look. “About how much you love and miss them. And how much you want to make it work.”

She gave him a soft smile and he sighed. “You think that will work?”

“I think that it’s the best thing you can do.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

You were sitting in your car outside of Spencer’s apartment trying to talk yourself up. You could do this. You could knock on his door and talk to him like an adult. You could tell him how much you wanted things to work out. This is what you wanted, and even if it went horribly, you knew that it would put your mind more at ease knowing where he stood.

You walked confidently up to his door, but right as you were about to knock, you panicked. God, maybe it was better to just leave things as they were and see if he came to your first. Yes, that was a good plan, you could just wait and see what Spencer wanted.

You hadn’t driven all the way over to his apartment just to chicken out at the door, though. You knew that for better or worse you needed answers, so in a bout of confidence, you knocked on his door. Then you waited. And waited. And waited. After about five minutes, you knocked again, calling his name, but there was no answer.

You let out a sigh of relief. It seemed like a sign from the universe or whatever that this just wasn’t meant to happen. Or maybe Spencer was inside waiting for you to leave, and that would be answer enough. Either way, you only had one place to go from there, and it was back to your apartment. You wished you would have been able to talk to him, but you didn’t want to do it over the phone and you definitely weren’t going to do it at work, so you felt like the opportunity had been missed.

At least, that was your theory as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, nearly getting run over on your way up.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Spencer exclaimed. Spencer?

“Spencer, what are you doing here?” you asked, taking the final steps up to the landing now that Spencer had moved aside to give you the room.

“Oh, um, I was here because, um, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I-I wanted to apologize. For everything. For the way I handled our last argument, a-all of our arguments, but especially that one. I realized that I had been trying to use you to cover up the grief I was feeling, and I know how wrong of me that was. It wasn’t fair to you, any of it. I know that you know how bad I am at expressing my feelings, and how I’m even worse at talking about them. I’m trying to get better. You don’t owe me anything, and I understand if you don’t want to, but I want to try again. I know it will take a while for you to trust me again, but, Y/N, you make me want to be better. I want to be better for you. You make me feel whole, a-and I know that it’s not fair of me to put that on you either! But it’s true. I love you, and if you’ll have me, I want to try again.”

You stared at him as you tried to process everything he was saying, his demeanor getting more nervous by the second. Then, at the irony of it all, you started laughing. Which was definitely the wrong approach to the situation, but before Spencer could get really uncomfortable, you explained, “I just came from your place to tell you the exact same thing.”

His eyes got wide, and a shy smile crept its way onto Spencer's face. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I hate fighting with you, and miss being around you. I’ve been driving myself crazy these past few weeks going over and over what I said to you, and I know I can’t take it back, but I want you to know that I regret it, so, so much, Spencer. It wasn’t right of me to expect so much out of you after everything you’d been through. Everything you’re going through. I want to make this work.”

“Me too,” Spencer said with a sheepish smile. “I know that I’ve been trying to make this into our old dynamic, and you were right when you said that we don’t really know each other for who we are now. So I want to start all the way over, if that’s alright with you. I want to get to know Y/N Y/L/N, the successful FBI lawyer, not Y/N Y/L/N the person I used to know from high school.” You nodded your head, a curve to your lips. “Well, then if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce myself.”

You pressed your lips together, unsuccessfully holding back the small laugh as Spencer walked a few paces from you, just to turn around and walk back toward you. He extended his hand and you reached out to shake it. “Hello. I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. It’s good to meet you, sir.” You bit your bottom lip, knowing exactly how he’d respond.

“Actually, it’s Doctor.”

You feigned surprise. “Wow, doctor, huh? What do you do, Doctor Spencer Reid? Are you a surgeon of some kind?”

He gave a small laugh, trying to compose himself. “No, actually, I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

“That’s impressive. You know, I actually work for the FBI as well.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes going wide.

“Yes. I’m a lawyer, but just recently started working for them. I worked for a successful firm just before this.”

“Wow, that sounds very interesting,” he enthusiastically said, eyes shining. “Now, I’m usually not this bold, but I saw you from over there,” he gestured to the spot behind him he’d just come from, “and I must say that you are very attractive. I would love to take you out for dinner and get to know you better sometime…” he trailed off.

“Sounds amazing Doctor,” you agreed.

As he started idly moving around you to get to the stairs, he said, “Well, it’s been really great meeting you Y/N Y/L/N, the FBI lawyer, and I’m excited to get to know you better.”

“As am I, Doctor Spencer Reid of the BAU,” you grinned. God, you two were so cheesy.

“I hope that I will get a call from you soon,” he mirrored your grin, but his voice was a bit less confident than it was before.

“You might not have to hope for too much longer.”

Spencer tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes wide and sparkling. He looked like your Spencer, the Spencer you’d fallen in love with.

He practically skipped down the steps, pausing only momentarily to glance back up at you. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled to himself as he travelled the rest of the way down, and you looked after him with fondness in your eyes. You’d have to say, this was so much better than all the other times you had to watch Spencer walk away. This time, you were overwhelmed with hope for what this new beginning would mean for your relationship.

A/N 2: This was the fourth and final part of this mini-series! I hope you all enjoyed it, and thanks again to the anons that encouraged me to turn this into the series that I wanted it to be! Much love!

[matrixaffiliate]

Surreptitious

New Story! FFN and AO3

Lily doesn't think it will be that hard to hide she's been dating James for two years, and friends with him for five, but when she and James end up working together as temps every day, she finds out how intertwined with her boyfriend she really is. 

@thisismegz shared this Tumblr post with me (thank you, darling!) from @women-inthe-sequel and it felt so very Jily =) So obviously, I had to write it for Jilytober! Enjoy!

Surreptitious

Lily chucked her bag down on the table in a rage. The fact that the order had been misdelivered was not her fault, but that didn't change she'd been thrown under the bus and blamed for it, not that this wasn't the first time she'd been framed for something that went wrong. It also didn't change that she'd been fired over it either.

Her phone buzzed and she sighed as she saw James' picture on her phone.

"Feel like cheering me up?"

"Always," James laughed. "What can I do for you today, Evans?"

"Slowly pull out the bowels of Rosier and Yaxley with a white-hot hook?" Lily fell down onto her bed and kicked off her shoes.

"Vicious," James' chuckle was throaty and Lily wished he was with her where she could feel it rumble through his chest.

"Well, they managed to finally get me fired, so it feels justified at the moment."

"They what?!" All laughter and teasing had gone out of his voice.

"They blamed another misdelivery on me, and I found out they'd been filing complaints against me that I didn't know about, and I swear that Riddle was in on it with them because he showed me documents stating that he'd notified me of those complaints and strikes against me, but I know he didn't." Lily took a deep breath to try and calm down, "None of that matters now though, they got me out and that was what they wanted. They won."

"No!" James almost shouted. "I'll talk to Dad, I'm sure his solicitor will take your case! We'll sue them for everything they own!"

Lily smiled, knowing James was on her side always made her feel better.

"No, they aren't worth it. I'll report them, sure, but I'm not going to sue them over it."

"Lils, look," he went to say more, but Lily cut him off.

"No, James. I'm not going to waste my mental energy on them anymore. I'm going to take a day to calm down and then I'm going to get on to trying to find a new job."

James let out a long breath. "Love, I know you don't want to waste the mental energy on them, but wrong is wrong. Would you let me just mention it to Dad?"

Lily rolled to her side and shifted her phone, "I guess that would be fine, but I'm not personally taking them to small claims, alright?"

"Right," James sounded relieved. "I promise you won't be involved at all."

"Thanks, darling," Lily felt her stomach grumble and she groaned. "Needing a new job aside, I need to find something to eat."

"I'll call Mum, I'm sure she'll be happy to cheer you up with food."

Lily's stomach grumbled again, "Are you sure that she wouldn't mind cooking for us?"

James laughed, "Lils, my dear mother always tells me I'm not home often enough, and then immediately asks when I'm going to settle down and give her grandchildren."

Lily grinned, "See she never says anything about you settling down to me."

"Yes, because she wants to keep you around. Trust me, if she didn't like you, she'd be doing everything in her power to push you to marry me tomorrow." James paused, "So am I calling Mum or not?"

Lily pushed up off her bed. "Yeah, call your parents and ask if she'd make me some daal makhani to drown my sorrows in."

"You can count on it," James' smile was evident in his voice as they disconnected the call, and Lily internally admitted that she was looking forward to seeing it after the nightmare of a day she'd endured.

So, when Lily pulled up to the Potters' large home thirty minutes later, she couldn't stop the excitement bubbling in her chest, and even with the awful day, she smiled as she pushed open their front door.

"James?"

"You're here!" James came nearly running around the corner into the entryway, sweeping her into a tight embrace.

Lily took in a deep breath as she held him close. The smell of James mixed with the smells coming from Mia's kitchen were pulling all of the stress out of her and replacing it with warmth and happiness.

"Come eat while it's still hot!" Mia called from the kitchen.

Lily laughed and kicked off her shoes before taking James' hand to walk into the kitchen.

"Laadli," Mia hugged her, "Eat up, and there are jalebis too. A little sugar will make everything better."

"Thank you, Mia," Lily held on to this wonderful woman who had stepped in when her mum had passed on.

The family dinner was exactly what she needed. Lily finally felt calm, and while she still didn't know what she was going to do about a new job, she at least felt like life was going to get better, for no other reason than she was surrounded by these wonderful people.

"James," Monty handed him his plate as James cleared the table. "The new client at the agency finalized their paperwork for their trial run."

"You're taking on another company at the temp agency?" Lily asked.

James nodded, "Yep, which means 90 days of me pretending I'm not a part-owner."

Lily laughed. After they'd finished university, Monty brought James and Sirius on to the temp agency he started decades ago, but part of the deal was they would be guinea pigs to each new client to be sure the real temps would be treated well. Since they'd just signed a company a month ago and Sirius was currently being their guinea pig, James would need to take this new one.

"What does this company do?" Mia picked up her glass and drained it before handing it to Lily as she helped James clear the table.

"They're a paint manufacturer," Monty said, "But they want the temps for their customer service department."

"You told them they'd only get one, right Dad?" James looked over from the kitchen sink.

"I did," Monty nodded, "they asked me to try my best to get them two."

Mia looked at Lily for a moment and then smiled. "You should be the second temp!"

It took Lily a full ten seconds to realize what Mia was implying, but James beat her to a response as he shut off the water.

"No, Mum, Lily's an industrial engineer who deserves to find a job that will actually utilize her and not pin her to arranging low-level deliveries. She doesn't need to be working customer service while I evaluate this client."

"And why not, chotu?" Mia turned on him. "This way she gets a paycheck while she looks for something new and when she does find it, she can leave; no one expects a temp to stay forever."

"Mum," James' hand went straight for his hair.

"Mia, that's really sweet of you," Lily cut in but then Mia turned her mom-eyes on her.

"Laadli," she cupped Lily's face in her hands, "This will be good for you, give you something to think about other than that awful place that didn't appreciate your work. And you'd be with James so you'd have fun. Learn from an old woman, Lily, have more fun in your life."

Looking into Mia's wise umber eyes and feeling her small warm palms on her cheeks, Lily felt almost like she was under a magic spell.

"Well, if Monty thinks it's alright."

Mia held her eyes and kept her face in her hands. "Of course, it's alright, Monty will see to it."

A part of Lily's brain was sure that Mia was exercising some force of will over her, but there was something so comforting about it that she decided to ignore how much this felt like a magic spell.

"Then, I think it'd be fine. It'd give me time to find a position that I really like instead of settling for the first thing that pops up."

"There, see," Mia pulled her hands away from Lily's face with a smile, "We can always find blessings in disguise if we're willing to look for them."

"Lils," James stepped between her and his mum. "If you want to do this, we can make it happen, but don't feel pressured into it. You don't have to."

Mia tsked loudly behind him.

Lily gave him a small smile. "If you're alright with it, then it would really help me out."

James' returning smile lit up his face. "Eh, I guess I can handle it. At least I'll have someone to talk to, yeah?"

"And I suppose I could handle having to talk to you every day." She smirked up at him.

"Well then, that's settled." Monty chuckled, "James, I'll put you in charge of the paperwork and arrangements for all of this."

James shot his dad a grin, "I'll have it all settled by tomorrow evening. You're looking at the two newest temps for Royal Paint."

It wasn't a week later that Lily was pulling up to her new place of work - at least until she could find a new position in her field if expertise.

She saw James step out of his car and she waved him over. There was one thing that she wanted to clarify with him before they started this.

"Morning Evans," James moved to kiss her but she put her hand on his chest and stopped him.

"Does this place know you're one of the owners of the temp agency?"

James shook his head, "No, everything Sirius and I do is on the back end except for this, so no one knows we aren't real temps when we show up."

Lily nodded, "Alright, in that case, I think it would be a good idea for us not to broadcast our relationship while we're here for these three months."

"Really?"

"I don't want to cause any drama, and Sirius isn't available to switch with you if they have a problem with us being together. I think it would make everything easier and safer if we kept our relationship between us."

James sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Please, James," Lily smiled up at him. "I promise when we aren't here, I'll be the best girlfriend in the world."

James laughed down at her and laced his fingers with hers. "You already are but if it'll make you happy, then sure, while we're working with this client, we're just two temps, not a couple."

"Thank you," Lily looked around the parking lot and upon finding it empty, quickly pressed up and kissed him. "I suppose we should get this show on the road then, eh?"

"Yeah," James stole one more kiss, "We don't want to be late on our first day."

Lily and James walked into the grey cement brick building and were welcomed by the receptionist.

"Hi, I'm Amy, you must be our new temps."

"That's us," James nodded and Lily forced her down chuckle as she watched James start scanning the office. He may be wearing the badge of temp for the next three months, but James would never be able to stop being the shrewd businessman that helped his dad's company thrive.

"Just a minute and I'll fetch Scott, he's our manager." She clicked a couple of times on her computer before grabbing her desk phone. "Scott, they're here." She set the phone down and turned back to Lily and James with a happy smile.

"He'll be right out."

Not a moment later a man came walking around the corner.

"Welcome! Welcome to your new home away from home! Welcome to Royal Paint!"

"Thank you," James stepped forward and shook Scott's hand. "I'm James Potter."

"And I'm Lily Evans," Lily stepped forward as she watched James turn to introduce her. That was her first hint that hiding their relationship was going to be harder than she initially thought.

"James and Lily!" Scott shook her hand. "I can't wait to get to know you. I'm Scott and I hope you'll view me as your mentor and friend while you're here."

Lily nearly balked at the difference between Scott and Riddle. At least Scott didn't seem to be out to fire her from the get-go.

"Thank you," she pulled her bag higher up on her shoulder and smiled up at James.

"Look at you two," Scott stepped back and looked at the two of them, "You look like you could be on the cover of one of my wife's romance books. Don't you think so, Amy?" He turned to the receptionist.

Amy laughed, "You're a hopeless romantic, Scott."

"And I'm usually right about this sort of thing."

Lily felt something akin to panic gripping her stomach. "I'm sure that Mr. Potter and I can keep things professional."

James covered his laugh with a forced clearing of his throat and Lily fought the urge to glare at him.

"Don't be ridiculous," Scott laughed. "Royal Paint was started by a husband and wife team. We have no policy against workplace relationships. But let's get the two of you settled in and then you can get to know one another before you make decisions about first dates and whatnot."

He turned and led them down the corridor.

"Mr. Potter?" James whispered as he smirked down at her.

"I panicked!" Lily glared at him.

Before James could comment further, Scott had led them into the next room.

"This will be your launching pad!" Then he gestured to the two women sitting at desks that faced each other. "And these lovelies are the crew that will take you into the stars! Gladys and Arabella, this is James Potter, and here is Lily Evans. James, Lily, this is Gladys Vance and Arabella Figg."

The women smiled at them but before either could say anything, Scott had moved to the single desk to the left of Gladys and Arabella's workstations.

"This is where the two of you will be set up. I'm sorry but we couldn't get a second desk in here soon enough. You'll only need to share for a wee bit, but we'll get you your own desks in a jiffy. The two computers seem to fit alright, though, so shouldn't be a problem. Let's get you logged into those computers and Gladys and Arabella will train you up on what you need to do."

"Scott, slow down, you're spinning like a top." Gladys chuckled. "We'll take care of these two, you go do the manager things you do."

"Off you go," Arabella stood and made a shooing motion with her hands.

"I'll leave you in their capable hands then," Scott bowed awkwardly. "And if you need anything at all just step right into my office. My door is always open."

"Thank you, Scott." James chuckled.

Arabella shooed Scott again and he saluted before stepping out of the room.

"Well, you survived our fearless leader," Arabella chuckled. "We run things a bit more down to earth here in customer service."

"He's very enthusiastic, isn't he?" Lily laughed.

"Don't you two look cute standing like that?" Gladys smiled at them.

Lily looked over and realized she and James had gravitated towards each other, standing so close they were nearly touching.

"Oh, sorry," she stepped away from James, "I didn't mean to crowd you."

James' hand shot to his hair, "No problem, barely noticed."

Gladys and Arabella shared a long look but didn't say anything more. They helped James and Lily get logged into their computers and showed them how to respond to online inquiries from the website and how to find the answers. The job was so simple that by lunch Lily felt not only like she knew what she was doing, but that she'd been doing it for ages.

"Did the two of you bring lunch?" Gladys came to stand at their desk. "Because either way, Arabella and I are taking you out."

Lily laughed, "I brought a can of soup, but I have a hunch it'll keep till tomorrow."

"Are you sure about that?" James laughed, "Storing things in metal, who knows what could happen."

Lily laughed in spite of herself but stopped just before she went to playfully shove him.

"You two are cute," Arabella grinned at them. "Did either of you ever watch the American version of The Office? You two could be Jim and Pam."

"Oh, yes!" Glady exclaimed, "Lily's got red hair like Pam, and James instead of Jim!"

Lily looked at James and laughed, "I don't suppose you want to be called Jim?"

James rolled his eyes, "Do you know I threaten my brother with roasting him over a low fire for it?"

Lily grinned, she did know. "Oh, but it could be fun, couldn't it?"

James adjusted his glasses and leant across the desk, "Depends on your definition of the word fun, Lilian."

"Do you know that isn't my name?" Lily rolled her eyes. He did know.

"And now you know that Jim isn't mine," James countered with a smirk.

"I like them better than Jim and Pam," Arabella's voice brought Lily back to the present and she silently kicked herself for slipping into the banter she and James had built their relationship on.

Trying to avoid the habits that had formed from two years of dating plus another three years of friendship before that might just prove impossible.

And that premonition proved to be exactly right. She couldn't stop herself from the unconscious part of her brain that reached across their desk to touch his hand or his thigh. She could never keep herself from standing directly next to him. And she definitely couldn't stop the way her eyes would seek him out naturally. It was just so much a part of her to be connected to James.

How did she ever think she could hide this?

"Hey," she whispered across the desk three weeks after they'd started with Royal Paint. "I have to take my car in to have it serviced tonight, can you give me a ride tomorrow?"

"Of course, do you need a ride back from the service station too?" James nodded.

"I was going to request an Uber but if you want, we can make a night of it."

"Sure," James grinned at her. "We could make something at yours and watch a film or something."

"Sounds perfect," Lily moved to grab his hand but caught herself, opting to take a sticky note from the stack instead.

"How is the job hunt going?" James smirked at her.

Lily rolled her eyes at his smirk even as she grinned at him.

"I had a firm call for an interview and my references."

"That's amazing!" James' whisper went loud and Lily giggled.

"Riveting conversation over there dears?" Gladys smiled over at them.

"Just wondering when you're going to invite The Pips over and finally admit that your last name is really Knight." James smiled over at Gladys and Arabella.

Lily trained her gaze back on her computer and the mind-numbing work of answering customer questions.

"I'll be at yours at half six to go drop your car," James whispered and knocked her foot with his.

She looked up to see that smile that still made her stomach flutter.

"Thanks."

But James bringing her to work the next morning ended up being more of a to-do than Lily had expected it to be.

"Well, hello there!" Arabella stepped out of her car as Lily and James stepped out of his.

"Hi Arabella," Lily tried not to groan.

"Is your car alright dear?" Arabella looked as pleased as one of her cats might look had it caught a mouse.

"It just needed to be serviced. James was nice enough to bring me to work this morning."

Arabella nodded understandingly but her smile seemed to grow wider. "What a nice thing to do."

"What was a nice thing to do?" Scott walked up behind Arabella and Lily thought she might die.

"Lily's car needed to be serviced and James was kind enough to bring her to work today."

"A proper gentleman," Scott walked up and patted James on the back. "Well done, my boy!"

"Lily ought to take him to lunch to thank him," Arabella looked at Scott, "Don't you agree? They've proven they're hard workers, I think they could do with a long lunch today."

"Capital idea, Arabella! Yes!" He turned to James and Lily, "I agree, take a long lunch the both of you!"

Lily looked at James who was putting a great deal of effort into not laughing.

"Alright, then," Lily looked at Scott and Arabella helplessly.

Clearly, she'd need to rethink her original plan of hiding their relationship, seeing as everyone wanted them to have one.

"This whole thing has gone pear-shaped!" Lily huffed as she got into James' car for their enforced lunch date.

"Hey," James leant over and pulled her in for a slow kiss. "It'll be fine." He smiled as he pulled away. "You're going to go to your interview next week and they're going to wonder how they've ever managed without you. Then they'll hire you, and you'll be working for an amazing firm before you know it."

Lily kissed him again and let the warmth that had always been James ease some of the stress away.

"You know," James put the car in gear. "We could play this to our advantage."

"Play what to our advantage?" Lily fiddled with the radio.

"We could be the new office romance." James knocked her hand away from the radio as she tried to skip over a song he liked that she didn't.

"The new office romance?"

"Sure," James slapped her hand away again. "We could stop trying to hide the way that we're practically an old married couple, to quote my mum, and just be us."

"You're mum calls us an old married couple?" Lily laughed.

"Of course, she does."

"Why, of course?"

"Because she's my mum," James shrugged.

Lily grinned as the idea started to form in her mind. "We could sneak around like we did our last week of university."

James looked over at her with a smirk. "That poor custodian, I'm pretty sure we nearly gave him a heart attack."

Lily giggled, "I think you're right; this could be fun."

"Yes, and then I can stop smacking myself every time I go to touch you as well." James reached over and grabbed her hand.

"I know right? It's like I'm in love with you or something." She teased.

James parked in front of the restaurant and leant over to kiss her again. "That makes one of us, then."

Lily smacked his chest and pulled away but James caught her around the neck and kissed her passionately.

"I love you," he murmured as he slowed their pace.

"You better," Lily laughed and pulled back. "So, we're doing this? We're going to be Royal Paint's new office romance?"

"Yeah, let's have a bit of fun."

And they did. Lily didn't stop herself from making faces at him across their desk when she got bored. She didn't stop herself from asking James about their plans for the weekend. She didn't stop herself from walking out of the office with him after work. She didn't panic when Gladys mentioned how sweet it was that she was hitting it off so well with James. When Scott stepped in to tell them he'd managed to secure another desk for them if they wanted it, she agreed with James' insistence that they didn't need it.

The one thing Lily did still stop herself from bringing up at work when they were around their coworkers was her efforts to find a real job, and how things were going for James in his real job. Just because he was playing temp didn't mean he didn't still have his real job and everything that went with helping his dad run the temp agency.

She was trying to discreetly check her email on her phone to see if the company that had interviewed her and called all three of her references had made a decision on hiring her yet or not when she was spooked by James swearing under his breath.

Lily glanced quickly over at Arabella and Gladys before whispering to James.

"What's wrong?"

"There's a problem at the office. One of our temps went rogue." James' hands went to his hair before they immediately dropped to his phone to type.

"Is it going to be alright?" Lily leant closer.

"If Sirius and I get there in the next hour then probably." He looked up at her. "I've got to go. Do you want me to make something up for you to get Scott to let you out early too?"

Lily shook her head. "I don't want to make him suspicious of why you're leaving and then not let you go. I'll stay and finish the workday."

James grabbed his backpack and threw it over his shoulder before coming around the desk to kiss her. "Thank you, I'll text you once this is resolved."

Lily kissed him once more before he slipped out the door.

"They're already kissing goodbye," Arabella commented with a grin.

"They're meant to be," Gladys laughed, "Where is your prince off to?"

Lily rolled her eyes at them, "His brother needs him, he's going to see if Scott will let him out early."

"Oh, Scott is a pushover for that sort of thing. He probably would have let you go too if you'd asked." Arabella pulled a cat hair off her jumper.

"I wouldn't have been much help," Lily shrugged.

"So, how's having a new boyfriend been?" Gladys pulled her coffee cup to her lips and smirked at Lily.

"I'm rather enjoying it," Lily laughed and turned from her computer. It was becoming apparent that the two wanted to talk more than they wanted to work right now, probably because James wasn't there.

"I can imagine," Arabella winked at her. "Have you spent much time together over the last month and a half?"

"I guess we have," Lily tried to think of what sort of pace a regular couple would take, a couple that didn't have the history she and James had.

They'd been at odds in their first year of university, but when everything had happened with Severus and the Marauders at the end of first year, well, Lily realized that she'd been dead wrong about who her friends were. Thankfully, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were more than happy to put that year behind them and welcome her into their friendship. She and James had been friends for the last three years of their time at university; his parents were who she relied on when her mum passed away, joining her dad on the other side and leaving her with just Petunia and Vernon for living family members; James introduced her to Marlene and Emmeline and Mary and Bridget; the Marauders and everyone attached to them had become her family.

It was the last day of exams their final year at university that James had found her alone and somehow the two of them had finally stopped dancing around their feelings for one another and snogged the daylights out of each other.

They'd been inseparable for the last two years.

But how did one act like they hadn't been in love with the man they were with for years?

"You look unsure? Is everything alright?" Arabella frowned at her and Lily silently cursed herself for not having better control over her emotions playing out over her face.

"Oh, er, yes, I just, I, er, I'm waiting on an email." Lily reasoned she was a temp; she probably didn't need to hide that she was looking for something permanent; it was just James' position that she needed to keep to herself.

"A good email or a bad one?"

"I suppose I'm hoping it's a good one, but it could be a bad one."

Gladys narrowed her gaze. "Lily, what sort of email is this?"

"The sort of email that could get me a position with an engineering firm," Lily watched the two women carefully and sighed in relief when they both cried out exuberantly.

"That's wonderful," Arabella laughed, "but won't you miss working with James?"

"I'll miss it," Lily nodded because truthfully, she would miss it.

Working with James this way had been exactly what she needed after the fiasco at her last position. It had been healing to be with him day in and day out. It had made her realize how much she needed him, how much she relied on him.

"Well, most people don't work with their partners; you'd be joining the ranks of the rest of us." Gladys chuckled. "I love my husband, but I wouldn't work with him for all the money in the world. We weren't meant to be business partners."

"Amen, to that," Arabella rolled her eyes.

It was a couple of hours later that James texted her that he and Sirius had sorted out whatever had happened with the rogue temp. He followed that text up with the sort of response that helped Lily see why Mia called them an old married couple.

James: Meet me at mine, I'm bringing dinner.

Lily smiled down at her phone and then jumped when Gladys' voice spooked her.

"Email or boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend," Lily chuckled. "He managed to sort out whatever was happening with his brother."

"And…"

"We're having dinner tonight," Lily looked up at the clock and sighed; it was still an hour before she could leave.

Gladys looked over at Arabella and something passed between the two.

"Pack up your things, deary, Arabella and I are going to bully Scott into letting you leave early."

"No, that's alright," Lily shook her head, "I can wait."

Arabella laughed, "No isn't an option I'm afraid. We're rather fond of you and James there, so I think we're going to get our way and get you on your way."

"Really, it's fine," Lily protested again.

"Oh stop with the propriety and have a little fun, Lily." Gladys stood up. "Let's get you off to that boy of yours."

What could she do? It was as if these two were in cahoots with Mia. Lily packed up her things and tried to hide behind her two bullies as they approached Scott's office.

"Scott, dear Scott," Gladys stuck her head in Scott's office.

Scott looked up and laughed, "Oh dear, the both of you, what am I giving in to today?"

"What a dear he is," Gladys grinned at Arabella before turning back to Scott. "You're going to tell this sweet child to get herself off to her new boyfriend right now."

Scott glanced back at Lily and winked at her.

"I suppose you'll let the entire office know how hard it was to wear me down?"

"Of course," Arabella nodded. "We had to make a fuss about what a wonderful employee she's been these six weeks."

"And we had to point out that it has been slow all day and that it definitely won't pick up to where Arabella and I can't handle in the next hour," Gladys added.

"And don't forget how we're all invested in Lily and James," Scott added absently as he looked at an email on his computer.

"Oh yes, that too," Arabella laughed.

Scott looked back up and blinked, "Lily? Why are you still here?"

Lily shook her head and smiled, "I'm on my way out."

"Give my best to James," Scott called out to her as she walked out the door and to her car.

Lily texted James that she had been forced out early and then drove to his flat. For a moment she thought she saw Monty and Mia in their car on her way, but she was past them before she had a chance to do a double-take.

Walking up to James' flat felt like home. The knowledge that he'd be on the other side of the door when she opened it wrapped her in a blanket of comforting domesticity. Lily wondered if maybe she should forgo renewing her lease when it was up in a couple of months.

She pushed open the door but stopped dead in the doorway.

The lights were turned off, but there were battery votives on the floor making a pathway towards the kitchen.

"James…?"

He didn't answer and Lily resisted the urge in her to turn on the lights. She blamed it on Gladys' and Arabella's and Mia's insistence that she have a little fun. Instead, Lily kicked off her shoes and set down her bag to follow the flickering lights guiding her further into the flat.

Every light was off and the curtains pulled tight over the windows, making the floor look like it was glowing with the little votive lights lined against it. Lily stepped into the kitchen and paused. The lights led to a chair, sitting dead center on the kitchen floor.

"I am not doing a seance with you, Potter," Lily looked around. She nearly screamed when her phone vibrated and sounded in her pocket.

James: Please just sit down Evans

It was followed by at least twenty eye-roll emojis.

Lily rolled her eyes and texted back.

Lily: Fine, but I will kill you if this is some sort of prank…

She included five devil emojis before hitting send and cautiously sitting down in the chair.

"Now what?" Lily called out and looked around.

James stepped quietly into the kitchen and grinned at her.

"You always suspect me," he leant against the doorway, his hand running through his hair.

Lily forced her eyes back to his face. "You've given me plenty of reasons to do so."

James laughed, "You know, I've been thinking about how nice it's been to see you every day, but now I'm wondering what I was thinking."

She rolled her eyes but laughed with him.

"I was actually thinking the same thing after you left today."

James' smile went soft and he moved slowly, purposefully towards her.

"Good," his voice was that low rumble that made Lily want to pull him flush against her.

Then James came to kneel in front of her and Lily suddenly couldn't breathe.

"What do you think we make sure we see each other every day, even after we finish our stint with Royal Paint?"

"James," she laughed, but it came out a breathless sound.

"Lils, will you marry me?" He slid a ring out of his pocket and held it out to her.

"Of course!" Lily couldn't stop laughing, even as James pressed up to kiss her, lifting her from the chair and lifting her feet off the floor.

"We should turn on the lights," James laughed with her.

"Why?" Lily finally started to get a hold of her laughter and was trying to move their kissing a little further forward.

"Mum and Dad should be here any minute. Dad's parents took him and mum out to dinner when he asked her to marry him. I told them we could do dinner, but that I wasn't asking you at a restaurant."

"Oh! I saw them on my way over!" Lily laughed. "Well, I guess we can keep this going when we get back."

James hummed as he kissed her again, "And we can talk about what we're going to do with this darn temp job."

Lily's phone buzzed in her back pocket and she jumped when James reached into her pocket and pulled it free to hand to her.

"I don't think we'll have to worry about it," Lily grinned down at her phone as she looked at the screen.

"Yeah?" James looked down at her phone.

"I got the position!" Lily laughed. "I'm engaged and I got my dream job on the same day!"

"Well," James kissed her, "While we're discussing good news, I have one more thing to add."

"What?"

"Dad and Sirius and I have been working on a surprise for you; we've managed to get Riddle and his cronies into a world of trouble that I don't think they'll be getting out of anytime soon." James' grin was wicked.

Lily narrowed her gaze, "There was no rouge temp, was there?"

"Sirius and I were the rogue temps, we bailed at work and went to make sure our plan went exactly as we wanted it. I doubt that your old place of employment will still have a license to practice business for much longer."

"I love you," Lily linked her arms around his neck and kissed him.

James pulled back to look down at her, one of his hands coming up to trace along her cheek before tangling in her hair.

"I love you too," and he kissed her.

[ayeshintheclouds]

I don’t really have a platform or any sort of public voice, I know. But there’s something that I want to talk about anyways because it’s really important to me and if even one person understands it or even sees it and keeps it at the back of their mind, it would make a difference in my opinion.

I want to talk about one of my best friends’ dads, Dr Hasan Gokal. You may have seen him all over the news, labeled “thief” by our lovely sensationalist media. I was really hesitant if I want to include him being my friend’s dad because I know it adds an element of bias to my argument. But I think it adds another perspective, another angle that the media can’t cover- I’m far enough that I have no obligation or pressure to go out of my way to support his cause. I’m close enough that I truly do see his side of it- the whole story unfold from before it ever hit the media: the struggle, the confusion, the misunderstanding and the pain that family is going through. My point is- I wouldn’t be writing this unless I truly believed him to be innocent.

Dr Hasan Gokal is accused of stealing vaccines. But he didn’t. Not really. He used up the remaining doses that were about to expire because he was ordered from higher ups to simply ‘find arms’ and use them all up because there was a shortage and we couldn’t afford to waste any. He filed all the appropriate paperwork, he asked permission from the highest higher-up available at the time. The word stealing implies the worst image: someone breaking in and stashing them in their bag and running. Which I know, is a technicality and it might technically be ‘stealing’ legally- but the way the media took that phrase and ran with it is extremely harmful to someone’s career. It is slander and deceitful, fueled by the media’s obsession with sensationalizing and demonizing people of color, especially Muslims. Especially someone who did something heroic and brave where he absolutely didn’t have to.

Dr Gokal was looking at the bigger picture, what truly mattered at that time, which was saving as many lives as possible as fast as possible. Each of those vials in his hands could have been someone’s life. Every arm out there was another person who could have caused another chain of infection. How could he bear to toss them in the trash? And I know- I know very well that protocol is important. The government, the healthcare system, they claim to take care of the bigger picture, “just do what we tell you, don’t think too much, too hard”

And I also know if everyone applied their own morals and ethics and ignored the system in place, there would be chaos. But in healthcare, you have to admit that there is a clear, clear grey area for unexpected situations such as these. These are unprecedented times, times with barely any frame of reference to look back on. All the protocol, all the rules, seem hastily made and vague and self contradicting. There’s orders from superiors to “find arms, waste nothing” And there’s orders from superiors saying to waste nine out of ten vaccines. Which are you supposed to follow? Dr Gokal was in an extremely grey area, and he made the best judgement call he possibly could have, given his time limit and his situation. He literally called and reported it to his superiors and filed all the necessary paperwork the next day. A ‘thief’ or anyone who believed what they did was wrong would not have done that.

Legality should not determine morality- wildly inhumane things were once determined legal by our country such as literal slavery.

This is not to say abandon all sense of propriety and do what your heart says- but I think Dr Gokal did an excellent job of balancing legality and morality. He did what he believed was right despite it being unconventional AND he followed all protocol- asking permission first as well as filing it in immediately after.

Admittedly, it may have been not the smartest thing to remove the vaccines from the site and administer them at people’s houses. Even so, it’s something that could have been cleared up with a fine or strict warnings. A court case and firing is very extreme for someone who was only going above and beyond to only do what the government and the hospitals were encouraging in the first place, to not waste.

Some aspect of racism definitely applies here, especially with the comment about “too many Indian names” brought up in court. The only reason he vaccinated many people from his cultural community was simply because they were the first ones he could reach. He called as many people as possible, his only goal was to just find arms. This would not have been brought up at all if the doctor were white and he vaccinated his friends Debby and Charles and Linda and Bob. No one would’ve raised an eyebrow and said “wow an awful lot of white people you vaccinated there.”

Well obviously? Maybe he was white and he knew many white people or lived in a white area? The sad truth is, that if it were a white man, he would be celebrated as a hero, not a criminal.

The racist comments I’ve seen are literally insane. I’ve seen people say Dr Gokal must be mailing vaccines to middle eastern terrorists- Please what?? I believe all logic goes out the window when some Americans see someone a few shades darker than themselves.

The biggest argument I’ve seen by far is- it’s not fair. But. How? These vaccines were being trashed. Wasted. They were not going to someone who could’ve deserved them more. They were being crushed when they were most needed, most precious. And most importantly- every person who got that vaccine was one hundred percent eligible. As in, if Dr Gokal hadn’t given his friends and family the about-to-be-trashed vaccines, they’d be in line within that next week anyways, consuming another entire set of vials. He could’ve gotten his people fresh new ones, but he didn’t because he felt it would be a waste of resources when there was already such short supply. This man prioritized you all’s health over his own family and community’s. He gave his people, his ‘inDiaN nAmEs’ the almost expired ones so there would be enough for the rest of the city. For all of you.

For every person he vaccinated that night, there opened up an empty spot in line the next day. A spot for your grandmother maybe, for your sick child maybe.

Someone could be alive today from his actions.

Dr Gokal helped conserve vaccines and he’s being labeled a thief. This is how our country rewards heroes. This is what our healthcare system prioritizes- petty legal formalities above human life. In a time when people are dying left and right, this is what they chose to focus their attention on. Hunting down a man who went above and beyond with zero regard for himself or his own gain and blasting him on social media and news as a criminal.

I’ve seen what it’s been doing to their family. They are so so tired of the stress, of the pressure. They don’t deserve this.

He is not a vaccine stealer. He is not some strange man from another country. He is American, just like all of you out there. He texts his daughter to please study and he plays hide-and-seek with Mikey the cat and he fixes our bikes when they break. He did the right thing and our blasted system is making him pay for it because we are so caught up in the details we hardly know right from wrong anymore. We are willing to let people die- as long as all the precious paperwork is filed, as long as our maze of systems remain perfectly in place.

Justice for Dr Hasan Gokal because he did what no one else could- care for his people. And maybe if our country cared half as much as he did, billions of people wouldn’t be dead today.

Please please sign this to help his cause

https://www.change.org/p/harris-county-district-attorney-kim-ogg-the-prosecution-of-dr-gokal-is-unjust-and-da-kim-ogg-should-stop-his-prosecution?utm_content=cl_sharecopy_27323511_en-US%3A4&recruiter=826836508&recruited_by_id=6d273550-c08c-11e7-8bf0-510c1cf8213e&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial

For the full story of what actually happened that night in detail:

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/10/us/houston-doctor-fired-covid-vaccine.html

Thank you for reading it means a lot🤍

[cheetahsprints]

All good things now come from you

Summary: Wu visits Mako. 

What have I done to fall so hard for you? 

The first time is a total surprise. Mako flops out of bed, kicking away the tangled sheet as he grunts with frustration. Many nights he experiences nightmares, and he reaches for another body. He doesn’t know who he expects to be there or why. But there’s no one there. It’s just him in his lonesome apartment. 

He’s grown tired of Korra and Asami trying to include him in things out of pity. Of course, there’s offers to hang out separately, but in his patheticness he still feels awkward being alone with either of them. He’s also grown tired of Bolin’s attempts to set him up. Nothing seems to click, and he can’t help comparing them to… to… he doesn’t know who, except he does, and it hurts. It’s not Korra or Asami, he’s not quite that bad. Any lingering feelings have turned platonic.

He gets ready for the day, opens the door, and he’s there. Mako abruptly remembers that he doesn’t have work today. Now, he’s not sure whether that’s a positive.

Wu.

Mako intones, “What are you doing here.”

He’s supposed to be on some kind of tour with his… music career. Mako likes many of Wu’s traits that he’d never admit, but his singing leaves a lot to be desired. Nonetheless, something about Wu’s alluring voice attempting to hold a note always makes his heart jump into his throat.

“Is that any way to talk to your old friend?” Wu spreads his arms. Mako is surprised he doesn’t go in for a hug. Perhaps, he’s learned some boundaries.

“Old employer, you mean.”  Mako is semi-aware that he’s trying too hard to distance himself. He tried and tried to drop hints about his feelings, and he’s lost hope that Wu will ever see him that way, that he even could.

“Aw come on, after all we’ve been through?” Wu frowns. “I thought I meant a little more to you.”

Mako raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Did you want something or did you just come by to say hello?”

“I thought we could just… talk. I don’t know. I’m bored.”

So, Mako lets him inside. Wu looks around a bit, then shuffles over by a wall where he stands there staring at Mako. He offers, “Are you going to… sit down?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Um… okay.”

They talk. Hours fly by that Mako scarcely notices at first. He has plenty of input in the beginning, but eventually he lays on the bed. He places his hands behind his head, closes his eyes and just listens to his voice, his unexpected insights. Wu speaks of his travels, with plenty of humorous stories. 

He vanishes as suddenly as he came. Mako must have fallen asleep, because when he opens his eyes Wu is gone with no sign that he was there.

You are my everything… My head, my heart, my mind, my wing

It takes the second time to hear the edge in Wu’s voice, his deliberate leaning on the light-hearted. Whenever the serious side of his stories seems like it will thicken, he changes course.

This time, he has visited Mako at work. Mako has some backed up paperwork to take care of. A few pages in, he’s slacking and trying to play Pai Sho with himself; it’s not going well. He’s not a keen player to begin with, never as interested in it as Bolin. A hand reaches out and moves a piece. Mako looks up, and there’s Wu.

Mako actually hasn’t noticed the station is empty except for him until this moment. 

“Wu… it’s been a few weeks hasn’t it? How are you?”

Wu waves a hand. “Oh you know. Seeing things, meeting people. Did I tell you that time I ran into the swamp chasing that -”

“Right. If you like the swamp so much, maybe you should live there.”

Wu stares at him. His gaze is searching, but Mako is uncertain what he’s looking for. 

“Do you want to play?”

“Oh I’m terrible!”

“Well, I’m so great either…”

Wu reaches up to run his fingers through his own hair. He pauses and drops his hand. “I guess we can be terrible… together…”

There’s a twitch of a smile, and Mako realizes his smiles haven’t reached his eyes, not even the last time he saw him.

The past, the present, tomorrow too... 

The third time, part of Mako is expecting it. He’s at a spa after all, in a steam room. It was Asami’s suggestion, and it was just going to be them hanging out. Then, somehow everyone else got wind of it and showed up. And by everyone, he means: Korra, Bolin, Opal, Wing and Wei, Tu, Jinora, Kai, even Lin. Not every single person he knows fairly well, but it might as well have been. 

He managed to ditch them all at one point. He got a little… overwhelmed when they started talking about Kuvira. He definitely did not start sweating and run out of there like a chickendeer with its head cut off. 

Mako’s eyes snap open when he feels a brief and slightly damp sensation on his forehead. Wu grins at him, but his eyes are unfocused. It’s unsettling.

“Did you just… kiss me?”

“Haha sure… oh buddy, the heat must be getting to ya.”

Mako glares at him. He knows what he felt, and there’s no other explanation. He decides not to press the issue. Then, his eyes wander to Wu’s bare torso and his throat tightens. Wu lowers himself to sit beside him. It’s close but not so close as to be brushing against each other. Mako squints. It seems deliberate. Does Wu know about his feelings? Is he grossed out or just trying to spare him the rejection? Mako’s head gets kind of spinny.

This time is mostly silent. Mako - to his own surprise - is the one who tries to start conversation. Wu seems lost in thought though, and his responses are too monosyllabic to work into more. Occasionally, Wu catches Mako’s eye when Mako glances at him. Every time, Mako looks down at his own lap, cheeks heated and not from the steam. 

I’ll spend my final day with you

The fourth time, Mako is so shocked it angers him.

It’s a bust gone wrong. He’s tied up, definitely not expecting any visitors. That sonorous voice calls to him, “Heyy Mako. Looks like you’re all tied up, am I interrupting?”

Mako’s face aches where he was punched, one of his eyes is swollen shut, and he’s pretty sure a few ribs are cracked, if not broken. Somehow, he manages to glare at Wu. Then, he panics.

“What are you doing here?!”  Mako squirms, but it’s no good. “Get out of here!”

“Nah, I’m good. Can’t stay long though, but I got you a present.” Wu tosses him a knife. There are jewels in the hilt. “Nothing extravagant, but I think you can take it from here? The guard was asleep… they hired a kid, poor thing. He looks to be about… twelve? Maybe you should I dunno, adopt him or something.”

Mako stares at the knife. This has to be one messed up dream resulting from head trauma. “I - I feel too young to be a… a dad to a pre-teen and… I don’t think I’d make a good one.”

“Nonsense! You have just the kind of experience to relate to the kid. Big brother then?”

Because that went so well with Kai, though that was more Bolin’s mission than his. “He’d probably just see me as condescending.”

Wu shrugs. “Well, see you later Mako. I - I hope I can see you again soon.”

He walks out. Not long after, Mako escapes by managing to cut the ropes with his limited range of movement. It helps that the obviously expensive dagger, though probably meant to be decorative, is incredibly sharp. He hoists the kid over his shoulder kicking and screaming, then leaves it up to Lin to sort out. He has too many of his own issues. 

Later, when he’s giving his statement, he’s at a loss explaining his escape. 

He decides to loosely suggest that the kid helped him out. He’s adopted to a nice family within the week, and Mako sends him an encouraging letter with Bolin’s assistance with the wording. He doesn’t tell a single soul about seeing Wu.

I hope you feel the way I do, I hope you give yourself up too

The fifth time, he gets the immediate sense something is very wrong, and he’s been blind this whole time. He’s walking through the spirit wilds of Republic City, just to clear his head. Wu stumbles out from a tangle of vines. He’s disheveled, a complete wreck. His eyes are wild.

“Mako… Mako…”

“Wu?” For the first time, Mako reaches out to him as though to cradle him.

His hands pass right through him. Mako gasps, his eyes widening. “What - how -”

Wu gives him a pleading look and whispers, “You have to save me Mako… please… if I mean even a quarter to you what you - what you mean to me.”

“Save you…? What do you mean? From what? Are you projecting your spirit or something? Since when can you -”

Wu puts his hand up. “Enough questions. I’ve officially run out of time, Mako. I - I love -”

Then, he fades, just as Mako chokes, “You -”

 Mako can’t breathe. He sprints to the station and barges in on Lin.

“Mako? What do you think you’re -”

Mako slams his palms flat on the desk. “It’s Wu!”

Minutes feel like hours. Korra isn’t able to sense him, claiming to Mako’s horror that it means his life force is weak. Eventually, they’ve gathered everyone who has remotely associated with Wu in the last few months. His location is tracked to somewhere in the swamp… which ended up being the result of Mako’s gut feeling based on circumstantial evidence.

The evidence being that Wu somehow brought up the swamp in every conversation. Something that he only vaguely recollects after thinking about it really hard. 

Mako finds him first, of course. He’s laying in a muddy ditch, as disheveled as when his spirit most recently appeared. There are scrapes on every inch of skin he can see, and an especially deep wound somewhere in the abdomen. He’s wrapped in glowing vines that may or may not be keeping him on the cusp of life. The blood is difficult to see amongst the mud and vines, but Mako can smell it. He rushes to Wu and kneels down. He gently scoops him up, even though he knows he shouldn’t move him.

It’s probably too late. The vines retreat.

“Wu, please. Please don’t leave me. You were wrong okay? I care about you so, so much.” Mako finally releases his stranglehold on his deepest emotions, and the tears flow. “You need to pull through this, you need to fight so I can - so I can - tell you that I-”

He can’t say the words, not like this, not when he can’t even hear them.

Soon, the others appear. Korra and Kya quickly rush to his side and take over. He stays close. His vision blurring. Someone pulls him away, rambling something. Someone else puts a blanket around his shoulders. Someone says, “It’ll be alright.”

Mako can see the doubt in their eyes.

Mako and Wu are carted in different directions. It feels wrong, to be pulled away from him. However, he doesn’t think he can take it if the worst scenario is true. 

How could he miss it? 

Mako is numb and quiet as hours or maybe days pass. It’s discovered that Wu met someone claiming to be a scouting agent. Apparently, he had worked with Varrick and Bolin at one point, and that was all that was needed for Wu to trust him.

Mako should’ve never left his side.

It went very south. Wu was innocent in everything, but of course he somehow ended up in the crossfire of a scandal involving spirit vines, former Kuvira followers, and big, big debts. He was nothing but a puppet for some fiend to hide behind.

“I’m in love with him,” Mako says out loud, just so the universe at least can hear it. Of course, he’s overhead by several people. He distantly registers he’s in the air temple. He doesn’t know when that happened. 

“...You’re kidding,” Bolin remarks, staring. 

“You didn’t know?”

“Dude… I thought you were straight. Everyone knew Wu was into you, but we thought it was an epically tragic case of unreciprocated affection!”

“There’s nothing epic about that,” Mako grumpily mutters. He’d thought himself in that position once, and Bolin is making it sound like fun mover material.

When he explains how he guessed Wu’s location, Lin of all people says, “He was about as obvious as you were with how you felt. That is, too subtle… by the spirits, how could you two be such idiots?”

“I know right? They’re made for each other,”  Asami says. 

And…

Oh.

“He didn’t know.”

“Probably not, Mako.”

Mako slaps his forehead. “I’m such a moron.”

No one responds to that, but they don’t refute it either. He doesn’t blame them.

I’m damned to feel the way I do

Mako is going to visit Wu. It feels strange the other way around. He carefully crosses the threshold, flowers clutched in his hand. It feels weird, but it also didn’t feel right not to bring anything. This is it, after all; an end and a beginning.

“When I saw you, hurt and lifeless… there are just so many things I wish I had said,” Mako murmurs. “Despite the time I’ve had to think about, I still don’t know what words to choose. I couldn’t even say it to your face, but this is catharsis, I suppose.”

He goes on, “I’m sure you know, when we first met I thought you were one of the most obnoxious people on the planet. Okay, maybe you didn’t know - or if you did, you hid it well. Somewhere along the line I started to see… what a truly amazing and strong person you are.”

“You really impressed me with how you had grown,” Mako continues. His chest aches. He’s not sure what he’s doing. He takes a few steps closer and drops to his knees. “I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell you goodbye. Every stupid little thing you would do became so endearing, it made me so - so stupid. A stupid fool in l-”

He still can’t get the word out, not when addressing Wu without him being there. Silence falls as Mako loses the strength to talk. He wipes at his dampened cheek feebly with his sleeve. 

“What happened to my big tough guy? Not that there’s an -” A pause and a weak cough. “Anything wrong with being touchy-feely. Good for you.”

Mako drops the flowers, and he rushes so fast to stand that his knee rams into the metal bed frame. He winces, then he looks at Wu, and his minor pain evaporates. Wu’s eyes are half-lidded, his knuckles pale where he’s clutching the sheet. He’s clearly struggling to stay awake. However, he gives Mako a lopsided smile, his beautiful eyes twinkling. 

“It’s a  good thing you don’t have to, huh? Be in a world without me that is,” Wu mutters.

Mako reaches to brush his hair to the side. 

“Sure scared me though. You should rest.”

“I’m just excited you’ve come to see me,” Wu admits. “Stay with me?”

Without hesitation, Mako squeezes himself onto the cot. “Of course. I’m here. I love you.”

Wu grins wide enough that it doesn’t really look comfortable. “Mako I -”

Wu breaks away to cough again. “I love you too, big guy.”

“I wonder, do you remember visiting me?” Mako murmurs, “Do you remember coming to me when you were unconscious? How did you do that?”

“Whaaat? I’m not exactly Mr. Spiritual Guru. How would I do that?” Wu adds, “Also, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Huh. Maybe I had cracked and hallucinated it.”

“Or, or, your spirit was the one reaching out and pulling me to you! Because we’re deeply connected.”

“Pfft. It was probably the spirit vines.”

“Yeah... probably.”

Wu cracks a yawn, and his eyelids droop. Mako kisses him on the forehead. His lip has a bad split, so this will do. Wu snuggles into him, and Mako knows the meaning of true peace.

[p3nny4urth0ught5]

One Step Back - Prologue

Hey guys. This is the Clark Kent fanfiction that I posted about a few weeks ago or whenever that was, the Clark Kent x ex-fiance/ex-best friend! reader. The first few parts are going to be more focused on Clark just FYI until I officially introduce Y/n. This story is supposed to take place after the movie Justice League. This is the Prologue and I’m just going to warn you, it is pretty long.

I haven’t written anything in a while and certainly not something this in depth so please be kind. If you want to be tagged please let me know.

Big shout out to @singeramg for being so encouraging and helpful through this process. Couldn’t have done with without her. Enjoy!

Clark sat in the living room he shared with Lois and stared off into the distance. He could hear Lois talking but the words weren’t computing for some reason. It all sounded garbled, like she was talking underwater. Magazines were spread out on the coffee table as well as binders and other paperwork. The coffee in his cup has gone cold long ago but still he gripped it like it was the only thing anchoring him in the room. Since he came back and was able to take a moment and relax because the world wasn’t in danger of being completely obliterated, there had been one thing and one thing only on his mind. He had been withdrawn and distant and there was no doubt in his mind that if Lois hadn’t been so busy being the ground-breaking journalist that she is and also trying to plan their wedding that she would have confronted him about it already. She wasn’t exactly shy about getting the answers she wanted, one of the many reasons why she made such a good journalist.

He took a deep breath and set down his mug. Clark felt guilty that he hadn’t been more present. He loved Lois and he knew he should have been more active in their wedding planning but he had such a difficult time concentrating recently. His eyes flitted over to her and he felt such adoration seeing her speak so passionately about something she cared about. The guilt gnawed at him knowing that she was talking to him about their biggest day in their life and he couldn’t even be bothered to listen because of how distracted and overwhelmed he was.

“What kind of flowers do you think we should have?” He flinched at how loud her voice seemed now that he was well and truly listening.

His eyes widened at the question. Flowers. He hadn’t really considered that for some reason. Did Lois have a favorite flower? Clark couldn’t remember. Every bouquet he’d ever gotten her had a variety of kinds and colors. Did she like roses? Tulips? Lilies? He could honestly say that he didn’t know. He mentally berated himself, that was something he should know about his fiancé.

“Clark? Did you hear me?” She asked.

He gulped and cleared his head of all his jumbled thoughts before just saying the first one that popped into his head. “Marigolds.” His voice cracked at the word and he nearly felt his heart beat out of his chest at the thought.

Lois laid her hand on his and it took everything in him not to wince at the feeling. Ever since he’d come back from the dead his senses had been extra sensitive, especially touch. “What did you say honey? I couldn’t hear you.”

Clark shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. He was finding it hard to open his mouth and repeat the word he had just said. His hand reached for his mug and he took a big gulp of the cold coffee, wincing at the temperature and taste before clearing his throat again. “Marigolds. I think they would be nice for the wedding.

“Hmm.” She retracted her hand and pulled out her phone. Her nose scrunched up and he could see from his seat that she was looking them up online. “I don’t know. What about tulips? Those of my favorite.”

He nodded his head but inside he was wincing. “Sure, that sounds nice.” He was disappointed, he couldn’t believe that he didn’t know her favorite flower.

She smiled and he noted that while her smile used to make him feel lighter than air, which is saying something considering he can literally fly, but now he just had a sinking feeling in his chest. Lois stood, grabbing her empty mug and his half drunk one and taking them to the kitchen. He could hear her turning on the sink and washing the cups. “I was thinking red.”

He turned his head toward the kitchen in confusion, his brow furrowed. “What?”

“Red for the color of the tulips silly. What else?” She laughed. “What do you want for dinner? I was thinking Chinese. How’s that sound?”

Clark ran his fingers through his hair, he couldn’t relax. He had been constantly on edge and talking about the wedding was just making things worse. It was bringing up all the stuff he didn’t want to think about. He felt awful. “Yeah. That uh- that sounds great.”

The wedding magazines stared up at him, making Clark feel even worse than he previously had. When he’d gotten the ring, he’d been so sure and so excited to propose. He hadn’t even gotten to actually propose to her because his mom had given Lois the ring after he’d died and she’d been wearing it since. Clark looked down at the magazines and his breath caught in his throat at the photo in one of them. It was a more rustic style wedding, something he knew Lois would never go for. Everything about it reminded him of home, the bride in particular. She had flowers in her hair and her gown, while still elegant, was simple. A peach colored sash was wrapped around her waist and in her hand was her bouquet which comprised of the same flowers in her hair in an organized-chaotic fashion. He could practically see a young girl who he couldn’t get off his mind in the dress, the colors in particular bringing him back into his jumbled mess of thoughts.

The sight alone took him back to the days when his dad was still alive, when things were so much simpler and yet so complicated as well. Clark found himself lost in thought, going back to the days when his biggest worries were keeping his secret and helping out his parents with the family farm. He could practically smell the homemade biscuits and taste them on his tongue. There were nights even now when he longed for the stillness, the quiet, the peace that the nights offered back home. He didn’t get that kind of tranquility in the city, or anywhere else for that matter, with all the hustle and bustle. His heart ached for the things and people he had left behind, one of which has been plaguing his every thought since he returned.

“Clark?” He turned to look at Lois and realized that he must’ve been best in his own head longer than he thought as the food had already arrived and was spread out on the coffee table. The magazines and such had been cleared away and only the one that had caught his eye remained, clutched tightly in his hands. “Did you see something in that one that you like? That one wasn’t really to my taste but I did see some cute ideas in there.”

He turned and put down the booklet on the end table nearest to him. Now, more than ever, he felt like he knew what he needed to do to help him clear his guilt, to focus on Lois, to get his head out of the past and back to the present. Clark turned back to his fiancé and took the take-out from her hands before placing it on the table.

“Honey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” He sighed and smiled softly at the woman he loved.

“Lois,” he took her hands in his own, “I think that you have noticed that I haven’t been myself lately and in an effort to spare my feelings have declined to ask me about it. Am I right?”

She nodded and scooted closer to him on the couch while gripping his hands tighter. “You’ve been through a lot recently and I didn’t want to overwhelm you more than you already are.”

Clark rubbed the back of his neck and grit his teeth. He felt even worse now. He knew she had noticed. “I’m sorry that you have been keeping that inside.” She stroked her thumbs along the back of his hands. “And I know that I haven’t been very helpful with all the wedding plans–”

“Hey, Clark,” Lois released one of his hands and cupped his cheek. “It’s alright. I have been managing just fine on my own. I don’t blame you at all for being withdrawn.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and he felt like an even worse person for her feeling the need to protect him. “Just tell me what you need.”

He shook his head. It shouldn’t surprise him how well she knew him by now. He cupped her hand that was on his face. “I think,” he eyes met hers, “that I need some time to get back to who I am.” A sigh passed through his lips; he was nervous about this next part. “I think I might go back home for a while.”

Her smile widened. “That sounds great Clark. I’m sure your mom would love to see you.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “When do we leave?”

And just like that, his heart sunk in his chest. “Um actually I think it’s important that I do this alone.” The joy on her face faded. “I just have a lot of stuff to work out and I don’t want to take you away from work. Don’t you have a big story you are working on anyway?”

She nodded; her brow furrowed. “Okay yeah that makes sense, I guess. How long do you think you will be gone?”

He winced. “A few weeks, maybe a month or two at the most? I don’t know honestly.”

Lois sighed and gripped his hands before releasing them and standing. She started pacing around the room mumbling to herself. Clark sat back in his seat on the couch. He pinched the skin between his eyebrows and groaned. His stomach was in knots. He knew he was asking a lot and he had lied about his intentions for his time away. Well, he hadn’t lied per say but he hadn’t told her the whole truth either. He knew if he had, she would have demanded coming, and this was something he had to do on his own. For goodness sake she didn’t even want him to go alone now and she didn’t even know the entire spiel.

“I don’t like this Clark, but I will go ahead and agree to it because of how you have been recently.” She turned and sat next to him on the couch again. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

He set his mouth in a grim line and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. She cuddled into his chest as he kissed her forehead. “You won’t. I’ll only be gone for a little while. Knowing you, you will be so busy with everything that you’ll barely notice I’m gone.”

“That’s probably true.” And with that it was like a weight had been lifted. He knew what he had to do and while he knew that what he was planning was probably going to make him feel like an even worse person than he already did and cause him more pain, that it was the right thing to do. Clark hoped that in the long run, it would help him, and her. He was going back home to make amends with the woman who was once the most important person in his life, his ex-fiancé and best friend, Y/n, who he hadn’t seen in over ten years. And just like that, the weight that had just been lifted off his chest, came crashing back down. He was so screwed, she was going to eat him alive.

So that is the Prologue for this story. Sorry if it’s rough. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think and/or if you want to be tagged. I’ve already started on Chapter 1 but I have no clue when it will be finished. Thanks everyone!

[dragons-bones]

4, 15, 20, 28, 33, 35, 41 for the domesticity meme? it's a lot i'm very sorry i just Hunger For Domesticity

Domesticity is Good And Wonderful, I don’t blame you a bit, Cyan. :P Also tagging @smira-asah-xiv and @tehjai who both asked for number #15.

4. How did they start living together? Do they move? How do they choose the place?

Living arrangements were something that Synnove and Aymeric actively sat down and discussed very early on; they both had a very good sense that their relationship was It for them. Synnove was actually a little nervous about how the talk would go because she was very reluctant to sell her house; she’s owned the plot since about two or three years after the Calamity and had the house built to her specifications. It is very much her home. She loves Borel Manor, too, but she deeply loves La Noscea.

Aymeric, thankfully, was appalled at the very idea of her selling her own just to accommodate himself. Now, Ishgardian inheritance and property laws being the Byzantine headaches they are, he couldn’t sell the Manor even if he wanted to.

The compromise they hit upon was essentially splitting their time between homes. Their work being what it is, it’s easier for Synnove to still primarily live at the La Noscea house, and Aymeric at the Manor, but they will frequently come to stay with the other as time and work permits (and their friends/colleagues threaten them to take vacations). Synnove frequently shows up at the Manor during the semester to take a break from Guild nonsense or grade somewhere much quieter (while also sneaking in a cuddle or six), and Aymeric is absolutely blatant about using the La Noscea house as an escape during Parliament recesses so he isn’t ambushed at home by politicians.

15. What habits of the other drives them crazy?

The workaholism. Yes, they are incredibly aware of the hypocrisy of such, though their habits manifest in different ways: Aymeric of course hates how much Synnove mangles her sleep schedule (that he’s actually relieved when Scion business calls her away is awful, because it means she’s about to sleep like a normal person), and Synnove hates how Aymeric will get up in the middle of night to do work, or bring paperwork to bed with him.

In non-workaholic related annoyances:

Aymeric would not mind Synnove’s coffee addiction near as much if she would just use the same mug instead of constantly leaving them around the house and getting a fresh one for another cup. She is good about reusing her mugs when she’s reminded to do so, but she has to be reminded. (He is, perhaps, a little smug when she grumbles doing the evening round up of dishes and it takes her two or three trips to get all the used mugs into the kitchen to be washed.)

Synnove loves Aymeric’s voice, but he has a habit when it’s quiet enough to read his paperwork aloud, as the sound helps him concentrate. It’s not enough to be discernible, however; it’s a murmur, at best. Aymeric has no idea when he began doing it, but the lack of understandable words grates on Synnove’s nerves. Keeping the orchestrion on actually helps, since Aymeric only begins doing it during dead silence in the house, but Synnove will retreat to another room when Aymeric does paperwork and neither are in the mood to listen to music.

20. What do they watch on TV and do they fight for the remote?

(*dusts off Modern Eorzea AU ideas*)

They tend to enjoy a lot of documentaries: science (particularly fields Synnove doesn’t work with), nature, history, and certain niche interests. Cooking shows, mysteries, some comedies (they have a mutual fondness for Ul’dah 99), and historical dramas are also fun. Political dramas and a lot of action/sci-fi movies are off on the table as the former remind Aymeric too much of work and the latter Synnove frequently nitpicks for bad science. (She gives certain shows and movies a pass if they’re very blatant about Rule of Cool being the primary physical force at work.)

But there are two times of the year when the remote will be fought over: the spring and autumn months when the baseball and hockey seasons overlap. Synnove, math nerd that she is, is a huge baseball fan (and also plays on the faculty softball team at the University of Limsa Lominsa); Aymeric, as any good son of Coerthas, was born and raised playing hockey (and curling). Aymeric usually only cares about Ishgard Knights games (though Synnove can be wheedled into watching with him if they’re playing the Ala Mhigo Griffins, as the Limsa Lominsa Corsairs are, uh, kind of a joke), whereas Synnove is a devout fan of both the Limsa Lominsa Hammerheads and the Ala Mhigo Revolution. (The Ishgard Bishops are about the only Coerthan team worth a damn, but Aymeric still can’t bring himself to cheer for them after the Dragoons moved to Tailfeather.)

28. What kind of stuff can be found around their place?

Books of all kinds (science journals, political treatises, military history, fiction, cookbooks, etc.). Lots of loose leaf paper and quills (Aymeric) and chalk and graphite sticks (Synnove). Assorted mechanical contraptions Aymeric refuses to touch until Synnove confirms they aren’t explosive. The carbuncles’ toys (they are very good at putting them away at the end of the day, but please do watch your step when visiting at either home). Synnove’s goldsmithing tools and carbuncle-quality gems she cuts for the Guild. Coffee mugs. (”Synnove! Use the one in your hand for Halone’s sake!”) Feathers for fletching arrows and bottles of oil with rubbing rags for Naegling and Aymeric’s bow. A stack of grimoires wherein any of one of which could probably be used to beat someone to death (and one looks suspiciously dented already). A growing pile of unopened letters on the table next to the front door with the wax seals of various Ishgardian houses.

...I’m going to stop there because if I don’t we will be here all night.

33. How do they refer to the other in public? How do other people refer to the other? (i.e. “my partner”, “ask your father”, "dad and papa", "how’s your wife?“, etc)

Synnove and Aymeric will generally refer to one another as either “my beloved” or “my lover,” when speaking of the other; Aymeric will also refer to Synnove as “his lady.” The Ishgardian nobility will refer to Synnove as simply “the Warrior of Light” (with context making it obvious they mean Synnove specifically) for politeness’s sake; Count Edmont and the Temple Knights are the only ones who will refer to Synnove as “his lady.” The Squad will just flat out call Aymeric “her boyfriend,” even if Synnove herself thinks that terminology is too juvenile. Synnove’s co-workers at the Guild call him “her beau” or “that knight of yours.”

35. How often do they go on dates?

Not very; with how often they’re consumed by work, staying in tends to be their preferred way of spending time with one another. That being said, sometimes they both get antsy to do something; even if they’re in Ishgard when that happens, they’ll more than likely teleport to Limsa Lominsa, as it has a much livelier night life, and Lominsans are more likely to mind their own business when one of their resident Warriors of Life is meandering through the city with a handsome man on her arm.

Depending on their mood, dinner will be either at the Bismarck if they’d like something a little fancier to eat, the Drowning Wench if they’re more interested in good whiskey with their fish stew, or one of the myriad cafes for Ala Mhigan or Gridanian or Thavnairian. Afterwards, it would either be stay at the Wench to people watch and enjoy the open stage Baderon keeps for performance-minded adventurers to show off; head over to a free play or concert at the Aftcastle or Anchor Yard put on by one of the theater companies; or, if they really need the laugh, a show at one of the bawdy houses.

41. What would they do if the other was hurt?

Well, as we know on two separate occasions, when Aymeric gets hurt, Synnove gets angry. Usually at whomever hurt him, sometimes also at him if he was being “a fucking moron” about it. If it’s a combat situation, well, the enemy had better start running, because it is Dreadwyrm Protocols time.

(Raubahn is exceedingly grateful, after the first time he sees Synnove Greywolfe turn her ruby carbuncle into Demi-Bahamut during the Battle of Ala Mhigo, that she couldn’t do that during the Grand Melee.)

If it’s not a combat situation, however, Synnove is likely to fretting mother hen. Aymeric, too, though with less clucking and more soothing humming if it was something like a kitchen accident. (He is likely to be less sympathetic if it’s an injury related to an experiment, because Synnove is supposed to be smarter than that.)

For a combat-related injury, Aymeric is generally going to be less, ah, violent than Synnove and more deeply concerned, as Synnove is more than capable of holding her own in combat and has her three sisters-by-choice at her side. Most often, if her injuries are more related to aether shock and having to go all out in combat, he’ll assist in ensuring she drinks her aether syrup and recovers from depleting her aether reserves so thoroughly.

Of course, there was his reaction to hearing about Synnove’s injuries from the Battle of Rhalgr’s Reach. Lucia and Handeloup do not talk about it. Not even Rereha could get the details out of them; all she knows is that the two managed to get Aymeric to an empty salle, locked the door, and stood guard to make sure no one tried to get in, and that the repair bill was enormous.

--

(Big Fat Domesticity Meme for Aymeric & Synnove)

[cilliansaccent]

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 1

Hello everyone!! I’ve finally gotten around to posting a fanfic of Cillian, below you will find details of the first chapter. It is not a READER x CILLIAN fic, I am not a fan of writing those types and find it too tedious. So, you will be given a premade character. But you are most welcome to imagine yourself as the girl ;)

Please leave a like or any comments below on ways to improve, please be kind but you are welcome to be critical! I’m open to ideas and fixing up mistakes. Also, sharing would be amazing!!

Note, PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!! 

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 4,080

Warnings: None.

Date: March 2016

Chapter Name: The Internship of a Lifetime

Brief Chapter Outline: Gabrijela leaves her parents in Sydney after a big argument about her Internship. She arrives at Heathrow tired and restless, only to be approached by a man…

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The drive to the airport was long and quiet. Gabrijela watched out the window of the car, watching the houses and the cars drive by. Thinking of the trip ahead. She had worked quite hard the last couple of years, to prove herself to her teacher and to her family. Especially to her family who were the harshest critics of her very own life. But at least her teacher was proud, she loved the portfolio Gabrijela had pulled together in the final year of her studies. And she would bring it with her, to show to the new teacher she will have in London. 

The last few weeks were the worst for her, constant arguing with her mother and father, over this trip. It hurt her the most, she thought she would have made them proud. But no, it seemed it made them angry. She shut her eyes, it didn’t matter now, she made it this far and she was going to enjoy the year on the set of a TV Show, learning how to be a fashion designer, how to create and tailor for actors and actresses. It made her giddy with excitement. It wasn’t long before the airport came into view, her father pulled into the multilevelled parking and parked. They were four hours early, so they killed time by walking around and eating. Chatter was light, anything to keep her parents distracted by the thought of their only daughter flying away. But, the time came around and they headed to the departures gate. “Please, be safe.” Her mother, Liljana, frowned, hugging her daughter tightly. Gabrijela held her close, she would miss them a lot, despite the rocky relationship that has sprung between them. “If anything happens, call us right away, no matter the time. Don’t do anything that will cause you harm--” “Dad, I’ll be fine. I swear. I’m twenty-five, I’m not a child anymore.” Gab cut her stern-looking father off. He sucked in a breath, “Don’t you--” “Nikola,” Her mother snapped, “Our daughter will be late.” Her father sighed, tears lining his eyes as he hugged her tightly. “Please, please take care. You know we love you.” He murmured. “I know. I love you, I love you both.” She pulled her mother into the hug and they held each other for a bit. Gabrijela pulled away, tears falling down her cheeks. She spoke in her language, Croatian, “I love you.” She had said and picked up her bags and headed to the gate, she turned to wave goodbye to her parents before she set off on the long flight.

23 Hours Later…

It was 9am when she had landed at Heathrow Airport. The flight was long and exhausting, she couldn’t sleep the whole way, she never could sleep on aeroplanes anyway. She rubbed her eyes as she lugged her massive suitcase and a smaller one with a heavy handbag. Once out of customs, she stood in the middle, checking her paperwork. She was told someone would pick her up and take her to her apartment in London. She looked around, she hadn’t seen anyone holding a sign or… seemed to be the type to be picking up anyone. “Great.” She groaned, she had no way of contacting the number, she had to get herself a sim card of some sort and access to wifi. She rubbed her forehead, she was gross all over, sleep-deprived and annoyed. “Hello, are you Gabrijela?” An accented male voice got her to turn around. The man was absolutely stunning, sharp-angled jaw, piercing blue eyes, thousands of freckles… Cillian was handsome on TV but in person… She was blown away. She didn’t see he held out a hand, and she shook herself back to reality. “H-Hi, yes that’s me.” She took his hand, warm and strong. “I’m Cillian, I believe you were expecting someone else.” He said, his smile was literally breathtaking. “Uh, yeah. Allison, she was uh, supposed to pick me up.” She nodded, setting down her small carry on luggage. “Yeah, she’s been quite sick the last few days. So, I took up on the offer to pick you up.” He explained. Gabrijela felt her heart skip a beat, he offered? “Aw, thank you. That’s, that’s super sweet of you.” She flashed him a grin. “Always. Come on, let’s get you out of here. You look exhausted.” He grabbed the biggest luggage and her carry on. “Oh no, let me carry that.” She started to grab it. “Don’t worry, it’s no bother.” He said. Another smile made her blush. Together they walked towards the elevator. It was nice outside, a little on the cooler side but she liked the cold weather despite it being almost summer here. They squished into the elevator, moving as far back as possible as people crammed in. She was crushed against the body of the Irish man, a soft chuckle reverberated through him. Her heart was hammering in her chest, the ride up felt like forever. A ride she didn’t want to end, she thought. But, like all things, it came to an end and they stepped out. They came to his car, a BMW of some sort. She whistled, “Favourite car ever.” She said as she helped him stuff her bags into the back. “Yeah, I love it. Fast and comfortable and a touch of luxury.” Cillian said as he held open the door for her. “Thank you.” She hastily got in, the interior was leather and dark. And smelled like… the ocean and a hint of forest. Cillian got in and started up the car, it came alive with a low hum. “Do you have the address of where you are staying?” “Oh yes, here I’ll read it out,” Gab said and read out the address. “Huh, they found a nice place.” He punched in the address and pulled out of the parking place. Jazz music played softly, she never listened to this type of genre. “So, how was the flight?” He asked. “Long. Very long. Seven hours from Sydney to Singapore then had under an hour to hop on to the next flight. Thirteen hours.” She replied, “I didn’t sleep, can’t. Watched some movies, tried to read but failed. I had a pounding headache and the guy couldn’t stop going to the toilet.” “Shit sounds bad. But don’t worry, you are not expected in the studio in three days, so you have time to recover.” He said. “Oh really? Do you… know what I’ll be doing?” Gabrijela asked, but then thought it was a stupid question. “Ah, that was silly to ask. It states in my paperwork.” She laughed. “No question is stupid. You’ll be working with our designer, helping her out in organising what we are to wear, the styles, colours. All that fashion stuff. Allison is a wonderful woman, an expert. You’ll learn a lot from her.” Cillian said proudly, “She works with all of us actors, tailoring the suits and dresses to such perfection.” The way he spoke about Allison made Gabrijela nervous. He seemed fond of the woman, and by how he was dressed during the show… God, she was going to be greatly challenged. And she would work her ass off the coming months, no complaints. She would do it. “She seems like a lovely person, I can't wait to start.” She clasped her hands to her chest, looking over at the older man. “As we all, Allison seriously loved your portfolio, and she had shown us. You have a fantastic idea and creativity.” Cill said. Gabrijela blushed bright red. “She showed you… my portfolio? From University?” She whispered. Her nerves spiked, and worry set in. “Oh, she was very impressed. Couldn’t hold back. Hey.” His voice softened, she looked at him again, they had stopped at a set of lights. He faces her, “I can see that doubt in your eyes. Don't be fearful, you should be proud of your work. It’s yours to claim and your creative noggin here made. Don’t let others cloud your thoughts.” He said, his blue gaze intense yet caring. She sucked in a breath and they moved on, “I guess so. It’s just… you all are so talented and amazing and… Gah, it’s scary. I didn’t even think I’d get this. It’s been a dream long coming for me to work on an amazing set with equally amazing people.” Gabrijela admitted. “We are just regular people who must play an act. That’s all.” He let out a light chuckle. “Still, for me, it’s so cool. I thought I’d be good at acting and tried to do a play during school, uh yeah, nah. I messed up majorly on the first night of the play. Still remember it.” She laughed shyly. “Wardrobe malfunction and I forgot my lines. All of them. Worst stage fright ever.” “No.” He said in disbelief. “Yes! In front of eight hundred students and staff. I refused to continue on after that. Gave that shit up and went into a design class where I hid from the world, scribbling away my thoughts and feelings.” They both laughed. “Well, I think you picked the best path. You’re here, a bright, creative mind amongst us. Welcome aboard.” He exclaimed. His laugh was a blessing to hear, it made her skin prick with goosebumps. She admired this man beside her for a long while, she had seen him in every movie he played. She was fascinated by how he worked, how easily he stepped into his given role so perfectly… And here she was, in his car, laughing and talking. Still, right now, it felt like a dream. A comfortable silence fell between them, and she watched the scene outside. Old buildings began to turn to more flashier ones as they made their way into the heart of London. Cillian spoke up and pointed out interesting buildings and told some facts, she listened intently, she would come back to these areas to check them out. Especially the Tower of London castle. “The Tube here is good. Fast but can get very packed during peak times, and very stuffy.” He said as they came into a pretty neighbourhood. “I heard that the train line is good.” Gab nodded. It wasn't long when he pulled up beside a three levelled building. The whole street was lined with these white, pretty buildings. “Here we are.” He said and got out, she pulled herself out and groaned. Stretching, she said, “This is a really pretty area.” “Quiet, and safe. Close to the station and to the shops, five minutes down the road you’ll come to a food market.” He said, pulling out her luggage with a grunt. She grabbed her smaller ones, “That's good. I might need to go down to it after this to grab some, and I need to get a sim card for my phone.” She said as they trudged up the stairs to the large wooden door. “I’d love to help you out if you want?” He asked as they unlocked the door. “Oh, sure. I’d like that.” She smiled up at him. “This floor and the one above is occupied, but the top-level is yours.” He said they both looked at the stairs. “Oh god. Why don’t you let me help you? My bag is heavy, I don't want you to hurt yourself.” She said. “Ah, fine fine. Want me to go first or you?” He asked. “Maybe you.” She said. Together they fought with the luggage, huffing and puffing up three flights of narrow, steep stairs. Once at the top they both sat down, laughing. “What is in this thing?” He ran a hand through his hair, his smile lopsided. “Clothes, shoes, a bag, girly items.” Gabrijela giggled, moving beside him. “Uh-huh. Come on, let's get you settled in.” He said and got up, he held out a hand to her. She took it and was pulled to her feet. “You do the honours.” He handed her a set of keys. She took them and unlocked the door to her apartment. The first thing they were greeted was the open space, to the right was a two-seater dark grey couch and a small flat-screen TV mounted to the wall above a fireplace. Behind the couch was a double bed with a million cushions and dark tones for sheets. Further was the balcony that overlooked the street. To the left was a small modern kitchen with a wall separating the rooms, it was designed in a way where a square cut out of the wall was turned into like a breakfast bar with two stools. Beside the kitchen was a generously large bathroom with a bathtub build into the wall equipped with a showerhead. The colours were dark browns, greys and splashes of copper and silver and greens in the decor. “Wardrobe is under the bed and in the dresser here.” Cillian patted the dark wood piece that was set beside the bathroom door. “London apartments are quite small but small design aspects use space very effectively.” “This is… Wow, I didn't expect it to be so… Lovely.” She touched the fluffy throw on the bed. It felt like luxury. She sunk down on the bed, bouncing on it. She kept looking around. “You’ll be calling this your home in the coming months, so get as comfy as you like.” Gabrijela sucked in a breath, “Thank you.” She said, her emotions were all over the place, happiness, fear, excitement. “What for?” Cillian asked, sitting beside her. “For all of this. For this opportunity.” Her eyes shimmered with utter joy. “Don’t thank me. Thank the ones who got to make this happen.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I will, but to you especially. I’ve uh, I’ve always admired you in films you act in. And I absolutely love Peaky Blinders, it's a fantastic show and I am truly excited to work with you and everyone else.” She said in a single breath, her cheeks heating. He let out a soft laugh, “I could say the same, as I said before, we are delighted to have you on the team.” She felt so shy around him, his eyes, his smile, everything about him made her feel so giddy. He truly was one kind of a man, and her love and admiration only grew more for him. “Well, I had an idea. You give me a list of what you need, and you get yourself comfortable and shower or whatever.” Cillian stood up. “Oh no, no, no. I can’t do that. I’ve already taken up so much of your time today, I think it’s best if I just go myself.” She stood up quickly, shaking her head. “Please, it’s no bother, really. You’ve had a long trip,” he grabbed notepad on the dresser and a pen from his pocket and handed it to her. “List, please.” She sighed, “God, fine.” She huffed and scribbled down some things she’d like. “There you go, Mr Pushy.” Cillian tucked the paper into his jacket pocket, “I’ll see you soon.” He said and left. Gabrijela waited before she let out an excited cry. She did a little dance and laughed, “Oh thank you God for this opportunity!” She unpacked some stuff, mostly her… private items before she grabbed a clean pair of ripped jeans and an oversized sweatshirt before she went into the shower. It felt good to bathe, washing off all the crap and stress away. Once out, she resumed unpacking until Cillian rang the doorbell. She allowed him up and gasped when he came in with four bags. “I definitely did not write that much stuff down! Cillian!” She gave him a playful push once he set the bags down. “Well, I wanted to buy more than just lettuce and a pack of noodles.” He said. “Let me make lunch for you.” She snorted, “No. I refuse. Please.” She grabbed his hands, “Cillian, you really shouldn’t do this.” “Gabrijela.” He now held her hands between his, and his gaze was bright and caring. “I want to do this because I want to. Out of the goodness in my heart.” The look he had made her back down, he really wanted this. “Alright, Cillian. Make my lunch then.” She pulled back and helped him unpack the bags. She left him be as she finished up unpacking her stuff. She set up her laptop and portable music box before she sent out a facebook message to her mother to ease her worrisome mind. Cillian had even gotten her a sim card, and she was so paying him back for it. It wasn’t long when her father called up on Skype. She chatted with him in Croatian for a bit before she said her goodbye. “Your dad?” Cillian called from the kitchen, he was well into cooking, the air smelled a bit burnt. “Yeah, gotta check in with the family. They're the most worried, this is the first time I’ve ever gone overseas alone.” She replied, scrolling through Facebook. “Is this your first time overseas?” He asked. “Nah, the first two was with my parents and this one by myself.” She smiled, sitting back on the couch and watching him through the opening in the wall that looked into the kitchen. He was busy stirring something. “Where did you go in the first two?” He moved to grab what looked like salt. “Croatia visited family and the usual touristy stuff. Was an awesome experience.” She said. “Oh yeah? I’m guessing you’ve learned how to speak it since you spoke Croatian with your dad just then.” “Mhm. I took a course before I just practised at home with my parents, I’m able to hold a good conversation now.” She said with pride in her tone. “Incredible. I used to know French a while back, but I’ve forgotten it all.” He chuckled. “Oh yeah? How’d you get into that?” She got up and sat on one of the stools, watching him. “My mum is a French teacher, so as a boy I learned it through her. Once an adult, I kinda stopped as I really had no more use for it.” He explained. “Didn’t want to sing it either?” Gabrijela teased. He snorted, “Definitely not. You know about the band stuff?” He turned to her. “Kinda, a little. Did you enjoy it?” She asked. “Yeah, I did. Played the guitar, sang a little. It was a good time, but not something I wanted to pursue further.” He shrugged, “A good filler in my younger years.” “Awesome. You do seem like the band kinda guy.” She folded her arms on the table. “Yeah? My brother says that to me, asks me if I would ever pick it back up again.” He turned back to the pot boiling, stirring it. “I see, but I think acting suits you better.” She nodded. “Huh, thanks. I get that a lot.” Cillian mused as he stirred the pot before turning the electric stovetop off. She rolled her eyes, “So cocky.” She huffed. Cillian flashed her a grin before he set out two bowls and poured in the noodle soup. “Chicken soup with carrots chunks. Easy to make and really good in energising the body.” He said, pouring her a glass of strawberry cordial and one for himself. “You know, my mum makes the same thing. But more for if your sick, or whenever shes in the mood. Let's see how good Mr Murphy is.” She straightened her back, picking up the soup. “Oh, God.” He laughed nervously, “Be gentle on me.” She could see the playful glint in his eyes as she tasted the steaming soup. She took a couple of spoonfuls before she slowly set the spoon down, eyes narrowed and had a thoughtful look on her face. “Hm,” She hummed, rubbing her chin, “Salt… Good. Enough. Temperature… Just right… The taste…” She paused, eyes flicked up to his. He waited, head tilted to the side. His smile began to grow. “Delicious!” She cried happily, “It’s fantastic, Cillian. Almost like home, but very close.” “Oh!” He let out a sigh of relief, clearly playing along with her, “Good, good. I’m not really a fantastic cook, I’m most skilled in lasagna or some type of soup. Or a good ham and cheese toast.” Gab giggled, “Thanks, Cillian. It’s really good.” She said, continuing to eat the soup. “I made enough to last today and tomorrow. I’d like to take you out for dinner tomorrow night if you like.” He brought the spoon to his lips, taking a sip. “To dinner? Tomorrow?” She blinked, looking surprised. “I-I mean, only if you want, I don't want to--” He started. “No, I’d love to go to dinner with you. What time?” She asked. “Around seven? Will that be okay?” “Perfect. Gives me time to explore tomorrow, and maybe find an outfit.” She said, focusing on her soup. Her damn blush wouldn't go away. “Want me to tag along? I know good areas for shopping.” He offered, gazing at her once more. “I--” She shut her mouth, he was doing so much for her today. He picked her up, brought her here, bought food, cooked, and he was going to take her out tomorrow night… “Alright, but you are not allowed to pay for anything!” She said sternly, “Or I will make sure you rip your pants on set.” He held up his hands in a truce like fashion, “Fine, fine. I will agree to these terms.” “Good! But I may or may not wake up later, I’m running on zero hours of sleep.” She hissed, finishing her soup. “Oh yeah, gotta let you have your beauty sleep.” He said as he collected the empty bowls. She rolled her eyes, making a face, “Girls gotta sleep. It’s why we stay so pretty.” She flicked back her hair, letting out a huff. She got up and helped him dry up and clean up despite his demands to go rest. She didn’t like to sit around and let others do the work, she always wanted to help out no matter what. After that, Cillian wiped his hands and walked with her back to the small living space, “I should get going, but before I do…” He grabbed the notepad and scribbled something down, “My number and my address. I don’t live far from here, almost a twenty-minute walk. Just some information.” He gave her a cute smile. “Ah, thank you. I’ll make sure to save that. I’ll text you later so you have whatever new number I got.” Gabrijela said, taking the paper and tucking it into the front pocket of her hoodie she wore. “Also, thanks for getting the sim card. I’ll set it up in a moment.” “No worries. I’ll see you around midday, yeah?” He opened the door. “Yeah, see you then. Thank you for everything.” And she went towards him and hugged him. He let out a soft ‘Oh’ and his arms wrapped around her. “I love hugs,” His voice dropped to a soft murmur. “Same.” She said equally as quiet. They both chuckled and pulled away. “Rest well, Gabrijela.” He had this look in his eyes as if he didn’t want to go so soon. But he turned away, and she watched him walk down the stairs. She closed the door before she went to the balcony and peered over. Any moment, and he was out of the door. He paused and looked up, waving and giving her a wink before he got into his car. His head disappeared in the car and he drove off. Gabrijela let out a sigh, gripping the iron rails. She looked down the road, the forever trail of white apartments and the soft hum of traffic and the occasional cry of people calling to each other. Was this all real? She thought as she stared up at the grey sky. The air was cool, and it smelled like rain was going to fall soon. She loved the rain. She smiled to herself, a dream come true. She was here. Safe. Had a wonderful with a man she admired, and whom she will go shopping with. Her heart fluttered as she went back inside to lay down and set up her phone. But she didn't get a chance to text Cillian as sleep and exhaustion overtook her body and she was out like a light.

[jankybones]

Hello do you have any advice for a 15 year old girl who is suicidal? I didn’t go to school today because I pretended to be sick and my mom is working today so she couldn’t get angry at me right away. I know it’s a bitch move on my part but I just don’t know what to do I feel so guilty for so many things and now I did this. I’m not a troublemaker but my parents have a lot of stress due to my social anxiety. They might even take my electronics away. I don’t know how to talk to them about it.

Alright, so I’m taking his ask very seriously. It may be long. In fact, it’ll be detailed, and I’m going to be telling you guys a story that I never have. I never talked about this online, and never made any sort of announcement or letter, or anything.

It’s going to be detailed. But this ask is very important and needs to be addressed, so. TW for self harm, suicide, ect.

Suicide prevention hotline 1-800-273-8255

Listen, I know what you’re going through. And I’ll tell you right now. It isn’t worth it. Even an attempt. It’s just not. I know it’s hard, I know it sucks. It’s empty, and it’s lonely, and you’re backed into a corner. It sucks when your mind’s instincts to run or fight just shut down, and all you can feel is ‘Escape’, and it gets warped and twisted into...this.

Please tell someone. Please. Anyone. A teacher, a friend, a parent, a family member. I know it’s scary, and it’s even worse  feeling like no one will take you seriously. But it’s better for people to be aware of it, even if they get mad. It sucks. It sucks, it sucks, it’s awful, it’s horrible, and it’s a vile feeling. But don’t feel guilty. It’s NOT your fault you feel this way, I promise you. So don’t let people make you feel like it is.

It’s far better to have an angry parent, a disgruntled friend, or a wary teacher, than to lose your life. So they make punish you. So they may take away your toys and gadgets. It’s better than being dead.

From here, i’m going to be open about my recent experience last year. So please tread on carefully.

Last year I attempted suicide. I didn’t tell anyone before I attempted. Not a friend, not family, not anyone online. I didn’t make a letter, I didn’t draw anything for it, I just. Wanted to be gone. I didn’t want anyone to know until it was too late.

Horrible of me. Horrible mistake. I became very ill, physically.

Last year I was already ill, and I suppose I couldn’t handle it. I was getting sick often, I was dizzy, and I had passed out at work a couple of times. I went to multiple doctors for it, until they sent me to a chemotherapy recovery building to get blood transfusions, and even after that I still wasn’t in tip top shape.

I already had depression. I’ve had anxiety and depression since I was a kid, I’ve experienced some unfortunate events in my life, but those matter not at the moment. What matters is my decision to act improperly on how I was coping and handling it. I felt trapped, I felt useless, like a failure. My mind and emotions were already broken, and crumbling. And now, for my physical body to be doing the same, I just couldn’t take it.

Pile that on top of family issues, friend issues, sexuality issues, gender issues, and my overall feeling of helplessness and uselessness in my work field...yeah. It just got to be too much for me to handle. I started trying to cope with cutting, just anything that felt good and relieved the mental stress. Anything I felt like I deserved. But it wasn’t enough, and considering how incredibly offended people got when they found my cuts, all I could do was feel guilty.

I attempted with pills. It wasn’t the first time, either, but this time I took more. I really thought I was going to die. I don’t really remember what I was thinking before everything just stopped. It’s hazy. But let’s just say I’m lucky, lucky, lucky, incredibly lucky to be alive. I feel like, as I was fading, I was more than likely wishing I hadn’t done it. Scared, alone, and wishing I wasn’t stupid. I don’t want this to be you.

I was sick for months after that. My body wanted to shut down, and I wasn’t getting the treatment I needed. I feel like, in some ways, I’m still recovering physically from the ordeal... I still get sick so easily and vomit at a lot of things, from food to visuals, which I never did much before.

This was back sometime in May of 2018. And I’m still recovering.

So, I was sent home from work when coworkers started noticing my bandages, noticing my sickly face, and overall realizing what was going on. I always played it bright and happy, the funny person. But I was emotionally stripped of everything after my attempt. I was struggling through it alone, and didn’t want people to know. But one coworker I was close to knew. I admitted it to her and broke down, and she had me call my HR. I got fired from my job shortly after they tried to send me on medical leave. (Because of paperwork issues, and my doctor was an absolute fuck who didn’t fax what I asked and got me fired)

I went to people. Most of my friends were very supportive, but not offering me what I needed emotionally. (Except for my online friends.)  Most of my family just asked me why I would do something so stupid. Why I was so selfish. Why. Why. What purpose do I have.

But we don’t have to explain ourselves to them. We really don’t. We just need to get the help we can, and feel better. We need it. We deserve it.   

I also had to quit my anti depressants cold turkey at the end of last year. Not by choice, but because when I lost my job, I also lost my healthcare, so now I can’t afford it. I’m still struggling emotionally with job related things. I’ve applied at many jobs, and even got one, but while there I had an anxiety induced panic attack.

I haven’t been able to go back into the work field yet. This is why I’m always reblogging my commissions post... I am living purely off of my art at the moment, and it’s not...enough. I’m scraping by.

And I never got the help I needed. But I’m trying to lift myself up. My dad still constantly asks me “What do you even have to be sad about?”

Don’t listen to people like that. Please. Just worry about yourself, not their questions.

The point to take away from all of this is...It’s been so long. It’s been so long since I tried, and both physically and mentally, even emotionally, I am so damaged. I’m still trying to recover. I’m trying my hardest every day, and when I fall into fits of depression I also have to struggle with myself not to pick up a razor, and not to enjoy feeling the sting.

I’m not healthy yet. I’m still working at it. And yes, it feels like I’m alone...But my friends online have been more of a family to me than anyone I know. So at the very least, tell an online friend if you can. Just someone, anyone to listen to what’s going on...

Please don’t do it. Don’t try it. It you fail, everything after will be Hell. If you succeed, the world loses one of its own beauties, and surrounding crops will be Hell after. Suicide is painful  for everyone involved, especially the individual going through it.

If you ever need to talk, I’m here, if nothing else.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 6 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

Getting a summons to "meet me in my office in five, Allen" from the Big Guy is never a good sign, particularly when Barry's, like, 95% sure he hasn't done anything recently.

Anything, like, oh, masquerading as a police officer. Taking unapproved days off without notice. Investigating supernatural events with a CCPD badge and pretending he's sanctioned.

All things he's been yelled at before.

But he hasn't done any of those things recently! That’s got to be worth something, right?

Of course, now he has all his secret work as the Flash...

Barry slips into Captain Singh's office and offers a hopeful smile. Maybe this is just a chat, not a yelling at?

The smile is not returned.

Yeah, this is definitely a yelling at.

Singh is on the phone, so he just waves for Barry to sit down while he finishes up.

Barry does so, snagging a pen from Singh's desk as he does. Maybe if he just holds onto the pen, he won't embarrass himself by flailing.

Singh eventually finishes the call and turns to look at Barry.

He doesn't say anything for a long moment.

Barry's dying here. Seriously.

"What are you doing, Allen?" Singh finally says with a sigh.

"Uh," Barry says, fiddling with the pen between his fingers and promptly dropping it with a loud clatter that makes him flinch. So very not cool, Barry. "I don't know what you mean? Sir."

"I bet you don't," Singh says, more to himself than Barry.

"Have there been any problems with my work?" Barry tries, figuring that must be the issue. "If it's about the paperwork, I know it was late, but I did get it all done -"

About five seconds before coming into Singh's office.

But no, Singh's shaking his head.

Barry frowns. "With my results, then?" He's fiercely protective of his work, like any CSI, and he'll stand behind his work product any day. Sure, he's been distracted by the Flash business, but he hasn't let it impact his actual work.

He thinks.

"No, Allen," Singh says. "Your results are fine."

"Okay," Barry says, relieved but also deeply confused. If it's not any of those, and he's pretty sure Singh doesn't know about the Flash stuff, then what could it be? "Then why'd you call me in here? Uh, sir?"

"Someone's been doing some searches in the personnel files with your login," Singh says. "It sent up some flags. I want to know if it was you."

Personnel files? Why would Barry be looking in -

Oh.

Right.

The Captain Cold investigation.

Cisco hadn't been able to hack the CCPD (something about their systems being too antiquated) and they didn't want to bother Felicity, who'd gone back to Starling in a hurry to inform Oliver of the possibility of supervillain cops, which apparently hadn’t ever occurred to either of them, so Barry figured he could start off the investigation himself by checking the files through legitimate channels.

He'd checked the public directory, but couldn’t find anything other than Captain Cold’s real name (“Snart, Leonard Jacob,” apparently, which, seriously, poor guy – Barry wouldn’t much like being named something like ‘Snart’ in middle school, he can tell you that much), so he’d set a search running on the personal file database earlier - the CCPD computers were protected not so much by their firewalls but by their sheer ancient creaking weight, and that meant they ran slower than glaciers - and went back to work, forgetting all about it.

And now Captain Singh is asking questions.

"Uh," Barry says. "I mean. That is..."

"That's what I thought," Singh says with a sigh. "I'm going to pretend for both our sakes that those searches were a mistake, Allen, and you're going to drop it. Now."

"What? Why? It's just personnel files, those aren't confidential -"

"They are if someone's undercover," Singh says.

Barry pauses. "But Captain Cold - uh, Snart - is the head of IA."

AKA, not a member of undercover operations.

"That's right," Singh says. "But he was an undercover guy for nearly twenty years before that. Family work."

Barry's eyes go wide. "Wow." He's never met anyone who’d done serious undercover ops, much less Family work. Much less for twenty years! "And he survived?"

"Barely," Singh tells him, his mouth tight. "He didn't get caught for years, one of the best guys we had on the inside, and then it all blew up because someone here in the CCPD spilled the beans on him, leading to him getting tortured and shot a few times."

Oh, shit.

Well, that's certainly a reason to be on the warpath against CCPD cops. A pretty valid reason, too.

"I thought - Joe said - that is -"

"Let me guess," Singh says, his voice suddenly very dry. "Nasty old Captain Cold's unreasonably biased against all cops, guilty or otherwise, because he's got unresolved issues with his abusive dad that he's taking out on the rest of us? Seems like that’s Detective West's favorite line, nowadays."

Barry winces. "Yes, sir."

"Don't get me wrong, Allen," Singh says. "I know West. I know that he means well, and I know that he's a damn fine detective when he pulls his head out of his ass, but sometimes..." Singh shakes his head. "Most of the precinct listens to him, too, which isn't helping any of us."

Yeah, Barry can see the problem there.

"Anyway," Singh says, voice brisk again. "As I was saying, Captain Snart's records are still sealed because he's still the number one target for multiple Families."

"That must be why he wears a mask!" Barry exclaims.

Singh stares at him.

"Uh," Barry says. "Or so Joe tells me. There was an incident -"

"Thank you, I'm familiar with the incident in question," Singh says. He looks like he has a headache. "Yes, you're correct; Captain Snart has decided that wearing a mask will be useful in maintaining his personal security while he pursues – certain lines of investigation -"

"The new joint task force?" Barry asks. He'd heard whispers. "It's related to the Fl- I mean, the Streak, right?"

"Or whatever weird stuff's been going on in Central recently, yes," Singh says, looking even more pained. "I don't suppose you've got any insight on that?"

Barry should probably tell Captain Singh about the metahumans. But if he does, then Singh will want to know how he knows, and that would turn attention onto Wells and STAR Labs and maybe even on the Flash himself, and then Captain Cold will have everything he needs to come after all of them, putting Barry's friends and loved ones in danger...

"I didn't think so," Singh says when Barry remains quiet. "As it happens, yes, the new task force will be focusing on the Streak, among other things. It'll be co-run by Captain Snart and myself; he'll be taking lead personally, since he doesn't have much of a staff yet -"

Too paranoid to trust anyone, Barry interprets.

"- and I'll be assigning one of my detectives to be his local liaison."

Barry nods. That sounded about right. "Understood, sir. If you don't mind my asking, which detective were you thinking? Because I know Joe would be interested..."

Joe would be pissed off beyond all belief at having to work with Captain Cold, but, on the other hand, it would give Team Flash an inside man on the CCPD's investigation into the Flash. That way Joe would be able to give them updates, warn them of any trouble, even redirect the lines of inquiry away from them, maybe plant some misleading clues...

Barry feels sick all of a sudden. What he was just thinking sounds an awful lot like corruption.

Like exactly the sort of corruption the head of IA would be looking for.

Like the sort of corruption that Barry fought so hard against when it was Dibny doing it.

Fuck.

Yeah, maybe all of that stuff might be necessary to keep the CCPD from finding out about the Flash. But if deceiving the police to such an extent is necessary just for him to stay operational, what does that say about what Barry is doing?

Is Barry really doing the right thing in being the Flash, if it means that he has to break laws and corrupt the course of justice to do it?

"- wouldn't agree to take him, and I can't blame him," Singh is saying. "He's agreed to take Detective Thawne instead."

Eddie.

Barry's first thought, shameful as it is to admit, is to wonder how Iris will react to finding out her boyfriend is involved in hunting down her hero.

But - no. No, Barry. No hoping that she gets angry and breaks up with Eddie, and then somehow discovers she's always been in love with you via some unrealistic twist of events. You're better than that.

You should be better than that.

Besides, you're going out with Cool Coffee Guy (Len!) later today.

As friends, sure, but still.

"Listen to me, Allen," Singh says, rapping his knuckles against his desk to get Barry's attention. "You need to step lightly for a while, okay? It's hard for all of us, having IA staffed here, and a lot of people are very angry for a lot of different reasons, some of which are more justified than others. There's a reason that your little search threw up red flags so quickly. So whatever it is that you may have heard that sparked your interest in Captain Snart, you need to drop it."

"But -"

"Allen. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Barry says. "It wasn't anything in specific, sir; I was just curious about him. Sir."

Singh looks at Barry for a long moment. "Allen," he finally says. "What I'm going to tell you doesn't leave this room, okay? And I'm only telling you because I know you're boneheaded enough to try to find a different way to keep tracking Snart down, and I want to make it clear to you why that would be a bad idea, okay?"

Barry nods, his interest piqued. "Yes, sir. I can keep a secret, sir."

"Captain Snart's looking at you."

Barry freezes.

No.

No!

How - did he know - how could he know - Cold couldn't have figured Barry's identity out so quickly - are the others in danger? Joe? Iris? The STAR Labs team?

Barry needs to warn them. Cold could be going after them even now - there could be warrants - charges – shit, even just accessory after the fact or conspiracy could be enough to put them in prison - why hadn't Barry thought about any of that, why hadn't any of them thought about it -

"It has to do with your leave of absence," Singh says, oblivious to Barry's rising panic. "Now, I've tried to tell him that you're not involved with the Families -"

"The Families?!" Barry exclaims, abruptly derailed from his prior line of thought. "I would never work with – wait. He thinks I'm working with the Families?"

"Nine months is about as much time as it would take someone to get in through the ranks as a blood-sworn Family man, if they went at it intensively enough," Singh says. "And Captain Snart would know that better than most."

The Families.

The Families, not the Flash.

Captain Cold doesn't know yet.

Captain Cold doesn't know yet.

He's just made a lucky guess, investigating both Barry Allen and the Flash at the same time.

Lucky, or maybe Joe is right and the guy really is investigating everyone all the time.

"- and that's why you need to tread carefully for once, you hear me, Allen? You're a good kid, you do good work, important work, but you're reckless; you always have been. I don't want to lose my on-site CSI to an IA investigation, okay?"

"Okay," Barry says.

Singh pins him with a look. "I'm serious, Allen. If you go down, even on charges ultimately found to be false, all of your cases will be reopened and reexamined for any mistake, intentional or otherwise, and anything they find could be used to put criminals back out on the street where they can start hurting people again. Snart's already sent some of your cases to forensics to be looked over."

Barry's back straightens in offense. He's not corrupt. He's not working with the Families. And he'd never fake his work! "I stand behind my results, sir."

"And your results stand behind you," Singh agrees. "I don't think he's found anything there - he said something about some weird centrifuge results, but nothing that'd affect the analysis -"

...oops.

Barry has been using his speed powers to do the analysis and get the results he'd normally have to wait to use the centrifuge for, especially when the office's sole machine is busy on something else. He hadn't realized that it would be noticeable, though of course he should have. He knows very well that every machine of that type leaves its own special trace, working at a different speed, a different set of kinks, a recognizable pattern - Barry's job is literally based on uncovering little details like that.

Of course, Barry also didn't realize that anyone would ever look at his tests for anything other than the end result.

He's going to have to stop cutting corners.

...when did Barry start cutting corners, anyway? Wasn't that what he got so pissed off at Dibny about, the cheating, the laziness, the corruption?

Crap. Maybe this Captain Cold guy has a point about the CCPD needing to shape up.

(But if he's right about the CCPD, then what does that say about the Flash..?)

"- but either way, I want to know that you're taking me seriously," Singh says. "No searches on Captain Snart. No extracurricular investigations, no mysterious sick days, none of it, and certainly none of those stunts like you used to pull with pretending something is an official investigation. You get me? Those are all on your record if someone looks hard enough, and someone's looking. You want to get through this, you need to be clean and you need to be hands off. Understood?"

Barry looks Singh straight in the eyes. "Yes, sir. I understand."

And he means it, too.

Singh seems to get that, because he relaxes. "Good. Dismissed, Allen. And make sure that that paperwork's actually in people's inboxes, rather than sitting on your desk."

Barry nods and leaves, feeling more than a bit shaken.

He joined the CCPD to make things right for his dad, to find out the truth behind what happened to his mom, but it wasn’t just for them. When Barry took his oath to join the force, he meant it with all his heart – he swore that he'd do his job right not just for himself, but for everyone else in the process, too. He became a CSI rather than a cop because he loved science, really loved it, and because he wanted to make sure someone was checking the work of the cops who took the easy answer waiting for them the way they had with his dad.

When did he start taking the easy way himself?

Is this how it started, with the little things: not wanting to wait for the office centrifuge, getting lazy with his documentation, fudging a bit on his time entries to account for the fact that he can work so much faster now? With a desire to do good, but to do it faster, better, easier?

Is this how Dibny started?

Barry doesn't like that thought. Oh, he wasn't wrong about Dibny - the man planted evidence on someone, for God's sake. That's absolutely unforgivable, a violation of everything the police stand for; when it had been uncovered, the hit to the CCPD's credibility had been a bad one, but not as bad as if Dibny'd actually succeeded in sending the man to jail based on his phony evidence.

Not as bad as it would have been if it'd been covered up.

But now Barry's starting to wonder about his own actions, too. This Flash thing - he is breaking the law, he knows he is, but on the other hand, he's trying to help people in a way he knows the CCPD can't. Surely that justifies it. Right?

Isn't he helping?

Sure, when Barry's fighting metas, that's one thing. The CCPD doesn't know how to handle them - though they'd stand a better shot at if they knew about them in the first place, the voice in Barry's head whispers, why are we keeping this a secret - and in those situations, then yes, Barry's powers mean that he’s the one best positioned to act. He doesn't want good people like Joe getting hurt because they're up against things they're not trained for, things they aren’t equipped to handle, people with powers way above their punching level.

But what about the robberies? D'Angelo - sure, Barry stopped him, and there's a chance the police wouldn't have responded in time to such an audacious attack on a traveling vehicle. But did that make Barry's actions right?

Unlike Captain Cold, Barry's not a cop. He's not authorized to arrest people whenever he sees a crime in progress, not any more than any normal person making a citizen's arrest – and as a CSI, he knows better than most that the rules for those are pretty limited. Maybe he could weasel away the D'Angelo incident, but some of the other ones...

But on the other hand, if Barry can do good in his own way, then isn't he obligated to do it, even if it means he has to work outside the rules?

Yeah. Barry bets that's just what Dibny told himself when he was planting that knife.

Great. A major crisis of conscience is just what the Flash needs right now.

Barry wonders, a little resentfully, if this is part of Captain Cold's evil plan.

Or not-so-evil plan. He hasn't actually heard much about Captain Snart that's really bad, just that he's both a stickler for rules and a reckless crazy person and vicious and ruthless and -

To be fair, most of the bad stuff Barry's heard has been from cops angry that one of their own is being investigated, no matter how just the cause. Surely if they realize that the cause is just, they'll stop being so...

No, they won't.

They won't stop being angry, the way they've never entirely warmed back up to Barry after the whole Dibny thing. The only reason Barry's even halfway as accepted as he is? It’s because Joe ran some serious interference on his behalf, pleading childhood trauma as an excuse. Barry knows that to be true, even though he prefers not to think about it.

He sighs.

"Is the sightseeing good, wherever it is in your head that you've drifted off to now?"

Barry turns with a smile. "Iris! What are you doing here?"

Iris is beaming, the honest joy in her face making her glow. She's radiant and beautiful and everything Barry's ever wanted. "Oh, you know, catching up with people," she says, waving a hand. "And something I can't quite tell you about yet, so don't even ask."

"Scout's honor," Barry promises.

"You were never a scout, Barry Allen," Iris teases. "You okay? You were pretty out of it."

"Oh, it's nothing," Barry says. "I just got called in to talk to Singh - late paperwork, you know -"

"You get going on that paperwork, then!" she exclaims. "Shoo, shoo!"

"Iris!" Barry laughs.

"But no, seriously, I'm just passing by," she says. "I promised Dad I'd pick something up for him, you know the drill, but I have to run as soon as I find him."

"He's in the back," Barry says. "With Ballistics, I think."

"You're the best, Bar," Iris says, unaware of the pang that causes in Barry's chest. "Say, what're you doing tonight? Me and Eddie are planning to check out that new art installation in the park -"

"Oh, man, you know I'd love to -" There is literally nothing Barry would like less than to gatecrash one of Eddie and Iris' dates. "- but I have plans."

Iris looks skeptical.

Somewhat justifiably.

"Really!" Barry says, glad that, for once, he actually does have plans. "I'm meeting someone for dinner."

Iris' smile broadens. "A special someone?"

"...maybe," Barry allows. "But not yet; we're still just getting to know each other!"

"You'll have to tell me everything," Iris says. "Is it Felicity?"

"No - Iris, I told you already, we're just friends -"

Iris makes a not-entirely-believing noise. "Sure," she says. "Anyway, I really do have to run. You free for lunch, then? By then I should have permission to talk about some news that I really want to share - and I think you're going to like it, too!"

"Really? What -"

"No way," Iris says. "Wait until later."

"You and your surprises," Barry says fondly, then he goes upstairs and he sits down and he works.

For once, he doesn't rush through his day, daydreaming of things he could be doing as the Flash. He doesn’t stare at the clock, he doesn’t play on his phone, he doesn’t leave in the middle of the day to go train himself to be faster – he focuses on doing what he’s supposed to do.

It’s his job, his stupid frustrating wonderful important job, and he likes what he does.

When did he let that get eclipsed by the Flash?

Wells texts him after a while, asking where he is. When Barry explains that he’s at work, Wells asks why he doesn’t just speed through his work then sneak out for a few hours to train his speed some more, the way he's been doing on a nearly daily basis these last few weeks.

Barry winces, thinking about it. He’s been treating his day job like a joke, like it was something he did on the side while he focused entirely on being the Flash, and that’s not fair to the people he’s supposed to be working for – the men and women whose lives could be irrevocably altered based on what facts he’s able to prove or disprove in his lab.

People like his dad.

No, Barry can’t just go play superhero all the time. This is important, too.

He texts Wells back, explaining that he needs to catch up on some work things he's been neglecting.

Wells takes a while to understand, which Barry really can’t blame him for – Barry’s been showing up religiously for Wells’ tests and experiments and suggestions on how Barry can get ever faster – but it’s a little annoying that Barry has to reiterate three times that yes, his job is important, yes it’s just as important as getting faster as the Flash, no, he’s not coming to STAR Labs even if there's been a new meta sighting, not until there’s actual evidence of the meta doing something wrong, so please don't call unless people are actually in imminent danger.

He ends up texting something a little snippier than he really meant it to be, saying something about how getting faster isn’t exactly his top priority all the time and that Wells needs to respect that, but eventually his message gets through and Wells apologizes for pushing.

With that done, Barry goes back to focusing on doing his work well and doing his work right.

He -

He has a lot of fun, actually.

It's not just the pride he gets from obtaining results, but rather the actual fun of doing science. Taking down results, thinking about them, analyzing them, selecting what process would be best to put them through rather than just running the standard tests and calling it a day -

He even calls the main CSI building to ask some of his CSI colleagues about a weird result he's been getting from a few different crime scenes.

"Barry!" Gila exclaims in an ear-piercing shriek of excitement. Not surprising; Gila always did believe that conversations were ideally had at capslock volume. "Well, this is a surprise!"

"We were starting to think we should rename you MIA Allen instead of CSI Allen," Andre jokes. Looks like Barry’s on speakerphone.

"What's new in cop-land?" Terri asks. It’s always hard to tell over the phone, but Barry thinks they’re feeling more feminine today than masculine; he’ll try to keep that in mind. "Bored and begging to come back to Scienceland Central City yet?"

"Every time I call, I remember that you're all a bunch of jerks," Barry teases, immediately at ease. He's always gotten along surprisingly great with his fellow CSIs, even if he’s the only on-site crime scene tech stationed at this precinct while the rest of them are busy being forensic investigative scientists in the suburbs. "Must be a side-effect of being stuck out in the boonies, huh?"

"Suburbs," Gila sniffs, clearly not offended in the slightest. "Stuck out in the suburbs. At a high-end fully-equipped CSI laboratory with all the fun toys in the world, let me remind you."

"You ought to come out to visit us sometime," Terri says. "We've got a whole pile of new equipment named after you."

Barry laughs.

"No, really," Andre says. "The city paid for it in the name of improving workplace safety after you had your accident at work - like anyone could predict a lightning strike."

"Or the Accelerator explosion," Barry agrees.

"No, that could have been predicted," Terri says, voice suddenly intense. "There were signs - workplace norms being ignored, protests overridden, sudden dismissals in clear retaliation -"

"Whoa, whoa, where's this come from?" Barry asks, taken aback. Terri's one of the best forensic accounting experts he's ever met; they could have any job they wanted at any major institution, but, like Barry, only ever wanted to be a CSI.

"Terri's pet project," Gila says. "Proving that the Accelerator explosion was intentional."

A shiver goes down Barry's back. "No, you don't understand," he says. "It was an accident - things were definitely overlooked, yes, Wells said as much in his press conference last week -"

"Oh, right, that whole claptrap," Andre says scornfully. "I bet you dollars to donuts that he only did that because some whistle-blower came forward."

Technically, yes, it had been after Hartley Rathaway had made those accusations – and tried to blow up STAR Labs and part of the city with his sonic blasters – but –

"I lost friends in that explosion," Terri says, still angry. "Cars that crashed, fire patrols and ambulances that never made it to their destinations, people that just disappeared - it was bad. And I was depressed, but there wasn't anything I could do about it because it was just a tragic accident. I wanted to reassure myself that at least they did everything they could - except they didn't. Their construction timeline is unreal - fourteen missed safety tests - evidence of bribery -"

"Bribery?" Barry asks, a sharp pang in his chest. It's like everywhere he goes, there's corruption all around him. And yes, he knows that Central City has something of a reputation in that line, but he'd always tried to keep himself clean...

"Oh yeah, definitely," Terri says. "Property board approvals, safety inspectors, the works; I've got transfers out of Harrison Wells' private accounts that match up perfectly. But no one wants to do anything because -" And their voice turns sticky-sweet-sarcastic. "- hasn't he been punished enough, he broke his back, he lost his reputation, oh no, must be just awful sitting there being a multi-millionaire -"

"I know Wells," Barry protests. "He's sincerely remorseful."

"You would think so, B," Terri says. "You've always been the nicest one of us."

"No, I mean, I actually know him - I'm friends with some of the STAR Labs employees -"

"Bring them to one of our science parties, then," Gila says. "We've missed you, you know! It's like you don't have time for us since you woke up from your coma - which, don't get me wrong, you must have a million doctor's visits -"

He doesn't, not really. And sure, they're only work friends, but he still used to like hanging out with them - all of them at the misfit table, Andre sometimes joked -

"I'll introduce you," Barry promises. Cisco and Caitlin are misfits and science nerds, too; they'll fit right in. It'll be great. "You'll love them."

"I'm sure we will," Andre says. "Why'd you call, anyway? I assume it wasn't to shoot the shit on company time."

"No, no," Barry says. "I’m being good for once, really! I called about something I found in those disappearances cases, the ones that got sent up to me because someone started thinking might be connected, you know? Anyway, there's a residue in the dirt surrounding each of the scenes that I can't seem to place -"

"Oooh, you mean Chemical X?" Gila interrupts.

"Wait," Barry says. "Is that a Powerpuff Girls reference?"

"Gila found it first, so she had naming rights," Andre says, long-suffering. "Anyway, we know what you mean - it's been spotted all over the city, near these disappearances, possibly elsewhere, and it doesn't match up to anything we're familiar with."

"Tar made from jet engine exhaust is a weirdly close match," Gila says. "But it has similarities to charcoal and to skid marks, too! It's so weird. It's not like there's a jet plane running through the streets of Central City."

Barry looks at his feet with a sudden suspicion. "What about the Streak?"

"Urban legend," Andre says immediately.

"It is not, you old skeptic!" Gila shouts back.

"You had to get them started on that again," Terri groans. "Ugh, Barry, why? I'm the one who has to sit with them."

"Sorry," Barry says, managing not to grin only because he's pretty sure Terri would know, somehow. He's not sorry at all.

"Anyway," Terri continues, "putting aside the 'is it/isn't it' debate, what we do know for sure is that the residue started appearing around crime sites seven, maybe eight, months ago, well before the Streak made its first appearance."

Huh. Seven months ago, Barry was still in a coma. So it's not him.

Maybe another meta?

"Anyway, we're glad you called," Gila says after she's exhausted her well-worn (barely) muffled argument with Andre. "Weirdo residue is right up your alley, Allen. How's that supernatural blog going, anyway?"

Barry can't help but smile a little. He's almost entirely forgotten about that blog. He hasn't had much time for anything but Flash stuff lately, not really...

There's a loud knock on his door. "Oops," Barry says. "Reality calls."

"Boooo," the other three chorus.

Barry laughs. "I will take a closer look at that residue, though, run some extra tests," he promises.

"Come down to the lab sometime! You can try out the new machines!"

"Sounds like a plan."

"Oh, and Allen?" Terri says. "One more thing. Could you check through the archives over there? I wanna know how far back this residue really goes - seven months ago just means that that's as far back as we've been looking, nothing more."

"Sure," Barry agrees, though he doubts he'll find anything pre-dating the Accelerator explosion if it is in fact a meta. "Later, guys."

He hangs up and turns to face - Eddie?

"Oh, crap," Barry says. "Lunch with Iris! I'm so sorry, I totally forgot -"

His lateness thing has never been about his speed, after all.

"No, no," Eddie says, holding up his hands with a smile. "That's not - well, actually, that is why I'm here, sort of. Lunch is cancelled on account of - and I swear I'm quoting Iris here - West family drama."

Barry can't help a grin. "Oh boy, that bad? Did Joe try something else to try to tank your relationship?"

"Nope, it's a new one," Eddie says, grinning back and pulling a chair over. "Mind if I take refuge here for a bit? They're still fighting downstairs right next to my desk, so I took my break early..."

"Sure," Barry says. As he's discovered over the past few weeks, he actually does like Eddie, despite every Iris-related reason not to. "Something new, huh? What is it?"

"Her new project. I warned her Joe wouldn't take it as well as she thought he would," Eddie says, shaking his head.

“Sounds juicy,” Barry says fondly. “Is this what she was going to reveal over lunch?”

“Yep, exactly that. I’m sure she won’t mind if I spill the beans, though, if you don’t mind hearing it from me instead of her..?”

“If it means staying out of a West family fight?” Barry asks with a laugh. “Spill away.”

Eddie grins. "Okay, you know how he's been leaning on her about that Streak - uh, Flash blog of hers? Saying it's dangerous and she should stop writing it because it might make her a target because this Flash guy could be anyone?"

That last one wasn't exactly Joe's reason, for obvious reasons, but Barry wasn't about to say so. He knows all of Joe's arguments along those lines; he'd used many of the same ones himself to try to convince Iris to stay out of the superhero reporting business.

Hadn’t worked, of course. Another massive Iris-related failure he really shouldn’t have been surprised by...

"I thought you said it was a new argument they were having?" he says dryly.

"It is, I swear," Eddie says. "Anyway, Iris thought he'd be happy because she finally agreed that she shouldn't be working on reporting Flash related things without adequate protection."

That does sound like something that would make Joe happy.

It also doesn't exactly sound like Iris.

Barry says as much. Eddie laughs. "Yeah, well, I think Joe was going for more 'stop writing anything about it' and less 'keep writing about it, just with police support'."

A chill goes down Barry's spine. "Police support? What do you mean?"

"Captain Singh's got me on the new Flash task force that Captain Snart is running," Eddie says. "Did you hear...?”

Barry nods.

“Anyway, we were talking a bit about it, Captain Snart and I, and he ended up going to talk to Iris himself, since she's one of the few people other than him that's actually spoken with this Flash guy. And, long story short, he’s agreed that she can help us out as part of the task force – she's actually going to be working with us in a consulting role. A full-time, getting-paid consulting role...it’s her first big break into real journalism!"

Eddie beams when he concludes the sentence, clearly proud of Iris for having been offered an official role like that, but Barry's too busy gaping at him to share in the joy that he would normally have upon hearing about Iris’ career finally getting moving.

He'd been worried about Captain Cold getting to Iris, maybe even had a few daydreams about rescuing her from some extremely low-key and non-threatening but maybe mildly traumatizing kidnapping, but he'd never imagined he'd get to her like this.

"Hold up," Barry says, swallowing through a suddenly dry throat. "You're telling me that Iris agreed to join an anti-Flash task force? I thought - I thought she liked him!"

"She does," Eddie agrees, clearly slightly confused by Barry's admittedly odd reaction. "Captain Snart cut a deal with her - well, honestly I think he was planning on doing it anyway and just used his talk with her to formalize it. The task force is designed to analyze the Flash's actions and recommend a solution. If Iris is right and he's not doing damage, he'll get leniency based on the idea that he's just being overzealous citizen rather than an actual criminal. But if Captain Snart is right and he's involved in criminal activity, then he gets arrested and faces the full force of the law."

"And Iris agreed?"

"She didn't see any reason not to," Eddie points out. "She really believes in this Flash guy."

"So she's helping the police hunt him down?!"

"It's his only chance of clearing his name, Barry," Eddie says with a slight frown. "He might even be able to work out some deal with the city this way, get some official backing or something like that. Otherwise, if he keeps doing what he's doing after being warned off by the police, then he doesn't have even the excuse of ignorance anymore. He's breaking the law, Barry. I know it doesn't always seem that way - he's right out of the comic books, isn't he? - but it's like that vigilante in Starling, the one who murders people -"

"The Arrow doesn't murder people anymore," Barry protests weakly, still reeling.

"And, what, that somehow excuses the murders he already committed while he was still going as the Hood?" Eddie says skeptically.

“We don’t even know if this Arrow guy is the same guy as the Hood,” Barry points out, feeling a bit guilty, because he happens to know that they are the same person.

Also, that's a good point about those past murders...

“There can’t be that many super-athletic archers willing to become vigilantes,” Eddie objects. He has a point, though Barry’s pretty sure Oliver’s mentioned there being at least three or four. Though now that Barry thinks about it, that does seem like an unusually high number of people to interested in a very specific combination of parkour, martial arts and archery... "Either way, just because some people think they're above the law to the point that they can take it into their own hands doesn't mean they should be doing it."

"But - but what if the things these people are fighting are something the police can't fight?"

"That's why this task force is analytical in nature," Eddie explains. "If we figure out that this Flash guy really is doing stuff that we can't - which I personally don't think is the case, but Iris disagrees with me - then Captain Snart is willing to cut him a break and say he's been working under a citizens' arrest sort of deal. Maybe even hire him to work with the CCPD. But first we have to find him."

It's a good plan. A solid plan.

If it wasn't being suggested by a supervillain, Barry might even be tempted to agree with it.

It's not that he has anything against working with the CCPD, after all - it's not even a bad idea, he's not sure why Team Flash didn't think of it - but the fact that Captain Cold is involved...

Not good.

"Anyway, you know how Joe feels about Captain Snart," Eddie says ruefully. "He nearly bit my head off about joining the task force - right before he turned around and asked me to keep him updated about it. But either way, Iris thought Joe would be happy to hear that she'd have police protection in all future dealings with the Flash, but instead he blew his lid when he found out about it, probably because the police protection is Captain Snart."

Yeah, Barry's not feeling too happy about that either.

It'd never even occurred to him that he was taking Iris' unflinching support of the Flash - even in the face of his own half-hearted arguments against the Flash that he'd made in the hopes that she'd drop the blog thing like Joe wanted - for granted.

He just - it's Iris. She's always been on his side, even when she didn't know it was him.

And now she's been tricked into being on the supervillain's side, instead.

Barry doesn't even know what Captain Cold wants!

And worst of all, what if Barry's sinking suspicions are right and Captain Cold's not a supervillain? What if he's exactly what he claims to be: a cop worried about a vigilante gone wild? A vigilante with unimaginable powers?

Wasn't that why Cisco built the cold gun, after all? He'd been worried about Barry turning out to be just like all those other metas, the ones that abused their powers and went evil; it was only after he got to know Barry that he realized that Barry wouldn't do that.

The CCPD don't know the Flash is Barry. They barely even have confirmed proof of his existence. No wonder they're suspicious!

And, more to the point, why hasn't Barry thought of any of this? He's a CSI! He works with the police! He knows most of the laws by heart! But he's just been going along with it, not thinking about it, feeling like it was just out of a comic book, just like Eddie said, instead of thinking about the real world applications of what he was doing -

His phone goes off.

"Sorry," he says to Eddie, who waves a permissive hand, and answers. "Barry Allen."

"Barry, we need you to come down to STAR Labs right now," Wells says urgently. "Something's come up on Cisco's screens. He's not in right now - I sent him out for something, but I'll go myself to find him and bring him back - we need your help!"

"I'll be there ASAP," Barry says, alarmed by the unprecedented concern in Wells' voice. He hangs up and looks at Eddie.

"Guess lunch would've been canceled anyway," Eddie says with a laugh. "I'll tell the boys you took a half-day off, yeah?"

"You're the best," Barry tells him, simultaneously wishing it wasn't the case so that he could be properly jealous and also happy for Iris' sake that it is true. "Thanks, man."

"No problem."

The second Eddie is out the door, Barry is in the Flash suit and running towards STAR Labs.

He's got a crisis of conscience, yes, but his friends might be in danger; his crisis of conscience can wait.

Right now, they need him to be the Flash.

He runs.

And as he runs, someone else suddenly runs, too, runs at his speed, runs faster than his speed, runs right next to him, turns his face to look at Barry, his face, a face that Barry knows from his nightmares -

The Man in Yellow.

The man who killed Barry's mother.

He's back.

[swanqueeneverafter]

After The Sunset, Pt.16

Enchanted Forest. Before The Dark Curse. A Tavern. (The dwarves are drinking and enjoying themselves after a long day's work. Although sitting with them, Dreamy sits quietly thinking to himself when the Foreman of the Dwarf Mines joins him.) Foreman: "What's the matter? You've barely touched your food.” Dreamy: “I don't know. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I don't feel at all like myself. Maybe I should have Doc take a look at me.” Foreman: “You're gonna trust a dwarf that got his medical degree from a pickax? I wouldn't worry about it. Dwarves don't get sick. It must be in your head.” Belle: (From another table:) “It's not in his head, it's in his heart. (The dwarves turn to look at her:) You're in love.” Foreman: “Oh, that's impossible. Dwarves can't fall in love.” Belle: “Trust me. I know love, and - You're in it.” (The Foreman dismisses this and gets up to join the other dwarves while Dreamy joins Belle at her table.) Dreamy: “What's it like?” Belle: “It's the most wonderful and amazing thing in the world. Love is hope. It fuels our dreams. And if you're in it, you need to enjoy it. Because love doesn't always last forever.” Dreamy: “But if love's so great, then why do I feel so bad right now?” Belle: “You need to be with the person you love.” Dreamy: “Yeah, but how do I know she feels the same way? All she talked about was going to see some fireflies, not loving me.” Belle: “What- what did she tell you about these fireflies?” Dreamy: “Uh, that she was gonna go see them on the hilltop tonight, that she heard they were the most beautiful sight in all the land. (Belle giggles:) What?” Belle: “She wasn't telling you about the fireflies. She was inviting you to go be with her.” Dreamy: “You think so?” Belle: “I've had my heart broken enough to know when somebody's reaching out. Now go, find your love. Find your hope. Find your dreams.” Storybrooke. Outside Granny's Diner. After The Black Fairy's Curse. (Rumplestiltskin takes a picture of his family with his new camera.) Belle: “Rumple! I said no pictures. I'm not even ready for the party yet. I'm a mess.” Rumplestiltskin: “You look beautiful.” (Takes a seat beside his son.) Belle: (Sighs:) “You are gonna make me regret giving you that camera. Okay. (Checking her list:) Uh, Zelena got balloons. Emma and Regina cake. Oh, Snow and David are bringing bubble wands. (At Rumple’s look:) I don't know, I guess Baby Neal is obsessed with them.” Rumplestiltskin: “Belle?” Belle: “Yes.” Rumplestiltskin: “Relax. It's a children's birthday party. As long as everyone turns up and Gideon ends up with birthday cake all over his face, it's a success.” Belle: “Oh, I know. You're right. It's just after all these years, I guess I'm used to the chaos. (Gideon whines:) Maybe I should get, uh, un-used to it.” Rumplestiltskin: “Well, Storybrooke's certainly been quiet this past year. I can't even remember the last time I used magic. Hey, that reminds me. (Picking up a present from the table:) I got something for you. It's for all of us, a family thing.” Belle: (Opens the box to reveal a photo album. Flicking through the blank pages:) “Rumple, it's beautiful. I love it.” Rumplestiltskin: “It's for our travels. (Taking the album and putting it aside:) Belle, you have been so patient with me. Too patient. (Stands:) You've seen the man behind the beast when no one else could.” Belle: “Oh, Rumple. That beast is a distant memory now.” Rumplestiltskin: “So, let me do this for you. You deserve to finally get what you've always wanted. To see the world.” (They kiss.)

Storybrooke. Recent Past. New Years Eve. (With only a few hours left until the annual Storybrooke New Year’s Eve party, things are a little quiet at Roni’s. So much so that Alice and Robin are spending the afternoon looking for apartments rather than helping behind the bar.) Robin: (Scrolling through her phone:) “Oh, look. There's a one-bedroom right here in Storybrooke. Oh, it looks pretty good in the pictures. See?” Alice: “I don't need to see it. I love it. If it comes with a built-in Robin, that's all I need.” Robin: “Aw.” (After the merging of realms, the number of quests skyrocketed, so after a particularly heated town meeting, it was decided that the Dark Palace would be a much more suitable place for hosting the party than Granny’s. Probably for the first time ever, the palace was filled with fairies and dwarves who volunteered as a decorating squad.) Regina: (Glaring at Leroy:) “You just know that Grumpy signed all his brothers up in the hope of spending some time with Nova.” Zelena: (Glancing back to see Leroy and Nova leaving the bar together:) “Well, whatever the reason, the main ballroom is glistening, and the atmosphere is buzzing over there. The palace is so full of light, colourful decorations, countless flying candles and several beautiful crystal chandeliers...” Regina: (Arms folded:) “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Zelena: (Smiles:) “Yes, I am rather. Oh come on, it can’t possibly be as bad as you think it is.” Regina: (Scoffs:) “What I think, is that I could simply use my magic to decorate the ballroom and it would have been finished hours ago.” Henry: (Arriving from the store room:) “Yeah, but not everyone thinks black is a festive colour, Mom.” (Putting an arm around her son’s shoulders, Regina ruffles Henry’s hair while Zelena chuckles.) Regina: “Very funny, young man. Shouldn’t you be at the farm watching over your uncle?” Henry: (Checking his watch:) “Ah, you’re right! And I’m supposed to meet Violet there ten minutes from now.” (Watching the teenager scurry off to meet his girlfriend, Regina can’t help but smile as Henry rushes from the bar.) Regina: “He gets his time management skills from his mother.” Zelena: “Hm. Speaking of, where is my delightful sister-in-law?” Regina: “At the station. She wanted to make sure all her paperwork was finished before the new year starts.” Zelena: “Mmhmm sure she did…” Regina: “Alright, maybe I suggested it, so I could prepare my costume. (Smiling devilishly:) I’m aiming for ‘speechless amazement’ this year. What are you wearing, anyway?” Zelena: (With a smirk of her own, whispers:) “Ah. That would be telling. (Downs her drink, then stands:) But don’t worry, all shall be revealed. (Winks:) Almost literally. (To Alice and Robin:) Come on, you two.” (The trio prepare to depart, leaving Regina with a slightly concerned expression upon her face.) The Charmings’ House. (Decidedly not doing her paperwork, Emma Swan-Mills finds herself going through her mother’s closet.) Emma: (To herself:) “Ugh, there has to be something in here I can use.” David: (Entering the room:) “Anything I can help you with?” Emma: “Oh, hey, Dad. (Sighs:) I’m looking for ideas for a costume for tonight.” David: “You don’t have a costume yet?” Emma: “I haven’t had time! Not since my deputy left me with piles of paperwork to complete.” David: (Chuckles:) “I finished all of my paperwork before I resigned and you know it. How much more could there possibly be?” Emma: (Sighs, avoiding the question:) “This is hopeless. What are you two going as tonight?” David: “Snow White and Prince Charming, who else?” Emma: “Right, how silly of me.” David: “Boy, I’ll tell ya, I’m sure glad Henry and Violet will take care of your brother tonight, it’s been a while since Snow and I went to a party as just the two of us, and-“ Emma: “Yeah, let me stop you there, Don Juan, before you say anything that’ll make us both uncomfortable. Besides, I’m sure the kid wants some time alone with Violet without his mom spying on him. (They both laugh at this, imagining Regina watching the young couple like a hawk:) Well, I better get going.” David: “What about your costume?” Emma: “Oh, I’ll think of something. I do have one idea but... well, we’ll see.” David: (Smiles:) “I’m sure it’ll be great.” Emma: “Yeah. See you in a couple of hours.” (With that, Emma hugs her father and leaves the room just as the sound of screeching tyres can be heard outside.)

Granny's Diner. Present. (Ruby is clearing plates when Billy, the mechanic, surprises her.) Billy: “A mouse.” Ruby: (Startled:) “What? Where?” Billy: “No. I meant me. (Approaching:) I was a mouse. My name was Gus. I lived in Cinderella's pantry, I ate cheese, I gnawed on wood, but I preferred the cheese.” Ruby: “And, why are you telling me this?” Billy: “Uh, we haven't had a chance to talk since you left for the Enchanted Forest. I swore to myself that if I ever saw you again, I’d ask you out. And I guess I just wanted you to know who I was… back home.” Ruby: “Uh, can I, um, still call you Billy?” Billy: “You can call me whatever you want, as long as you let me buy you a drink after your shift.” Ruby: (Eyes the clock:) “Um, tonight's actually not great. Because...” Snow White: (Coming to her rescue:) “Uh, we... we have plans.” Ruby: “That's right, um... It's girls night.” Snow White: “Because we haven’t seen each other in so long.” Ruby: “Right, and I'm bringing the cheese. (Gasps:) Which has nothing to do with you being a mouse. It has to do with the... wine.” Billy: “Okay. Um... Maybe next time.” (He leaves.) Ruby: (They hug:) “Thank you.” Snow White: “I can spot a girl in trouble. You know you could have told him about you and Mulan. Billy must be the only one who doesn’t know.” Ruby: “Yeah, can’t say I’ve really missed all the gossip that goes on around here.” Snow White: “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. Ooh, that reminds me, did you know that Mrs...” (Snow continues talking as we see David giving Ruby a sympathetic smile. Suddenly, King George, also known as Storybrooke’s disgraced former district attorney Albert Spencer, joins him in the booth.) David: “What are you doing here?” Spencer: “You may have taken care of me in the old world, and kept me locked away in this one for years, but, with a new sheriff in town, we get another go at each other.” David: “Lily let you go?” Spencer: “I’ve served my time.” David: “You tortured Regina and almost blew up the entire town. You should be locked away for the rest of your life.” Spencer: (Laughs:) “So righteous, so sure of yourself. But I know the truth. You're still just a shepherd pretending to be a prince. You weren't fit to run the kingdom, and now even your daughter knows you sure as hell aren't fit to run this town.“ David: “The people of this town know who I really am. And they've seen me defeat you before. So, now that you’re free, if you want to try and take me down, they'll see it again.” Spencer: (Chuckles:) “By the time I'm done here, you'll wish you'd killed me when you had the chance.”

Kitchens. (Granny and Ruby are working on the walk-in refrigerator in the back room while Snow watches.) Granny: (Lifting her welders mask:) “Almost done. Let's finish clearing out those perishables.” Snow White: “I’m sorry, what’s going on here?” Ruby: “We're making a cage. Know anybody who might want thirty-eight frozen lasagnas?” Snow White: “What?” Granny: “I know. Nobody would believe it if you told them my lasagnas was frozen.” Snow White: “No. Why are you building a cage?” Ruby: “Tonight's the full moon. It's the first night of Wolfstime.” Snow White: “Ruby, you learned how to control the wolf in you ages ago.” Ruby: “Yeah. But, (Sighs:) since Mulan’s been gone, I haven’t been sleeping real well.” Snow White: “Oh, Ruby, Mulan knows how to handle herself.” Ruby: “I know that, but she doesn’t even know for sure what’s out there. All she’s going by is rumours. I worry, okay? And if I’m not sleeping, my mind isn’t focused...” Snow White: “Hm. Okay I can see that. But what about your red hood? That could keep you from turning.” Ruby: “If I had it. I've looked everywhere. I know I brought it back to Storybrooke because I was wearing it.” Snow White: “Ruby, I know you. I trust you. Wolfstime or not, you won't hurt anyone tonight.” Ruby: “Maybe. But I can't afford to take any chances.” Storybrooke Sheriff's Department. (David confronts Lily about Spencer's release.) David: "Do you have any idea what you've done? Spencer is a maniac." Lily: "Oh, I see. So all that talk about how everyone deserves a second chance, really only applies to people within your family? Or perhaps just to those you approve of?" David: "This is not about me, it's about the safety of the people of this town." Lily: (Scoffs:) "One old man who doesn't even have magic doesn't sound like much of a threat to me." David: "Do you even know what he did? Spencer conspired to have my grandson kidnapped and taken to Neverland." Lily: "So it is personal with you two after all." David: "Look-" Lily: (Interrupting:) "By the way, kidnapping a child and sending it to another world is exactly what you and your wife did to me. If you two are allowed to walk around free, then so is Spencer. (David has no reply to this:) Look, I have no idea why Emma left me in charge, but the fact is she did and I'm grateful for this opportunity. Like it or not, I am the sheriff around here and what I decide is final." David: (Putting his hands up placatingly:) "I'm not trying to challenge your authority. All I'm asking is that you take me on as your deputy, just as another pair of eyes. I know these people, I've lived with them for years. What I know could be useful to you day to day." Lily: (Considers:) "Do you know how to fix the copier?" David: (Nods:) "I think I could figure it out." Lily: "Good, you can start there. (As David starts to say something:) But, we're gonna take this arrangement day by day. If you do something I don't like, you're gone." David: "I can live with that." Lily: "We'll see." Enchanted Forest. Past. (Belle sits in a tavern, listening to a speech being given across the room.) Alistair: (Addressing a group of people:) “There's a fearsome beast ravaging a faraway kingdom. Its eyes burn with fire. They call it the Yaoguai. No man has been able to kill it, but we will! There's room on our wagon. Who's going to join us?” Dreamy: (Approaches Belle's table:) “Looking for an adventure?” Belle: “Dreamy, right?” Dreamy: “Yes. I came to thank you. That advice you gave me last night... (Sits at her table:) it worked. Nova and I are running away together.” Belle: (Smiles, squeezing his hand:) “That's wonderful.” (They both look towards Alistair and his group.) Dreamy: “Why don't you sign up?” Belle: (Scoffs:) “Yeah, I've always dreamt of heroics, but I think it's safer I stick to my books. They're the only adventures I know that have happy endings.” Dreamy: “Well, maybe this one will have one, too.” Belle: “Yeah, I doubt it. Last time I faced a beast, it didn't end well.” Dreamy: “What are you talking about?” Alistair: “Men! Follow me! Yaoguai awaits.” Dreamy: “Get on that wagon. Go! Take a chance.” Belle: (Thinks:) “Thank you.” (She starts to leave.) Dreamy: “Wait! Belle! Wait. (Hands her a pouch of dust:) It's fairy dust. It might come in handy.” Belle: “Uh, no, thank you... I've seen what magic does to people.” Dreamy: “You've seen what dark magic does. Fairies use this for good. Now go be a hero.” (Belle smiles and runs off.)

Enchanted Forest. Recent Past. New Years Eve. The Dark Palace. (The enormous ballroom is slowly filling up with people arriving from across the realms. Arriving late but trying to appear casual about it, Emma searches the room for her wife. They haven’t seen each other all day because they agreed to meet at the palace and surprise each other with their costumes. Not finding the Mayor anywhere, the Sheriff makes a beeline to the bar, which, in fact, is more a table covered with liquor and various other beverages. Scanning the table, Emma smiles in delight upon finding her favourite brand of root beer. Opening one and drinking from the bottle, she turns to greet whoever just stood next to her, only to nearly spit the beer all over her sister-in-law.) Emma: (Wiping the beverage from her chin:) “Jesus, Zelena! This is a costume party, not a nudist convention.” Zelena: (Mock offended:) “Excuse me? I HAVE a costume!” Emma: “So who the hell are you supposed to be?” Zelena: (Rolling her eyes:) “The little mermaid, of course! Why do think I’m wearing these bloody sea shells or these seaweed knickers? (Zelena points at the three pieces of clothing truly not doing much to cover her body, then adds more calmly:) Besides, Robin has Alice, Regina has you, it’s time Mummy had some fun, too.” Emma: (Groans:) “Oh god, too much information.” Zelena: (Winks:) “At least it rhymed. Plus, I enchanted a few dozen sprigs of mistletoe to appear whenever two people are standing close enough to each other. (Emma takes a step away from her sister-in-law and checks the space above her head for any trace of the enchanted plant:) Oh get over yourself. Who are you dressed like, anyway?” Emma: “Hermione from Harry Potter.” Zelena: “Bollocks, she has brown hair. Although, it’s a pretty simple charm if you want me to…” Emma: “Some prefer it blonde, you know. Your sister for example.” Zelena: “Ugh, lovebirds. Well, my goal for tonight is much simpler than finding true love.” Emma: “Yeah, and what’s that?” Zelena: (In a tone suggesting it should have been obvious:) “Why, finding a decent shag of course.” Emma: (Winces:) “Well, good luck with that.” Zelena: (Scoffs:) “Who needs luck when you have- Ooh, I guess my little sis knows this as well…” Emma: “What do you mean? (Once Emma turns around however, all becomes clear. Across the room, standing with one hand on her hip and a confident smile adorning her face, is Regina:) Wow.” (Regina makes her approach, not unlike a lioness stalking her prey.) Zelena: “Have fun, kittens.” (Zelena makes herself scarce as the Mayor and the Sheriff are reunited.) Regina: “So, like what you see, Miss Granger?” (Regina asks seductively, looking Emma up and down.) Emma: “Uh…” Regina: (Chuckles:) “Eloquent as always, I see.” Emma: “Gina, you look…wow, you know what the Evil Queen’s attire does to me... but holy hell, woman…” Regina: (Laughs and circles Emma with an appreciative hum, purring into the Sheriff’s ear:) “You look utterly edible yourself, dear.” (The sound of a glass shattering distracts them from their flirtation momentarily as they look over to see Snow White standing with her hand still mid-air and paler than usual.) Snow White: (Noticing that several other people are staring at her:) “Everything’s alright here!” (Everyone resumes their previous activities. Finally snapped out of her haze, Emma turns to face Regina who immediately snakes her arms around her wife’s neck, letting herself be pulled even closer by her hips. Foreheads resting against each other, the couple start to sway to the rhythm of the music.) Emma: “You’re positively ravishing, babe.” Regina: “Mm. Promises, promises. (Suddenly, something above them catches her attention:) Really? Mistletoe?” (Emma also looks up to find a sprig of Zelena’s enchanted mistletoe hanging in the air.) Emma: “Um, yeah, that’s your sister’s doing, she’s determi- wait, that’s it - mistletoe. A kiss under the mistletoe!” Regina: “Yes, Emma, I know what-” Emma: (Placing a finger on blood red lips, recites slowly:) “Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it…” (There’s a gleam in the sheriff’s eyes and the faintest shadow of a smile on her lips as she waits for Regina to get the hint. After a moment of deep concentration, the mayor replies with a victorious smirk.) Regina: “But a kiss can be even deadlier if you mean it.” (After that, it was hard to tell who dived in first, not that either of them care as they kiss each other with such passion.) Snow White: “Oh my god, will you two stop that? (When the kissing continues undeterred, her eyes widen with horror as they begin pulling at each others clothes:) You’re not in some porno movie!” (Unfortunately for Snow, her high-pitched cry resonates throughout the entire ballroom. Every single person is frozen to their spot to catch a glimpse of what seems to be a juicy scandal. Emma hides her face in her hands.) Regina: (With a growl through gritted teeth:) ”Excuse me, but this happens to be a very private conversation! Can you finally take your drink and go? (Emma grabs Regina’s hand and ushers her quickly to a quiet corner, as far from everyone, including a crimson red Snow White as possible. Regina laughs heartily the whole way and, once they’re alone teases:) For what it’s worth, I find that shade of pink on your mother’s face appealing.” Emma: (Smiles, shaking her head:) “You’re evil.” Regina: “You love it.” Emma: “I do.” Regina: “Then kiss me.” Emma: “With pleasure.” (Whatever reply Regina wanted to say is silenced by Emma’s lips and turned into a small appreciative moan, accompanied soon by one from the sheriff herself as the mayor tugs gently at her hair.)

Enchanted Forest. Present. (Having left Alice's tower, Regina and Emma make their way through the forest.) Regina: (Catching Emma looking at her outfit:) "What?" Emma: "A cape, really?" Regina: "Hey, I learned my lesson after what happened at DunBroch. I can't very well wear a pantsuit when walking through a forest. It was either this or one of the queen's outfits, and judging by the frosty looks I received from those peasants yesterday, this seemed the safer option." Emma: "Maybe it'd help if you stopped calling them peasants. (Looking her up and down again:) I like the look, I just think the cape is a bit much." Regina: "We're on the search for an adventure aren't we? If I've learned anything from reading Henry's comic books, it's that freedom of movement is essential if your suspecting a surprise attack." Emma: "Woah, okay well there's a lot to unpack in that sentence. First, if you're expecting to be attacked, it's not a surprise. Second, not all heroes wear capes. And third, who is going to be dumb enough to attack us?" (Just then, three men approach them from the trees.) Man 1: "There you are lads, just like I told you. The Evil Queen as I live and breathe." (Regina tenses but Emma calmly tries to warn the men.) Emma: "Hey guys, don't you know who we are? Emma Swan, the Savior? (Glancing back at her wife:) And, er, Regina: Warrior Princess?" Regina: (Scoffs:) "If anything, I'm a warrior queen." Man 1: "You'll be royally dead once we're done with you." Regina: "You've got to be kidding me." Emma: "Yeah, guys, seriously? This is not cool." Man 2: "No, what's not cool is the likes of her (Pointing his sword at Regina:) living it up in her castle while the rest of us starve." Man 1: "And the so-called heroes do nothing about it. You see, you may have found your redemption, Your Majesty, but the people are still hungry." Man 2: "Families were ripped apart under your rule and those actions deserve answers." Regina: (Smiles malevolently:) "Oh I guarantee you won't enjoy the answers I give you." (When Regina conjures a fireball in her hand, Emma steps between her and the bandits.) Emma: "Look! I get that your lives back then sucked, but that was years ago and Regina has changed." Man 1: "Time doesn't heal all wounds, Savior. Now step aside." Emma: "If you think I'm gonna let you lay one finger on my wife, you're far stupider than I gave you credit for." Man 1: "Your wife? (To his friends:) Well I guess what they say about blondes is true, boys. Only an idiot would marry that murderer. (To Regina over Emma's shoulder:) So come on, Your Majesty, show her what kind of person you really are and throw that fireball. 'Cause the way I see it, this ends one of two ways: Us killing you or you killing us." (Emma looks back to Regina who extinguishes the fireball.) Emma: (To the men:) "You know what? I think I've found a third way." (Emma turns and head butts the lead bandit, sending him down and out as Regina uses her magic to send the other two flying back against two trees.)

Emma: (Checking to make sure the men are unconscious, looks to Regina:) "I think my way was better. (Regina smiles then looks down at the men without saying a word. Softly, returning to her:) Hey, are you all right?" Regina: (Sighs:) "They aren't wrong about me, Emma. I did those terrible things in my past." Emma: "Yeah, and a lot of other people have done stuff they regret too. Look, I'm not trying to diminish or excuse what you did back then, but you have changed. You've saved far more people in these last few years than-" Regina: (Holding up her hand:) "Shh. (Uses her magic to heal the reddish bump that was beginning to form on Emma's forehead:) I hurt a lot of people in my past. And, although I may not allow the guilt of it to weigh me down, I still carry that with me, every day." Emma: "So you're okay?" Regina: (Smiles, reassuringly:) "I've learned to live with who I was for a while now. (Stroking Emma's face:) Thanks to you." (They lean in for a kiss, but are interrupted.) Rumplestiltskin: (From behind them:) "Don't forget about me, Dearie." (Rolling her eyes, Emma turns toward the sound of the voice.) Regina: (Stunned:) "Rumple?"

[porchwood]

I wish I could even begin to articulate how difficult things are in my life right now. I’ve admitted to depression in previous posts but that’s barely a fraction of the picture. In mid-December I lost my just-barely-sustaining-me job because my boss closed her bodywork practice, and if you live anywhere with seasonal traffic, you know that the off-season is the worst possible time to find work, especially if you’re in a tourism-fueled industry. I was able to cobble together two days a week each at two different places (a spa and a yoga studio) but traffic is still painfully slow and no matter what the law says, no one wants to pay their therapists if there aren’t clients coming in. I’ve been creeping by on about $250 a week at a time of year when it costs $300-400 a month to heat an apartment to 60 degrees. (That’s the lowest possible temp at which I don’t have to keep Lucky in a sweater. :/ I can’t begin to comprehend why propane is so inefficient.) Thankfully I have a roommate (and a good one) to help offset utilities, but unfortunately, I’m dealing with a lot more than that.

There was a glitch with the direct deposit at my second job and I only just received all my wages for the month of January, which will significantly help out for the moment, but that money would have been awfully nice to have for groceries (and heat bills) in January. I’m not starving by any means, but I’m truly living week-to-week and I can physically tell that I’m not getting enough protein (because meat is expensive, even for a bargain shopper).

Right after Christmas I had a terrifying episode of chest pain and wound up in the emergency room at 1am. (I don’t go to the hospital for anything, so that should tell you what a desperate situation this was.) The hospital experience was terrible to say the least, and about three weeks later I got a bill for $1,343 (and a subsequent smaller one for my chest x-ray), because my Obamacare policy covered nothing. (Let that sink in, okay? They “adjusted” the fee but covered no part. Of an ER visit - in-network, no less! - which is the end-all reason everyone tells you that you need health insurance.) I applied for financial assistance right away, which required exhaustive paperwork, only to be informed that they need my 2017 tax return (this was before I’d even received my W-2s) or they would automatically reject my application. Which means I now have to come up with a couple hundred dollars to have my taxes done in order to - wait for it - qualify for a payment plan. It’s pretty clear that I’m not going to receive any assistance or bill forgiveness (if your income isn’t below a particular number - and ironically, my 2016 income was - it’s an automatic rejection), but they won’t even let you have a payment plan (for a $1,343 bill) unless you send them gobs of paperwork demonstrating sufficient financial need.

Lucky’s separation anxiety is relentless and responding to nothing, and I spent the month of January making weekly 90-minute round trips to a veterinary acupuncturist, to the tune of $400+ (maxing out my credit cards in the hope that finally, this would help). Lucky hated the treatments (and I hated myself for putting her through them), her anxiety only got worse and the day before my birthday, the downstairs neighbors left a note implying that if I don’t put her in daycare (which is a whole other mess of a subject), they’ll report us to the landlord.

That night was the lowest I think I’ve ever come in my life. Thankfully, my sister must have picked up on this somehow because she called to chat for a little, but it was the first time I actually looked up the contact info for Lifeline (didn’t call but looked it up), and when my poor roommate finally got home I broke down in ugly tears and told her about something bad that happened to me a long time ago that I’ve never told anyone.

Right now I’m...coping. I guess that’s the only word for it. I’m eating, bathing, dressing, going to work, going outside, etc - and most importantly, taking care of Lucky, who is my literal lifeline. I’ve found one last vet to try and we’re going in tomorrow for a consult, but my roommate is dubious about the chances of success and concerned that the neighbors will flip that I’m not putting Lucky straight into a kennel this week. But right now the future boils down to two equally awful prospects:

1) I get Lucky vaccinated for bordetella and board her at the safest place I can find, to the tune of $20-30 a day (plus round-trip drives of about 30-40 mins twice a day), and try to function at work. There’s no way I can afford those rates, of course, and most of these places only take cash, so I’ll have to get another credit card to pay for living expenses while my wages go to daycare. Or I could look into getting a third job, but that would mean another day or two of daycare to pay for, so I wouldn’t be getting ahead, I’d be exhausted out of my mind, and I’d never see my little girl, who is not a young dog anymore.

2) I move permanently back to Nebraska (in stages, because there’s no way I can afford a U-Haul anytime soon) and continue to pay my half of rent and utilities as long as my roommate wants to stay here. (That was our arrangement last winter and remains the only fair thing to do, really, especially as subletting is forbidden.) My sister would take me in at her tiny house and probably let me stay rent-free, but now my aging father is back in Nebraska, and while my sister and I would buffer each other as much as possible, we’d be expected (read: pressured) to serve as caregivers to some extent, especially me, because I’m a massage therapist. And there aren’t a lot of resources to help you deal with an elderly narcissist. (Fun example: Dad ranted to my sister that he didn’t know why I moved to Maine right before he returned to Nebraska because, and I quote, “She only went to massage school so she could take care of me!” He also lamented to a friend - in front of my sister - that he’s not going to get any more grandchildren because my still-unmarried sister is about to turn 40. Which is a horrible thing to say in and of itself, but I don’t think it even occurred to him in the moment that his youngest child doesn’t have a reproductive system anymore and that the loss of it made her want to die.) Someday I might tell you about the rift with my parents, if I haven’t already - it’s not the aforementioned bad thing from my childhood, but it effectively means that I don’t have parents anymore, not in any kind of supportive sense.

Anyway, I’m scared and weary and hopeless and I hate the assumption that when someone isn’t engaging through social media or responding to messages that they’re self-centered, snooty, having too much fun to bother, etc. My life began to crumble four years ago and has continued at a relentless snowball-roll ever since without getting minutely better or even letting up a little, and I can’t swim a lick so I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep treading water indefinitely. And I don’t want to talk about it because even the nicest of those conversations start with “Are things getting any better?” and the answer is always, ALWAYS, “No.”

I don’t expect sympathy or support, because four years of relentless crap have taught me that the worse your life gets, the less people care. It becomes part of your identity to them (”Well, sounds like Elisabeth’s having some trouble again...”) and, I suspect, starts to paint you as a person who just can’t figure it out/get on in the real world, not someone who’s being subjected to an inordinate amount of bad fortune. I’ve had to fight tooth and nail just to survive these past four years, and if God and the world could agree that, just maybe, I finally deserve a little break, maybe I could stop subsisting and start rebuilding from the wreckage.

[bbtwords]

My seven-year-old grandson sleeps just down the hall from me, and he wakes up a lot of mornings and he says, "You know, this could be the best day ever." And other times, in the middle of the night, he calls out in a tremulous voice, "Nana, will you ever get sick and die?" I think this pretty much says it for me and most of the people I know, that we're a mixed grill of happy anticipation and dread. So I sat down a few days before my 61st birthday, and I decided to compile a list of everything I know for sure. There's so little truth in the popular culture, and it's good to be sure of a few things. For instance, I am no longer 47, although this is the age I feel, and the age I like to think of myself as being. My friend Paul used to say in his late 70s that he felt like a young man with something really wrong with him. Our true person is outside of time and space, but looking at the paperwork, I can, in fact, see that I was born in 1954. My inside self is outside of time and space. It doesn't have an age. I'm every age I've ever been, and so are you, although I can't help mentioning as an aside that it might have been helpful if I hadn't followed the skin care rules of the '60s, which involved getting as much sun as possible while slathered in baby oil and basking in the glow of a tinfoil reflector shield. It was so liberating, though, to face the truth that I was no longer in the last throes of middle age, that I decided to write down every single true thing I know. People feel really doomed and overwhelmed these days, and they keep asking me what's true. So I hope that my list of things I'm almost positive about might offer some basic operating instructions to anyone who is feeling really overwhelmed or beleaguered. Number one: the first and truest thing is that all truth is a paradox. Life is both a precious, unfathomably beautiful gift, and it's impossible here, on the incarnational side of things. It's been a very bad match for those of us who were born extremely sensitive. It's so hard and weird that we sometimes wonder if we're being punked. It's filled simultaneously with heartbreaking sweetness and beauty, desperate poverty, floods and babies and acne and Mozart, all swirled together. I don't think it's an ideal system. Number two: almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes – including you. Three: there is almost nothing outside of you that will help in any kind of lasting way, unless you're waiting for an organ. You can't buy, achieve or date serenity and peace of mind. This is the most horrible truth, and I so resent it. But it's an inside job, and we can't arrange peace or lasting improvement for the people we love most in the world. They have to find their own ways, their own answers. You can't run alongside your grown children with sunscreen and ChapStick on their hero's journey. You have to release them. It's disrespectful not to. And if it's someone else's problem, you probably don't have the answer, anyway. Our help is usually not very helpful. Our help is often toxic. And help is the sunny side of control. Stop helping so much. Don't get your help and goodness all over everybody. This brings us to number four: everyone is screwed up, broken, clingy and scared, even the people who seem to have it most together. They are much more like you than you would believe, so try not to compare your insides to other people's outsides. It will only make you worse than you already are. Also, you can't save, fix or rescue any of them or get anyone sober. What helped me get clean and sober 30 years ago was the catastrophe of my behavior and thinking. So I asked some sober friends for help, and I turned to a higher power. One acronym for God is the "gift of desperation," G-O-D, or as a sober friend put it, by the end I was deteriorating faster than I could lower my standards. So God might mean, in this case, "me running out of any more good ideas." While fixing and saving and trying to rescue is futile, radical self-care is quantum, and it radiates out from you into the atmosphere like a little fresh air. It's a huge gift to the world. When people respond by saying, "Well, isn't she full of herself," just smile obliquely like Mona Lisa and make both of you a nice cup of tea. Being full of affection for one's goofy, self-centered, cranky, annoying self is home. It's where world peace begins. Number five: chocolate with 75 percent cacao is not actually a food. Its best use is as a bait in snake traps or to balance the legs of wobbly chairs. It was never meant to be considered an edible. Number six – writing. Every writer you know writes really terrible first drafts, but they keep their butt in the chair. That's the secret of life. That's probably the main difference between you and them. They just do it. They do it by prearrangement with themselves. They do it as a debt of honor. They tell stories that come through them one day at a time, little by little. When my older brother was in fourth grade, he had a term paper on birds due the next day, and he hadn't started. So my dad sat down with him with an Audubon book, paper, pencils and brads – for those of you who have gotten a little less young and remember brads – and he said to my brother, "Just take it bird by bird, buddy. Just read about pelicans and then write about pelicans in your own voice. And then find out about chickadees, and tell us about them in your own voice. And then geese." So the two most important things about writing are: bird by bird and really god-awful first drafts. If you don't know where to start, remember that every single thing that happened to you is yours, and you get to tell it. If people wanted you to write more warmly about them, they should've behaved better. You're going to feel like hell if you wake up someday and you never wrote the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves of your heart: your stories, memories, visions and songs – your truth, your version of things – in your own voice. That's really all you have to offer us, and that's also why you were born. Seven: publication and temporary creative successes are something you have to recover from. They kill as many people as not. They will hurt, damage and change you in ways you cannot imagine. The most degraded and evil people I've ever known are male writers who've had huge best sellers. And yet, returning to number one, that all truth is paradox, it's also a miracle to get your work published, to get your stories read and heard. Just try to bust yourself gently of the fantasy that publication will heal you, that it will fill the Swiss-cheesy holes inside of you. It can't. It won't. But writing can. So can singing in a choir or a bluegrass band. So can painting community murals or birding or fostering old dogs that no one else will. Number eight: families. Families are hard, hard, hard, no matter how cherished and astonishing they may also be. Again, see number one. At family gatherings where you suddenly feel homicidal or suicidal – remember that in all cases, it's a miracle that any of us, specifically, were conceived and born. Earth is forgiveness school. It begins with forgiving yourself, and then you might as well start at the dinner table. That way, you can do this work in comfortable pants. When William Blake said that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love, he knew that your family would be an intimate part of this, even as you want to run screaming for your cute little life. But I promise you are up to it. You can do it, Cinderella, you can do it, and you will be amazed. Nine: food. Try to do a little better. I think you know what I mean. Number 10 – grace. Grace is spiritual WD-40, or water wings. The mystery of grace is that God loves Henry Kissinger and Vladimir Putin and me exactly as much as He or She loves your new grandchild. Go figure. The movement of grace is what changes us, heals us and heals our world. To summon grace, say, "Help," and then buckle up. Grace finds you exactly where you are, but it doesn't leave you where it found you. And grace won't look like Casper the Friendly Ghost, regrettably. But the phone will ring or the mail will come and then against all odds, you'll get your sense of humor about yourself back. Laughter really is carbonated holiness. It helps us breathe again and again and gives us back to ourselves, and this gives us faith in life and each other. And remember – grace always bats last. Eleven: God just means goodness. It's really not all that scary. It means the divine or a loving, animating intelligence, or, as we learned from the great "Deteriorata," "the cosmic muffin." A good name for God is: "Not me." Emerson said that the happiest person on Earth is the one who learns from nature the lessons of worship. So go outside a lot and look up. My pastor said you can trap bees on the bottom of mason jars without lids because they don't look up, so they just walk around bitterly bumping into the glass walls. Go outside. Look up. Secret of life. And finally: death. Number 12. Wow and yikes. It's so hard to bear when the few people you cannot live without die. You'll never get over these losses, and no matter what the culture says, you're not supposed to. We Christians like to think of death as a major change of address, but in any case, the person will live again fully in your heart if you don't seal it off. Like Leonard Cohen said, "There are cracks in everything, and that's how the light gets in." And that's how we feel our people again fully alive. Also, the people will make you laugh out loud at the most inconvenient times, and that's the great good news. But their absence will also be a lifelong nightmare of homesickness for you. Grief and friends, time and tears will heal you to some extent. Tears will bathe and baptize and hydrate and moisturize you and the ground on which you walk. Do you know the first thing that God says to Moses? He says, "Take off your shoes." Because this is holy ground, all evidence to the contrary. It's hard to believe, but it's the truest thing I know. When you're a little bit older, like my tiny personal self, you realize that death is as sacred as birth. And don't worry – get on with your life. Almost every single death is easy and gentle with the very best people surrounding you for as long as you need. You won't be alone. They'll help you cross over to whatever awaits us. As Ram Dass said, "When all is said and done, we're really just all walking each other home." I think that's it, but if I think of anything else, I'll let you know. Thank you.

12 Truths I Learned from Life and Writing TED2017 Anne Lamott https://www.ted.com/talks/anne_lamott_12_truths_i_learned_from_life_and_writing

[theunknown-ericfanfiction]

Chapter 45

The Unknown Chapter Index.

Unexpected Chapter Index

It was early in the morning, and Eric was up as usual, though this time he had to wake Morgan up too. They had to greet the newest members into the faction and begin training on yet another initiation.

Luckily Morgan and Eric had gone through a month without any kind of problem, and things seemed to have fallen back to normal, after the whole thing with the outsiders the next batch seemed a lot more compliant, none of them wanted to have their brains bashed in by Eric.

Morgan’s strategy seemed to have worked and the supposed abuse had stopped, they had set up a group of dauntless trained in therapy to help the victims, but not new cases or incidents had arised. They had everything under control, which was a relief in Eric’s eyes, he was really glad Morgan had stepped up and helped him figure things out.

He didn’t like the summer much, every time he worked out it was three times the amount of sweat, and there was unusually cheery people on this time of year, but there was one thing he loved about it, and it was Morgan on summertime.

Morgan on summertime meant Morgan sleeping naked, no underwear over a loose shirt if she was at home, and when she had to go out she wore summer dresses, or skirts. Easy access and a great view, that was his favorite thing.

Eric had been very clear with Morgan that she didn’t really had to work if she didn’t want to, and he hated to admit that after Morgan had been pointed at by the outsider, Eric retraced every conversation or action towards Morgan, and he had to admit that he was maybe a little too controling, that he had obliged Morgan to do a lot of things she didn’t wanted to do.

He retracted on everything and now he let Morgan do her thing, so she wasn’t working much. Except on those days when Aleks preferred to be with him, she spent her time at home or out in the compound, showcasing his son around dauntless.

She helped with initiation to an extent, and she was going to oversee the dauntless born that year, just the paperwork.

Still, she had to be there on the first day on initiation.

He sat next to her on the bed, she was face down hugging he pillow below her face, Eric slowly traced her spine, watching how her tattoos moved as her shoulder blades shifted and she turned her head around to look at him.

He trailed his hand downwards as he gave her a little smile

“Hey gorgeous” she smiled and moved to lay her head on his thigh, Eric’s hand moved up to touch her head and neck

“What time is it?” She asked sleepy.

“Too early for your liking. But it’s initiation day and we have to go to the ceremony”

“Ugh” she complained “do we have to?”

“I thought it would be nice for Aleks to get out of the compound” she snorted and looked up at him

“Show off. You just want everyone to be like ‘oh what a cute baby’”

“You too”

“Yeah, me too” she admitted, then smile and lifted herself up, her lips met his in a kiss as Eric pulled her to his chest. “Is Aleks asleep?”

“Yeah” she said against her lips. Morgan smiled and broke the kiss as she stood up from the bed and took Eric’s hand.

“Let’s have a quick one in the shower” Eric smiled and followed her, even as he took off his shirt he didn’t mention that he had already taken a shower.

When going out to special events such as these, Eric always wore the jacket with the dauntless simbol, not bothering if it was hot or cold out. Morgan also had to use it, and she complained a little and ended up tying it to her waist. They had even bought one to Aleks, and he looked badass with it.

Eric was waiting for Morgan to finish with her clothes and he fed Aleks, tilting the bottle to his mouth with one hand while the other took his coffee up to his lips.

“Eric” she complained as she walked into view

“What?” He asked with a shrug

“I had to feed him, look at my boobs” she complained while touching her breasts.

“They’re big” he pointed out

“They’re full of milk he was supposed to drink”

“He told me he doesn’t want that anymore, I told him your tits are mine and he understood”

Morgan rolled her eyes and looked down at Aleks, who was halfway through the bottle.

“And he’s actually six months old now, so he doesn’t get to eat much milk anymore. Got you a book” he said, taking a book from below his papers and handed it to her.

“Awe” she said taking it, then leaned on him to kiss him on the temple “thank you baby”

Morgan busied herself with the book while she had her breakfast, then the whole family headed out to the train.

There was a big tumult of people by the train, mothers hugging their sons or daughters as if it was the last time they would see them, and for some of them, it actually was.

Eric had taken care of taking Aleks, Morgan had noticed Eric always wanted to hold him if they were out, so she let him, they looked good together anyway.

“What are you thinking about?” Morgan said, seeing that Eric was looking out to the scene in front of him.

“Nothing” he said, looking at her.

“You’re not thinking about how it will be when it’s his initiation time?”

“No” he shrugged

“You’re not worried, like… What if he leaves?”

“He’s not gonna leave” he said looking down at Aleks, he shook him a bit and Aleks let out a smile.

Morgan and Eric boarded the train, Aleks looked at the city outside with big curious eyes. They needed to go out more.

Once they were in the building where they celebrated the Choosing Ceremony Eric handed Aleks to Morgan, who was instantly swarmed by the leaders of the other factions.

Last time she’d seen them all Aleks was just a few days past his first month, and now he was sitting up straight, saying a few syllables, making noises, eating.

“He’s developed properly” Eric heard from behind him, he rolled his eyes and continued to look at Morgan from a distance, trying his hardest to ignore Christine “I don’t understand why you never brought him to erudite”

“And why would I do that?” He said over his shoulder

“Because, he’s my grandson”

“Whatever your purpose is for having a relationship with my son it’s not happening. I’ll do everything in my power to keep him away from you” he said between teeth, still looking ahead.

“You’re probably right, he won’t be as docile as you”

Eric’s jaw tightened and he had to use a lot of will power to stop him from turning and hit her square in the jaw.

The sight of Morgan smiling down at her baby, and apologetically trying to untagle Aleks’ hand from the collar trinklet that hung from the Amity leader seemed to do the trick. Instead, the Amity leader took the collar out of her person and handed it over to Aleks, who instantly put it in his mouth.

Morgan knited her eyebrows and Eric read her lips as she apologized, but Amity seemed very happy to have made the little one happy.

There was an announcement on the speakers of the room and Morgan looked around for Eric, finding him when she looked to her right.

The other leaders also gathered and walked to their respective places on the auditorium. Usually the leaders and parents sat before the kids that were going to choose, Eric and Morgan being leaders, sat on the highest road of chairs, overlooking everyone.

“Want to show daddy what you stole?” Morgan said sitting Aleks on her lap and looking down at him.

Eric always filled himself with pride when Morgan called him dad and Aleks’ eyes landed on him. He recognized him not only as the other dude that takes care of me, but as his dad.

He pinched his cheek with his fingers and Aleks continued to bite at the collar.

By the time they all sat Eric knew that they were halfway through the aptitude tests, so they had to wait sitting for another 30 minutes at least.

“I hate coming to this things” he said under his breath, Morgan rolled her eyes and nodded

“Me too, which is why I never come. Not only it’s tedious to have to see them swap factions we have to hear Christine talking”

Eric looked to his side at her and placed his hand on her thigh.

“You were pregnant last year” Morgan smiled and looked down at Aleks.

“I was, and now look who’s here?” She nuzzled on Aleks’ neck, then kissed him on the cheek.

Instead, Eric lifted his hand up to caress her cheek and Morgan gave him a smirk and a little loving look.

“Let’s make a bet” she offered, taking Eric’s hand and intertwining their hands together. He wished strongly that the seats they were occupying were mobile, but they weren’t, so he had to sit uncomfortably away from Morgan, he liked to hold her by the waist if they were sitting. Even if it was just a few inches away it bothered him.

“What kind of bet?”

“Let’s bet how many transfers of what kind will be switching to dauntless, and how many dauntless are leaving”

“That’s cheating, you already know how many are leaving, you talk to all of them”

Morgan pouted in faked annoyance, then smiled and rubbed her finger on his hand

“Fine, I say plus 20 transfers. Less than five Amity, less than five candor, less than ten erudite. No abnegation like always”

“That’s not specific enough”

“Fine, 3, 4 and 13”

“Okay..” He overlooked at the auditorium and glanced at all the parent couples out there. “I say 6 amity, 7 candor and 11 erudite”

“But that’s more than 20 transfers”

“We’re not going to have 20 tranfers, the groups have been getting bigger and bigger every year. If last year we had 30 this year the number with be near that”

“We’re still doing the thing with the joint Sims for the divergents?”

“Yeah” he said dismissive, looking down at how Aleks threw the collar on the floor and looked up at Morgan

“You threw that” she told him, he gave him a smile, showing her his two growing teeth “you’re not gonna buy me with that smile” she still smiled.

Aleks seemed to forget about the collar that Eric later picked up but didn’t gave back to him. He was quiet and observant, until Liam sat down next to him.

Eric knew that Morgan took Aleks out in the compound and that everyone got a glimpse of him, but the person with who Aleks interacted the most were Creed and Liam. Creed was fine, he was Eric’s friend from a long time and Eric didn’t mind if Aleks ended up in his arms… But Liam, Eric hated Liam, because he knew that he had a thing for Morgan, he knew that Morgan would never cheat on him with Liam, but it really, really pissed him off when Liam took Aleks on his arms.

They had thing thing, Aleks and Liam where they would scream with their tongues out, seeing Aleks do that was cute in Eric’s eyes, IF he did that with him. But seeing him do that to another male sparked up jealousy to a whole new level.

Sometimes he wished he was as lot more goofy and talkative and an all around cheery father to his baby, but his personality, his whole didn’t allow him to do that, and that upset him.

Morgan knew very well that Eric didn’t like anyone but her to carry Aleks, so she maintained him sitting on his lap while Liam made him faces and made him laugh.

The ceremony started and Morgan soon got Liam in a her bet as well. Eric couldn’t care less of the swap or the bet. He took care of Aleks while Morgan and Liam were concentrated counting, Eric entertained himself with Aleks standing up on his lap and clapping when the other dauntless cheered.

Aleks’ leg muscles were becoming stronger and stronger, and he was turning into a very, very restless baby. They didn’t hold him baby style anymore, Morgan had him do tummy time everyday and he developed a lot of movement. Eric knew babies weren’t supposed to walk before the year, but at this rate he knew Aleks would be walking in just a few more months.

When he tuned into the swap again, it was nearly finishing, and Morgan looked worried.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ll say about 75% of the initiates of this year’s ceremony chose dauntless” she said, still looking at how the last girl also let her blood spill in the burning coals.

Eric stood up from his seat along with all the other dauntless, who exited the auditorium with loud cheers and fast stomps outside. Liam was supposed to go with them on the train, and Morgan and Eric were taking another quieter train back to dauntless.

“I’ll say they finally realized we’re the only useful faction in this city”

He held Aleks to his chest while his other arm ended around Morgan’s waist as they walked out.

“Maybe… I mean, don’t they know that you’re around?” She joked, looking at him from the corner of her eye. Eric let out a little smirk and looked down at Aleks.

“She thinks she’s so funny doesn’t she?” He told him, as if he could understand, Aleks just looked at him for a brief minute and then looked to the side to glance at the buildings as they came into view “she doesn’t think it’s fun anymore when I have her bent over the armrest of the couch as I fuck her from behind”

“Eric” she complained “don’t tell that to the kid”

“He’s not making memories, he doesn’t care” he dismissed, pulling Morgan closer.

She also hooked her arm to Eric’s side and walked with him towards the train station.

“Let’s see how this year’s initiation goes, given that we have two different groups to supervise”

“I’ll help you if you want” she offered

“You help if you want. Last time I checked some asshole tried to get you away from me when I told you what to do”

Eric didn’t talk with Morgan about the aftemath, he just gave her general information of how they were going to continue training, but he’d never told her how upset he was after the whole thing. Judging by how broken his hand was, Morgan assumed he was really, really upset.

Still, she continued with her thing, still beside him every step if the way.