#and i STILL might not even get assessed because it’ll cost to much

[shiftingserendipity]

so just found out someone spotted my autism at like 7/8 and no one thought to say a fucking thing to me wtf

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays Part 24/? - The Welcome Wagon Part 25/? - Fugitives Part 26/? - A Reluctant Accomplice Part 27/? - Deja Vu Part 28/? - Interview with a Madwoman

Hey, check it out, I’m still alive.

-

Peggy knew she couldn’t spend all her time moaning over the romantic dilemma life had presented her with.  She let herself dwell on it for a moment, then forced her mind on to more practical matters.  By the time they returned to the farmhouse, she’d decided how she wanted to approach this interrogation.

“I think you should talk to her first,” she told Kay.  “While I’m out of sight.”

“You’re the one who knows her,” Kay protested.

“Yes, but she’s expecting me,” Peggy reminded her.  “If we start with you, it’ll catch her off guard.”  She did not want Dottie to think she was in a position to make demands.

Kay nodded slowly.  “All right, you go down by the hood.  I’ll open the back.”

The back boot opened with a creak.  Peggy could immediately smell ammonia.  At some point during the night, Dottie had needed to relieve herself and had been either unwilling or unable to hold it in.  Peggy probably ought to have felt sorry for her, but after all Dottie had put her through, it was hard.

There was a silence that was just a bit too long to be the moment in which Kay pulled the tape off Dottie’s mouth, and Peggy found it rather reassuring that the woman could still be taken by surprise.

“Dobroye utro,” said Kay.  That meant good morning.  “Olga Barynova.”

“Kto ty?” asked Dottie.  Who are you?  Her voice was level and measured, deliberately toneless.

“I’m you, but smarter,” Kay replied in English.  “You didn’t read the message.  You didn’t think you needed to, because you already know everything. Surprise!”

There was another silence, as Dottie re-assessed the situation.  Peggy wondered what was going on in her head.

“You won’t take me back,” Dottie said.  “You’ll have to kill me.”

“You didn’t read the message,” Kay repeated.  “Do you want to know what it said, or are you just going to lie there in a puddle of your own piss trying to pretend you know what you’re talking about?”

Peggy really did rather wish she could see the expression on Dottie’s face. It was probably well worth seeing.

“What did the message say?” asked Dottie.

“That I have no intention of turning you back over to them,” Kay reassured her. “I want you and I to go back together, and we’re gonna burn the place down.”

Dottie laughed.  “That’s exactly what you would say if you were here to drag me back, because it’s exactly what I would say to you if our positions were reversed.”

“You don’t trust me?” asked Kay.  “You sure do seem to trust Peggy Carter, and I’m pretty sure she wants to see you rot in jail for the rest of your life.”

“Peggy thinks she’s one of the good guys,” Dottie snorted.  “She keeps her promises even when they’re stupid.  If you’re anything like me, you don’t know what a promise is.”

Peggy decided that was her cue.  She came and stepped into Dottie’s field of view.  It had clearly been a rough night for Dottie in the trunk of the car. She’d evidently struggled quite a bit, trying to loosen the tape, and had not succeeded.  There were red marks on the visible skin of her arms and legs where it had dug into her flesh.  Her hair was in disarray.  She did look momentarily surprised when Peggy came into view, but hid it quickly.

“Peggy, Peggy, Peggy,” she said, clucking her tongue  “You of all people should know better than to partner up with one of us.  We’re bad news.”

“I decided I needed some expert advice,” Peggy replied.  “Despite what Chief Thompson thinks, I am not nearly deranged enough to think like you do.”

“I’m not deranged,” said Dottie.  “I know exactly what I’m doing.  You just can’t believe that because it doesn’t align with your goals.”

“You want revenge,” said Kay.  “You want to get back into the USSR un-noticed and destroy the people who made you. You don’t want another little girl to ever become what you are.”

“I’m not that altruistic,” Dottie replied.  “I was seven years old when they put me and my best friend in a ring together and told us that only one could leave.  I just want them to suffer.”  She smiled tranquilly.

“So do I,” Kay promised.

“I don’t believe you,” Dottie told her flatly.  “What’s in this for you, Peggy?  Or are you the altruistic one?”

Peggy decided on the truth.  “Kay has informed me that one of Captain America’s men is a prisoner in the USSR,” she said.  “I want to help rescue him.”

“Aw, you’re doing it for love,” said Dottie.  “That’s cute.  So what makes you think I have any idea where to find him?”

“Because the same place that made us is also working on him,” said Kay.  “He’s part of the Winter Soldier program.”

“And you don’t know where to find that?” Dottie asked suspiciously.

“My information is out of date,” Kay replied.

“I promise,” said Peggy.  “I will not return you to your masters.  I’m not sure what I am going to do with you, but I know to give you back to them would mean your death.”

“Oh, no,” Dottie shook her head.  “It would be way worse than that.”

“I will rescue Sergeant Barnes, and you two may do what you wish with this Red Room and the people in it,” Peggy said.  “But I promise that when I leave Russia again, I will take you with me.”

“What happens if I refuse?” asked Dottie.  “Are you going to send me back to jail to have you hanged for treason, Peggy? I know you’re not going to kill me… that’s not your style.”

“No, but it’s mine,” said Kay.  “And I doubt she’ll shed a single tear.”  She took out a pocket knife.  “I know you’re thinking of how you’re going to run away, or how you’re going to betray us both, but keep in mind.  I know all your moves.  I know all your hiding places.  There is nothing you can do, and nowhere you can go, that I cannot anticipate.  Do you understand?”

“Oh, yes,” Dottie said.  “I understand perfectly.”

“Do you agree, then?  You will help Peggy to find Sergeant Barnes, and in return I will help you to destroy the Red Room?”

“Absolutely,” said Dottie.

Peggy knew they couldn’t trust her, and realized she was counting on Kay to make sure they could keep Dottie under control.  Kay had asked Peggy to trust her, hadn’t she?  Now there was no choice.  Was there a chance this still might turn around?  That Kay might turn out to be the enemy after all?

It didn’t matter.  Peggy was already in this too deep.  Sunk Cost might have been a fallacy, but when the cost involved was one’s freedom and reputation, there wasn’t much to be done.

“It’s a deal, then,” said Kay, and started cutting the tape off Dottie.

“So,” said Dottie, entirely too casual.  “It’s Kay, is it?”

“It is,” said Kay.  “And what are you calling yourself these days, Olga?”

“Not Olga,” Dottie replied.  “Olga Barynova died years ago.  I like the name Peggy uses for me.  After all, I am quite dotty, and I tend to do things under the table.”  She looked at Peggy and smiled.

Peggy did not smile back.

“Then that’s what we’ll call you,” said Kay.  She finished cutting the tape, and began peeling it off.  “You’re hungry and dehydrated after being in that trunk all night.  Come inside and we’ll give you something to eat.”  They’d saved some of their own breakfast for her.  “And you can tell us everything you know about the Winter Soldiers.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Dottie wagged a finger.  “I’m not stupid.  I’m not telling you anything until you’ve held up your end of the bargain. When we’re in Russia and haven’t been caught, then I’ll tell you where we’re going.”

Peggy would have protested, but Kay just shrugged.  “That sounds fair,” she said.

“And how are we supposed to know what part of Russia we’re going to?” asked Peggy.

“That I can tell you after breakfast,” Dottie said.  “Don’t worry about money, I’ve got some stashed away for the occasion.  Now where’s that food.  I’m starving.”

The two women sat and watched Dottie eat her breakfast, and Peggy’s misgivings only increased.  Talking to Dottie had reminded her rather sharply that Kay was a master manipulator… she’d manipulated Peggy when Kay had been the one in prison, and now she’d managed to play Dottie, too, something Peggy would have thought was next to impossible.  Now it was her, of all people, whom Peggy had to trust with her life, because the only alternatives were jail or Dottie.

Somewhere along the line she’d made a terrible mistake.  In fact, the longer this went on, the more Peggy was sure the whole thing had been a series of terrible mistakes, right back to…

… well, no.  Not staying in New York wasn’t a mistake, because if she’d done that, Steve would still be frozen in the arctic ice right now.  And anything she’d done after that… no, there was really no point at which she could have extracted herself from this and not gotten in trouble for it. Not unless she was willing to admit that getting Steve back at all was a mistake, and she couldn’t possibly say that. Or could she?  When Kay had told her outright that this wasn’t how history was ‘supposed’ to go, maybe it was a mistake.

It didn’t matter now, did it?  The future was already changed, and they couldn’t go back and fix it.

Dottie devoured the breakfast they’d set out for her without the slightest thought of table manners, stuffing so much in her mouth that Peggy was afraid she’d choke.  Once she’d satisfied her hunger, she asked for some twigs from the woods.  Peggy sat with her while Kay brought back an armful they’d already gathered up, intending to use them as kindling.  Dottie selected the ones she liked the shapes of, and arranged them into a map of the USSR.

“We won’t get in from the west,” she said.  “They watch that too closely.  To go from the east, we’d have to pass over Chinese airspace and that’s just as risky. From the south we’ve got the Himalayas blocking the way, and I don’t think any of us are crazy enough to try to go from the north.  Not even me.” Dottie glanced up at her companions and smiled as if this were a very funny joke.

Peggy did not smile back, but Kay chuckled a little.

“The way in,” Dottie went on, “is through Turkey.  The area is mountainous and difficult to patrol, but the locals know their way around I have some things prepared.  It’ll be a long hike, but we can take the train from Tbilisi to Stalingrad…”

“Volgograd,” said Kay under her breath.

“… and from there, I’ll tell you where we’re going next,” said Dottie.

“Mm-hm,” said Peggy.  It seemed straightforward enough, though Dottie was right – it would be a very long walk through some hostile terrain.  “You said we’ll need that money you mentioned… where have you got that squirreled away?”

“Nevada,” said Dottie.  “Joseph’s hanging on to it for me.”

The first Joseph Peggy thought of who might have anything to do with Dottie Underwood was Josef Stalin, but that could not possibly be right.  “Who is Joseph?”

“Joseph Strieber.”

It took a moment for Peggy to remember who that was, and then it seemed almost as unlikely as Stalin – perhaps more so.  “The Governor of Nevada?” she asked.  “He’s the one who wants you caught!  The mafia is breathing down his neck after you robbed the Toucan Hotel!”

“Plausible deniability,” said Dottie.  “If he’s the one shouting that I need to be in prison, the mob won’t realize that he’s the one who let me into the Toucan at their grand opening.  I was his date for the evening.”  She smiled.  “And now I can make him do anything I want.”

“So we’re going to Carson City,” said Kay.

Peggy thought she’d better make sure Governor Strieber didn’t get a look at her during this visit… she had enough problems right now without a desperate politician getting any leverage over her.  “Then we need to catch up with Steve,” she added.

“Steve?”  Dottie cocked her head and smiled.  “We’re taking Captain America with us?”

“It’s his friend we’re rescuing,” said Peggy.

“Well, if you’d told me that from the beginning, I might have agreed to help without all the threats!” said Dottie, delighted.  “He’s a dish, isn’t he?”

“So people say,” Peggy said.  People who’d never met Steve, and didn’t realize that he was so much more than that.  But she had another worry now, she realized… Dottie liked to know people’s weaknesses, and now she already knew what Peggy’s was.

[tendertenebrosity]

Next instalment of TJ and Danny’s story, set in @wildfaewhump‘s Pathverse! Direct sequel to here , you should go read that first! Masterpost can be found here. 

Danny took the next exit, without even bothering to read the signs. It wasn’t as if he had a goal in mind, not anymore – if he couldn’t go to Julie’s Agency there was no point driving to her city.

He was going to have to stop soon and decide what to do. But if he just kept driving, he could put off needing to make that call for just a little longer.

The outskirts of the city slid by his window. He tried to just drive, thinking as little as possible. Trying to keep his grip on the wheel steady but not white-knuckled, trying not to let his breathing speed up and up and up until he was leaning forward in his seat and accidentally roaring along at 20 over the speed limit.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What was he going to do?

You’re really in the shit now, Danny, he told himself. Why did you call her? Why did you think she’d understand? Before this last year, before this endless slog through court case after violent court case, melt-downs and seizures, hospitalisations and Class-A memory ‘treatments’, picking right back up and going to work again afterwards, watching TJ get thinner and shakier and more threadbare every week without ever being capable of understanding why but still quieting under Danny’s touch like it actually meant something…

Danny wouldn’t’ve understood either.

He flicked the radio on, blaring voices spouting something inane. He jumped stations a few times, looking for something with music. He found something that sounded like country, listened to that for a minute or two, before flicking it off again in annoyance.

Of course Julie didn’t understand, because this was flat-out crazy, and Danny knew it. He didn’t know how it had come to this. What had he been thinking? What did he think he was achieving? This had been a mistake, from start to finish.  

“Um. Handler? Danny?”

The white line on the road jerked and veered wildly in front of Danny as he swore, curbing the impulse to whip around and look behind him.

Fucking hell. Keep it together enough to drive, will you?

He spared a glance in the mirror. Sure enough, the Path was sitting up, looking small and hunched and incongruously clean in the grubby back seat of Danny’s old car. His thin pale fingers clutched at the black seatbelt.

“Jesus, kid,” Danny snapped.

“Sorry,” TJ whispered. “Sorry, I’ll – I’ll be quiet, I’m sorry...”

“No, I - ” Danny breathed out heavily through his nose, made his hands relax on the wheel. The way TJ was lately, Danny couldn’t raise his voice without the poor sod thinking he’d done something wrong. The way he cringed from the nurses, from other handlers, from Danny himself sometimes - it made Danny think hard, vicious things about whoever had been assigned to him before.

How could I have just gone on to the next job and left him there?

He tried to make his voice light. “No, kid, not your fault,” he said. “You just, uh, startled me. Didn’t mean to wake you, we’re hours away from where we’re going yet.” For God’s sake don’t ask me where that is, I don’t fucking know.

“I was awake,” the Path said, a wispy thread of voice from the backseat. “Um. Danny?”

Danny grunted to show he was listening.

“Are you really stealing me?”

Damn it.

“How much did you hear of that?” Danny asked, his stomach sinking. He’d thought TJ was safely asleep. Idiot.

“Um. All of it,” TJ said. “You said – Danny, you said – why do you think someone’s going to kill me?”

“I – well, because…” This was stupid. Why was Danny floundering for words in front of a Path? Danny could only catch the occasional glimpse of the Path in his mirror, and blindfolded TJ wasn’t capable of looking at anything, but still he had to fight back the feeling that TJ was looking at him accusingly.

“Because you’re sick,” he settled on eventually. He blinked hard at the wavering road in front of him, resettled his grip on the steering wheel. “And… and you’ll get better if you have time, TJ, but they don’t want to give you that time. Because it isn’t… ” The end of the sentence died in his throat. Because everyone’s too busy. Because there’s a contract. Because you’re not important enough.

Because it isn’t cost-efficient.

“Did they tell you that?”

“No,” Danny said. “I just… I can see how it’s going to go. That’s all.”

“Oh.” TJ’s voice was thin, quiet. He shifted, overlarge scrubs rustling. “So… so that’s why you’re stealing me?”

Danny winced. “I’m not – TJ, stop saying that. I’m taking you to a different Agency where you’ll be taken care of properly. It’ll all be okay, all right?”

Danny wished the Path hadn’t overheard. He wished this conversation could have held off until they’d stopped; he couldn’t assess the Path’s body language. Fuck, Julie had said that word, described this as ‘stealing’, and maybe now it had stuck in TJ’s head.

He wondered what the hell went on in that head sometimes; how did a Path see the world? Not how normal people did, clearly. Obviously a Path wasn’t really capable of understanding right and wrong, and the law, and morality. But... TJ had seemed to understand a lot of the things he’d read for the court. He definitely understood what ‘stealing’ meant.  

Danny was half waiting for TJ to challenge him on it. They’d worked a case a few weeks ago, theft of a car and some power tools – perhaps TJ was now going to ask Danny what made this any different, why they’d helped send that person to jail but now Danny was taking off with Agency property.

Danny sighed. No, you idiot, he thought, exasperated with himself. Poor fucking kid’s probably a bit preoccupied with the whole ‘they’ll kill you’ thing. Pull your head out of your ass.

In the end TJ said neither of those things, though.

“You’re still going to be in… in a lot of trouble,” he said instead.

Danny laughed, a harsh, coughing noise that surprised him. “Yeah, kid, probably.”

“What if you can’t find another Agency?” TJ sounded calm, reasonable.

Danny resisted the urge to swear. It’s a good fucking question, isn’t it? “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s… it’ll be fine. It’s not your problem to worry about, kid, so just - ”

Danny’s phone rang.

The sound filled up the car, irritatingly cheerful electronic trilling. Danny knew who that would be; didn’t even need to look at the display. TJ subsided into silence. Danny drummed his gloved fingers on the wheel, gritted his teeth, wished he had a cigarette or a coffee or fucking something to calm himself down with.

If Danny really intended to make a run for it, he ought to throw that phone out the window and keep on driving, he knew. People could track you with those things.

But keep on driving to where? In the end, Danny didn’t have any real idea what he was doing. And the only one around to talk to in this car was a Path.

So he took a hand off the wheel and hit the button that answered the phone.

“Danny,” Julie said, her voice filled with relief. “Thanks for picking up.”

Danny made a noncommittal noise.

“Danny, where are you?”

He glanced around. Danny hadn’t driven in this area much; he didn’t know what the street was called, or even really what suburb he was in. Not much in the way of signs to help him out, either. But did that matter? He might have answered the phone, but Danny wasn’t at the point where he was willing to give Julie either of those things.

“You’re sending people out after me,” he accused her. “The cops, or, or an Agency acquisition van.”

“Danny, I want to help you, I - ”

“If you wanted to help me you could have heard me out,” he snapped. “But you’re not going to, I can fucking tell.”

“Hey, you’re the one who hung up on me, remember?”

“Yeah, cause you weren’t listening to me!” Danny said. The scenery sped by, a patchwork of industrial-looking squat concrete blocks of buildings and what looked to be neglected empty land, filled with scrubby trees and patchy fields that were more weeds than grass. He tried to keep his voice down, keep calm, but it grated and wobbled in his ears regardless. “You didn’t have any intention of helping me with TJ, you just lied to me to shut me up when you said you would fix it.”

Julie was better at lying than she’d been before, but the seam was still visible to Danny. The point where she had just started agreeing with anything he said in an attempt to get him to do what she wanted.

“No, Danny,” she protested. “Look, Danny, I just – I don’t know this Path, okay, I don’t know what your situation is, but I want to help you. So if you want to talk about the Path, okay, let’s talk. I’m listening.”

“Talk about….” Danny glanced up to the mirror. At TJ still sitting there, turning his head this way and that.  Making Danny think vaguely of a baby bird, head too big for its little neck. Listening to everything they were both saying. “Look, he’s not dangerous or anything.”

“Okay. Danny, is… is TJ…” Julie’s voice hushed, suddenly, as if she was talking about something obscene. “Danny, are we talking about the child of someone you know? Or your child? Because…”

“Wh- No!” Danny yelped. He took his eyes off the road to gape, horrified, at Julie’s name on the display for a moment. The car wavered underneath him and he dragged his eyes back up.  

That was… a thought. Jesus Christ. It had somehow never occurred to him. Danny wasn’t anywhere near the point in his life where he’d be contemplating babies, but even so – even so – how had he never thought of that? That if he did, there was a non-zero chance they might be…

“I’m talking about an adult Path,” he said, to Julie, forcefully. “Not a child. He’s not related to me in any form. He’s my Path from work, just a regular assigned… fuck, you know what I mean!”

“Uh huh,” Julie said cautiously. She sounded relieved; papers shuffled again, and Danny suspected he could hear her typing something. “All right. What class is he?”

Danny let out a breath, trying to calm down. “E,” he said. “We worked in, um, Criminal Justice. The courtroom mostly, sometimes the police station.” He chewed his lip, considered and rejected two or three different sentence beginnings. “It’s fucking hard work, OK? It’s difficult, the readings are always long, and it’s bloody dark stuff sometimes, and they never….”  

“Class E? OK,” Julie said, gently. “Where is, um, TJ now, Danny?”

“He’s here,” Danny said, exasperated. “I can see him right now, okay, he’s still got his blindfold on and he’s in the back seat and he’s not causing any trouble. He’s never caused any trouble, even though he’s been treated like shit.”  

“He’s in the back? He can’t touch you?”

“What? No?” Danny glanced in the mirror. Still just a puzzled TJ, seatbelt done up, eyes covered, hands in his lap.

“Okay, good.” Julie started speaking rapidly, urgently. “Danny, I really really need you to pull up by the road and wait for me. Okay? You’re not going to understand why, but we did this in training, right, so I need you to trust me. You’re probably confused and that’s okay…”

“What?”

“Danny, you know that Paths can affect people’s minds - ”

“You think he got to me? You think that’s what this is about?” Danny shook his head, bottling up the stream of swearwords that wanted to escape. Julie thought that TJ was somehow making Danny do this? TJ, visibly upset by the change in routine, shaking and frightened at getting into a slightly different car, who’d been in a hospital bed with tubes everywhere and dried blood all over his face just a week ago? “You’re wrong. Dead wrong. How would that even - ”

“I know that what you’re doing probably makes perfect sense to you now,” Julie interrupted, her voice somehow managing to be both soothing and urgent. “You just have to trust me that it doesn’t, Danny, okay? You can’t rely on your instincts now.”

“Fuck’s sake, Julie - ”

“Nothing is the way it seems. It’s not your fault. You’re in the presence of a Path; they get into your head, they can make you think or feel whatever they - ”

Danny growled in frustration. He hauled on the steering wheel, hand over hand awkwardly, to navigate a turn. “Julie, cut the crap! Trying your scaremongering bullshit on me like I’m some clueless layperson? He never fucking touched me, and he’s fucking E, he’s not even capable of that!”

“Danny, you may not know as much about him as you think you do,” Julie insisted. Some of the cool soothing quality frayed away from her voice. “Come on! I know it’s hard but think. You know why we take the precautions we do, you know the damage that can be done! It’s not your fault, you’re confused. Once you tell me where you are - ”

“I’m not confused,”Danny snapped. He felt sick. If this was what Julie thought, there was no chance of this turning out all right. Not within any Agency. It didn’t make sense but had that ever mattered to Agency management? “I’ve never been confused.”

“- once I know where you are I can help you, okay? We can sort it all out, for you and TJ both, it will all - ”

“Sort it out!” Danny snarled. “Oh, yeah, sure you fucking will! I know how you’ll sort TJ out!”

“Danny - ”

“This is bullshit! I’m not going back to your goddamn cold-blooded, two-faced – uh- ”

Danny caught his breath. The metal barrier that lined the road, painted with yellow chevrons, was coming up fast – way too fast.

Fuck, there was a turn, he hadn’t seen -

He slammed his foot onto the brake pedal and wrenched the wheel to the left; metal grated and squealed in protest.  The car was sliding – Danny’s seatbelt was digging painfully into his ribs as the world swung back and forth violently, and he realised in the half-second he had that the car was fish-tailing as it hurtled towards the metal barrier and the downward slope that lay beyond.

Somewhere in the background, Julie’s voice was asking something, pitched high with concern, but it was drowned out by the screeching of tires and the sound of TJ’s frightened yell from the backseat.

Danny’s car hit the barrier, and the world rolled over and over on itself in a sickening whirl that ended with a metallic crunch.

[jade4813]

Questions in Time

Fandom: The Flash

Title: Questions in Time

Rating: G

Pairing: Barry/Iris

Synopsis: Barry and Iris's relationship has been marked by a series of questions. Entry for the 2021 Westallen Alphabet celebration on Tumblr.

“What’s your name?” the young girl asked as she bent to help him gather his things, which lay scattered on the floor from where he dropped them.

He flushed and shot her a quick look. “Barry. Barry Allen. What’s yours?” He mumbled an embarrassed thanks as she placed the last rogue paper on the stack in her hands and passed them over.

She didn’t seem to notice his discomfort or the blush staining his cheeks. “Iris. You’re new here, huh?” At his nod, she rose to her feet and adjusted the weight of the backpack that was slung over one shoulder. “You headed to lunch?” He didn’t even get a chance to answer before she continued in a voice that brooked no argument, “Come on. You can sit with me.”

He straightened, realizing that Iris was a good two inches taller than him. He had thankfully outgrown every child’s fear of the cooties but was still young enough to be able to admit that she was pretty without being worried about what that thought might mean. From the casual greetings students offered her as they passed, he could also tell she was popular.

But she didn’t seem to notice the curious looks she drew as she walked into the cafeteria next to the new boy who was still too much of a stranger to have made any friends. She also didn’t notice his shyness. Instead, she rambled away as she quietly guided him on which foods on offer were safe to eat and which were to be avoided at all costs.

He was too young to recognize what love was. But if he’d been just a little bit older, he might have suspected he fell in love with her from that very first conversation on their very first day of being friends. And he would never stop.

---

“Anyway, wanna spend the night at my house tonight?” Iris asked, appearing out of nowhere and presenting the question as though the two of them were in the middle of a conversation they absolutely hadn’t been having.

Luckily, Barry and Iris had been friends long enough that this tendency of hers no longer surprised him. “Probably, but I’ve gotta ask my mom. Did your dad give permission already?”

She shrugged, unperturbed by her technical lack of permission. “He’s got a big case, so he’ll be working late tonight.” Joe tended to be more lenient about Iris having friends over on nights he was wrapped up in a case at work. Possibly because he felt guilty to work such long hours. “I’m gonna ask if we can rent a couple movies when he picks me up from school. We can have popcorn and ice cream and – ooh, Celeste!”

Her head whipped around as she caught sight of one of her other friends as they passed in the hallway. In a hurried voice, she blurted, “Catch you after fifth period? I’ve gotta ask Celeste a question about our math homework.”

Before he could even answer, she’d darted away.

---

“What’s up, Bar? You not enjoying the movie?” At his quick look of surprise, she explained, “You just sighed.”

He grimaced, lifting one hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn’t realized he’d even made a noise. “Ah, no, it’s okay. It’s just…” He let his voice trail off. Lifting her eyebrows slightly, she gave him an encouraging nod. Rolling his eyes at her, he explained, “I didn’t realize there would be this much kissing.”

Iris laughed, the sound washing over him like music. “I didn’t realize you minded kissing movies so much. What’s the matter? You don’t still think girls will give you cooties?” she teased him.

That wasn’t the problem at all. The problem was that he’d found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her. He didn’t know where the thought had come from. Or why it had come upon him so suddenly. But he absolutely couldn’t let her know what he’d been thinking.

“No!” he blurted, a little too defensively. The sharpness of his tone caused her to straighten from her reclining position on the couch, her body moving slightly away from him. Desperate to rescue the situation – while still keeping her ignorant of his private thoughts – he stammered, “I-I was just wondering if, uh, if you had ever kissed anyone?” His tone lifted at the end in question, breaking off with a small wince of mortification as he realized he’d probably picked the worst way to deflect her suspicion.

But she didn’t seem suspicious. Instead, she seemed strangely shy, kicking her foot out to trace patterns on the floor with one bare toe. “Oh,” she breathed. “No. Have – have you?”

He shook his head desperately, hoping she wouldn’t see his utter humiliation. Or the words that hovered on the tip of her tongue, asking her if she wanted to kiss him.

He made a soft choking sound when she asked, “Do you want to try?”

“Try what?” he practically squeaked.

She didn’t directly answer the question. “I-I mean, we’re friends. I just thought…kissing seems so silly, but…I’m not sure I’d do it right, and I’d feel less nervous if I tried with a friend.”

“Oh,” he replied, somewhat stupidly. “Okay.”

His breath caught in his throat as her eyes flew to his, and he could see she’d been expecting him to turn her down. But then her face softened into a smile, and she leaned forward, moving almost torturously slowly.

She hadn’t even bridged half the distance before footsteps sounded in the doorway and Joe strolled into the room, his arms filled with two large bows of popcorn. “Thought you guys might be hungry, so I brought some snacks,” he explained obliviously as Iris and Barry sprang apart as though they’d been caught in the midst of some sort of illicit activity.

Neither of them mentioned what they had been about to do. They certainly didn’t try again. But when Barry went to bed that night, he found himself wondering what it would have been like to kiss Iris. And wondering even more why he was having such thoughts about the girl who was supposed to be his best friend.

---

“Do you really believe me?” he asked, his head in her lap as she ran her hands soothingly through his hair. He kept his face averted, not wanting her to see the tears that streaked his cheeks. Though she’d been listening to him sob for at least the last hour, so she could hardly be ignorant that he’d been crying. “About what I saw?”

“Of course I believe you, Barry,” she reassured him gently.

“They think it was my dad,” he whispered miserably. “But h-he wouldn’t—”

“I know,” she broke in, sliding one hand to his shoulder to give it a soft squeeze. “I don’t know who the Man in Yellow was, but we’ll figure it out somehow. Together. Okay?”

---

“Where are you going?” Iris’s soft voice was almost enough to stop him in his tracks. But he was too angry, he was hurting too much, to be forestalled for long.

“I’m leaving!” he grumbled angrily, tossing some clothes into his backpack. “Joe doesn’t believe me about my dad! Nobody believes me! They think I’m crazy, that I—”

“I believe you,” she refuted him, her words soft and sad.

He hesitated, throwing her an apologetic look over his shoulder. “I know,” he finally agreed, his words tinged with regret. “But he wants to take me to another therapist who will tell me I imagined what I saw that night. I didn’t, I swear! And I can’t just abandon my dad in jail like they want me to."

She gave a quick, decisive nod and threw her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. “I know. You do what you gotta do, Barry Allen. I’ll try to cover for you with dad.”

Before he pulled away, she pressed her lips softly his cheek. Even through his fury and his frustration, as he ran down the street away from the West house a few minutes later, the spot where she’d kissed him tingled.

---

“So, you planning to go to the dance on Friday?” Iris asked cheerfully as he passed her in the hallway, his hair still wet from the shower.

He snorted. “Of course not. It sounds dumb. Why?”

If he wasn’t wrong, she looked a little embarrassed. And maybe just a tiny bit hurt. “Oh. No reason, I guess. I just…Steve Asherman asked me to go, but I thought I’d rather go with you. But it’s okay. You’re probably right. It’ll be stupid anyway.”

With that, she ducked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Leaving Barry to reproach himself for his rashly chosen words. Wishing he could find a way to turn back time to ask her to be his date to the dance after all.

---

“Well? How do I look?” she asked, spinning in a circle in front of him.

He couldn’t tear is eyes away. “A-amazing,” he answered honestly. “You look amazing.”

She came to a stop with a grin. “You sure you don’t want to come along? I’m sure Steve wouldn’t mind.”

Barry had no doubt Steve absolutely would mind, since it was the worst-kept secret at school that his crush on Iris was exceeded in duration and devotion only by Barry’s own. Plus, he could imagine nothing worse than being a fifth wheel on a date with Iris. Particularly knowing he could have been on her arm – as a friend, at least – if not for a few thoughtless words. “Nah, that’s okay,” he replied, keeping his voice lighter than he felt. “I had a book I wanted to read tonight anyway.”

She laughed. “You are such a nerd, Bar,” she teased him lightly. Before he could even consider whether his feelings should be hurt at this assessment, she threw her arms around his shoulders and stretched onto her toes to give him a hug. It had been a long time since the days she’d towered over him. “But that’s one of the things I love most about you.”

He felt her start to pull away and felt his arms tighten around her, wishing to prolong the embrace. Her words echoed in his mind. “…that’s one of the things I love most about you. Love most about you. Love you.”

He didn’t realize what she was about to do until it was already done. As she started to pull away, she turned her head slightly and brushed her lips against his in a quick kiss. He froze when he realized what had happened, and she took the opportunity to step out of his arms.

“Wh-what was that?” he asked, knowing his face had to be bright red.

“Oh,” she replied, and he could see the flush on her own cheeks. “It’s just…it’s silly, but…you were supposed to be my first kiss, remember? I mean, it was years ago, so m-maybe you don’t. But then my dad interrupted us, and I—”

“I remember,” he prompted when her voice trailed off. She wouldn’t look at him, her fingers worrying the fabric of her dress instead.

“Oh. Of course you do. Well, I just – uh – it seemed a shame to have my first kiss with someone else when…I mean, you’re my best friend so I thought – I’m sure I wasn’t very good at it, but—”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “No, you were fine! I mean, I think you were. It was just so fast. I just, um, I don’t think I did a very good job, is all. I didn’t realize – I mean, I didn’t know—”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just laid one on you like that. I was just nervous about tonight. I thought if Steve tried to kiss me, I wouldn’t know what to do.” She huffed out a deep breath. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry,” she reiterated.

“No, it’s okay!” he reassured her quickly. “I, um, do you want to kiss Steve? I mean, if he tries to kiss you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t decided. I just wanted to be prepared. You know, in case.”

“Right,” he agreed rather vaguely. Not really sure what he was agreeing to or whether he should be agreeing at all. His mind was too preoccupied by the realization she’d kind of kissed him and he’d missed it. “Do you, uh, do you want to try again?” When she looked surprised and a little confused, he explained, “I just…I was surprised, so I don’t think I did a very good job the first time. If you’re wondering what it’s like to kiss someone, I don’t think I helped very much.”

“Oh,” she said for the third time in as many minutes. “Um…sure.”

He could tell she was nervous. He was too, as he leaned down slowly, giving her every opportunity to change her mind and step away. Until the distance was breached and his lips were pressed gently but firmly against her own.

If he ever looked back on their first as an adult, and if he could be honest with himself when doing so, he’d acknowledge that – in the entire history of kisses – his first kiss with Iris would rank nowhere near the top in terms of finesse. It couldn’t have been a more awkward first kiss if they’d tried, since neither knew what they were doing so they just stood there with their lips pressed together and didn’t move so much as an inch.

But he’d dreamed about kissing Iris for so long, he couldn’t have imagined a more perfect moment if he’d tried. If only he knew how she felt about him in return.

When the kiss finally broke off, Iris pulling away as her eyes darted around the room nervously, he tried to tell her how he felt. “Iris, I—”

“Iris!” Joe called from downstairs. “Your date’s here!”

“I-I should go,” she blurted before he could continue. “I don’t want to keep him waiting.” She turned to run downstairs but hesitated in the doorway. Throwing him a quick glance over her shoulder, the corners of her lips curved up in a soft smile. “Thank you, Bar. I hope kissing me wasn’t too traumatizing for you,” she teased him gently.

As she disappeared, he groaned in the back of his throat and leaned back against the wall. Actually, it had been devastating. It had left no doubt in his mind that he loved her. He always had. He always would. And she would never see him as anything other than her best friend.

---

“Got everything you need?” she asked, her eyes scouring the room as she grabbed for his hand. Intentionally drawing out the moment before they would have to say goodbye.

He let her, no more eager to leave her than she was to see him go. “I think so,” he said, a touch of regret in his voice. Then, clearing his throat, he said more encouragingly, “This isn’t forever, you know. I’ll come home over breaks and at the holidays…”

“I know,” she cut in, the cheer in her voice not ringing true. Scowling when she seemed to realize the same thing, she added in a tone just above a whisper, “It’s just…it won’t be the same. I’ve been spoiled, getting to see you every day.” Then, giving his hand a quick squeeze, she said more firmly, “But I know you’re going to do great. You’ll blow everyone away with how brilliant you are, and pretty soon, you’ll forget all about me.”

“Never!” he vowed, the word thick with feeling as he pulled her into his arms for a tight hug. “I could never forget about you.”

He heard her soft sniffle as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. When she finally drew back, he could see the wetness in her eyes as she fought back tears. “Just…do good, Bar. After you graduate, come home to me and we’ll figure out the identity of the Man in Yellow together. Promise?”

Barry was momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t realized she knew why he was pursuing his planned course of study, or that she was even aware how much the mystery still plagued his mind. But in retrospect, he probably should have known better. That was Iris. Of course she knew.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, wishing – not for the first or last time – he was brave enough to tell her how he felt. Knowing it wasn’t the right moment. “I promise.”

---

“Well? Tell me everything!” she blurted before he’d had even settled into the passenger seat by her side. “How do you like college life? Have you been to any wild parties? Gotten any crushes on some hot girl in your science classes?”

He laughed as he struggled with his seatbelt, finally wrestling it into place. “Wow, what’s with the interrogation? Has anyone ever told you that you’d be a terrifyingly good detective? Or actually a damn good reporter?”

She snorted. “You know dad would never allow me to wear a badge, and I can’t see reporting being quite my speed. I was thinking of psychology, actually. Which, by the way, is why I know what you’re doing is deflecting so you don’t have to answer my questions about all the hot dates you’ve been going on in my absence.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ve been studying too hard to go on any hot dates, if you want to know the truth.” He swallowed, wondering if he dared say a little more. “I do, uh, have a crush on someone, actually. But I doubt she even knows I exist. I mean, romantically. She’d never want to go out with me. We’re just friends.”

She scowled. “What’s her name and number? I want to call her and tell her to open her eyes and stop being such an idiot because you, Barry Allen, are the most incredible guy I’ve ever met. And you deserve someone as amazing as you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, feeling a tiny spark of hope flare in his chest. He’d hoped time away at college would have cured him of his unrequited love of her, but it seemed to have done just the opposite. Being with her now, he realized he loved her more than he ever did before he left.

“Yeah,” she agreed in a voice that invited no argument. “Now, I want to hear all about it, but I think this conversation calls for caffeine and baked goods. Unless you’re in a hurry to get back to the house?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m all yours,” he replied. If only she knew how true that was.

---

“Who’s she?” Iris asked as she flopped back onto Barry’s bed, the flimsy frame letting out a loud shriek of protest at the sudden jarring motion. He looked over to see she was holding the picture frame that had been sitting on his bookshelf for the past two weeks, bringing him equal measures of pleasure and guilt.

“Oh,” he said rather dimly, sliding onto the narrow mattress next to her. She scooted toward the head of the bed until her back was pressed against the wall and he followed suit, their shoulders pressing together in the limited quarters available to him. “That’s Holly. She was my study partner for finite math.” At her expectant look, he explained, “We’ve, uh, we’ve been dating for a couple months now.”

Her mouth dropped open, less with surprise than with joy. “You’re dating someone? Barry, that’s fantastic! Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?”

He winced. “Girlfriend? I don’t know that I would call her my girlfriend, per se. It’s just been a few dates, and—”

“Don’t be silly,” she cut in, rolling her eyes at him. “If it’s been a couple months, she’s your girlfriend.”

That only served to make his guilt worse. Did she find it peculiar that he kept a picture of his “girlfriend” on his bookshelf and a picture of Iris on his nightstand? If so, she didn’t say anything about it. The problem was, Barry didn’t know if it was peculiar. He didn’t know if it unconsciously revealed something he’d felt but didn’t want to openly accept.

Like the fact that, nice as she was, Holly wasn’t Iris. And she never would be.

“Anyway, she’s very pretty,” Iris continued, ignorant to his thoughts as she gave the picture in her hand a critical look. “Is she nice?”

Now it was Barry’s turn to roll his eyes good-naturedly at her. “No, of course not. I only go for surly girls. Mean ones. You know that.”

She snorted and elbowed him in the ribs as just punishment for his teasing. “To you, you goofball. Is she nice to you?”

“I guess so,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Well, I’m glad. You deserve someone nice. I hope she makes you happy.”

“She does.” The problem was, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make her happy. Not when his heart had long ago been given to another.

---

“You okay?” Iris asked, dropping onto the porch stair beside him. “Dad said you and Holly broke up.” Then, as though afraid he’d be upset his secret was out, she rushed to add, “Don’t be mad at him for telling me. I think he’s worried about you.”

“I’m not mad,” Barry reassured her, tilting his head back to look up at the stars. While he was sure she was under the misconception his failed relationship had brought him to silent and solitary contemplation on the front porch, the truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about Holly at all. He’d been thinking about Iris. Which was, when one came down to it, why their relationship had been doomed to fail from the start.

Scooting in closer, she laid her head against his shoulder, offering him condolences he didn’t deserve. “You’ll find the right girl someday, Bar. I just know it. Someone as amazing as you are.”

He made a soft sound in the back of his throat, uncomfortable at accepting her comfort under false pretenses. “What about you? Don’t you want to fall in love one day?”

He regretted the question when it caused her to lift her head off of him so she could follow his gaze toward the starry night sky. “Me?” she asked in a voice so soft it barely broke the still evening air. “I’m not sure I know what love feels like. People say it’s like being swept away, like fireworks exploding all around you. And I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He shrugged, sliding one hand toward her until he linked his fingers in hers. “Maybe love is nothing like that. At least, maybe it isn’t like that for everyone. Maybe it’s like this. Sharing a quiet evening with someone you can’t imagine life without. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

Her smile was brighter than the light coming from the street lamp nearby, and then she sighed and placed her head upon his shoulder once more. “No,” she admitted, letting her body rest against his. “I guess that doesn’t sound so bad at all.”

He could tell she hadn’t understood, hadn’t realized that he was speaking of his own feelings. In that moment, he almost told her how much he loved her. But the timing didn’t seem right, so he rested his cheek against the top of his head and held his tongue. Soon. He’d tell her he loved her soon.

---

“What’s the big news?” Iris asked excitedly, blowing into the room like a gust of fresh air. Leaving him breathless in her wake.

“You’re looking at the newest CSI for the Central City Police Department!” he replied with a wide grin.

“Really? That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!” she cried, joyfully flinging her arms around his neck.

Soon. He’d tell her he loved her soon.

---

“Barry, can you hear me? Do you even know I’m here?” Iris asked, her voice cracking with tears she struggled not to shed as she placed her hand over his. Trying to be strong for him. “The doctors say they don’t know if – when – you’ll wake up, but I know you’re in there somewhere. Come back to me, Bar. I need you.”

---

“Are you – this is real? It’s really you?” Iris asked, cupping his face between her palms before running her hands along his shoulders and down his chest.

He captured her hands in his, holding them still over his heart. “It’s really me.”

Tearing her hands free, she flung them around his neck, pulling him into yet another hug. At least their eighth in the past half hour. “I dreamed you’d come back to me so many times. I’d almost given up hope—”

He tightened his arms around her waist, content to hold her for however long she wanted. If it was up to him, he’d never let her go. “I’ll always come back to you, Iris. You should know that.”

---

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked him in a tortured whisper. “All this time, you never told me how you felt.”

“Because I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you.”

But she wouldn’t meet his eyes, turning her face away so he couldn’t read her thoughts, and he felt his heart sink in his chest. Had he lost her anyway?

---

“I picked up some breakfast. Want some?” she offered him a little awkwardly as she gave a box of baked goods a gentle push in his direction. Things had been awkward between them since he’d told her of his feelings. He didn’t know if they’d ever stop being awkward. But at least she was still trying. She hadn’t given up on him yet.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a small sigh of relief, reaching for the blueberry muffin he suspected she’d picked up just for him, since neither she nor Joe liked blueberries. “Thanks.”

---

“I just don’t understand. You’ve been lying to me this whole time about being the Flash? I mean, it’s one thing not to tell me your secret. But you tried to make me think I was crazy to even think he existed! How could you do that to me?” Iris demanded. He knew she was angry, but what killed him was that she sounded hurt, as well.

“I’m sorry,” he replied honestly. Desperately. Afraid he was losing her. “I should have told you the truth a long time ago. You were the first person I wanted to tell! It’s just…Joe was afraid it would put you in danger, and—”

She crossed her arms over her chest, the expression on her face granting him no quarter. “This isn’t about my dad. This is about you. You’re my best friend! You could have told him to go to hell when he told you to lie to me, and you didn’t! Why not? Was it – didn’t you trust me?”

He shook his head, a quick jerk of his neck. “It wasn’t like that,” he tried to explain in a hoarse whisper, his voice filled with regret. “I trust you! I trust you more than anyone!”

His regret was nothing compared to the pain in her voice when she asked in a pleading whisper, “Then why?”

Barry’s gaze dropped to the floor. What could he say to her? How could he explain? He had his reasons, but they all sounded like weak excuses, lies he’d held close to his heart so that he didn’t have to admit to the possibility of one ugly truth: that he’d lied to her about being the Flash for the most selfish of reasons. Because he’d liked the way she looked at the scarlet speedster when she didn’t know Barry Allen was the man beneath the mask.

---

“So, Flash, inquiring minds want to know…how fast can you move, anyway?” she asked, reaching out and snatching one of the fries off his plate. “Not fast enough to stop me from stealing your food, apparently.”

He tried to hide his answering smile. “I’m pretty sure nothing on Earth could stop you from stealing my food. And is this…are you really planning to interview me right now?”

“You said I could!” she replied defensively, stealing another fry. He didn’t argue the point because it was true, he had. He just hadn’t realized she planned to frame it as an actual interview. She probably knew enough about him at this point that she could write her article without asking him a single question.

But she recently had seemed so excited to get into reporting, and he didn’t want to do anything to wipe that smile from her face. So he shrugged instead. “All right, well…I’m not sure how fast I can move, exactly. At least, I don’t know that I’d want your readers to know how fast I can run. I’m worried about people finding out too much about my powers. Might help them find a way to take me down.”

She nodded thoughtfully, making a quick note in the small notepad by her elbow. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “But I can say you’re fast enough to run up the side of buildings, at least.”

He nodded. “Sure,” he agreed. But before she could ask him another question, he got an idea. “Though, really, if you want to know how fast the Flash can run, there’s nothing like experiencing it for yourself.”

Iris’s eyes darted toward his in surprise and confusion. “You mean like…how could I—”

Barry held out his arms, silently offering to carry her. “I don’t know that it’s the kind of thing everyone enjoys, but…want to go on a run with me, Miss West? I’ll get you back here before your fries even have a chance to grow cold. I promise.”

She considered him in silence for a long moment. Finally, however, she stood. “All right,” she agreed, taking a step toward him. He sped away to change into his superhero costume, returning before her foot had made contact with the ground. She came to a stop before him, and his stared into her eyes as he leaned down slowly to lift her into his arms. Their eyes remained locked as she wrapped one arm around his neck, holding on tight. “You ready? If it gets to be too much for you, just let me know and I’ll slow down, okay?”

She nodded, and he realized with pleasure that there was no fear in her eyes. “I’m ready,” she said firmly.

He took off, running as fast as he could, reveling in the power of the speed force as it traveled through his body and moved him faster than any man was meant to travel. As he pushed himself to move faster, faster – wanting, perhaps, to show off for the woman he loved a bit – he kept one eye on her face. The moment it seemed like there might be something wrong, he would stop and make sure she was okay.

But Iris didn’t seem frightened. She didn’t seem unnerved by their speed or the blurring city streets as they raced by. Instead, she laughed, reveling in his abilities almost as much as he did. Holding tightly to him as he ran faster, faster, faster. Not just unafraid but gleeful over the very powers that had brought him such joy amidst the inevitable pain that came with the life he led.

Was it any wonder he loved her?

---

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Iris asked, resting her hand atop the bandage that covered his most recent injury. Her eyes were filled with worry, so he offered her a reassuring smile as he rose gingerly to his feet. The happiness and love he felt when he was near her was strong enough to almost drown out the pain in his side.

“I’m okay,” he told her, a tiny white lie. He took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I heal fast. Anyway, I’ve got to get back out there before anyone else gets hurt.”

“I know,” she agreed with a heavy sigh. “Just…be careful, all right? I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

His heart swelled at her words, giving him the strength he needed to race into the fray once more.

---

“You do know we can’t just keep doing this forever, right?” she teased him gently, the words coming disjointedly between soft kisses pressed against her lips. “At some point, we have to stop for food, at the very least.”

Barry made a soft sound of disagreement, his lips trailing from her mouth along the curve of her jaw to the soft spot under her hear that made her sigh with pleasure. “Later,” he promised, making her giggle softly at the determined growl of his voice. He’d wanted to hold her like this for years. He  wasn’t quite ready yet to let her go.

---

“Stay with me tonight?” she asked in a soft, shy voice, reaching her hand toward him.

He didn’t need her to ask twice.

---

“You sure you really want me to make an honest man out of you like this?” Iris teased him, curling up against his side as he turned off their bedside light. He placed his hand over hers where it lay against his chest and felt the hard ridge of her engagement band. It made him smile to think that there had been a time he’d thought she would never love him as he loved her.

He smiled at her, though he knew she wasn’t likely to see him in the dark. “I’ve wanted it almost all my life,” he whispered, lifting her hand to press a kiss against her palm. So much had happened in his life that had been strange and unexpected in the years since he’d first developed his powers. There were no doubt untold strange and unexpected things he would face in the years ahead. But he’d face them unflinchingly if he had Iris by his side.

---

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked as she sank onto the couch next to him, flinging her legs over his.

Barry winced, almost wishing she hadn’t asked. His thoughts weren’t exactly ones he was desperate to share. But he couldn’t lie to her, so he said slowly, carefully choosing his words, “I was just thinking…being with me…I haven’t exactly given you the perfect life you deserved, have I? It’s always something with us. Psychic gorillas, evil speedsters from another world, time travel…either that or I’m locking myself into the speed force and leaving you behind, or making you think I’m never coming home, or getting framed for a murder I didn’t commit. And now, with what happened at our wedding…I just can’t help but think one day, you’ll wake up and decide being with me was a mistake. Your life could have been so much easier if you’d fallen in love with someone else.”

“Hey,” she said, waiting until he finally turned his head to meet her eyes. “I never asked for easier, and I certainly didn’t want to fall in love with someone else. I’m not even sure I’d know how to try, since I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you most of my life without realizing it. I don’t care about the gorillas or the time travel or the evil speedsters. I don’t even care about talking sharks in pants! As long as you come home to me every night. That’s all I need for my life to be perfect.”

---

“Do you ever think about the future? About the life you want to have when all this is over?” she asked, leaning against him as they stared out the window at the bustling city below.

“Sometimes, but it’s hard to picture what that will be like,” he admitted. “Except to know that, whatever my life will be like, I’ll never stop wanting you in it.”

---

“How could you not know?” she whispered, curled up in her hospital bed. “I – maybe I’m not being fair. But it wasn’t me. For weeks, it wasn’t me. And you didn’t know.”

Barry’s head fell forward, his shoulders sagging in defeat and despair. “I don’t know,” he whispered. But he would never forgive himself for not realizing the truth sooner. For leaving her in the mirror world alone.

---

“Are you okay? That fight looked pretty bad.” Iris’s voice was soft, concerned, soothing his wounds yet breaking his heart.

His hands shook with the desire to hold her, but he didn’t have the right. Instead, he sighed and sank onto the sofa, where he would be sleeping for the night. As he had the night before and the night before that. It was his own choice – and his own doing. Iris hadn’t asked him to leave their marital bed, but his guilt kept him away. After spending so much time with her mirror counterpart without a shred of suspicion, he didn’t deserve to touch her. Iris deserved better than that.

He didn’t respond right away, so she said his name again, the word a soft question on her lips. “Barry? What is it?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he lied.

He heard her step up beside the couch and felt the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder. “Come to bed.”

He looked up at her in surprise, almost unable to believe his ears. “Iris – you’re sure?” She nodded and he rose slowly to his feet, not wanting to make any sudden movement that might scare her away. She slipped her hand into his, leading him toward the bedroom, but he didn’t follow immediately. Instead, he whispered, “Are we okay?”

She hesitated, and he could see the muscles in her shoulders grow tense for a moment before relaxing again. He heard her sigh, and then she turned to face him. “Not yet,” she admitted, holding his hand tight so that he couldn’t pull away. “But we will be. Anyway, I miss my husband. Come to bed.”

---

“Twins?” Iris asked in amazement, staring at the white and black images on the ultrasound screen. “There has to be some kind of mistake…we can’t be…can we?”

Barry’s astonishment mirrored her own, but the two circles on the screen left no doubt. “Twins,” he breathed. They were going to have twins.

He hoped they took after their mother. Not that he was such a bad person to take after, but…oh, god. What if they both inherited his powers? What age would they kick in? When they were teenagers? Toddlers?

One thing was for sure: He was definitely not prepared.

---

“You understand, don’t you?” Iris asked in a low, pained whisper, wincing when a slight movement pulled at the new stitches in her side. “I have to keep going. It’s important. People deserve to know the truth, and I’m the only reporter out there chasing down this story right now.”

“I know,” he admitted, squeezing her hand in his own. “I can’t ask you to stop, but try to be careful, okay? I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

---

“Oh my god, would you stop?” she asked on a laugh.

“What?” he replied with false innocence.

Smothering a giggle, she shook her head at him. “I know you’re proud, but you don’t have to start every conversation with, ‘Did I mention my wife just won a Pulitzer?’ you know.”

He nodded gravely in response, but he knew he wouldn’t really be able to help himself. He was proud of her finally getting the recognition she deserved after years of hard work and dedication, and he didn’t care who knew it.

---

“So, Flash, are the rumors true? Are you and Wonder Woman dating?”

Iris’s voice was light and joking, but he scoffed rolled his eyes at her anyway. “Don’t even start. We fight one battle together, and everyone wants to make something of it,” he grumbled, pushing his cowl back off his face.

She laughed. “Don’t even pretend like you aren’t loving this just a little,” she teased him. “It’s okay; we’ve been married a while. It’s gotta be flattering to hear rumors that you’re dating an actual Amazonian princess. I mean, just look at her. Is she as gorgeous up close as she is in her pictures?”

“She doesn’t hold a candle next to you.” When he saw her eyes widen with surprise, he bent down and brushed his lips against hers in a warm kiss.

When the kiss finally broke off, she gazed wistfully up at him, the corners of her mouth twitching with a laugh. “I – you know, flattery looks really good on you. But while I’ve got you in a good mood, how about an interview with your favorite reporter?”

“Anything you want, Mrs. West-Allen. Anything you want.”

---

“This is real? It’s really you?” Iris asked, launching herself into his arms. Barry breathed out a heavy sigh of relief as he held her close. The scene reminded him of one he’d experienced before. But that was long ago, when he was young and strong. Now age and countless battles hung upon him, stooping his shoulders and putting streaks of grey in his hair. His children were grown now, a lifetime of happiness and of regret leaving its mark in the lines upon his face.

“It’s really me,” he reassured her, pressing a hard kiss against her temple. How many years had he lived this way? How many decades had he dedicated to serving the citizens of Central City? How many times had he left Iris in fear of being a widow, rather than a wife?

She would never ask him to give up his life as a superhero. Not for her. But he’d come too close to death one too many times. He’d faced the prospect of leaving Iris alone more times than he could bear. This most recent battle had been close. Too close. He couldn’t take such a risk again.

“I’ve come back to you, Iris, just like I promised. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m home.”

---

“Stay with me?” Iris asked, her voice weak and thready. “Just a little while longer.”

He lifted her hand, pressing it to his lips. He hated to see her like this, frail and trembling. She was slipping away from him; he figured she had minutes left, if he was lucky. It wasn’t enough time. It would never be enough time. But Barry wasn’t a victim to time the same way as everyone else.

Clutching her hand tightly in his, he vibrated as quickly as he could. He hadn’t moved this fast in years, his connection to the speed force having long since faded. For a moment, he was scared he wouldn’t be able to do it again. But perhaps the speed force was kind. Or perhaps it pitied him. But it did what he asked, one last time. It pulled Iris with him into Flashtime. Giving him a few moments more to say goodbye.

As the world stilled around them, Iris let out a heavy sigh of relief. The pain that had clouded her eyes and etched deep grooves into her face faded, wiping years off her face. Her features were soft and relaxed, and a smile graced her lips. She was at peace.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, resting his cheek against her fingers. But she was. He wouldn’t be able to stop it forever. With her hand still in his, he climbed up into the bed next to her, pulling her gently against him.

She sighed and leaned into him, resting her head upon his chest. “Bar, I want you to promise me something. Promise me you won’t give up when I’m gone. Live the rest of your life. Take care of our family—”

“Iris, no,” he begged, feeling himself tremble as he held her. “It’s not enough. I need more time.”

“We’ll always want more time,” she whispered. “Promise me. Please.”

But how could he make her such a promise? When he lost her, he would lose so much of himself. What would be left of him? He’d loved her almost his entire life; picturing his world without her now was almost impossible to contemplate. It was certainly too terrible to bear. But it was what she wanted, so he would have to try. “I promise,” he said, the word coming out on a small sob.

He could feel her soft smile against his chest. “I won’t really be gone, you know. I’ll just be waiting for you to run home to me. So don’t waste the time you have left with tears.” Giving her hand a small but firm tug, so pulled it away from his, silently asking him to return time to normal and let her go.

He didn’t want to do it. If it was up to him, he’d keep her in Flashtime forever. Slowing each second to an eternity. But she was right; even that wouldn’t be enough. And, anyway, he’d never really been able to deny Iris anything. Not even this.

With reluctance, he stopped his superhuman speed, watching the world around them return to its normal pace. Then he felt her breathe out one last, long sigh as she curled in closer to his warmth.

“We had a hell of a run, didn’t we Bar?” she asked in a voice almost too soft to hear.

He felt her body grow still beside him and no longer tried to hold back his tears as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Yeah, Iris. We did.”

---

“Iris?” he asked as the bright light around him faded, revealing her standing before him, her hand outstretched. Waiting for him to take it. He reached out and placed his palm in hers and she laughed, pulling him closer. She looked as beautiful as she had on their wedding day, so many years before. “Is it really you?”

He’d lived a long life. Most of it was happy, though some of it wasn’t. But now he was an old man, years older than he’d been when he’d held his wife in his arms for the last time. If it hadn’t been for the promise he’d made her, he doubted he would have been able to carry on so long. But it was what she’d asked of him, and so he’d done his best. Until finally, at the end of his life, he raced into the speed force one last time. And he’d found her there, waiting for him.

“It’s me,” she reassured him, giving his hand a quick squeeze. She felt so real, and the teasing gleam in her eyes was just as he remembered it. “I told you’d I’d be waiting for you to run home to me.”

“I promised I always would,” he reminded her, pulling her toward him so he could steal a kiss. It, too, was just like he remembered. “But…how? I thought only speedsters—”

“I was surprised, too,” she admitted. “I guess it’s one last gift from the speed force. I was your lightning rod, after all.”

That made sense, he supposed, though the explanation didn’t really matter. What mattered was she was here. His Iris. He’d been running for so many years; now, finally, at long last, he could stop. He could think of nothing better than spending the rest of eternity in the speed force, with her by his side.

Finally, at long last, he was home.

[96harmony96]

Chapter one.

“We should head to a bar and celebrate.”

I wasn’t surprised by my roommate’s emphatic pronouncement. Cary Taylor found excuses to celebrate, no matter how small and inconsequential. I’d always considered it part of his charm. “I’m sure drinking the night before starting a new job is a bad idea.”

“Come on, camila.” Cary sat on our new living room floor amid a half-dozen moving boxes and flashed his winning smile. We’d been unpacking for days, yet he still looked amazing. Leanly built, dark-haired, and green-eyed, Cary was a man who rarely looked anything less than absolutely gorgeous on any day of his life. I might have resented that if he hadn’t been the dearest person on earth to me.

“I’m not talking about a bender,” he insisted. “Just a glass of wine or two. We can hit a happy hour and be in by eight.”

“I don’t know if I’ll make it back in time.” I gestured at my yoga pants and fitted workout tank. “After I time the walk to work, I’m going to hit the gym.”

“Walk fast, work out faster.” Cary’s perfectly executed arched brow made me laugh. I fully expected his million-dollar face to appear on billboards and fashion magazines all over the world one day. No matter his expression, he was a knockout.

“How about tomorrow after work?” I offered as a substitute. “If I make it through the day, that’ll be worth celebrating.”

“Deal. I’m breaking in the new kitchen for dinner.”

“Uh…” Cooking was one of Cary’s joys, but it wasn’t one of his talents. “Great.”

Blowing a wayward strand of hair off his face, he grinned at me. “We’ve got a kitchen most restaurants would kill for. There’s no way to screw up a meal in there.”

Dubious, I headed out with a wave, choosing to avoid a conversation about cooking. Taking the elevator down to the first floor, I smiled at the doorman when he let me out to the street with a flourish.

The moment I stepped outside, the smells and sounds of Manhattan embraced me and invited me to explore. I was not merely across the country from my former home in San Diego, but seemingly worlds away. Two major metropolises—one endlessly temperate and sensually lazy, the other teeming with life and frenetic energy. In my dreams, I’d imagining living in a walkup in Brooklyn, but being a dutiful daughter, I found myself on the Upper West Side instead. If not for Cary living with me, I would’ve been miserably lonely in the sprawling apartment that cost more per month than most people made in a year.

The doorman tipped his hat to me. “Good evening, Miss Cabello. Will you need a cab this evening?”

“No thanks, Paul.” I rocked onto the rounded heels of my fitness shoes. “I’ll be walking.”

He smiled. “It’s cooled down from this afternoon. Should be nice.”

“I’ve been told I should enjoy the June weather before it gets wicked hot.”

“Very good advice, Miss Cabello.”

Stepping out from under the modern glass entrance overhang that somehow meshed with the age of the building and its neighbors, I enjoyed the relative quiet of my tree-lined street before I reached the bustle and flow of traffic on Broadway. One day soon, I hoped to blend right in, but for now I still felt like a fraudulent New Yorker. I had the address and the job, but I was still wary of the subway and had trouble hailing cabs. I tried not to walk around wide-eyed and distracted, but it was hard. There was just so much to see and experience.

The sensory input was astonishing—the smell of vehicle exhaust mixed with food from vendor carts, the shouts of hawkers blended with music from street entertainers, the awe-inspiring range of

faces and styles and accents, the gorgeous architectural wonders…And the cars. Jesus Christ. The frenetic flow of tightly packed cars was unlike anything I’d ever seen anywhere.

There was always an ambulance, patrol car, or fire engine trying to part the flood of yellow taxis with the electronic wail of ear-splitting sirens. I was in awe of the lumbering garbage trucks that navigated tiny one-way streets and the package delivery drivers who braved the bumper-to-bumper traffic while facing rigid deadlines.

Real New Yorkers cruised right through it all, their love for the city as comfortable and familiar as a favorite pair of shoes. They didn’t view the steam billowing from potholes and vents in the sidewalks with romantic delight and they didn’t blink an eye when the ground vibrated beneath their feet as the subway roared by below, while I grinned like an idiot and flexed my toes. New York was a brand new love affair for me. I was starry-eyed and it showed.

So I had to really work at playing it cool as I made my way over to the building where I would be working. As far as my job went, at least, I’d gotten my way. I wanted to make a living based on my own merits and that meant an entry-level position. Starting the next morning, I would be the assistant to Mark Garrity at Waters Field & Leaman, one of the preeminent advertising agencies in the US. My stepfather, mega-financier Richard Stanton, had been annoyed when I took the job, pointing out that if I’d been less prideful I could’ve worked for a friend of his instead and reaped the benefits of that connection.

“You’re as stubborn as your father,” he’d said. “It’ll take him forever to pay off your student loans on a cop’s salary.”

That had been a major fight, with my dad unwilling to back down. “Hell if another man’s gonna pay for my daughter’s education,” Alejandro Cabello had said when Stanton made the offer. I respected that. I suspected Stanton did, too, although he would never admit it. I understood both men’s sides, because I’d fought to pay off the loans myself…and lost. It was a point of pride for my father.

My mother had refused to marry him, but he’d never wavered from his determination to be my dad in every way possible.

Knowing it was pointless to get riled up over old frustrations, I focused on getting to work as quickly as possible. I’d deliberately chosen to clock the short trip during a busy time on a Monday, so I was pleased when I reached the Crossfire Building, which housed Waters Field & Leaman, in less than thirty minutes.

I tipped my head back and followed the line of the building all the way up to the slender ribbon of sky. The Crossfire was seriously impressive, a sleek spire of gleaming sapphire that pierced the clouds. I knew from my previous interviews that the interior on the other side of the ornate copper-framed revolving doors was just as awe-inspiring, with golden-veined marble floors and walls, and brushed aluminum security desk and turnstiles.

I pulled my new ID card out of the inner pocket of my pants and held it up for the two guards in black business suits at the desk. They stopped me anyway, no doubt because I was majorly underdressed, but then they cleared me through. After I completed an elevator ride up to the twentieth floor, I’d have a general time frame for the whole route from door to door. Score.

I was walking toward the bank of elevators when a svelte, beautifully groomed brunette caught her purse on a turnstile and upended it, spilling a deluge of change. Coins rained onto the marble and rolled merrily away, and I watched people dodge the chaos and keep going as if they didn’t see it. I winced in sympathy and crouched to help the woman collect her money, as did one of the guards.

“Thank you,” she said, shooting me a quick harried smile.

I smiled back. “No problem. I’ve been there.”

I’d just squatted to reach a nickel lying near the entrance when I ran into a pair of luxurious black oxfords draped in tailored black slacks. I waited for a beat for the person to move out of my way and when they didn’t, I arched my neck back to allow my line of sight to rise. The custom three-piece suit hit more than a few of my hot buttons, but it was the tall, powerfully lean body inside it that made it sensational. Still, as hot as all that magnificent maleness was, it wasn’t until I reached the person's face that I went down for the count.

Wow. Just…wow. She sank into an elegant crouch directly in front of me. Hit with all that exquisite femininity at eye-level, I could only stare. Stunned.

Then something shifted in the air between us.

As she stared back, she altered…as if a shield slid away from her eyes, revealing a scorching force of will that sucked the air from my lungs. The intense magnetism she exuded grew in strength, becoming a near tangible impression of vibrant and unrelenting power.

Reacting purely on instinct, I shifted backward. And sprawled flat on my ass.

My elbows throbbed from the violent contact with the marble floor, but I scarcely registered the pain. I was too preoccupied with staring, riveted by the woman in front of me. Inky black hair shoulder length framed a breathtaking face. Her bone structure would make a sculptor weep with joy, while a firmly etched mouth, a blade of a nose, and intensely Emerald green eyes made her savagely gorgeous. Those eyes narrowed slightly, her features otherwise schooled into impassivity.

Her dress shirt and suit were both black, but her tie perfectly matched those brilliant irises. Her eyes were shrewd and assessing, and they bored into me. My heartbeat quickened; my lips parted to accommodate faster breaths. she smelled sinfully good. Not cologne. Body wash, maybe. Or shampoo. Whatever it was, it was mouthwatering, as was she.

she held out a hand to me, exposing onyx cufflinks and a very expensive-looking watch.

With a shaky inhalation, I placed my hand in hers. My pulse leaped when her grip tightened. Her touch was electric, sending a shock up my arm that raised the hairs on my nape. she didn’t move for a moment, a frown line marrying the space between arrogantly slashed brows.

“Are you all right?”

Her voice was cultured and smooth, with a rasp that made my stomach flutter. It brought sex to mind. Extraordinary sex. I thought for a moment that she might be able to make me orgasm just by talking long enough.

My lips were dry, so I licked them before answering. “I’m fine.”

she stood with economical grace, pulling me up with her. We maintained eye contact because I was unable to look away. she was younger than I’d assumed at first. Younger than thirty would be my guess, but her eyes were much worldlier. Hard and sharply intelligent.

I felt drawn to her, as if a rope bound my waist and she was slowly, inexorably pulling it.

Blinking out of my semi-daze, I released her. she wasn’t just beautiful; she was…enthralling. she was the kind of woman that made a person want to rip her shirt open and watch the buttons scatter along with her inhibitions. I looked at her in her civilized, urbane, outrageously expensive suit and thought of raw, primal, sheet-clawing fucking.

she bent down and retrieved the ID card I hadn’t realized I’d dropped, freeing me from that provocative gaze. My brain stuttered back into gear.

I was irritated with myself for feeling so awkward while she was so completely self-possessed. And why? Because I was dazzled, damn it.

she glanced up at me and the pose—she's nearly kneeling before me—skewed my equilibrium again. she held my gaze as she rose. “Are you sure you’re alright? You should sit down for a minute.”

My face heated. How lovely to appear awkward and clumsy in front of the most self-assured and graceful woman I’d ever met. “I just lost my balance. I’m okay.”

Looking away, I caught sight of the woman who’d dumped the contents of her purse. She thanked the guard who’d helped her; then turned to approach me, apologizing profusely. I faced her and held out the handful of coins I’d collected, but her gaze snagged on the god in the suit and she promptly forgot me altogether. After a beat, I just reached over and dumped the change into the woman’s bag. Then I risked a glance at the woman again, finding her watching me even as the brunette gushed thank-yous. To her. Not to me, of course, the one who’d actually helped.

I talked over her. “May I have my badge, please?”

she offered it back to me. Although I made an effort to retrieve it without touching her, her fingers brushed mine, sending that charge of awareness into me all over again.

“Thank you,” I muttered before skirting her and pushing out to the street through the revolving door. I paused on the sidewalk, gulping in a breath of New York air redolent with a million different things, some good and some toxic.

There was a sleek black Bentley SUV in front of the building and I saw my reflection in the spotless limo tinted windows. I was flushed and my brown eyes were overly bright. I’d seen that look on my face before—in the bathroom mirror just before I went to bed with a man. It was my I’m-ready-to-fuck look and it had absolutely no business being on my face now.

Christ. Get a grip.

Five minutes with Miss. Dark and Dangerous, and I was filled with an edgy, restless energy. I could still feel the pull of her, the inexplicable urge to go back inside where she was. I could make the argument that I hadn’t finished what I’d come to the Crossfire to do, but I knew I’d kick myself for it later. How many times was I going to make an ass of myself in one day?

“Enough,” I scolded myself under my breath. “Moving on.”

Horns blared as one cab darted in front of another with only inches to spare and then slammed on the brakes as daring pedestrians stepped into the intersection seconds before the light changed. Shouting ensued, a barrage of expletives and hand gestures that didn’t carry real anger behind them. In seconds all the parties would forget the exchange, which was just one beat in the natural tempo of the city.

As I melded into the flow of foot traffic and set off toward the gym, a smile teased my mouth. Ah, New York, I thought, feeling settled again. You rock.

I’d planned on warming up on a treadmill, then capping off the hour with a few of the machines, but when I saw that a beginners’ kickboxing class was about to start, I followed the mass of waiting students into that instead. By the time it was over, I felt more like myself. My muscles quivered with the perfect amount of fatigue and I knew I’d sleep hard when I crashed later.

“You did really well.”

I wiped the sweat off my face with a towel and looked at the young man who spoke to me. Lanky and sleekly muscular, he had keen brown eyes and flawless café au lait skin. His lashes were enviably thick and long, while his head was shaved bald.

“Thank you.” My mouth twisted ruefully. “Pretty obvious it was my first time, huh?”

He grinned and held out his hand. “Parker Smith.”

“Camila Cabello.”

“You have a natural grace, camila. With a little training you could be a literal knockout. In a city like New York, knowing self-defense is imperative.” He gestured over to a corkboard hung on the wall. It was covered in thumbtacked business cards and fliers. Tearing off a flag from the bottom of a fluorescent sheet of paper, he held it out to me. “Ever heard of Krav Maga?”

“In a Jennifer Lopez movie.”

“I teach it, and I’d love to teach you. That’s my website and the number to the studio.”

I admired his approach. It was direct, like his gaze, and his smile was genuine. I’d wondered if he was angling toward a pickup, but he was cool enough about it that I couldn’t be sure.

Parker crossed his arms, which showed off cut biceps. He wore a black sleeveless shirt and long shorts. His Converse sneakers looked comfortably beat up and tribal tattoos peeked up from his collar. “My website has the hours. You should come by and watch, see if it’s for you.”

“I’ll definitely think about it.”

“Do that.” He extended his hand again, and his grip was solid and confident. “I hope to see you.”

The apartment smelled fabulous when I got back home and Adele was crooning soulfully through the surround sound speakers about chasing pavements. I looked across the open floor plan into the kitchen and saw Cary swaying to the music while stirring something on the range. There was an open bottle of wine on the counter and two goblets, one of which was half-filled with red wine.

“Hey,” I called out as I got closer. “Whatcha cooking? And do I have time for a shower first?”

He poured wine into the other goblet and slid it across the breakfast bar to me, his movements practiced and elegant. No one would know from looking at him that he’d spent his childhood bouncing between his drug-addicted mother and foster homes, followed by adolescence in juvenile detention facilities and state-run rehabs. “Pasta with meat sauce. And hold the shower, dinner’s ready. Have fun?”

“Once I got to the gym, yeah.” I pulled out one of the teakwood barstools and sat. I told him about the kickboxing class and Parker Smith. “Wanna go with me?”

“Krav Maga?” Cary shook his head. “That’s hardcore. I’d get all bruised up and that would cost me jobs. But I’ll go with you to check it out, just in case this guy’s a wack.”

I watched him dump the pasta into a waiting colander. “A wack, huh?”

My dad had taught me to read guys pretty well, which was how I’d known the god in the suit was trouble. Regular people offered token smiles when they helped someone, just to make a momentary connection that smoothed the way.

Then again, I hadn’t smiled at him either.

“Baby girl,” Cary said, pulling bowls out of the cupboard, “you’re a sexy, stunning woman. I question any man who doesn’t have the balls to ask you outright for a date.”

I wrinkled my nose at him.

He set a bowl in front of me. It contained tiny tubes of salad noodles covered in a skimpy tomato sauce with lumps of ground beef and peas. “You’ve got something on your mind. What is it?”

Hmm…I caught the handle of the spoon sticking out of the bowl and decided not to comment on the food. “I think I ran into the hottest person on the planet today. Maybe the hottest woman in the history of the world.”

“Oh? I thought that was me. Do tell me more.” Cary stayed on the other side of the counter, preferring to stand and eat.

I watched him take a couple bites of his own concoction before I felt brave enough to try it myself. “Not much to tell, really. I ended up sprawled on my ass in the lobby of the Crossfire and she gave me a hand up.”

“Tall or short? Blond or dark? Built or lean? Eye color?”

I washed down my second bite with some wine. “Tall. Dark. Lean and built. green eyes. Filthy rich, judging by her clothes and accessories. And she was insanely sexy. You know how it is—some hot people don’t make your hormones go crazy, while some unattractive people have massive sex appeal. This woman had it all.”

My belly fluttered as it had when Dark and Dangerous touched me. In my mind, I remembered her breathtaking face with crystal clarity. It should be illegal for a woman to be that mind-blowing. I was still recovering from the frying of my brain cells.

Cary set his elbow on the counter and leaned in, his long bangs covering one vibrant green eye. “So what happened after she helped you up?”

I shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I left.”

“What? You didn’t flirt with her?”

I took another bite. Really, the meal wasn’t bad. Or else I was just starving. “she wasn’t the kind of girl you flirt with, Cary.”

“There is no such thing as a girl you can’t flirt with. Even the happily married ones enjoy a little harmless flirtation now and then.”

“There was nothing harmless about this girl,” I said dryly.

“Ah, one of those.” Cary nodded sagely. “Bad boys and girls can be fun, if you don’t get too close.”

Of course he would know; men and women of all ages fell at his feet. Still, he somehow managed to pick the wrong partner every time. He’d dated stalkers, and cheaters, and lovers who threatened to kill themselves over him, and lovers with significant others they didn’t tell him about…Name it, he’d been through it.

“I can’t see this woman ever being fun,” I said. “she was way too intense. Still, I bet she'd be awesome in the sack with all that intensity.”

“Now you’re talking. Forget the real person. Just use ther face in your fantasies and make them perfect there.”

Preferring to get the girl out of my head altogether, I changed the subject. “You have any go-sees tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Cary launched into the details of his schedule, mentioning a jeans advertisement, self-tanner, underwear, and cologne.

I shoved everything else out of my mind and focused on him and his growing success. The demand for Cary Taylor was increasing by the day, and he was building a reputation with photographers and accounts for being both professional and prompt. I was thrilled for him and so proud. He’d come a long way and been through so much.

It wasn’t until after dinner that I noticed the two large gift boxes propped against the side of the sectional sofa.

“What are those?”

“Those,” Cary said, joining me in the living room, “are the ultimate.”

I knew immediately they were from Stanton and my mom. Money was something my mother needed to be happy and I was glad Stanton, husband #3, was not only able to fill that need for her but all her many others as well. I often wished that could be the end of it, but my mom had a difficult time accepting that I didn’t view money the same way she did. “What now?”

He threw his arm around my shoulders, easy enough for him to do because he was taller by five inches. “Don’t be ungrateful. He loves your mom. He loves spoiling your mom, and your mom loves spoiling you. As much as you don’t like it, he doesn’t do it for you. He does it for her.”

Sighing, I conceded his point. “What are they?”

“Glam threads for the advocacy center’s fundraiser dinner on Saturday. A bombshell dress for you and a Brioni tux for me, because buying gifts for me is what he does for you. You’re more tolerant if you have me around to listen to you bitch.”

“Damn straight. Thank God he knows that.”

“Of course he knows. Stanton wouldn’t be a bazillionaire if he didn’t know everything.” Cary caught my hand and tugged me over. “Come on. Take a look.”

I pushed through the revolving door of the Crossfire into the lobby ten minutes before nine the next morning. Wanting to make the best impression on my first day, I’d gone with a simple sheath dress paired with black pumps that I slid on in replacement of my walking shoes on the elevator ride up. My brown hair was twisted up in an artful chignon that resembled a figure eight, courtesy of Cary. I was hair-inept, but he could create styles that were glamorous masterpieces. I wore the small pearl studs my dad had given me as a graduation gift and the Rolex from Stanton and my mother.

I had begun to think I’d put too much care into my appearance, but as I stepped into the lobby I remembered being sprawled across the floor in my workout clothes and I was grateful I didn’t look anything like that graceless girl. The two security guards didn’t seem to put two and two together when I flashed them my ID card on the way to the turnstiles.

Twenty floors later, I was exiting into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman. Before me was a wall of bulletproof glass that framed the double-door entrance to the reception area. The receptionist at the crescent-shaped desk saw the badge I held up to the glass. She hit the button that unlocked the doors as I put my ID away.

“Hi, Megumi,” I greeted her when I stepped inside, admiring her cranberry-colored blouse. She was mixed race, a little bit Asian for sure, and very pretty. Her hair was dark and thick, and cut into a sleek bob that was shorter in the back and razor sharp in the front. Her sloe eyes were brown and warm, and her lips were full and naturally pink.

“camila, hi. Mark’s not in yet, but you know where you’re going, right?”

“Absolutely.” With a wave, I took the hallway to the left of the reception desk all the way to the end, where I made another left turn and ended up in a formerly open space now partitioned into cubicles. One was mine and I went straight to it.

I dropped my purse and the bag holding my walking flats into the bottom drawer of my utilitarian metal desk; then booted up my computer. I’d brought a couple of things to personalize my space and I pulled them out. One was a framed collage of three photos—me and Cary on Coronado beach, my mom and Stanton on his yacht in the French Riviera, and my dad on duty in his City of Oceanside, California, police cruiser. The other item was a colorful arrangement of glass flowers that Cary had given me just that morning as a “first day” gift. I tucked it beside the small grouping of photos, and sat back to take in the effect.

“Good morning, Camila.”

I pushed to my feet to face my boss. “Good morning, Mr. Garrity.”

“Call me Mark, please. Come on over to my office.”

I followed him across the strip of hallway, once again thinking that my new boss was very easy to look at with his gleaming dark skin, trim goatee, and laughing brown eyes. Mark had a square jaw and a charmingly crooked smile. He was trim and fit, and he carried himself with a confident poise that inspired trust and respect.

He gestured at one of the two seats in front of his glass and chrome desk, and waited until I sat to settle into his Aeron chair. Against the backdrop of sky and skyscrapers, Mark looked accomplished and powerful. He was, in fact, just a junior account manager and his office was a closet compared to the ones occupied by the directors and executives, but no one could fault the view.

He leaned back and smiled. “Did you get settled into your new apartment?”

I was surprised he remembered, but I appreciated it, too. I’d met him during my second interview and liked him right away.

“For the most part,” I answered. “Still a few stray boxes here and there.”

“You moved from San Diego, right? Nice city, but very different from New York. Do you miss the palm trees?”

“I miss the dry air. The humidity here is taking some getting used to.”

“Wait ’til summer hits.” He smiled. “So…it’s your first day and you’re my first assistant, so we’ll have to figure this out as we go. I’m not used to delegating, but I’m sure I’ll pick it up quick.”

I was instantly at ease. “I’m eager to be delegated to.”

“Having you around is a big step up for me, Camila. I’d like you to be happy working here. Do you drink coffee?”

“Coffee is one of my major food groups.”

“Ah, an assistant after my own heart.” His smile widened. “I’m not going to ask you to fetch coffee for me, but I wouldn’t mind if you helped me figure out how to use the new one-cup coffee brewers they just put in the break rooms.”

I grinned. “No problem.”

“How sad is it that I don’t have anything else for you?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Why don’t I show you the accounts I’m working on and we’ll go from there?”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Mark touched bases with two clients and had a long meeting with the creative team working on concept ideas for a trade school. It was a fascinating process seeing firsthand how the various departments picked up the baton from each other to carry a campaign from proposition to fruition. I might’ve stayed late just to get a better feel of the layout of the offices, but my phone rang at ten minutes to five.

“Mark Garrity’s office. Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Get your ass home so we can go out for the drink you rain-checked on yesterday.”

Cary’s mock sternness made me smile. “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

Shutting down my computer, I cleared out. When I reached the bank of elevators, I pulled out my cell to text a quick “on my way” note to Cary. A ding alerted me to which car was stopping on my floor and I moved over to stand in front of it, briefly returning my attention to hitting the send button. When the doors opened, I took a step forward. I glanced up to watch where I was going and green eyes met mine. My breath caught.

The sex god was the lone occupant.

[emmerrr]

@cowboyformitski asked: For a prompt inspired by you being wine drunk, what do you think about: Declan being wine drunk in front of Jordan?

@toast-the-unknowing asked: honestly I would love to see “wine drunk” as a jordeclan prompt!

i’m posting this again because something went screwy on the original post and i couldn’t fix it, but you can also find this fic on ao3 here :)

-

“A wine-tasting? Really?”

Declan looked up from his phone and allowed himself a smile as Jordan approached, shrugging off her fabulous coat and revealing a neon-green crop top and high-waisted black jeans. She was by far the brightest light in the room, but then again, Declan was yet to be in a room with her in which she didn’t outshine literally everybody else.

Least of all him in his white button-down and grey slacks.

“What’s wrong with a wine-tasting?” he said when she hoisted herself into the stool opposite his.

“Nothing at all,” Jordan shrugged. “I don’t know, I just figured you as more of a whiskey person.”

Declan could see why someone might make that assumption. Whiskey seemed like it was for boring old men, and Declan was very deliberately boring, and definitely old before his time. In practice, however, he wasn’t much of a drinker at all. Drinking too much was a slippery slope.

A wine-tasting seemed safe enough, though. Small quantities.

“I’m…trying new things,” he settled on at last.

Jordan nodded sagely. “As you should. Good for the soul and all that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

They grinned at each other, but then were interrupted by the event starting.

“Hi, everyone, I’m Mindy, thanks for coming,” said a smiling woman from the middle of the room, the tall tables where people were sitting spread around her. “I’ll pass out tasting notes for you in just a moment, and you’ll notice there’s a spittoon on each table. Please don’t be shy about using them! You can, of course, drink some of the wines, but we recommend you wait until nearer the end of the tasting before you start to do that, otherwise your tasting abilities will be hindered.”

Declan looked at the spittoon, horrified. “I have to spit in that?” he whispered, and Jordan burst out laughing, before swiftly managing to turn it into a throat-clearing when Mindy shot a look their way.

Mindy clapped her hands together. “Okay, first up we have a Cabernet Sauvignon from Australia!”

As soon as she finished saying it, a server with a tray full of glasses containing a small amount of red wine appeared and handed them all out. Mindy was quick to follow, dropping off tasting notes on each table.

Jordan looked at the wine, then at the notes, then at Declan. “What now?”

“I don’t know. They always smell it on the TV.”

Jordan picked up her glass and took a big whiff. “Hmm. Excellent. What a wonderful…uh, fruity…bouquet?”

Declan snorted and picked up his own glass. He gave the wine a swirl and then lifted it to his nose. “Aromas of campfire and manure. Just exquisite.”

“Yes. Exquisite. Quite,” Jordan agreed.

“Okay, I think we taste it now,” Declan said, looking around the room and making sure that’s what everyone else was doing. “I think you’re supposed to hold it on your tongue for a moment.”

Jordan held her glass up. “Cheers.”

Declan smiled and clinked his glass against hers. “Cheers.”

They knocked the wine back as one. Declan immediately, on instinct, swallowed it.

“Oh fuck,” he said when he realised, Jordan valiantly trying not to laugh as she still had a mouthful of wine. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You getting…” he checked the tasting notes, “hints of black cherry? Full-bodied texture?” Jordan’s cheeks puffed out and Declan grinned. “Pairs excellently with red meats, this one.”

Jordan grabbed the spittoon and not-so elegantly spat the wine into it. She smiled sweetly at him, and his traitorous heart skipped a beat. “You don’t want to play this game with me, Declan Lynch.”

He shouldn’t really. It was childish, he knew. But there was a new lightness in his chest that he was starting to associate with being around Jordan, and it felt so good to laugh for real, without it costing him anything.

“Oh, Jordan,” he said. “I think I do.”

The evening devolved from there.

It was harder than Declan had anticipated not to drink the wine; it went against all his instincts to actually spit it out. And Jordan was very good at making him laugh, which meant that often he’d end up almost choking on the wine and being forced to swallow it anyway, as he was otherwise at risk of spitting red wine not into the spittoon, but all over the table.

He gradually felt his cheeks get rosier, his thoughts get hazier. He felt like he was talking and laughing too loud; words got harder to say, certain letters just out of his reach. He was distantly aware that they were drawing attention to themselves, but he couldn’t quite find it in him to care.

Jordan, although not quite at his level, had still drank far more of the wine than she was technically supposed to. They’d both slowly gravitated towards each other, arms leaning on the table, heads close together. Jordan had doodled a little Declan on the tasting notes. It was sketchy and rough, but still unimaginably good. In it, he was smiling, just like he was smiling now.

When Mindy came around with their last glass of wine, she asked them with forced politeness if they’d mind keeping it down.

Declan apologised profusely while Jordan pulled faces behind Mindy’s back. When Mindy walked off to the next table, he looked at Jordan sheepishly. “Think we’re making a scene.”

Jordan shrugged, unconcerned. “Well, they should be grateful we’re giving them something to look at. They’d all be having dull evenings without us. We’re basically providing a public service.” She cocked her head to the side and offered him a lazy half-smile that he found almost unbearably attractive. “I suppose you don’t make too many scenes, then?”

“No,” he said mournfully, but then brightened. “Oh! I did once.”

Jordan leaned imperceptibly closer. “Do tell.”

“I had a fight with my brother in the parking lot of a pizza place.” It wasn’t a good memory really, but the years had softened it somewhat.

“Did you win?”

“‘Uhhh…it was more of a mutual surrender.”

Jordan laughed, immediately bringing out a laugh of Declan’s own, and she patted his arm. “Finish your wine, mate, we’re leaving.”

He took a last swig and swiped the tasting notes with Jordan’s drawing off the table and into his pocket. Jordan threw her coat over one arm and tucked the other through Declan’s as they headed towards the door.

“Mindy, darling, it’s been wonderful,” Jordan called out, blowing a glaring Mindy air-kisses as Declan doubled over laughing and had to be half-dragged outside onto the street.

“We are absolutely gonna be banned from going back in there,” Declan said when he’d regained some of his composure. The night air felt nice and cool, and would probably do wonders for sobering him up.

“Ah well, it’s nice to be banned from doing something myself for a change.”

Declan paused, trying to assess her tone. She didn’t look particularly upset, but her words betrayed just a hint of bitterness. Everyone had stuff that they had to just carry around.

He stood before her, and cupped her face in his hands as gently as he knew how to. “You,” he said, “are one of a kind.”

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled too, and brought a hand of her own up to rest on Declan’s wrist. “That’s me,” she said.

They stayed that way for a mere moment more, but then Jordan nodded, and together they set off down the street. She pulled Declan’s arm around her shoulders and kept hold of his hand, wrapping her free arm around his waist.

They swayed together, both helping each other keep upright whilst somehow simultaneously hindering each other’s movements.

It was okay. It was nice just to be touching, even if it took them longer to get anywhere.

“Where to now?” Jordan asked.

“Food. I’m starving.”

“What do you fancy?”

“You,” Declan said, then laughed. “I dunno. Something greasy that I’ll regret in the morning.”

“Best stock up on antacids,” Jordan quipped.

“Hey,” Declan complained, but grinned, because he felt known.

She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. “So. The wine-tasting. Did you have a favourite?”

“Honestly?” He leaned close to her ear like he was telling her a secret, and whispered with drunken exaggeration, “They all kinda tasted the same to me.”

“Oh thank fuck for that, I thought it was just me. They all just tasted like…wine.”

Declan nodded. “The winiest.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Is too, I just said it. Anyway, I swiped the tasting notes so we can still sound like connoisseurs if anyone asks.”

“You kept the notes?”

“Of course I did, you drew an original on this. It’ll be worth a fortune.”

Jordan laughed lightly. “Well,” she said, and rested her head against his shoulder. “One day, maybe.”

They walked further along in companionable silence for a while. Declan tried to parse out how he was feeling, and realised that he was just content to be in the company of someone who didn’t expect anything from him.

“Declan?”

“Jordan.”

“Next time, I get to choose the date.”

Declan smiled. “Deal.”

[russianwave]

As someone with bad social anxiety, I put off finding a language tutor (or even speaking the language) for many months into my studies. I eventually plucked up the courage to book myself onto various trial lessons with tutors and I’ve decided to share what I’ve learnt.

1) Think about your learning style

Before even going on to a language tutoring platform, take some time to think about your learning style and what things you want to rule out. Having a checklist of criteria will make the process a lot less overwhelming, and it’ll give you things to look out for. There’s no point going for a tutor who teaches in a style that you already know doesn’t work. If you haven’t had any language classroom experience at all and/or really don’t know your style, that’s okay! But think about the materials you like to work with. Do you hate working through books? Some teachers just want to guide you through workbooks. Others are open to teaching through news articles, video clips, and so on.

For me, I know that a tutor not speaking any English to me would be too overwhelming. I wouldn’t be able to pick up new vocabulary through context and I’d find the process too stressful. Whilst this definitely works for other people, I knew that I could rule it out for myself. I also knew I could rule out tutors who don’t want to teach grammar - I knew that I wasn’t picking up grammar through patterns, so I looked for tutors that would do that. But also consider this: some teachers want to give you a lot of homework and then just have you discuss the answers and ask further questions in class whilst others will give you very minimal (if any) homework and have it be all about class time. Think about which style works for you.

2) What do you want out of tutoring?

For some people, tutoring is just a way to get quality speaking practice. They may find it hard to find people that are willing to give them the feedback they like, or a consistent / long enough speaking partner. Others are looking for a tutor to teach them the absolute basics, and others just want someone who can explain tricky concepts to them. Some tutors are only looking to teach people of a particular level, or just want to offer a particular kind of teaching (e.g. vocabulary or academic writing).

For me, I wanted tutors to be able to help me understand grammatical concepts as well as being a safe place to develop conversational practice. With a tutor it feels safer to make mistakes, and I feel like I’m less of a burden than trying to make an unpaid language partner correct everything I have to say. I also struggle with understanding grammar explanations, and I need the motivation that another person can bring to the lesson.

3) Think about your budget

This might seem really obvious, but it’s definitely something to bear in mind. £10 an hour might seem cheap now, but you’re likely going to be buying much more than one lesson. How many lessons can you afford to take each month? It might be better to turn down a good person that’s at the very max of your budget to go with someone (who’s still good) that’s lower priced and who you can have more consistent lessons with. Consistency with a tutor is a really good way to build upon work and progress through the programs and materials they have. 

Some tutors will offer free or massively discounted trial lessons, but then have a very high hourly rate. It might seem great to take advantage of someone who’s usually £30 an hour for free, but you want to develop a connection with a tutor that you can actually afford. There’s no point trying someone out of your budget because your trial lesson won’t be enough to work from. You’d need consistent lessons with them and you can’t get that if they’re out of your budget.

4) How many tutors do you want?

This isn’t talking about how many tutors you want to try out, but how many you want to have in the long run. You could stick with just one tutor, but you might find you get too comfortable with them and lessons become less effective. It also means if they can’t explain a particular issue to you, then you may not be able to get an easy explanation than if you had more than one. 

For me, I knew that I wanted two as it’d give me the variety I need to really stretch my language skills. This doesn’t mean going way outside of my comfort zone, it was about finding two people I could feel a comfortable connection with that I knew would push me. They have a slightly different approach with regards to explanations, material worked with, and their personalities. As someone with an attention disorder, I need variety to stop myself getting burnt out. If I was constantly having to use the same material and dealing with the same style I would get quickly burnt out.

Consider how you might want to approach having multiple tutors. It’s about striking a balance between seeing each tutor individually at a frequent enough rate to properly build upon material, as well as ensuring you’re not doing too many lessons each week. You might decide on alternating weeks with each tutor, or spreading each tutor out through the week.

5) What platform do you want to use?

There’s many different platforms for meeting a tutor, such as Tandem, iTalki, Verbling, Preply, etc. It might be worth checking each of these out and seeing what each of the platforms have to offer. A lot of tutors, no matter the platform, would rather conduct the lessons through Skype or something similar. So if you haven’t got one already, it’s a good idea to make a Skype account. 

iTalki is probably the most well known tutoring platform, but it’s worth considering that another platform might be popular with people of your target language. Some platforms also require you to go through a proper vetting process or to have certain qualifications. Whilst this makes the quality of tutors better than those that have zero vetting process, you also have to consider how that might affect cost. 

6) Properly watch their introductory video and read their profile description

Now that you’ve sorted out a lot of the crucial prep, it’s time to actually consider a tutor. Whilst it can be hard to judge personality through video and/or text, it’s worth seeing what they have to say. If they’ve barely put any effort into talking about themselves, then it’s probably best to give them a miss. If they can’t be bothered to even advertise themselves for money, how can you guarantee they’d put the effort in to teach you once they have your cash?

As someone who’s not very good at continuing a conversation, I looked for tutors who seemed like they could fill the awkward pauses. I also considered how clear their audio quality is (not to say it has to be super high quality, but if I can barely hear them then it’s going to be a struggle). If they offer demonstrations of how they teach vocabulary / grammar etc, I consider if their explanations are in a style that I like. As I’m very much a beginner to the language, I need someone that can demonstrate that they can explain concepts in English so I can understand them. Some tutors are aimed at more advanced learners that can comfortably discuss concepts in the target language, or might just be there for some professional speaking practice. 

Check back to your criteria and see if they touch upon the styles that you’re looking for or the styles you want to avoid. They’ll also often list the material that they use, it’s worth considering if this is the kind of material that you like to work with. Some tutors are very workbook or quiz orientated, others like to bring out flashcards. It’s about what works best for you.

7) Look to the reviews, not just the star rating

On sites like iTalki it’s very difficult for a tutor to get below 5 stars. This is because we want to be polite, and we might just rate a lesson 5 stars and move on rather than voice our complaints. While a lot of reviews are just going to be very basic, some of them will touch upon teaching style and materials used. Also look to mentions of personality - e.g. stern, patient, outgoing, well prepared etc. Whilst these are all subjective, it can give you a better idea. Also look to see if students are booking multiple lessons. If most of a tutor’s students are only booking 1 or 2 lessons then it’s likely that they’re not going to be great. You want to see students returning again and again to a tutor as it demonstrates their ability to build upon content and remain a good tutor.

8) Send them a message before booking a lesson

Before booking any trial lesson I sent the tutors I was considering a short message briefly explaining my current level of the language and what I want to get out of it. I mentioned the concerns I had and included that I had never had language lessons outside of school.

I found this a really good way of assessing a tutor, as well as just a polite way to allow them to prepare for the lesson. It was nice when a tutor picked up on specific issues I mentioned, and it was a way of allowing them to talk about the material they’d use to address my specific points of concern. If a tutor just ignored all of that and was just like ‘yes yes whatever book a lesson’, then I didn’t. Tutoring is a job, and people are in it for money, but they also have to be in it out of a genuine interest in helping others. If I didn’t feel like they wanted to help me and just saw me as a future purse to dip into, then I didn’t book a lesson.

This doesn’t always work though. Some tutors seemed to forget by the time the lesson came around what things I had mentioned, and the lesson came across as unprepared. Whilst others referred back to the notes I had sent, and built upon that. It meant that I wasn’t just doing alphabet lessons again and again with tutors, and it gave me a much better assessment of their lessons as a result.

9) Prepare for the lesson 

This can be tricky when it’s just a trial lesson and we’re likely not going to receive any material beforehand from the tutor but there’s ways we can prepare. Look over their tutor profile and through their intro video again, is there anything about them that you want to ask? Is there anything specific that they could help you with that day? Do they expect you to pay for additional material? Do they have a specific course of content, and how many tutoring sessions does it take to complete it?

Some tutors will already know what they want to cover, but some will be open to suggestions. Having questions is also a good way of finding out more about their tutoring without having to commit to further lessons. For example, you could ask them what kind of workbooks they use. Once the trial lesson is over you could have a look at previews of the workbook/s and see if that’s the kind of content you’d enjoy working with. 

10) Sometimes a tutor will look amazing in theory but not in practice

It’s unfortunate, but even with all the research we’ve previously done we can get it wrong. A tutor might seem really outgoing and friendly in their introductory video, and then be lifeless and bored during the lesson. They might be a really nice person and we just don’t click with them or their teaching style. 

This isn’t a reflection on you, and it certainly doesn’t make you a bad student. It also doesn’t mean that they’re an awful tutor, it just means they’re not a right fit for you. This is why it’s so important to experiment with tutors and see which one/s are the right fit for us. Likewise we can have a tutor that we get on great with, but we don’t actually learn much from them. Sometimes this can take a few lessons to really shine through, but when we do notice it then it’s time to move on. 

Don’t beat yourself up, and try and not fret over the lesson. It’s completed now. This person isn’t going to remember you, and you don’t have to do a lesson with them again. Just politely thank them for the lesson and move on. The next person you have a lesson with might be an amazing fit. It’s not all wasted time though, it can give us a better understanding of what styles work for us and what don’t. And just because we don’t click with a tutor, doesn’t mean we don’t learn anything about the language. 

The opposite can be true also! One of the tutors I booked I started having second thoughts about before the lesson. But when the actual lesson happened I thoroughly enjoyed it, and it was definitely one of the best lessons out of the wide range of tutors I tried. What this means is that it can be hard to tell how well we connect with someone until we have a trial lesson with them. It’s not your fault for picking a tutor that you don’t connect with, and it doesn’t mean that all the other tutors are going to be the wrong fit for you also.

---

Hopefully this will help make finding a language tutor less stressful. I know for me that doing a lot of research on language tutoring, and on the tutors I enquired with helped me feel a lot less anxious. I personally found it useful to group my different tutoring trials close together, so I didn’t have to worry about weeks and weeks of trials. But for some people that might be overwhelming, and they might find it easier to spread it out over a longer period. 

If you’re like me and struggle with the concept of ‘letting people down’, and feel like you might be pressured into sticking with the first tutor or two that you try then I would recommend setting a specific date which you then invest in a tutor. For me, even though I really liked the first tutor (and he was one of the ones I stuck with) I had upcoming tutors to meet. By having to wait until I tried out the other tutors, I could be confident in that I was picking someone as a result of being a good fit. 

If you’re considering getting a language tutor then I would recommend the platform iTalki. I’ve tried out other platforms such as Preply, but this was the best one for me. It’s the platform I used to meet a wide range of tutors, and it’s through that platform that I found the two tutors I really liked. If you sign up with this link and buy some iTalki credits, then you and I will receive $10 iTalki credits as a free bonus. This could cover the cost of 1 or more lessons! 

[radicalposture]

Hey, so were you diagnosed with autism/adhd as an adult? If you don't mind me asking, was that difficult to achieve? I'm 25, and I've often thought I might have adhd, but I've held off on looking into it because I hear it's extremely difficult and expensive to get it tested and diagnosed as an adult.

yes I only got diagnosed last october, I was 25 then too! it was kind of a weird journey for me, all of my siblings and my dad got diagnosed with autism or adhd one after the other and I was still saying “but I can’t really be autistic/adhd” right up until I actually got diagnosed lol. but since then my whole life suddenly makes sense for the first time and I really think things are gonna be ok! this applies to autism/adhd/other neurodiverse stuff but autism and adhd is what I know, but I hope it applies broadly as well

so unfortunately yes, it can be pretty expensive to get through the whole process. depends on where you live of course, I live in Ireland so even though we do have public healthcare I would probably have been on a waiting list for upwards of two years to see a terrible psychologist who didn’t know anything about adhd/autism so I went to a private psychologist. I already knew her pretty well bc my siblings had been to her and I knew she knew what she was talking about and I felt comfortable with her. seeing her cost me around €900 which is definitely a lot, different psychologists have different rates but the price can go up depending on what tests u get done. the more tests you do the more expensive it will be as a general rule (at the same time I saw a different psychologist who had a lower flat rate so idk what the “rules” are about this tbh) I got a standard assessment as well as autism and adhd tests which is why it was so expensive. it used up pretty much all my savings lmao but after getting a diagnosis I was able to apply for disability allowance (which was a hellish process) and I got rejected and had to appeal the decision but I got it in the end, which is fortunate bc I quit my job lol.

recently I wanted to look into medication so I had to go to a psychiatrist because you can’t get a prescription for stimulant medication from a gp in most countries I think? BUT he’d only see me if I got rediagnosed by his psychologist, so that was another €300 for each of them. I did get prescribed ritalin in the end but I’ll have to get the prescription refilled a few times a year bc it’s a restricted medication, which will mean paying €100 ish for each time I do. fortunately I don’t actually have to pay for the medication itself bc I have a medical card.

so yes, it can be expensive! all told it’s cost me almost €2000 to get it all sorted and will keep costing me maybe €300 a year from now on, so it’s definitely something you have to budget for. especially depending on where you live, I imagine things are v different from country to country. also I’m very fortunate bc I still live with my family so I’m free of some financial pressure and I’d been saving for it for a while but I know how hard it is to countenance paying out that kind of money, and wondering whether it’s worth it.

as to whether it’s difficult to achieve I think you’ve got to break it down because official diagnosis is only part of it. so if you think you do have ADHD I’d look at it from a couple of different angles:

1. self acceptance/understanding is absolutely the most important thing. I know people who’ve never been to a psych who know they’re autistic/adhd and really flourish, I also know people who have official diagnoses but who won’t accept it themselves and reject help/support and they’re making things so hard for themselves. so the most important thing is to educate yourself about what adhd means and, more importantly, what it means for you. everyone’s brain is different and understanding exactly how your brain works and why you think/behave the way you do is the most important thing you can do. there are a lot of resources out there, especially online, - I’ll put a link to a google drive of books and things I have at the bottom - and it can be good to connect with others online as well. having people who Get It and can help you is really paramount, I know often our irl families/friends can sometimes let us down so sometimes the only support you can get is from following ppl on twitter or something. the adhd subreddit is weirdly helpful and supportive, it’s great to be able to throw out a question like “I think like this am I insane y/n” and have other people go “nah ur fine” it’s very validating (also validation/external perspectives is super important for adhd bc we can be extremely bad at self assessment). so yes, the most important thing is firstly to know thyself by 1) educating yourself and 2) listening/connecting with others like u.

2. is it important to have an “official” diagnosis? no and yes. obviously you don’t need a diagnosis from a doctor to know what you are, and 70% of the things needed to help you flourish are going to come from your own research and the support systems you make. and if you cant afford or access a psychologist or psychiatrist it doesn’t make it any less real or bar you from educating yourself/accessing resources etc. HOWEVER. if you can get a good diagnosis then I really would go for it, bc: 1) it opens a LOT of doors to official resources, whether that’s access to welfare, supports and accommodations at school or college, medication, etc etc. a lot of the time the supports we need are behind this diagnostic paywall, which sucks but it is what it is :/ so that’s one consideration. 2) it can be really validating and help set your mind at ease about whether you “really” have adhd or if you’re “faking”. like I said I didn’t believe that I was “allowed” to be autistic before I got diagnosed. I also didn’t consider that I might have adhd, I went in thinking I’d just get the autism diagnosis so it wasn’t something I would have found out on my own probably. so it can be good to get an outside opinion, especially as, like I said, we can be really bad at self assessment. 3) it feels good to know you have a piece of paper to throw at rude family members/teachers/doctors who don’t believe it’s real 4) if you can find a good psychiatrist/psychologist it can be such a good thing to have that support and to get genuinely good advice from a professional you trust. doesn’t always happen but if u can find one it’s a godsend

wow this got long. to summarise, if you think you have adhd or anything else I would

research and educate yourself. for adhd probably the best thing to do is read driven to distraction and delivered from distraction, written by two psychiatrists who are adhd themselves. they’re both in this google drive along with loads of other resources I’ve collected, there’s also books about autism as well. as a disclaimer not everything/everyone here has my 100% endorsement some of it is there for academic/historical interest or only parts are helpful but by and large it’s useful. also watch this video and feel Seen

look for a good psychologist/psychiatrist if you’re going for a diagnosis. see if there’s an adhd organisation in your country/area and if they can recommend anyone. a lot of the time you’re better going to a child/educational psychologist who’ll see adult clients as they tend to Get It more. do look for someone who is clear about having experience in adult adhd bc unfortunately even qualified psychologists get a LOT wrong so make sure you get someone who knows what they’re doing before you give them your money

yes it can be really expensive. but if you’re needing to access things like medication or welfare I think it’s well worth the trouble and the money. my sister got diagnosed in her second year of college and was able to save her degree bc of extensions on projects and things like that (I didn’t get diagnosed until after college and spent four years torturing myself I WISH I had known) and it can be something that’s better done sooner rather than later. So if it’s something you can do without putting yourself in financial danger I think it’s good to bite the bullet and go for it. like I used up basically all my savings BUT I now can access disability payments and medication so it was worth it for me. it’ll be different for everyone so use your judgement obviously

anyway hope this helped! let me know if you need anything else! and good luck on your journey

[beyondconfessor]

Principle Decisions [8/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: It’d been over eight days since she’d seen Lilith, and her eyes had wandered over the therapist’s card twice before she managed to throw it out in recycling. 

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief. Double chapter to be released today :)

Zelda tapped her pen, listening to the meeting drone on as Faustus flicked through his PowerPoint presentation. She hardly cared, outside of somehow managing to volunteer to complete the meeting minutes, only because Constance had turned and looked over at her with big, pleading eyes.

Unlike with Shirley, Zelda respected Constance. Somehow she managed to juggle all of her classes, run the University’s choir and look after her twins.

Both of the twins were being cared for by an au pair at the moment, and with the thought of them, Zelda felt an ache in her chest before she snuffed the memory down. It wouldn’t do well to dwell on things that had long-since occurred.

Her chest still hurt. It seemed to ache over the last week constantly. Even Sabrina had withdrawn from biting comments to just tentatively asking if she wanted a cup of tea.

“––ay my thanks to Zelda for covering Shirley’s classes. As we all know, Shirley has been caring for her dying mother.”

Zelda blinked. She’d thought it was a dying friend? Perhaps she’d been unreasonably cruel towards her then.

No, despite how hard that must be, Shirley was still a raging cow.

“And Zelda has kindly taken over her classes to ease the transition.” There was a polite clap, and Zelda smiled tightly, fingers squeezing around her pen. Although the praise was well deserved, the half-hearted clap from the staff ( though she noticed that Constance’s was genuine) was enough to set her teeth on edge.

Perhaps she was just reading into it. It had been a long presentation, and a longer week, if she was honest.

It’d been over eight days since she’d seen Lilith, and her eyes had wandered over the therapist’s card twice before she managed to throw it out in recycling. She’d felt guilty for her attitude at the end of the session, but the truth was, the woman had overstepped her authority.

What had it mattered if she wanted to press her boundaries, request harder and harder strikes until she was a sobbing mess? As she understood it, it was her services she was paying for. She could ask for whatever she damned like.

The pen made a hole in on the page she was on. Flipping the page over, she began fresh as Faustus enquired if there was anything else on the meeting agenda. Zelda listened as a few members of the faculty enquired as to funding changes that were meant to be released, on top of the request for TAs and GAs, but the discussion was quickly shut down, leaving them to adjourn the meeting.

Tea and coffee were laid out, and the faculty began chatting with one another about the coming end of the semester. As Zelda made her way to the cups, she noticed Constance moving to stand next to her. “Faustus is running another program next year,” she advised, setting the biscuits onto her plate. “I…understand Prudence is looking to be a front runner?”

“I’m not certain,” Zelda said, “But she has the highest marks in my class so that I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“She requested to be your TA, didn’t she?” Constance enquired.

“She did,” Zelda agreed, curious to the sudden line of questioning. “Was something the matter?”

“Do you know much about her?” Constance asked. “Faustus has her in his class and was enamoured by her––until the most recent semester, and now he seems to grow tense at the very mention of her.”

Zelda paused, “Constance, what are you getting at?”

“I’ve never known him to provide such extensive funding for a TA in this department before. Have you?”

Zelda’s eyes narrowed, looking over her shoulder to where the head of the department stood with some of the other professors, laughing over a joke. “Are you implying that he might be having an…affair?” she asked, whispering the word low so no one would overhear.

“No, no. I’m not saying that, not without proof. He’s just…been so distant since the birth of the twins. He’s a proud father…but since the summer holidays, he seems so far away, all of the time. Especially around Leticia, and I just wondered if he was feeling guilty over something.” Constance paused then, embarrassment colouring her cheeks as she stirred sugar into her tea. “Don’t mind me. I’m exhausted. Even with the nanny helping out, the twins take up so much time.”

It was a flippant addition, Zelda could see the root of the issue clear on Constance’s face. She was lonely and certain that her husband was withdrawing because he found someone else.

“I remember how difficult it was with Sabrina. Having two children who need your attention on top of your own work must be difficult to balance. Perhaps you need to find time for yourself?” she suggested. “Have a weekend away?”

Constance nodded in agreement. “You’re right, and I’m just making something out of nothing.” Constance drew in a deep breath and gave a tight smile. “But if you were to see anything…”

“I assure you, I’ll let you know,” she agreed with a nod. “But Faustus has always been devout to you.”

Constance gave a tight smile but didn’t speak any further.

It did leave Zelda with the seed planted in her mind. Although she’d never known Prudence or Faustus to interact, it wasn’t to say that they didn’t. After all, Faustus was their department head, which included overseeing things such as applicants for scholarships. As Zelda understood, Prudence was on a scholarship that covered her classes, textbooks and board while she was here.

She didn’t want to think the worst, but it wouldn’t be the first time that there were rumours of professor-student dalliances across campus. She’d just hoped that Faustus had been above that.

Zelda drew her thoughts away from it as she felt a headache form.

She returned home that evening sore, the muscles in her neck and shoulders felt tight, which was causing a headache to form behind her eyes as she entered her home to the sound of loud arguing.

“––fault! It’s not like…” Sabrina’s voice drifted off as the door opened and Zelda looked up to see her on the stairs, yelling down at Hilda, who was standing in the foyer.

Wonderful.

“What is going on here?” she asked, looking from Sabrina’s tight, furious expression to a baffled Hilda.

Hilda turned on her heel and began stuttering out utter gibberish before she ended up dropping her hands with a shake of her head. Zelda turned and looked to Sabrina, eyes drawing over her for a clue. Her niece was still in her cheerleading clothes, and had her bag slung over her shoulder as she stood defiantly on the stairs, but whatever it related to remained a mystery.

“Nothing,” Sabrina said tightly, giving her Aunt Hilda what looked like a warning before walking up the rest of the stairs and disappearing to her bedroom.

Zelda paused, before looking back to a sister with a sneaky feeling that this was somehow about her again. She wasn’t aware of any charity events, outside of Sabrina’s community service that was completed on the weekends.

Hilda shook her head. “She brought a letter home. Apparently, she’s failing french. She didn’t want me to tell you because she knew that you’d blow-up at her.”

“Blow up at her?” Zelda echoed. “What a preposterous idea. It is, however, a sign that she needs to focus more on her school. I mean, how could she fail french?” Zelda asked. “I speak over a dozen languages for Christ’s sake. Perhaps she’s spending too much time with this cheerleading thing?”

Hilda frowned, looking at Zelda like she was trying to bite back from saying something nasty.

“Spit it out.”

“It’s not like you're there to help her with homework. You just sort of expect she’ll have the same aptitude as you and Edward. Maybe she doesn’t care for language, and there’s nothing wrong with that. She’s doing well with almost all of her other classes.”

“Nonsense. It’s not that difficult, and once she learns one language, it’ll be far easier for her to pick up other languages.” Zelda stated. “Not to mention the college benefits it will bring. Sabrina’s got a talent for many things, but I hardly think she’s going to get a scholarship for cheerleading. It’d be better if she pursued an academic scholarship.”

“She could get it for cheerleading,” Hilda argued. “She’s pretty good.”

“Honestly Hilda,” Zelda said, giving her a look as she passed by. It was like her sister had no idea how the real world worked. Sure, if Sabrina wanted to attend some community college, she could put all of her eggs in cheerleading. Realistically, she needed to focus her attention on school.

Heading to her office, Zelda set her stuff down on the desk. She heard the sound of Hilda turning to the kitchen and starting dinner as she pulled out her computer––newly repaired but at the cost of losing all of the academic journals she’d downloaded––and began the administration work for her classes, placing their grades up to be viewed by midnight.

No doubt, she’d have a dozen emails by morning, begging her to allow a re-do of the assessment or to complete extra credit. Still, with how thinly spread she was between classes, she didn’t have time to oversee any of that, and she doubted Prudence would want to review any of it.

She was halfway through uploading her first year’s marks when Hilda knocked on the doorframe of her office, summoning her to dinner.

“I’ll be right out.”

“Zelda,” her sister warned.

Zelda drew in a tight breath before pausing, pushing up from her desk and following her sister out. She took her seat at the table and gave a soft greeting to Ambrose before noticing that Sabrina still hadn’t come down.

Zelda watched as Hilda gave a glare up the higher floor before serving the food, sitting them one-by-one in front of Zelda, Ambrose, the seat where Sabrina usually sat, and then herself.

When it looked like Hilda was about to sit down, Zelda rose from her chair. “I’ll call Sabrina down, shall I?” she asked tightly, not giving her sister time to speak to her as she walked out of the kitchen. If she had to interrupt her work to come to a family dinner, then by God, her niece needed to attend as well, despite her sour mood.

She rose the flight of stairs, down the hall and then knocked on Sabrina’s door, where she heard an odd noise of shuffling before her niece opened the bedroom door, crossing her arms defiantly. “Yes?”

Zelda blinked. Once upon a time, her niece would receive compliments from her teachers about being well-mannered and polite. ‘A delight to have in the classroom’. Zelda’s eyes narrowed at the disrespect. “I beg your pardon?”

“Beg all you like then,” her niece responded. “I’m not coming down. I have work to do. I already know that you’re going to cut my allowance and refuse to let me see my friends, so why should I come to sit at dinner where you and Aunt Hilda are just going to get into an argument over this.”

Zelda drew in a deep breath, trying to quell the rising anger. “Sabrina,” she began with a steady voice. “Family dinner is something we do as a family. I am asking you to come down and sit with us.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re a family, and we share meals.”

“How can we be a family when you’re never here,” Sabrina pointed out. “And in the few times, you are home you’re always in your office.”

“That’s why we have family dinners.”

“You don’t even take me to and from school anymore, Harvey does! It’s like you don’t care, so as long as I’m doing well at school. The only time you took an interest was when I got into trouble for that fight. Otherwise, you’re too busy to do anything!” Sabrina snapped, her eyes welling up with tears. “You don’t care what I have to say, or what I do so as long as I’m not failing or in trouble.”

Zelda felt her heart clench. “Is that how you feel? That I don’t care?”

“Do you?”

“Do you think I’m working twelve hours a day, six days a week because I want to? I’m doing it because I have a job that’s putting food on the table and paying for the roof over your head. I am working to pay for your education and your extracurricular activities, or did you forget who paid for your cheerleading uniform? It doesn’t come for free, Sabrina. I work to give provide for our family.”

“We have an inheritance. You don’t need to work this hard!”

Zelda laughed, absolutely stunned by her nieces' words. “How much money do you think we have? We could not live off the money for all these years, and yes while it is more than most families have, all of that goes very fast if anything were to happen to your Aunt Hilda or I.” She took a breath, watching her niece scramble for a retort. “What this has shown me is that you have no idea how money works. Consider this me cutting you off. If you want to go out with your friends and see movies together or pay for school excursions, you need to pay for it yourself. I expect you to get a job by the time the winter holidays come.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I can and will,” Zelda said with a glare. “I think it’s time you learnt some financial responsibility.” Zelda turned quirked an eyebrow, watching as Sabrina’s cheeks turned pink with fury.

“I’m not coming to dinner,” she said.

“Fine. But don’t expect the food to be there when you do get hungry. If you want food, you will sit with your family.”

Turning on her heel, she walked away. The door slammed shut behind her, and Zelda considered walking back and having the door removed.

But no, that was not something she felt was fair. Sabrina had been slamming doors since she was toddler, it was an offence she would continue to look past and treat like it was. A toddler throwing a tantrum, and as such, needing to be ignored.

Fury bubbling inside of her. Sabrina’s insolence had gone too far this time. It was clear she needed to be firm and set a tone. If her niece was going to make wild accusations about her not being family, and not needing money, then she could find out for herself how difficult it was when you didn’t have money.

Zelda returned to the kitchen, sitting at the table where Ambrose and Hilda both sat awkwardly across from each other, their food untouched before them.

“Is Sabrina coming down for––?” Hilda began

“Does it appear that she’s coming down? Or did the slammed door perhaps lead you to believe that our interactions were peaceful, sister?”

Hilda’s jaw slammed shut, as Ambrose began to stare down at his food, hands in his lap. Zelda rolled her eyes, picking up her fork and knife and began cutting into the food. If an uncomfortable silence was what dinner would involve, so be it.

All she’d wanted was a family dinner, and now she had anger sitting like a stone in her stomach, burning its way through any enjoyment she could have.

Perhaps she’s snapped too tightly at Hilda, but honestly, it seemed like her sister left her to be the bad person constantly. She was left saying no to Sabrina, drawing lines in the sand whilst Hilda would dally around niceties.

“I’ve decided that Sabrina needs to learn the value of money,” she said. “We will no longer be funding her extracurricular activities, nor her outings. If she wishes to spend copious amounts of money on clothes and dates, she can earn money through handwork, as we did.”

“Well, we hardly worked while we were in school. Father only made us work through holidays.”

Zelda placed her knife and fork down, taking the napkin she cleaned her fingers and face and then looked to her sister. “Perhaps you did not, but Edward and I both worked at the school. Edward worked with the librarian if you recall. And I assisted Mr Rutherglen.”

“‘Assisted’,” Hilda said, making air quotes. Zelda stared at her. Where on earth had such disrespect risen from today? Sabrina was one thing, but Hilda?

“Did you have something you wanted to say, or did you prefer making veiled comments?”

“Just that…we all knew…” she said trailing off. “That you and Mr Rutherglen, you know?” she implied as if Ambrose wasn’t well aware in the ways of implication.

“That we were what?” Zelda asked because the anger was curling inside of her, and if Hilda continued to dance around the words, she was going to slap her.

“Sleeping together, sister. Not that it mattered. I mean, in retrospect it was absolutely horrible to form his part, he was over a decade older than you, but it’s not at all your fault, just that obviously he…paid for––“

“He certainly did not!” Zelda snapped. “We were not, as you say, sleeping together.”

“Zelds, it’s fine. It was decades ago now, and Edward saw—“

“I have no idea what he thought he saw, but we were not sleeping together. For Christ’s sake, he was married, Hilda. With a daughter.”

“Because we know that’s stopped a man before,” she said, commenting out of the side of her mouth. “Look, if you say nothing occurred then fine, I believe you.”

“You do not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said a damned thing,” Zelda snapped before taking a breath, feeling a wave of dizziness struck her. “Rutherglen took an interest in me due to my language aptitude. Never had anything sexual passed. He often remarked how he hoped his daughter would grow up to be like me.” Zelda felt her chest tighten, thinking on it.

She hated how Hilda was trying to taint the memory of one of the few teachers who had taken an earnest interest in her for no reason other than to mentor her into a path of her choosing. She couldn’t imagine why Edward would have thought they were sleeping together. He’d always been sure to keep a professional distance with her.

Except once. When she’d been crying about––

Zelda paused the thoughts and pushed them away. It didn’t matter. There had been from so long ago, and Edward was dead.

Not finishing her dinner, she set the napkin down on the plate and stood up, walking away. Nausea settled in her stomach. Had Edward truly thought that of her––Hilda had, easily. Is that what was to them? A girl who slept with her teachers for money and extra credit?

She returned to her office, pulling the door tightly shut behind her and sat at her computer, feeling the hollowness consume her.

Why did it matter what a dead brother thought of her? Of what a sister who earned minimum wage cared? It was nothing new. Certainly, others had thought it of her. Throughout her undergraduates years, she’d had similar rumours thrown about her. It shouldn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

She continued to upload the grades, feeling the numbness of the task take hold until she came to the last one, realising that it was all done and nearly midnight.

Exhaustion pulled at her and then Zelda was making her way to bed, clicking lights off behind her and making her way up the stairs. Hilda’s light was off, Sabrina’s light was off, Ambrose’s light was on, but that wasn’t unusual––at least his music was off.

She changed into her pyjamas, completed her night skincare routine despite the exhaustion pulling at her, and then climbed into bed. But despite the exhaustion itching at her eyes in the darkness as she clicked off the lamp, her mind buzzed as she traced over old conversations between Edward and Hilda.

Did the university think the same thing? Did Shirley whisper amongst the staff, behind her back, gossiping about how she slept her way into position?

Zelda stared into the darkness, feeling the discomfort creep over her. It seemed that the more she had tried to grow as an adult, shape herself into something of sophistication, the more people were determined to think that she was just some wanton hussy.

Perhaps they always would. Perhaps there was nothing after this.

Thunder seemed to roll outside, threatening a great storm.

She drifted into a restless sleep.

_______________

[jynxeddraca]

It might have finally happened

I posted a bit back about my plumbing issues a few days ago [link] that was centered more around issues with my home warranty company than the fact that my drains were slow to...well, drain.

I finally managed to get a plumber out to my house last night but he couldn’t get there until late because the previous house he was at ended up having a plumbing emergency that he had to take care of - which after I heard that I was more peeved that I didn’t get notified he was going to be late than the fact he was late.  So what was supposed to be a 3pm appointment became a 5pm appointment and now I have to pay ‘after hours rate’.  I’m annoyed but know I’m getting this shit reimbursed so I suck it up because it’s really not the plumber’s fault.

He gets out here I show him what the stuff is doing, he agrees that it looks a clog and climbs on top of the house to get to the main line access because my house doesn’t have a clean out drain on ground level - which I have been told is a code thing and I’m wondering how my house inspector missed that when I bought the place.  I digress.  He snakes that drain for well over an hour, probably closer to an hour and a half.  At one point he stops and asks me if I can hear anything in the walls and I tell him I can.  His snake doesn’t hit anything until nearly the end of the snake (which is around 75 feet he says) and when it did hit something - whatever it hit - will not budge.  Not even a little.

‘That doesn’t sound good’ I think.

I was right.  It wasn’t good.

So now we get into the bad news, potentially good news, bad news, more bad news, and this morning’s even worse news.

The Bad News: The plumber is fairly certain that my pipes - which are original to my 1960′s house and are cast iron - have either been clogged with roots OR have collapsed.  This fix will probably be expensive.

The Potentially Good News: He asked to see the sewer main and I showed him and he noticed that the corner of my yard had all been dug up recently as has the sidewalk corner across the street.  He asked what that was about and when did it happen in relation to my issues - I mentioned that there were people installing AT&T cables for the city and they were out the same time I started having issues.  SO it is possible that the contractors for the city damaged my pipes while installing underground cable and if that’s the case it’s the city’s fault so the city takes care of it.  Meaning I don’t have to pay for it if that’s the case.  Furthermore - the plumber thinks that based on how far he sank that snake down my drain it is entirely possible that the issue isn’t even on my property anyways.  Which again, would make it the city’s issue to fix, not mine.

The Bad News (part 2): The water department for my city doesn’t open until Monday morning so they can’t come out and assess anything AND my while my plumber can locate the clog and see if it’s even on my property or not - he didn’t have that equipment with him last night.  My options at that point were: 

Option 1: Have him stay even longer (it was at that point 7pm) pull the toilet - which was going to cost even more money that regardless of reimbursement I was going to have to pay upfront - so he can attempt a snaking of the drains that wasn’t on top of the house, in the dark, while it was threatening to rain.  I didn’t really see a point for this because he spent almost 2 hours snaking the drain and used most of a 75 foot cable.  I don’t see how doing it from the toilet will make that much difference.

Option 2: Have him come back a different day with the locator (which someone else had at the time) - run it through my pipes, locate where the clog is, assess if it even is my issue to fix, and possibly dig it to determine if it’s roots jammed in or a collapsed pipe.

More Bad News: I tell him to wait until Monday.  It’s been two weeks, I can wait two more days with slow drains because they are draining, just slowly.  So I go inside, he pulls the snake and I use the bathroom because nature.  The toilet fills up and the tub backs up a small amount.  Now my pride, my absolute mental exhaustion, and my desire to NOT have to clean up pee water from my bathroom floor late at night from having the toilet pulled overrides common sense.  I tell him that it happened but that it did this when it first started to back up and if I give it a few hours it will drain and I can still wait it out.  I do this because, again, I’m tired.  It’s after 7pm, I have had a rough week at work, I’ve had a not great day, and I know he has another call after me on the other side of the lake so they’re probably going to have him there until like 9pm or so.  So I let it go and he said if it doesn’t drain to call tomorrow and he’ll come by and pull the toilet.

Minor Nice Thing: Dude didn’t charge me for anything but his time because he couldn’t unclog the drain.  Which means instead of paying $256+, I only paid $86 that night.

This Morning’s Even Worse News:  Remember how I said ‘give it a few hours and it’ll drain away?  Yeah?  It didn’t.  My tub has an inch of hazy brown water and there’s dirt in it.  I’m calling it dirt because that makes me feel a little better (I know it’s not dirt, I know what it is, I don’t have the mental energy to think about it).  My toilet is now slowly draining....directly into the tub which is not draining one little bit.  And I know that’s where the toilet is draining because when you flush you can see the dirt near the drain be disturbed by water coming in.  So I get to call the plumber on a Saturday, meaning I pay Emergency rates for them to come out, pull my toilet, might as well locate the clog, and maybe, maybe I can free-flowing drains soon.

Side note: This is my only bathroom.  I don’t have another toilet or shower that I can get cleaned up in.  I genuinely have no idea what I am going to do if this is something that I can’t get fixed today.

[spoonie-living]

[Image: a person in plaid flannel and boots falling on the backdrop of a foggy sky. Credit: Pexels]

The Hard Fall: How getting on disability can impact your benefits (U.S.)

As spoonies, we’re generally occupied with getting on disability, but what happens once we win our case?

My lawyer didn’t prepare me at all for this, so when I got my confirmation letter and first payments, I had no idea what it would do to my government services.

When I called around, I got directed to some local government office. “Yeah honey,” the woman on the other line said sympathetically, “we call that the hard fall.”

And hard it was; I lost access to several doctors and had to pay out of pocket while sorting out my prescription coverage. And honestly, it could have been a lot worse.

This is something you want to know about before you win, because the last thing you need is to flail around trying to sort everything out as fast as possible. Trust me, I’ve been there. And I’d like it if you didn’t have to go there.

If you’re waiting on a case, take a few minutes to look through this information! It’ll help you set your expectations and save you some grief as you get settled after your case comes through.

I’ll be updated this as I come across more information (or potholes in the road), so click here to see the most up-to-date version of this post!

Disability backpay can push you out of resource-/asset-based programs

If you’ve been waiting a while on your case, your backpay could be pretty huge; after about two years, mine was $35k!

HEADS UP: If you’re blazing through your disability backpay to handle unpaid bills, be sure to leave yourself a decent cushion in case you have to pay for things out of pocket while everything gets sorted out.

If you’ve been benefiting from programs that determine eligibility based on how much cash you have in the bank (for example, food stamps), your backpay will probably knock you right out of them.

Take a moment to assess what government services you receive and prepare for their loss. In theory, the extra disability income will replace it, but… well, that’s only in theory.

NEED AN ESCAPE ROUTE? There’s an option called an ABLE Account that allows you to set cash aside for anything related to living with a disability (and that’s a broad category). This cash does not count towards your assets as evaluated by some (some) assistance programs.

You can only deposit $15k/year, though, so depending on the spare cash you end up with, you may spend a year off asset-based services. Note also that your disability (as recognized by the government) must have had an onset before 26 to quality.

Disability income can push you out of income based services… like Medicaid

I gave a thought to insurance only once I received the letter confirming my win. I had heard something about getting on Medicare, but not much else. I figured I’d have both at once. But… that wasn’t the case.

Turns out, disability income counts towards the income cutoffs associated with Medicaid. Yes, I now “make too much money” to qualify for Obamacare. Which didn’t exactly make sense. If I qualify for income assistance due to a disability, why wouldn’t I be a good Medicaid candidate? And why, oh why, would being declared disabled be a good time to mess with a person’s medical coverage?

What I learned is all comes down to the state/federal divide. Medicaid is state, and Medicare and disability are federal. The state doesn’t care where the money comes from; it’s just income to them. Meanwhile, Medicare is granted to everyone who gets on disability. Some folks with low enough disability income are “dual eligible” (which comes with its own weird logistics), but others, like me, end up just on Medicare.

This was really bad news for me, as Oregon Medicaid has really fantastic coverage. I got lucky with my providers overall, but still lost access to a couple important ones. You’ll want to look ahead as you wait on a determination and figure out whether you’ll be paying out of pocket or dealing with a gap in care as you start the insurance shuffle.

WARNING: While some states offer Medicaid coverage for naturopathic medicine (thanks, Oregon!), be aware that Medicare does not. You’ll need to pay out pocket or look for a Part C plan (see below) that does cover naturopaths. Which will be cheaper? Get out your calculator…

ETA: Medicare doesn’t cover routine dental or vision, either! It’s worth calling one of the orgs listed under Getting Help, below, to see if there are some subsidized options for you. Otherwise, check out this article for some ways to get that dental coverage. It looks like an Advantage Plan (Part C, see below) is the best option if you need vision coverage.

About Medicare coverage

The first thing to know about Medicare is that it has multiple, potentially moving, parts. Part A is hospital and emergency coverage, B is routine medical care, and D is prescriptions. What about C? Well, C is optional, bundled coverage that overwrites parts A, B, and D.

I don’t know all the factors involved in my case, but what I do know is that I received core Medicare for parts A and B, with Aetna for part D (prescriptions). However, there was a gap between that and the end of my Medicaid prescription coverage—so I was enrolled in the NET program, which is another prescription coverage to ensure you don’t get wrecked by transitions like this.

The most fun part? Nobody called me to get me “set up” and fill in the gaps. I was at the mercy of bureaucracy and the postal service to know what I was enrolled in. So for a little while I was just spinning my wheels and definitely paid for a prescription or two out of pocket.

NOW I KNOW: I probably could have created an account with Medicare.gov to get that info sooner. It’s worth trying, to see if you can save yourself the trouble.

Once I gave my insurance info to the pharmacy, they were able to initiate a partial refund for the difference. If they hadn’t, I would have needed to put in a claim by mail and waited for that to process.

BUT SERIOUSLY: Don’t wait on getting stuff in the mail. I got my “welcome to Medicare” brochure a full four months after actually getting on the damn thing. Luckily my actual card and prescription coverage info came much faster than that, but I just want to really illustrate what a mess this system is.

Paying for Medicare

Your Medicare coverage may not be free. With standard Medicare, you’re given specific monthly premiums, deductibles, copays, and more based on your income level.

SOMETHING NICE: In my case, there are no costs for my coverage this year; I think this is a kindness extended to ease the transition. I’m personally likely to save money this way, but another patient might potentially save by moving straight to a (paid) Part C plan.

Saving money and accessing doctors with Part C

My heart sank a bit when I first looked at what I had been given: Medicare isn’t really “one size fits all” in terms of price or coverage, and certainly wasn’t a good match for me.

Luckily, we have Part C to compensate for that. The government essentially contracts out to other insurance providers for Part C, so that folks can find a different mix of fees and coverage that better suits their medical needs.

So, you’re going to have some kind of coverage from day one. But once you get your wits about you, it’s definitely worth looking at your options in the Part C “marketplace.” In fact, Medicare.gov has a handy tool that’ll let you enter in your prescriptions, doctors, and more. Then the site will spit out the most advantageous plans for you.

Getting other/additional insurance

You might not be happy with any of your options under Medicare—and unfortunately, being on Medicare means you can’t buy coverage on the insurance marketplace.

That being said, there are some programs out there that’ll help you out.

A great example is Medicaid Buy-in Programs for disabled folks who work (even the tiniest bit, as long as you claim the income on your taxes). This does have resource limits, though, so don’t get too excited until you’ve figured out what kind of backpay you’re getting.

What else is out there? It really depends on your situation and your state. Your best bet is to contact your state’s DHS (mentioned below) and ask them to help you identify your options.

Getting help

As I’m sure you’ve gathered by now, Medicare is an old system that’s been rebuilt, patched, and painted over—and navigating it (especially in conjunction with other benefits) can be a bit of a nightmare.

Luckily, there are programs that can help! Getting connected with them should be one of the first things on your to do list after getting on disability. Here are the two major ones that I was encouraged to work with:

State Health Insurance Assistance Programs (SHIP) - This is a resource center and network of advisors meant to specifically help you navigate public insurance options. You can find your state’s program here. Oregon’s program, SHIBA, has a volunteer come visit you and explain how Medicare works—and honestly, this visit is what enabled me to make sense of all of this enough to write an article about it!

Your state’s Department of Human Services (DHS) - specifically, their senior and disability program - Once you register with them, they can help you access additional support programs, including insurance and food stamps. They may know about programs you aren’t aware of, so it’s worth filling out the form and getting a quick case review.

Other things to look out for when you get on disability

[Only one item for now. I’ll fill in more as the surprises hit.]

This year’s taxes are gonna be weird. Depending on your financial situation, you may want to get the paid version of TurboTax or get a tax consultant in on things. The short version, though, is that you can choose to modify previous years’ taxes to incorporate the backpay you received, or claim it all on your coming tax forms.

…and that’s what I learned from my hard fall. I truly hope it helps you avoid the stress I dealt with, or at least anticipate it more adequately.

Did you have a “hard fall”? Do you have advice to add to this? Do feel free to comment with your experience or contact me with any additions!

❤️, Editor Diane

[el-gilliath]

Day 3: Quick and Dirty (well it’s 3200 words)

Prompt by @andrea-lyn​ waaay back when: porn themed mechanic, “I need new shocks, but I don’t have any money” malex 

Probably an established relationship thing, but Alex swinging by one day with his jeep and getting Michael to fix it, but oops, he doesn’t have any money. So they need to work out some alternate methods.

Alex doesn’t like the sounds his new car is making. Having finally gotten out of the military, he had to trade in his lovely jeep, it belonging to the Air Force and all, for an older SUV. It’s a nice car, but he knows the shocks have seen better days since the ride is bumpier than it should be. Serves him right for buying a car without taking anyone to check it out with him. Like his, oh, mechanic boyfriend. He also knows that if he comes in now, after the sale is said and done, Michael will mock him relentlessly, because yes, he should have asked him to begin with. Everyone called Michael whenever they needed something fixed, even Maria after their pretty shitty break-up (though they had become friends again), even Kyle (they still didn’t like each other).

But Michael, being the resident drunk and bad-boy always showed up. The fact that the residents of Roswell still treated him like shit even when they called him for every little thing, made Alex’s heart hurt for his sweet boyfriend.

It had taken Maria refusing to serve drinks to anyone who treated Michael like shit and The Righteous Fury of Isobel Evans, which frankly was scarier than anything, to make people treat Michael somewhat with respect. But when the Hospital’s power had shut down and no one could fix it besides Michael, saving several people (including kids) on life support, Roswell had calmed down and finally started treated him like a valuable member of their town.

Alex knows that Michael will never admit it, but people saying Hello, Thank you and Goodbye when they come by the junkyard, means more to him than anything after living so long being the pariah of the town.

But that still doesn’t help with how he can make Michael take a look at his car without being mocked. He already knows Michael would do anything for him, he would do the same for Michael, but Michael still won’t do it quietly. He’ll make stupid comments that’ll make Alex want to strangle him because he knows he’s right, and that’s not good for any relationship. Besides, Michael should never know just how many times he’s right, there will be no living with him.

Which means he needs to come up with a plan. A plan Michael hopefully won’t be able to resist going along with that will also get Alex what he wants. A plan that hopefully makes Michael forget comments and being right. Well, there’s only one plan that will work for that.

He sets course for the junkyard, knowing it’s late enough in the day that Michael is probably there alone by now, or he will be soon. It only takes him a ten minute, bumpy, drive but sure enough, Michael is alone with his top half under the hood of a gray Mercedes. He moved from under the hood as he hears the car, and smiles when he sees Alex’s car stop. He’s wearing dirty jeans, an oil stained white t-shirt and the ever-present cowboy hat on his head. Which means Alex needs to work fast and he’s ready the second he gets out of the car.

“Hey-”

“Hello Mr. Guerin,” Alex interrupts. Michael’s eyes go wide, with wonder, amusement and just a tiny bit of lust. Oh yeah, this’ll work. “I was wondering if you could take a look at the shocks of my car? They seem to be a bit… stiff.”

“I-uh. Sure, I can take a look,” Michael replies, full on gaping at him at this point.

“Oh can you, that would be very kind. It’s been a bit of a bouncy ride these last few weeks, and it keeps. Squeaking.”

“Squeaking.”

“Mhm. Maybe even more like a whimper.” He knows he’s laying it on thick, but it’s worth it for the audible swallow Michael does. He walks closer and lays a hand ever so softly against his chest. “I would really appreciate it, Mr. Guerin.”

Michael searches his eyes for a few minutes, flickering back and forth as he tries to determine what it is exactly Alex wants. In the end, he just nods, a wry smile on his lips.

“Of course, Captain Manes. Give me a few minutes to check out the, uh, situation,” he says, fingers coming up to lightly flick the brim of the cowboy hat still on his head. Alex bites his lip and smiles as he steps back and does a lazy gesture against his car, a gesture he knows make Michael nostrils flare in obvious interest, especially when paired with the lip bite. It works as well as it always does, Michael gives him a dark look before he strides over to Alex’s SUV. The examination doesn’t take more than ten minutes, as Michael walks around the car, but it does enable Alex to ogle his boyfriends fantastic behind when he bends down or crouches to check the struts and shocks on each tire.

“Yeah, the shocks definitely need replacing, might be worth checking out the rest of the suspension too, just in case. How long have you had this car?”

“Oh not that long, I bought it used. How much do you think it’ll cost me?”

Michael narrows his eyes slightly, but Alex just smiles so he will keep playing along. “Probably about a grand. They’re a bit more expensive for this kind of SUV.”

“Oh…”

“Is there a problem?” Michael asks, suspicion lacing his voice now. He knows Alex is good for it, which means he is definitely on to him.

“I don’t have that kind of money. Is there… Any other way I could pay it off?” he replies, walking with slow, measured steps towards Michael.

“Like what?”

“Hmm.” He stops in front of him, slowly pulling off his shirt, leaving him only in a blue t-shirt. He bites his lip again and looks up at Michael through his lashes as he settles his hand low on Michael’s stomach, as close to the ridiculously large belt buckle as he can. “Maybe I can help you out with that boner you seem to be getting.”

For a moment, Michael froze so completely that Alex’s brain started shouting for him to abort mission, as if he had royally fucked up by trying to play a game Michael did not approve of. But that quickly goes away as he notices Michael’s pupils dilate, the way his breath stutters for the smallest second, the way the tiniest of shivers run through his body.

“I’m sure we can work out some, arrangement,” Michael replies, the muscles of his arms tensing as if he’s preparing for something that Alex really wants to be a part of. “Maybe you can show me your particular set of skills.”

“I’d love too, Mr. Guerin.” He slides his hand down over the belt buckle, cupping Michael’s noticeably growing erection. He gets a growl directly into his ear for his troubles, the growl intensifying when he lifts his other hand and lightly flicks a nipple with his fingernail. He lifts his hand further and plucks Michael’s black hat from his head.

“Mind if I borrow this?” He asks, just as he places it firmly on his own head. Alex wearing his hat turns Michael on just as much as Michael in full mechanical mode turns Alex on and they both know it. Alex isn’t surprised when he’s swiftly turned around shoved up against the front of his SUV, Michael plastering himself to his front.

“Now, don’t be a tease, darlin’. You want that suspension checked out and those shocks replaced, I’d really like it if you would get naked so I can touch you,” Michael all but growls out. He follows his words with his hands sliding inside Alex’s t-shirt, caressing his stomach and sides as he slowly lifts the t-shirt up. Alex just lifts his hands and lets Michael take it off completely.

“Can I kiss you, Mr. Guerin?”

“Darlin’, you can do whatever you want.”

It’s enough of an invitation for Alex, who pulls Michael closer by his t-shirt and slots their lips together. Alex is good at many things, but he’s particularly good at kisser. He knows the tricks to bring Michael to his knees, the flick of a tongue against Michael’s that makes him moan, the soft sting of teeth that gets a clutch of his hips, the light brush of lips that makes Michael unable to let him go for any stretch of time. He utilizes every one of them, teasing Michael as he lifts his grease stained t-shirt up and off, as he runs his hands across his sweaty, toned upper body and down towards the always ridiculously large belt buckle, opening it with deft hands.

“How much did you say those shocks were going to cost me, again?” Alex whispers against Michael’s lips as he puts his hands down Michael’s pants, palming his erection. He’s fully hard by now, and Alex congratulates himself on another job well done. He’s also very thankful that Michael never wears underwear.

“The uh, shocks are about 200 a pop,” Michael starts, as Alex lowers the zipper on his jeans to give himself better room.

“Mhm, and checking the suspension, what’ll that cost me?”

“De-depends on if you have to do something abo-, shit, about it. Checking it fully will be around 200, changing it will be- Jesus Christ how do you expect me to concentrate when you do that?”

“When I do what?” Alex asks innocently, his hand gently rolling Michael’s balls in his hand. “I need a cost assessment so I know what I’m using my skills to pay off.”

“I’ll tell you what you can use your fucking skills for,” Michael suddenly says, one hand coming up to grip Alex’s hair as the other wrenches his hand out of his pants. “Get down on your knees, and suck me off. Make sure I’m good and hard, then I want you to turn around, open your pants and get yourself ready so I can fuck you.”

Alex takes a deep breath, as the want surges through him. “Yes, Mr. Guerin.”

Michael holds out a hand just in case he needs it, for when he goes down on the prosthesis, but Alex knows what he’s doing at this point, sliding as smoothly onto his knees as he can and pulling down Michael’s jeans at the same time. The dick in front of him is as perfect as it’s always been, it makes him want to lick Michael all over. But he doesn’t have time for that, so he settles for licking the head of Michael’s dick, causing a loud groan to escape Michael’s mouth.

“You have a beautiful dick, Mr. Guerin.”

“Jesus you’re laying it on thick,” Michael murmurs above him, which turns into another groan as Alex takes the head of his dick in his mouth and gives it a light suck.

“Don’t you like it, Mr. Guerin?”

“I do, sweetheart. Believe me, I do.”

“Good,” Alex says with a grin, before he sucks as much of Michael’s dick into his mouth as he can fit. IT’s always an experience sucking Michael’s dick, the moans he gets from tonguing the head, the slight whimper as he doesn’t cover his teeth and runs them lightly across the shaft. The shudder as he plays with the slit and fondles his balls at the same time. It’s euphoria to turn someone on this much, just by being who he is.

“That’s enough darlin’, I really don’t want to come before I get my dick inside of you,” Michael says, pulling himself back until only the head is still in Alex’s mouth, who can resist a hard suck that elicits a groan out of Michael.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Guerin,” Alex replies, as he releases the head of Michael’s erection with a soft pop. Michael holds out a hand to help him up, attentive to a fault, and drags him into a kiss when he’s back on his feet. It’s a slow, lazy kiss, tongues tangling and lips brushing as Michael opens Alex’s pants, pushing them down along with his boxers to get a hand on his ass.

“I really love your ass.”

“Good. You got lube?”

Michael replied by stretching his hand out and turning slightly towards the Airstream, where the door opened and lube zoomed into his hand seconds later. “Yes, now turn around darlin’.”

Alex didn’t answer, just pulled Michael into another short but filthy kiss before he turned around and leaned against his car. He leaned forward, separating his feet as much as he could as Michael pushed his pants and boxers even lower, his hand softly caressing the inside of Alex’s thigh as he went back up. The quiet snick of the opening lube came a second later, followed by a wet thumb ever so slightly pushing against his rim.

“Prep?”

“Don’t need much, just, please, Mr. Guerin.

Michael’s hand comes up and tangles in his hair, pulling his head backwards as he sets his teeth in Alex’s neck, biting down firmly until Alex moans loudly. He soothes the bite with his tongue after, as his thumb starts to lightly push against Alex’s entrance, testing how much prep he actually needs. Considering they had sex earlier than morning, it gives easily enough and Alex whimpers as Michael pushes his thumb as far in as he can.

“Guess you weren’t lying. Good boy,” Michael whispers hotly in his ear as he removes his thumb to another whimper from Alex, replacing it quickly enough by his finger. He moves it in and out a few times, lightly crooking his finger before joining it with a second. As much as Alex knows what makes Michael tick, vice versa is also true. Michael knows exactly how to take Alex apart with only a touch, with teeth in his neck and a hand softly pulling his hair. The two fingers moving firmly inside him are proof of that, avoiding his prostate except for intentional jabs every now and then to stimulate it, the teasing tongue that sometimes replaced the nibbling teeth just another testament to how well Michael knows him.

He whimpers again, as Michael removes his fingers. The ripping of a condom wrapper makes him look back, watching as Michael rolls it down his erection and dribbles some more lube on, winking at Alex as he notices him watching. They don’t need words at this point, the look in their eyes are more than enough to tell them if they still want this.

Michael searches his for a moment, before he lines up, his hand clutching his hip tightly as he starts to push in. The slight discomfort at the stretch is exactly why he didn’t want more prep, he likes feeling it when Michael’s not in him any more.

“You okay?” Michael asks, and Alex only nods, pushing his ass back further to get Michael to move. Michael chuckles, biting down hard on his neck to make Alex gasp as he pushes all the way in. They might be a couple that doesn’t care much for the traditional top or bottom roles, but holy hell does it feel good to have Michael inside of him, the way his dick drags just correctly, the slight angle change Michael does to push against his prostate with every motion. It drives him crazy, the way Michael takes his time, prolonging the pleasure and drawing every bit of emotion out of him. He can’t stop making noises as Michael pushes back inside of him, can’t stop the whimpers as he pulls back. He knows they are out in public, if anyone comes to the Junkyard they will see them and their drawn out coupling in full color, complete with noises and Alex looking wrecked.

He contemplates jerking himself off, but all that flies out of the window as Michael starts with the short, but powerful jabs, driving himself in and out of him with a motion that would push his own already painful erection into the SUV if Michael wasn’t holding him in place with both hands on his hips.

“Mi-Michael!” he all but screams out as Michael pushes in hard against his prostate and stays there, rotating his hips so he can drag his dig just. Right inside Alex.

“Hush, darlin’,” Michael answers back, snaking his hand around to fist Alex’s dick, holding him tight as Michael moves his hand along his dick, grinding his hips into Alex’s ass at the same time. It’s euphoric, the perfect pressure on his prostate and on his dick.

The orgasm takes him completely by surprise, it just rushes up inside of him as Michael once again tugs his hair and bites his neck in the same place as before, the sharp sting of pain and pleasure making him tumble over the edge, his dick jerking in Michael’s grip as he moans loudly, his hands curling on the hood of the car. He feels Michael still behind him, only his hand moving gently on his dick to wring every last sensation out of him, falling away when Alex lets loose a moan that means he’s about to be overstimulated. But he’s determined to see this through.

“Come on, Mr. Guerin, don’t you want to come in my ass?”

He’s lifted up by Michael’s hand snaking around his chest shortly after, the other hand still in his hair. “You are laying it on way thick.”

“Are you saying you don’t like it?” he asks, pushing his ass back against Michael’s hips. That only gets him a short growl, before Michael pushes him back down against the car, pulling out and slamming back into him.

He can’t help but moan as Michael sets a hard and fast pace, designed only for his own pleasure. It still turns him on, Michael’s hand holding him down ever so gently, as he pushes in and out of him, rough circular motions in between. He takes it all, short moans leaving him whenever Michael does something he likes particularly well.

It doesn’t take long before Michael’s rhythm starts to falter, his breathing turns rougher, his hands grip harder. Alex rides it out, pushing back against him the way he knows Michael likes until Michael pushes in deep, freezing as a guttural groan leaves him. Alex can feel him coming, feels it in the way Michael plasters himself up against his back, circling him with his arms as his hips jerks one, two times.

It’s always been one of the hottest things Alex knows, the way Michael just surrenders himself when he comes. It makes Alex grin, pulling Michael’s arms tight around him for a second.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you Alex, but that might be one of the hottest things I have ever done.”

“I just wanted to have some fun,” Alex replies, laughing softly as Michael snorts.

“You know, you didn’t have to do all that just to make me check out your shocks, I would’ve done that for free anyway.”

“I know, Michael. I wanted too.”

“Good. Also, the next time you buy a new car, just take me with you. That way you won’t buy a car with bad suspension.”

Damn it.

[trulycertain]

Oops, guess I wrote a little of that Adam/Aria genderswap AU I’d been playing with.

She just… looks a little lost, and Aria’s counter is one of the first stops once you get off the elevator. Sure. That’s why Aria calls out to the tall, dark figure who’s pausing to take in the busy office.

Never mind that this woman probably doesn’t do lost. Her stride is long, loping, the kind of confidence that comes with training and being used to carrying a ton of gear and assessing the hell out of a situation before you walk into it. Military, maybe, or police; in TF29, you’re usually one of the two. But police or military don’t usually dress like… that.

But still... Maybe it’s the hesitation, the tension in her shoulders; Aria can’t blame her, the place is chaotic right now, even more so than usual… Still, something makes Aria say, “Hey there. You looking for someone?”

The new arrival’s head turns, and a dark eyebrow rises from under… Huh. The height was the first thing Aria noticed, but the second thing is the shades. They shine dully under the flourescent lights. Shadows fall on sharp cheekbones and make her look… alien, almost. Expressionless.

Augmentations. Aria glances and sees gold knuckles, black shining hands. Like her. She guesses she won’t be alone anymore. But she’s just MEP, the kind of aug nearly everyone used to know before the Incident, and she’s looking at someone with what must be a full HUD in the shades and that too-smooth gait that speaks of leg augs. Those hands are unusual, too, she thinks, as the stranger gets closer. Sleek and beautiful, too beautiful to be Tai Yong. She thinks she sees the edge of a hacking node as a coatsleeve slides up.

Between those and the hair, tightly tied back or maybe slicked, the new agent looks severe, and that’s even before you get to the all-black and the pale skin, the faded scars on her cheek and jaw. Aria had to relearn to hold a weapon after the augs, but she didn’t become one. She’s not sure she can say the same about the woman in front of –

Oh. She realises she’s looking at a really new arrival. The one they’ve had all the briefs about. Sarif augs, Detroit, stealth missions.

Jensen crosses the floor, shining hands loosely at her side like she’s trying to project not a threat from space. She says, “Was told to head to the director’s office.” And there it is, the American accent. And a voice that sounds like she rolled out of bed and smoked sixty before coming into the office, like she's seen too much - or maybe like she's on the edge of a really dirty joke.

It goes down Aria’s spine a little, in a way she didn’t expect. She tries not to swallow. “Miller’s just upstairs. By counterterrorism. Sign’s on the door, can’t miss it.” She smiles, because it doesn’t cost her anything not to be a jerk to the new recruit who’s gonna have to run MacReady’s gauntlet soon enough anyhow. She doesn’t know what makes her say, “I could give you the tour. If you wanted. I don’t have much to do.”

“I don’t want to pull you away from your work,” Jensen says. It’s soft, thoughtful, more than expected for someone who looks like she could tear this whole place down in her sleep. The slightest pull at the corner of her mouth, a half-smile. Slow, and like she’s not used to giving it, but it changes the lines of her face, makes Aria look again and realise that those lips are softer than she realised. “But… thanks.” And it sounds like she really means it. “You’re the quartermaster, right?” That same hesitation, like it’s been a while. She’s heard this is the recruit who took down augmented mercenaries, but apparently small talk is a step too far.

“That’s me. Aria Argento.” She offers her natural hand across the counter, a habit she got into after she realised the aug one tends to make people uncomfortable.

Jensen takes it without hesitation. She must be used to it from the other side.  She gives it a firm shake. “Jensen.” She clears her throat, just a little; the hint of a headtilt before she pulls it back, like she might be berating herself for her own awkwardness. “Eve.”

Suddenly all that slow watching becomes, in Aria’s mind, less assessing arrogance and a lot more caution. “Nice to meet you.” She pauses, and then tries on, for size: “It’ll be nice to have someone else shiny round here.”

The hint of a laugh, rough and gentle, and a truer smile, a flash of sharp white teeth. Aria suddenly wishes she could see behind the damn shades; she gets the sense, looking at the lines round Jensen’s mouth, there’d be eye crinkles. Jensen says, “Was just thinking the same.” She half-raises a hand. “I’ll see you.”

And then it’s like the mask’s back on, long stride and straight back and just enough arrogance, and Aria’s watching the swish of that long, dark coat as Jensen heads to the stairs. She’s heard Jensen has a cloaking aug, but here, even with the analysts and the runners, even across the room, Jensen can’t quite disappear into the crowd.

[myownpersonaldemons]

Self-Tober Prompt 5

Switch

Sans/Reader

Sorry for the late posting! This one took a while to think of the direction I wanted to take with it. I’m not really happy with how it turned out but it is what it is, I supposed. Anyways! Here we go!

You were elbow deep in dishwater, when the lights flickered rapidly and then cut out. The small amount of light still left in the day barely lit up the kitchen, and you sighed heavily. Sans had gone down to fiddle with the machine in the basement. He had said he was looking at disconnecting it for good...but he wasn’t ready to give up. You remember asking him what it was for and you remember that he told you...but you couldn’t remember what he had said? It was a blank hole in your memory almost, and the more you tried to think of it the harder it was to remember.

Sans probably blew a fuse or something.

Hopefully, it hadn’t fucked up the neighbourhood's electricity again. You had people giving you dirty looks for a week after that happened the last time, and Sans had promised to reroute it off the main energy grid.

You abandoned the dishes because you totally can’t do them in the dark. They could stand to soak anyways.

You hated it when it was dish duty night for you.

“Sans?” you called out drying your hands off on the towel over your shoulder, “What happened?”

There was a muffled oath before you heard him thudding up the stairs. You furrowed your brow slightly. That...was heavier than Sans normally was, and he rarely walked up the stairs. You were more startled by the sound of him walking up the steps rather than just teleporting up to the kitchen.

“uh...i was rerouting it like i told ya i was going to,” he said behind you.

“Should I light candles? Or can you fix the electricity tonight? If not we did buy the portable heater so I don’t get too cold tonight,” you said, shifting into a mumble at the end as you switched to talking to yourself. Without turning to look at him, you turned on the flashlight on your phone and headed towards the living room. Where did you put it in the spring? One of the closets...

“so...uh...we might have a bigger problem?” he said, voice sounding a bit strained.

Crap. Was this going to cost you two? You turned around, resigned to the fate of having to dip into your mutual savings account.

Instead of a skeleton standing behind you, as you were expecting, there was a fully fleshed human.

You instantly screamed and tripped over your own feet in your haste to dart backwards.

Where the hell was Sans and why was there a human in your house? Well...other than yourself!

“h-hey! babe, it’s okay it’s me,” Sans’ voice came out of the human as his hands reached towards you.

“What the hell?” you whispered, shuffling further away from the man’s hands.

“i don’t know?” the man admitted, dropping into a crouch in front of you, hands resting on his knees. He paused, staring down at his hands for a moment before he shivered and removed his hands. “that’s really weird.”

“What the hell?” you said a bit louder, and he glanced over and reached towards you again but you moved further away.

“babe. it is me. uh...you were embarrassed to wear anything besides pants in front of me because you have a skull tattoo on the side of your lower leg,” he tapped on your leg and then grinned at you, “the first time we boned you got all flustered cus I kept making skull puns when I was-“

You kicked at him lightly, “s-shut up.”

“there we go,” he chuckled, and then straightened and held out his hand towards you. “i...don’t know how this happened but i’ll figure it out.”

For a moment, you just stared at his hand but then you sighed. This was Sans...even if he was a human. You took his hand, and you both didn’t move for a moment. “That’s...weird,” you grumbled but allowed him to pull you to your feet. He didn’t let go of your hand but squeezed it lightly and his head tilted. “What?”

“you feel different s’all,” he explained, squeezing again and then smoothing his thumb over your head. You shivered.

“So do you, and it’s weird,” you insisted, “Get all used to your bones touching me and now it feels...weird.”

He chuckled, “really weird.”

Now that you weren’t in a panic, you actually assessed your boyfriend. He was still the same height but just fleshed out. His shirt looked like it was a bit too tight since it had been bought for nothing but bones. His hoodie still fight, and his baseball shorts as well since they were both loose on his frame anyways. You were suddenly glad that it was him who had turned human and not Papyrus, his clothes would’ve probably cut off circulation if he had switched species.

Wait...had it only affected Sans? Or could it have affected more?

“Uh...Sans?” you interrupted his focus on feeling up your hand and arm. His eyes flicked up to yours, a bright blue. “W-Would this affect others?”

A beat.

“crap.”

He stared at you for a second longer.

“shit.”

“What?” you asked, frowning.

A nervous look crossed over his face, “uh...can’t teleport.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “we could just...phone Paps?”

He nodded, but there was still a sense of nervousness washed over him as you bent down and picked up your phone. You could tell he was impatient as you quickly dialled Papyrus’ number, but then he placed a hand on your elbow.

“if he’s good, don’t tell him anything,” Sans whispered, “i don’t want to freak him out.”

You frowned slightly but nodded. There were times when Sans was just too much of a protective elder brother, and you thought that this was one of the times when it wasn’t necessary. What if Sans couldn’t go back to being a monster and was a human forever? Papyrus would eventually find out and be disappointed and hurt that Sans hadn’t told him immediately. However, you’d pester your boyfriend into telling his brother at a later date. Right now, you were just going to do as he requested.

Papyrus’ voice came over the phone boisterous and loud as always saying your name warmly. “HOW ARE YOU?”

“I’m good, Paps, how’re you?” you asked, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible. Sans’ hand hadn’t left your elbow yet, fiddling with the fabric.

“I’M DOING GREAT! I WAS ACTUALLY JUST ABOUT TO TEXT YOU AND SANS AS FRISK IS WANTING TO HAVE OUR MONTHLY ANIME SLEEPOVER NIGHT TOMORROW!” Papyrus said, happily, “CAN YOU LET HIM KNOW?”

“Ah, yup! I can do that. He’s uh....working right now,” you said, shifting your phone to your other hand and lightly whacking Sans’ hand away from your elbow as it was getting ticklish.

“OH! THE MACHINE?” Papyrus said, and you blinked in surprise. Sans had told you that Papyrus wasn’t aware of the machine. Maybe that had changed? You glanced over at Sans but he didn’t seem to have heard what Papyrus had said, and was tugging at his shirt uncomfortably. Maybe you had an oversized sleep shirt that he could borrow? All of his shirts would be too small.

“Yeah?” you said, more of a question than a statement.

Papyrus huffed, “I DON’T KNOW WHY HE’S STILL WORKING ON THAT OLD THING. BUT THAT’S JUST ME. ANYWAYS! WHAT DID YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT?”

“Oh! Right...uh, I was actually just calling to...” you trailed off, mind going blank. Sans quickly pointed towards the kitchen. “Uh...invite you over for dinner tomorrow? But since uh...we’re going to Frisk’s tomorrow for the sleepover,” you gave Sans a pointed look, “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow anyway.”

Papyrus was quiet for a moment, “HM. ALRIGHT! I WILL TEXT YOU WITH THE TIME! I’LL SEE YOU TOMORROW!”

“Yeah, see you, Paps,” you said, albeit a little distractedly as Sans had decided to strip off his hoodie and shirt. You waited for Papyrus to say his goodbyes before hanging up. “Why are you stripping?”

“the shirt’s way too tight,” he complained, tossing it onto the couch. You looked at it pointedly. “i’ll pick it up later.”

“Yeah, you gotta go fix the machine or figure out a way to tell everyone why you’re a human,” you said and then poked him in the belly. He jerked away immediately and lightly smacked your hand away.

“this is too weird,” he mumbled, and then ran a hand through his hair and flinched at the feeling. “how do you have hair?”

You shrugged, and then turned your flashlight back on, on your phone. “Stop asking questions and go fix the machine. Or...get the power working. I want to take a shower and I’d rather not do that in the dark.”

He nodded, before getting distracted by something. Then he shivered and shook his head.

“What?” you asked, “another weird new sensation?”

A hesitant nod.

“What?” you prodded, poking his belly again and he flinched away. Giving you a deadpan look.

“nothin’, don’t worry about it,” he waved a hand before yanking on his hoodie and heading back into the basement. You picked up his shirt, because he wasn’t going to pick it up later, and headed up the stairs. There wasn’t much to do in the dark, and it was getting late...so if he didn’t get the power up and running you’d just have to wake up extra early in the morning to shower.

So, you tossed his shirt into the hamper and then dropped down on the bed.

After an hour of playing games on your phone, you were down to 5% battery, and so you lit some candles and then got changed for bed for the night, and then picked up the book you had been slowly reading through.

Another hour passed before the bedroom door opened, Sans walked in still very human. He flicked on the bedroom light and you squinted.

“Little warning next time,” you grunted before closing your book, “So? Is my bonefriend going to be just a boyfriend from now on?”

He sighed, “the machine has to do a reset. apparently whatever happened not only blew the house fuses but it also blew the backup generator that the machine had been plugged into. shut it down completely. it’ll be ready tomorrow.”

You nodded, “So, did you learn your lesson about fiddling with the machine too much?”

Sans gave you a blank look before unzipping his hood and hanging it on the doorknob. “Nah, just taught me what not to do.”

You snorted, “that’s relieving.”

Without replying he walked over to the dresser and pulled out his own pyjamas. He held up a shirt for a moment before shoving it back inside the drawer and decided to go just pants tonight. You blew out the candle on your bedside table and returned to watching him. When he pulled off his baseball shorts you immediately flushed and looked away sharply.

“oh. right. that’s a thing,” Sans said with a slight embarrassed chuckle. You didn’t look at him until he turned off the light and then crawled into bed beside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, and then he shifted closer to you. When you felt skin brush against your arm you jumped in surprise and he froze. Neither of you said anything as he pulled his hand away.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the sadness ebbing off of your boyfriend. “It’s weird?”

“i know,” he mumbled into his pillow, “jus’ wanna cuddle.”

Your heart clenched immediately and you scooted over to him and wrapped your arm around him, ignoring the weird sensation of hugging a fleshy being instead of a bony one. You pressed a kiss into his hair, again ignoring the surprising sensation of hair. “I love you,” you muttered against the side of his head, “and because of that I’m finding this weird. It’s like...you’re still you but when you touch me my mind isn’t processing it as you?”

He nodded, and then slowly turned onto his side and cuddled against you. “love ya too.”

“If you’re stuck this way...I’ll get used to it. I got used to your bony form, didn’t I?” you said softly, “because I love you.”

He nodded against you, and you gently ran your fingers through his hair. The two of you didn’t say anything for a while, just held each other under the safety of the covers. Then, slowly, Sans lifted his head from where he had tucked it against your neck, and looked up at you.

“would it be weird...if i kissed you?” he asked, voice so soft if the room hadn’t been dead quiet already you probably wouldn’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you admitted, and before his face could fall with disappointment you pressed your lips to his. He melted against you, hand stroking your side as you slowly deepened the kiss. You weren’t about to let your boyfriend go to sleep upset with himself because of you. He cut the kiss off way sooner than normal, and you realized as he panted that he wasn’t used to needing to breathe. You grinned at that, and couldn’t help but tease him, “normally you’re the one leaving me breathless.”

He simply grinned, “air you sure? cus i’m normally always breathless.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. He was making jokes again so he wasn’t as upset as before. You peppered his face with kisses making him snort out a laugh. “I love you,” you said once again, kissing his nose. “As weird as your fleshiness is.”

“says the normally fleshy one,” his fingers dug into your side slightly, not painfully but just enough to remind you that you were indeed also a fleshy individual.

“You like my fleshiness,” you teased and pressed against him a bit more firmly. He blushed at that, and you grinned triumphantly. His hand trailed down your side slightly and you caught his wrist before it could get too far. “Uh-uh, bud, none of that. You said cuddle so that’s what we’re doing.”

He pouted, actually pouted and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not until we know how real this body is,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth, “because human bodies aren’t like monsters after all.”

He sighed and cuddled back up against your neck, pressing a kiss to your collar bone. “fine,” he grumped, “just a bigger motivation to fix the machine.”

“I’ll love you no matter what, but making love? We’ll have to work up to that with this body,” you admitted and he huffed against your throat.

“love you,” he mumbled.

You smiled and pulled the covers further up his form.

You weren’t lying. This was Sans, and you’d love him regardless of how he looked. Your gross gremlin of a boyfriend...but you can’t say you wouldn’t miss his skeleton form. It had grown on you too much over the past three years. You kissed the top of his head.

You just hoped that he could switch back before tomorrow or anime night would turn into ‘LET’S DISCUSS KEEPING SECRETS FROM US, SANS’ night. Which happened a lot more than you would’ve thought since Sans had moved in with you.

But, that was a problem for future you. Right now? You were warm, cuddled, and falling asleep.

Future you could also deal with waking up in the fleshy arms of a man and not the bony arms you were used to.

Again, a future you problem.

[natashasbanner]

Endgame should have been Natasha’s movie. Period. 

And if there was at least one woman on the creative team (screenwriters/directors) I think the narrative of the entire movie would be different. 

*Spoilers ahead*

You have been warned. 

Now I will admit that I am a huge Natasha fan and would like to see her live at any cost but that doesn’t take away from the fact that her death feels empty and purely for shock value alone. Newsflash, if you have to kill off someone to get a reaction out of your audience you need to reassess your script. 

Natasha has never really be given the treatment she deserved. Her character was the second Avenger introduced in the MCU and she’s the first female hero we get to see. She is IMPORTANT. She’s just as much a part of the team as the guys, if not more so because if you all remember correctly, Fury sent her to assess Tony’s ability to fit on the team. They have this rich background to play with and explore but more often than not she’s used as eye candy or Cap’s sidekick. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the Russos don’t care about Natasha, or anyone who isn’t Steve for that matter. 

Endgame should have been her time to shine, but of course she gets the ax right before the final showdown. And the writers had the audacity to say that a big funeral would have been a disservice to the character. FUCK YOU!! Yes, she might have started in the shadows, but our girl has come a long way since IM2 and was the only one trying to keep the team together even when everyone else had moved on. 

And you wanna know the worst part, is they’ve been setting her up to take Steve’s place for years. Since the end of Age of Ultron. (Sidenote: Remember when everyone said that was the worst Avengers. Y’all can kiss my ass on that one because Endgame takes that title.) She was his right hand and the voice of reason in Civil War, but no one wanted to listen to her. She wanted to do good and if that meant compromising with the governments of the world, so be it. As long as they were together and kicking ass she was fine. But no. 

If you watch closely in Endgame, she’s not even the focus of her own death scene. When Red Skull appears, she’s shadowed and slightly out of focus, while Clint is crystal clear. God, men are frustrating. If you’re gonna kill her, do it right. But it wasn’t necessary or treated with the respect the character deserved. Which is why everyone is so pissed. 

They could have very easily have centered the movie around her and still have the emotional wrap up they were almost trying too hard to achieve. I watched Endgame for the fifth time tonight and cleaned up the whole plot in my head. 

Here’s how:

The first act remains virtually unchanged. Nat’s still the only one at the compound, doing her best to keep it together and be the leader of what’s left of the team. (What really pisses me off is that once Scott shows up Steve just takes charge again like he hadn’t spent the last five years lying to civilians while she was doing all the work alone. Ridiculous.) 

When it comes time to figure out when and who should go after the stones that’s when shit starts shifting. You’ve gotta be shitting me if you think Nebula didn’t put two and two together or that some of the smartest people in the world in one room couldn’t figure out that maybe there’s an exchange factor for the stone. And she would not keep that info to herself. Yes, she’s new here, but she also spent the last five years helping Nat make sure everything was going smoothly. You expect me to believe she let them go in blind. Horse SHIT!

No, instead of Scott’s “not it”, joke, you have the team have a real talk about the stone. They need it to bring everyone back, but are they willing to lose one of the few they have left for a plan that might not work. Natasha volunteers of course because that’s who she is. She’s put in the work for the last five years, but if her life means bringing back everyone else, she’d do it in a heartbeat. It’s who she is, giving it her all for the greater good. 

But it’s Steve who says it’ll be him. It has to be. The team argues of course, because they can’t lose Captain America, but Steve silences their protests. He always talked about making the sacrifice play and now it’s his turn to step up. He missed his chance at the life he wanted, with Peggy. She’s gone. But everyone else still had a chance at that if they pulled this off. Tony had his family, Nat had the team to lead, etc. He was always the man out of time and it was him who would do this for the team. Nat is the one who goes with him. She still tries to go instead but he won’t have it. They share a heartfelt goodbye and Steve passes the torch so to speak, but she was always the one in charge. And then he goes over the cliff. No gratuitous scene of his brain matter on the rocks. Just his shield in Nat’s hands as the sky goes white. Natasha wakes up with the stone, heartbroken, but determined to see this through. For Steve. 

They rest of the team mourns when Nat returns alone with the shield, but they all agree that Steve would have wanted them to keep moving forward. 

BOOM. The entire theater is in tears. Emotional pay off complete, let’s get to the action. 

They get the stones into the new gauntlet and Bruce still is the one to do the snap and bring everyone back. But it drains the gamma radiation from him leaving him as just Banner once more. (Because me and everyone I’ve talked to irl fucking hates Hulk/Banner and I want that shit reversed). 

Back on track. Clint gets the call from Laura and then Thanos bombs the place. Nat ends up in Steve’s place facing off with Thanos alongside Thor and Tony. She has the shield and is ready for this to be over. Whatever it takes. The fighting is the same and when it comes time to lift the hammer it’s Natasha who does it. The theater still gets that awed silence because literally no one saw that coming. 

But Macenzie, how is Nat worthy, she was an assassin you ask. She was, but ever since Clint brought her in, she’s tried to be better. She’s fought on the good side and been willing to lay down her life to save others. She encompasses what it means to be a hero even if she doesn’t believe so herself. Natasha Romanoff can lift the hammer and we finally get an answer to the question they left hanging in AoU. (I’d really like to see Nat get some lightning armor, but that might be pushing it since it didn’t happen for Cap). 

Boom the plot thickens. And just when you think she can’t take any more, Sam’s voice crackles in her ear. 

“Widow? It’s Sam. Did you miss me?” 

AAAAAND PORTALS!!!! Avengers freaking Assemble around the best Avenger, Natasha and whop some alien ass. And my all female scene is complete it the OG. 

Natasha lives to see Tony die and the audience again gets that emotional character ending. 

The funeral at the end is for both Tony and Steve, they send off a piece of his shield with the arc reactor. AND THE THEATER IS SOBBING!

Nat is the one to take the stones back, because duh and she makes a detour to the moment after Steve decided to give his life for the stone. She tells him they won and that she loves him and they hug. She offers to bring him to the future, but he can’t do that to the current reality. Natasha returns to the future and is seen at the sight of the old compound, looking over blueprints. She’s in charge and the rest of the team rallies around her.

The camera pans to the sky and fades to black. Before the credits role, the music changes to the song they had Peggy and Steve dance to and we see Steve and Peggy finally getting their dance together. 

Credits role. The theater is wrecked. Goodnight. 

But in all seriousness, there are so many better ways to do this movie that actually do the characters justice. 

[marshmallowgoop]

(Part 1 of 2) Controversial? Oh, no. I forgot tone is hard to discern on the Internet. I wasn't angry, just puzzled. I think I thought this way because my admiration of Satsuki's character (after the reveal of her noble motives) made me gloss over the finer details of her cruel, villainous behavior. Furthermore, her smile here seems related to how she seemed happy to have tea with him later in the episode, a reversal of how cold and distant she was earlier.

(Part 2 of 2) As for “pain”, who knows if the process was super painful? Iori could have used anesthesia. Still, it’s very disturbing for just how extreme it was. You relating it to your fanfic moment was a good choice to illustrate this point.

Anonymous asks: Honestly, the Uzu thing seems to be a deeply polarizing thing! I’ve never read it as Satsuki forcing Uzu to blind himself implicitly or explicitly through her influence. From him meeting her, her lunge with the teacup handle, she was assessing him and his response disappointed her given that she didn’t come to watch. And he understood what she had seen in him that night and his overreliance on his uniform’s abilities led him to blind himself for the sake of the plan. I argue for his agency in this instance and for Satsuki’s reaction to be a complex one that included a pleased sort of surprise at the forthrightness, ingenuity, resolve in his rededication to the cause he displayed. Even when I believed she was a villain this is how I read it, especially considering that this is one of our first glimpses into the incomprehensibility of the cast but also that her quiet affection for those closest to her. Her reaction isn’t perfect yes but arguably she’s emotionally fucked up as well.

I’m enjoying this discussion by the way. I hope it comes across that I’m not looking for an argument!

I should note that I didn’t mean “controversial” in a bad way!

I was just surprised, is all. My first post discussing the Uzu incident is probably one of my more popular essays, and I hadn’t received any disagreement for my argument before. So, to see multiple comments understanding the scene differently now was just not something I was expecting. 

I mean, I have plenty of Kill la Kill opinions that I know are controversial, and I’ve even noted in the past that I could respond to most anything said about the series with an image that reads, “I’ve written—or can link to—lengthy rebuttals” because I recognize that a lot of my thoughts on the show really aren’t widely held. I just didn’t realize that my Uzu statement was one of those thoughts!

But I don’t at all mind disagreement! In fact, I’m often kinda sad that I don’t see folks disagreeing with me much. I enjoy listening to what others have to say about things I like.

I do apologize if I came off as snappy in my response, though. It doesn’t excuse coming off as angry if I did, but it really wasn’t my intention to sound mad; I’m just very passionate ^^; I’ll work to be better on that front.

Now, I do have a few more things to add here, and warning, it’ll get pretty personal. But, basically, I think the whole situation is a lot more complicated than I’ve probably expressed in my short posts.

So. I kind of relate to Uzu, in a way. Yeah, I’m not at all a delinquent like he is, but I totally get feeling like you’re not good enough for your family and are kind of a disgrace to them. While my family might not have a konnyaku shop for me to shame, they do have a history (on both sides!) of smart, educated people that I can dishonor by not being particularly intelligent—and I’ve felt over and over that I’ve done just that. Sure, I got a college degree, but that’s really expected here; after all, my grandfather earned a Master’s (and considering he was a black man doing so in my country decades and decades ago, I can only imagine how difficult that was), and my parents both graduated with degrees in engineering.

Growing up, I felt constantly pressured to be smart, and much like Uzu, I felt constantly compared to an older sibling. My mother even stated explicitly at a parent-teacher conference, right in front of me, that she thought I wasn’t as smart as my older sister. So, I put it upon myself to be smart. I took all these difficult honors classes in high school to look smart.

But at the end of the day? Those classes were too much for me. I was a miserable wreck. I really hurt myself.

Just like Uzu did.

So, here’s the point of this overly long anecdote. Satsuki and the other Elites, as well as Shiro, are another family for Uzu. And like many families, such as Uzu’s very own blood family, there’s pressure placed upon its members. I don’t deny that Uzu definitely made a choice to sew his eyes shut because he absolutely did, just as I definitely made a choice to sign up for classes that would be the cause of horrible emotional suffering in high school. Satsuki didn’t beat Uzu over the head to go and do something that drastic to get stronger, just as my parents didn’t force me to register for the hardest classes possible. We’re all responsible for our own actions, as Ryuko would say, and I dislike putting blame solely on someone else for decisions we made of our own free will.

Plus, there are a lot more factors at play, too. There are so many more reasons that Uzu would want to be strong than to please Satsuki and the others, just as there was a lot more influencing my desire to be smart than my family.

But I think it’s undeniable that family is extremely significant. Would Uzu have been so driven to do what he did, had he not been following a leader who absolutely does not tolerate failure? Who calls him “pathetic” and insults him even when Soroi is the only one watching—and even when his self-confidence has already been bruised and his image marred?

Satsuki: I’ve no time for losers, Sanageyama.

Satsuki: Pathetic.

In another situation, Ira nearly killed himself when he lost to Ryuko and Senketsu in episode 9. That’s partly just how Gama is, but Satsuki’s leadership is most certainly encouraging that sort of behavior. Just look at how awful the scene I posted above is! If losing brings you that, I mean….

In any case, I argued in my other posts that Satsuki drove Uzu to sew his eyes shut, and that’s exactly what I’m getting at here. No, Satsuki didn’t make Uzu do anything, but just like how my childhood environment of a mother who frequently reminded me of how similar I was to a sister of hers who didn’t have the family smarts (and whom she considered to be about as intelligent as a bag of bricks) drove me to overly challenge myself in high school, Satsuki’s regime undoubtedly drove Uzu to be as strong as he possibly could be—no matter the costs.

But unlike my situation, I feel that Uzu’s was manipulative. My parents didn’t just say nothing as I threw myself into something I couldn’t handle. They actively told me not to take those difficult classes. But Satsuki? She knew Uzu was 100% going to lose, and she lets him go make a total fool of himself anyway. Compare this to Ryuko and Senketsu in episode 3, where Senketsu is still a pretty robotic, unemotional baby, but he still tells Ryuko straight out, “Hey, we’re probably not gonna win this thing.” He lets her know exactly what she’s getting into.

Senketsu: Ryuko, I feel I should warn you. Your opponent is more powerful than you are.

Satsuki doesn’t let Uzu know exactly what he’s getting into, though. And that’s because she doesn’t really want to. When Uzu loses, she’s well aware that he’ll do whatever he can to to be worthy of fighting in her war again. And that’s exactly what Satsuki wants: good, useful tools for her battle.

Now, of course, Uzu, like Ryuko in episode 3 and like myself, probably would have just done whatever he wanted no matter what anyone else had to say about it. I bet he totally would have challenged Ryuko to a duel without Satsuki’s blessing. But I think there’s definitely a level of manipulation here that’s not present in Ryuko’s situation or mine, and Satsuki even admits to using such tactics later. She purposely led Ryuko to believe that she killed Ryuko’s father in order to push Ryuko to be stronger, and, in the same way, she purposely allows Uzu to fight a doomed fight to push him to be stronger. It’s… kind of cold.

And while I’m here with the Ryuko and Senketsu comparisons, there’s actually something quite interesting about the placement of the Satsuki-sees-that-Uzu-sewed-his-eyes-shut scene. As it turns out, the moment plays directly after Ryuko irons Senketsu in an interaction so sweet that this adorable music box variation of “Before my body is dry” serves as the background music (starting at around 1:08 here).

And… the two scenes are actually kind of similar?

In both cases, a character had inflicted pain on themselves to be stronger. Senketsu let himself be torn up so that he and Ryuko could win against Uzu, and Uzu sewed his eyes shut so that he wouldn’t be overreliant on his sight in battle. 

But Ryuko and Satsuki have wildly different reactions to their friends getting hurt. Just compare Ryuko’s troubled expression and “sorry about that” to Satsuki’s smile:

When Ryuko realizes that her method was a painful experience for Senketsu, she’s hurt and regretful, and she later apologizes to Senketsu before attempting the tactic again.

Ryuko: Sorry about this, Senketsu.

In contrast, when Satsuki realizes the drastic decision Uzu made to be stronger, she’s impressed and pleased and doesn’t seem at all concerned with how painful—both physically and emotionally!—the procedure had to be for him. 

The fact that these two similar scenes are presented one after another only serves to highlight the coldness and cruelty of Satsuki’s rule. She’s not at all behaving as a friend would with Uzu, as Ryuko does with Senketsu. And while the pain both boys endured was arguably very much worth it—after all, Senketsu even states directly that he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy that moment with Ryuko if he didn’t get hurt, and Uzu becomes leagues more powerful and learns an important lesson in humility for his actions—Ryuko is notably affected by the costs of their good outcome in a way that Satsuki really, really isn’t with Uzu.

So. This all got super out of hand for what I was (seriously!) intending to be a short response, but the gist is that, personally, I find Satsuki’s actions in the episode to be… not the nicest. I’m not saying that her reaction is outlandish given her situation—it’s really, really not—and I’m not even saying that Satsuki doesn’t care about Uzu. She does! Heck, Uzu himself seems to recognize as much in the episode when he points out that Satsuki had to be holding back when she attacked him (which implies that she doesn’t truly want to hurt him).

Uzu: I assume you were holding back.

I am making some assumptions in my analysis; I do believe that the sewing had to be physically painful, and I also feel it’s emotionally painful in that Uzu is literally blinding himself and making it impossible for him to enjoy things he used to (such as drinking tea, which becomes too much for him after the procedure). But no matter how painful Uzu’s situation, it definitely is drastic and extreme, and Satsuki’s reaction to it comes off as unfitting from a friend.

Which I think is sad! Satsuki values and loves Uzu. She doesn’t want harm to come his way. And yet, she drove him—at least on some level—to sew his eyes shut. 

And all she can do is smile.