#at least I have an idea of why our brain has been freaking out particularly badly over everything for a few weeks

[thethingything]

I forgot that being on our period fucks us up emotionally and gives me really bad dysphoria. that would maybe explain why we've been struggling so much with triggers that aren't normally a huge issue

[issaxcharlie]

We say we're friends, we play pretend (2/2 )You're more to me, we're everything

PART 1 HERE

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem reader

Summary: Charlie and Y/N were best friends and a couple as teens, after their breakup they meet again 4 years later on JATP and have to work together. Will they be able to recover more than their friendship?

If Charlie knew anything in life, it was that he had to take things carefully. Especially with such strong feelings involved. In general, when you like someone, the least you want is for that person to see you as a friend, but particularly for them, recovering their friendship bond was the most important step.

“You were so cute!” Tori and Owen are looking at photos of the guitarist's childhood on his phone. A photo of little Charlie in a suit grinning from ear to ear while holding a girl as if he is spinning her around shows up.

That memory is one of his favorites. He was always a very loved boy with many friends, but in the case of girls he was not the most popular. His best friend on the other hand was, at least for him, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and boys were always around her. He knew he needed to find a partner for the dance so that she wouldn't feel guilty or he wouldn't feel humiliated by not having someone to go with.

However, he was rejected, quite a few times. He didn’t want to say anything about the dance to his best friend that week because he knew that she would stay home with him without hesitation. But that day half an hour before, he arrived in a suit and flowers for her, so at least he could have a picture of such an important moment with the person he loves the most, and he was the one surprised.

“It was about time Char, we have to take about 30 pictures before we go. Mom bought you a tie so we can match." She is up and down looking for one of her shoes, not even turning to see her friend who doesn’t know if he understood correctly.

At that moment she finally turns to see him and runs for a hug, Charlie barely had time to raise his arm with the flowers.

“You look so handsome, and the flowers are perfect. Best partner ever, I love you so much C! I’ll be ready in a second.”

She had planned to go with him from the beginning, and thought it was an implicit pact. That realization made Charlie's heart beat a lot faster that day. No matter how many people invited her, she wanted to go with him. He spent the night with his favorite person dancing and singing, feeling grateful for her, this light who always chooses him of all people.

“I looked pretty good in those clothes.” Y/N says as she and Madison sit at the table.

“You always look amazing, but yeah that night was special.” It's also the night that he realized that he was feeling more than friendship for his best friend, but this is not the time to talk about it.

He decides to continue preparing his waffles, than even though it already has like 5 ingredients, it seems something is missing.

Y/N blushes a little and smiles. “Here, handsome.” She hands him a can of pringles that she grabbed from the cafeteria when she saw him making eggo’s.

“Perfect, Y/N Y/L teaching everyone why she's my soulmate.” Everyone at the table begins to complain about what they qualify as the most disgusting thing they have ever seen, while the former couple smiles happily as they secretly link their legs under the table and continue their breakfast.

Little details like that one, or as removing all the products that she would take with milk from her hands because she seems to forget every morning that she is allergic can make a difference.

“You are 22 years old and you are still as careless as when we were children, I do not understand how you have survived these 4 years."

“You were always the one who cared about it and kept me safe, I guess unconsciously having you close my brain says, ‘no worries, Char will take care of it.’ So I’m sorry, I'll be more careful.”

A seriously ill 10-year Y/N on the way to the hospital invaded Charlie's mind, whom quickly shook off the bad memory.

“It’s all good, bright star.”

“What did you say?” Madison asks.

“Bright star. I know Kenny calls her ‘golden star’, but he’s the copycat. I've been calling her like that all my life.”

Y/N just smiles, enjoying the moment. She had not heard those words from his lips for years, and honestly Kenny also calling her a star even If it was sweet, made her remember Charles practically every day, and that didn’t help at all to get over the guitarist.

“You are my brightest burning star.” Madison replies, looking at Charlie with amusement in her eyes.

At that moment the actor understands what is going through his co-star's head and panics.

“So this queen is the one who has you so inspired, I should have realized it before.”

“She’s always my inspiration, period.” Y/N starts to laugh while blushing, and Madison’s attention falls completely on her.

“And I guess ‘Bright’ is a coincidence? And rise through the night, you and I, We will fight to shine together...Bright forever.” The songwriter wants to disappear at that precise moment while everyone turns to see her as if she had a third eye on her forehead.

“But you wrote bright long before you even knew Charlie was part of the proyect.” Owen adds, smirking.

“If you are asking me if I draw inspiration from the people I love, to write... the answer is yes. And yes, of course I love him.” How is it possible for the guitarist to slow things down when she says things like that in front of everyone? All he wants right now is to kiss her. This discovery means that despite the time she still had him in mind, the song cannot have been written for long. Hope is flooding his body.

“Ok but they inspiring each other is the sweetest thing in the world, goals right there.” Tori adds excited, her friends blushing.

All those teasing moments helped them to be more transparent with their feelings, hugging, touching, and basically staying close each time they finished their work obligations, almost as if they were afraid that the other would disappear or as if they were trying to make up for lost time.

“We need a lot more energy, especially from Charlie. Luke lives for music, nothing can give him more joy than being on stage."

"They have been working for 17 hours straight and at least 15 attempts with this musical." Paul tries to reason with Kenny mid-recording of Now or Never, which still does not come out as the director was expecting.

“What was in the recording studio that is not here now? I thought they would show an even greater energy than there after they stepped on stage."

They both turn to each other, as if the light had been turned on at the same time, and Paul takes his phone.

A few minutes later Y/N walks on set, Sunset Curve smiles upon seeing her.

“I wanted to make sure that we are fulfilling the vision of our beloved songwriter. Let's not disappoint her, okay? Let's try it one more time." Kenny shouts before starting to record again.

Instantly the energy is seen a thousand times higher, Charlie more radiant than ever, while Y/N replicates his energy behind the cameras, flooding him with sass and attitude. The young singer also motivates her now friends and unknowingly gave Sunset Curve that extra thing they needed to finally achieve the perfect performance. Kenny and Paul doing a fist bump behind the screens.

Soon their chemistry and energy turned into open conversation. The way they made everyone on set cry the first time they practiced Unsaid Emily or how connected and dreamy they were while dancing to Perfect Harmony when Madison wasn't on set.

But they still weren’t together, at least officialy.

If Charlie was honest, the fear of throwing himself all over and losing her again terrified him. The industry they love so much and decided to work in doesn't let having a relationship be easy, and if things go wrong again, they don't know if it might be possible to fix it again. It was basically a leap of faith.

Nonetheless, he knows he's willing, but what about her?

That morning he enters the set overwhelmed with his situation when he sees an even more overwhelmed Y/N walk by without even turning around, almost running to the recording studio.

“I advise you to give her some space for a few hours. Let's say she’s going to have a pretty difficult day."

"Why? What happened?" Jeremy asks as he and Owen stand next to the director.

“She got a call from the people at Netflix, they have already approved almost all the music except ‘Stand Tall’, the closing song, and her favorite. They will come in an hour to hear her presentation and convince them that it is good enough."

At that moment Charlie has an idea. There is no way that he will leave her alone, if he has the opportunity to help her he will do it and he’ll drag along all the people he needs to achieve it.

"Kenny, do you happen to have the music sheets for the song?"

“Don’t tell me-” Owen tries to ask but Charlie interrumpts him.

“Yes, let’s get to work boys.”

An hour later Y/N is freaking out, and she can't help but wish Charlie was around. Of all the days he could choose to disappear, he chose today.

She walks towards the auditorium, where to her surprise way more people than she expected are present, including most of the cast. But there is no sign of her lover boy anywhere.

Now or never. She takes a deep breath and start playing the keyboard. Her voice is the only thing that accompanies the keys. Everything is going as planned, but she can't help but feel distracted, nervous, and overwhelmed.

She is about to give up this fight internally when a drum before the second verse gives her the strength to continue singing, Owen smiles and winks at her to give her some peace of mind, and just a few seconds later Jeremy begins to accompany them with the bass. She knows whose idea it is and she just waits for him to come out from wherever he is hidden.

"I’m going out of my mind, Whatever happens, even if I'm the last standing I’ma stand tall, I’ma stand tall." His voice finishes waking her up and she accompanies him in the chorus, their chemistry electrifying everyone until every single person is standing, the cast supporting, dancing and clapping while the couple continues to focus on each other, separating out of obligation every so often but taking the opportunity to sing along with Jeremy and Owen who were doing an amazing job too, impacting with their solos.

The song ends and the boys disappear while Y/N talks to the people who came to evaluate her work, who finally approve the last song on the soundtrack that she has been working on for so long and to which she put all her soul.

The very second people outside the cast leave, Y/N looks for who has always been the boy of her life, the one who has proven that even though the years go by, they only need a few seconds to be themselves again, to be everything again. And as soon as she finds him hanging around only with the other 3 members of JATP she runs and jumps on him, entwining her legs at his hips and hugging him from the neck with all her strength, he immediately secures her by putting his arms around her waist.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The band starts screaming “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” hoping that one of the two will already dare to take the next step, and Y/N stamps her lips against Charlie's, who reacts almost automatically and kisses her back hard, deciding quickly this is the happiest moment of his life. He finally got the girl, or with what just happened, her fierce girl got him.

Hours later both are in Y/N's apartment curled up on a sofa, enjoying being together again.

“Yes, that sexy, beautiful, adorable and talented man is my boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie.”

Charlie chuckles at her random declaration. “What was that?”

“I’m practicing, and I wanted to say it aloud. I’m just so happy right now.”

His heart melts, she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. His brightest burning star.

His girlfriend doesn't give him time to reply, devouring his lips again. After all, she has four years to recover, and as always, he is more than willing to help her.

Thank you so much for reading!

NEXT PART HERE

Tag list:

@siennanoelle01

@reblogserpent

@kiss-themoongoodbye

@writerinlearning

@rachelle3musicals

[juletheghoul]

Mysticus Chapter 1

Ezra x F!Reader Soulmates AU

I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while and after reading all of the AWESOME writing on this website and with some really lovely encouragement from some of my favourite people here I've decided to give it a go. Always open to constructive criticism!

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Word Count: 1649K

Warnings: Language, tension? (Smut later on)

Literally my first fic, willing to tag if that's something you'd like!

Masterlist Chapter 2

--

“Stay away from Thomas”

The words were out of your mouth before your brain had a chance to stop you. Fuck. The girl you whose palm you held in your hands frowned.

“My date? Why?”

How. How did you always manage to shove your foot in it? You had been doing so well! A steady trickle of patrons to your admittedly shabby little stand. Okay, table with a glittery table cloth and a couple of folding chairs but nevermind that.

“Uhhh, yeah. I’m not sure why but I’m getting a really bad vibe. Is this your first date with him? Where is he?” You asked. You could feel the fear creeping in, like a drop of ice cold water that slides down your spine.

“It’s our first date, he’s grabbing us some food.” She responded, brow furrowed slightly, you could see she was having doubts about her safety.

“What kind of vibe are you getting?” The fact that she didn’t laugh you off right away let you know that she most likely wasn’t as comfortable as she should be on a date.

Your dog looked up at you from her place on the floor, seemingly interested in how you were going to explain yourself.

“Look, I don’t really know what to say I just feel like you should get away as fast as possible. I think you know what I mean, and I think you felt a little weird before you sat down.” You say plainly. You had broke your only rule. No bad news. You could feel her fear now, a wave of anxiety washing over the both of you all at once. In the corner of your peripheral you could see a handsome young man walking towards the both of you with food in both hands. Nothing particularly scary about him but you could feel the hackles raising on your normally silent dog. A low growl came from her direction and you put your hand on her head to calm her.

“There you a-“ he started but before he could say anything else the girl was up, dropping money on your table and hastily making a phone call.

“Sorry Thomas – my mom just called, there’s been an emergency and she’s on her way.”

He frowned. “I can drop you off-“

“No need, thanks for everything and hopefully we can do this again” she quickly called over her shoulder and then she was off.

He stood there for a few minutes dumbstruck. Then you saw something. A glint in his eye maybe? A trick of the lights flashing either from the rides or the games on the either side of your pathetic ‘booth’ and then it was gone. When he seemed to realize that you were sitting there, he gave you a smile and walked away. You shivered and noticed your dog was up and ready to pounce.

“It’s okay girl we’re good.” You reassured her and she once again took her place at your feet, but you noticed that she followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight. Fuck you really needed to work on thinking about what you said before you said it. At least she listened instead of telling you to fuck off, little victories.

“What do you say girl, think it’s time to go?” The dogs ears perked up as you scratched behind one, she responded by standing, her signal for yes. You grabbed the box you had stashed under the little table and started putting your makeshift booth away. The sign which read palm readings $5, the table cloth and the can with your earnings for the night. Slipping the end of the dogs leash around your wrist you folded up the table and chairs and stacked everything neatly and made your way to your Jeep. Tomorrow will be better.

Next day

Carnivals had always freaked you out. A lot of places that were supposed to be fun and whimsical freaked you out. You weren’t entirely sure what it was about these places but it made your skin crawl. The music playing gave you the creeps, the smiles of the people around you seemed wild rather than happy. There was a feeling of something bigger underneath it all, something hungry. Predatory. Patient.

It was a last resort in order to make some quick money with your palm readings, but it always seemed like you were walking into the jaws of some huge monster when entering the grounds.

The dog made you feel better. You had found her in a shelter a couple of years ago and had instantly bonded with her. The staff had told you that she’d been in there for a while since she was notoriously unfriendly but she seemed to tolerate you. You suited each other. What they took as unfriendly, you understood as selective, which was fine. You were selective too. You’d had to make a little sign saying please do not pet the dog but it was a small price to pay for her companionship. She - much like you - was an excellent judge of character.

You spotted a group of teenage girls eyeing your booth, and you perked up. Tried to turn on the charm as it were, usually teenage girls were your best customers. You were usually really good with them and these girls were just what you needed to reach your goal for the night. You smiled along and told them just what they wanted to hear, and seeing them walk away giggling with a spring in their step made you happy. That and the cash you were putting into your coffee can.

Just then you felt it. Something prickling at your skin, like static before a rainstorm. Blood rushed to your ears and it seemed like everything was somehow louder. Something in the pit of your stomach was roiling and you were afraid you might throw up when someone approached your table.

He smiled an easy smile but it held something in it, something that said he knew something secret and you weren’t in on it. You weren’t sure if it intrigued you or scared you. You looked over expecting the dog to growl but she was calm, sitting quietly by your feet. Okay. Weird. She usually didn’t like anyone except you and the occasional small child. She usually hated men in fact but no reaction. It was throwing you off a bit if you were honest but all of a sudden he was speaking to you and you felt like you could barely focus.

“Well birdie, seems like you’ve utterly captured my attention and I simply must know what knowledge you can ascertain from my palm.” He smiled and sat down.

You blinked. What the hell was going? Why did your skin feel feverish? Why wasn’t the dog freaking out like she usually did? Why aren’t you answering?

He patiently waited with his palm upturned and you tried to get your shit together as you slowly reached over and took his hand. He was handsome sure, but never had you been rendered so speechless by anyone before. His rich brown eyes bore into you as you traced the lines in his hand.

“You’re going to meet the love of your life.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Now that’s interesting, I don’t suppose you’d be able to go into specifics about how or when this fateful meeting is to occur?”

You watched his mouth as he spoke, and he noticed. Curling it into the same secret smile from earlier and you felt the blood rushing to your face. His eyes crinkled when his smile deepened it took everything in you not to smile back at him.

You noticed the blonde birthmark and for a moment you had the wild urge to run your fingers through it. You quickly suppressed that while clearing your throat.

“I don’t have a time and date for you but it’ll be real soon.” You looked back down at his palm and noticed something. There was a little mark. Nothing crazy but aside from yourself, you’d never met anyone else with the same mark on their palm. You tried very hard to keep your breathing in check.

“Is this a scar?” You asked as casually as you could manage.

“That particular mark as afflicted me since birth, curious is it not?” He asked with a tilt of his head. His drawl a little more pronounced. Is it getting hotter?

“Somewhat-“

“Has anyone ever had the privilege of reading the no doubt fantastic future in your palm birdie?”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that” you responded focusing on the pet name he’d given you.

“It suits you, I ask again- has anyone ever been fortunate enough to read your palm?”

“No.” You responded flatly, reluctantly releasing his hand and sitting back in your chair. He stated back at you and it felt as though he was looking through you, you felt curiously naked.

“As enchanted as I am basking in your presence, I unfortunately must depart. Will you be offering your palmistry services tomorrow night? I should like to see you again birdie.”

“Uhh.. yes, I’ll be back tomorrow.” You’re not even sure why you said that, you were planning on leaving town tonight.

“Wonderful, until we meet again birdie.” He rose smiling, he took your hand in his and pressed a light kiss to it. You stared up at him in shock, your skin prickling where his lips brushed it.

He smiled down at your dog and before you could even think to warn him he reached down and scratched behind her ear. Your jaw dropped as she happily licked his palm while he murmured something into her ear before promptly rising to his feet and striding off into the crowd.

You stared after him long after with the same dumbstruck look on your face. Who the hell was that?

-----------------------------------------

Tag list: @foli-vora @frannyzooey thanks for being patient with me ladies, this ones for y'all <3 @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando

[c-is-for-circinate]

Thinking today about viruses, allergies, oppression, and anti culture.

(under a cut because WHOOOPS this got long)

Racism is a virus. Homophobia, transphobia, sexism, antisemitism, ableism, etc etc etc, they are all viruses--a topic that many of us have learned a great deal about in the past year. They are ideas, yes, not literal physical diseases, but the analogy holds up. They are infectious, and often spread from person to person without anyone involved realizing they have it. They can sit latent for years, never showing up because the carrier never finds themselves in a situation where the issue comes up, only to flare up and take over when you least expect it. And they mutate, just like the flu, just like the common cold; they put on a new jacket every year and slide in undetected yet again, slip past our internal sensors and bury themselves in our brains until we go in and deal with them as best as we can.

One more thing we've learned about viruses this year is how we can fight them. The viruses of oppression are a little different because they tend to hurt the people around their carriers even more than the people they've infected (although let's talk about internalized anything-ism sometime), but in a lot of ways the attack is the same. You treat the symptoms even when you don't know how to cure the disease: we invest in respirators, antiviral treatments, hospitals; we create and sponsor programs to help those who've been hurt by various oppressions, we uplift our neighbors, we try to keep people safe from violences both big and small. You work to stop the spread: we wear our goddamn masks, we stay home when we can; we train ourselves not to say racist shit that might foster a culture of hate, we stop that guy in our office from making rape jokes, we make slurs unacceptable. You pay attention to your immune system: we seek medical attention when we experience symptoms, we get COVID tests, we talk to our doctors before the symptoms get deadly; we protest and we pay attention to the people who do, we take them seriously when they tell us that something is wrong.

You vaccinate. We train ourselves and our immune systems to recognize the thing that infects us, the thing that we fear. We try to teach our children about history, bit by little bit, on fragments of dead violence the same way we train our bodies on dead virus shells, so that someday they'll recognize the live disease when they see it. We learn about slavery and Jim Crow and the Holocaust. We tell kids bedtime stories about why hitting and bullying is bad, before we ever start teaching them the specific shapes that violence so often takes. As we get older, as we get stronger, we learn about the living stuff, all the new forms that same old virus has mutated into; we educate ourselves, we listen, we read. Just like vaccines, of course, there are anti-vaxxers and denialists shouting about how racism and sexism are already dead and they don't need any propoganda besides Fox News. Hell, just like anti-maskers, there are plenty of people screaming about how political correctness is ruining the world and they demand their right to spread their virus to anyone they can. Often these are the same people.

But we try. And make no mistake, we all of us are already infected, and just like a real virus, once you've caught it once it probably won't ever go away again--but we can prepare, and we can try to lessen the severity of our cases, and we can support our immune systems of activists and protesters and our own internal sense of this is wrong, and we can work, bit by bit, if not towards eradication (not yet, not in this world, but maybe someday in another), then at least towards control.

And then there's allergies.

An allergy is what happens when a human body's own immune system freaks out over an enemy that wasn't particularly harmful in the first place. All our immune defenses--those precious immune defenses, which work so hard to protect us against all those viral, deadly ideas--go screaming into high gear. All of that fear and fury and attack power gets brought to bear all at once, against a bit of pollen or bee venom or cat dander or peanuts, and your body is left itchy and runny-nosed and gasping--sometimes literally--as it tries to keep up. Allergies are miserable. Sometimes they're life-threatening. And the biggest danger isn't the foreign agent that triggers the allergic reaction; it's the immune system trying to fight it in the first place.

Which, yes, brings us to anti culture--but not JUST anti culture. It's a good example, a little internet-centric microcosm of the same force that drives progressives to tear bloody shreds out of moderate liberal politicians. Hell, it's the same force that enables both TERFs and the Capitol rioters. It's a combination of an immune system that points in the wrong direction, flagging the wrong thing as bad, terrifying, danger, NO, and a freaked-out response that can manifest as anything from mildly irritating to absolutely deadly.

To be clear, I am not by any means equating the scale or even the source of these things, any more than hayfever is the same as anaphylactic shock. Likewise, the sources are different. Sometimes, a disease can infect an immune system and point it in the wrong direction. (Terror of the other is the absolute cornerstone of white nationalism, and when that terror gets triggered by a harmless environmental condition like, god forbid, other people asking for rights, the allergy response can be deadly.) Other times, it's the other way around. Our internal immune systems, so well trained to protect ourselves and those around us from the insidious viral ravages of prejudice and oppression, start seeing traces of it everywhere.

And they freak out. And we suffer for it.

We talk a lot of well-deserved shit about TERFs, but it's useful to remember how much their nastiness feels to them like activism. Their immune system, trained and primed and sensitized over years of exposure to misogyny and sexism, catches the tiniest whiff of something that might seem at some point to have possibly been taken for male, and freaks out, because why is that trying to get into our system. Never mind that they're wrong. An immune system that flips out over penicillin is wrong, too. It's still trying to help, and it's still doing more harm than good trying it.

So bringing this back around to anti culture, which was absolutely where I started thinking about all of this this morning: anti culture, the terror of porn and the attempt by antis to protect themselves an other people from sexual content, is an immune response. It is a trained immune response, in people who have been taught and re-taught again and again that rape culture is a dangerous insidious virus that should be fought at all costs. And, right, there's more than a bit of 'the sexism virus infected this immune system and reprogrammed it to fight itself' involved here, but look, we are all of us infected with all of the viruses at least a little bit everywhere. If we tried to direct our immune systems to rip every last shred of -ism out of every last bit of us, we'd rip ourselves apart. Which is exactly the problem.

Porn, in and of itself, is natural. As natural as environmental pollen, and living near dogs and cats, and eating wheat or nuts or citrus fruit. It's even healthy, for a whole host of reasons that belong in another essay. And citric acid and nut-based proteins and whole grains are nutritious, and pets are physically and psychologically helpful, and being exposed to lots of different environmental substances as a child can actually help train your immune system in the first place. Porn can help us figure out what we like. It can help us figure out what we don't like. And while the processes that create it are sometimes unethical and awful, we don't condemn all dogs because puppy mills and dogfighting rings exist, even if we do have dog allergies.

What we see in anti culture is often a good-faith attempt on the part of antis to attack and subdue an environmental trigger that they read as dangerous. It's a panic attack over something that is by nature harmless or mildly harmful, blown out of proportion by the very instincts that are supposed to keep us safe. It's the response of an immune system that's been taught over years and years, by everyone from parents to school systems to the activists they look up to, that negative stimulus is to be feared, avoided, and fought. Of COURSE they're going to freak out.

And of course, early exposure to controlled amounts of allergens can help prevent later allergies from developing. Of course when kids are raised with abstinence-only education, sheltered from the very concept of sex, they're going to grow up allergic to it. (Of course they're going to try to protect other kids from the same, like worried mothers who refuse to let peanuts or wheat products or dirt near their precious babies, whose kids grow up with a whole suite of allergic triggers because their bodies never learned what was okay in the first place.) And no, that doesn't mean we hand pornography to ten-year-olds any more than we should give raw honey to an infant--but of course if our culture refuses to introduce kids to the fact that sex and desire and the inside of their own brain can be messy and silly and kinky and downright weird, we're going to have a higher rate of allergic reaction to the entire concept in adults.

I wish I had a better answer for what to do with understanding that this is what's going through so many people's brains. The best I have is a prescription for allergy-sufferers, who probably haven't read this far through this wordspew of an essay in the first place--but we all get a little hayfever once in a while, and we all sometimes run into content that makes us angry. So some thoughts on how to deal with metaphorical allergic reactions, inspired by the ways we deal with literal ones?

First: we recognize that what is happening is an allergy. The thing we're reacting to might be gross, or irritating, or even unpleasant, but the danger is not and never has been the thing itself. Whether it's triggering a response because of its similarity to an actively dangerous pathogen, or our immune system just doesn't like it, our aversion to one kind of story or another universally says more about us than about it. Luckily, we have a lot more control over our social responses than our biological ones!!! If vocal activism is our sociocultural immune system firing itself up to fight an infection that may or may not exist, then we get to tell our metaphorical white blood cells to stand down. We get to decide.

Second: we get some space. The funny thing about allergies is, while early exposure to allergens can help prevent them, re-exposing yourself to dangerous allergens after you've already developed a reaction to them can make them worse. Anaphylaxis is always more likely after someone's experienced it the first time. Repeated exposure to triggers, whether biological or psychological, can make the effects worse. So stop exposing yourself.

If something makes your throat itch every time you eat it, stop eating it. If something makes you mad every time you read it, stop reading it. Obviously this can be easier said than done in a world that's a lot worse about warning labels on stories than ingredients labels on foods, but that's why fic tags exist. And: sometimes, the croissant is delicious enough that we decide we're willing to suffer through the way the almonds make us feel, just this once. Sometimes the ship or the characterization or, hell, those other kinks that we really like are tasty enough that we'll put up with the trope we hate. We're allowed to do that. But we do it knowing there will be consequences, and we don't blame the baker when they hit.

We also don't have to blame ourselves. It sucks to be allergic to shellfish when all your friends are raving about the new seafood place. But that's not our fault any more than it's theirs.

Third: sometimes, if we need one, we go to the doctor. Or a therapist. Yes, really.

Not because there's anything really wrong with an aversion or even mild breakouts of hives, annoyance, and bitching in your friends' DMs--but it sure isn't pleasant, and sometimes your doctor might have a better solution than 'avoid it and take a Benadryl' that makes you feel a little better in the long run. And sometimes, it's not a mild breakout. Sometimes it's the kind of story that lingers with you for days, makes your skin crawl; sometimes your throat swells up and it gets hard to breathe. Sometimes we get angry enough about something we've read that we can't stand down our immune system, don't want to stop ourselves from writing that angry comment, that tumblr post, that abuse report to the mods for something that didn't actually break any rules. And that's dangerous, because when our immune response can flare out of control like that, we don't always know where and when it will happen next, and the risk of what we'll do if it happens gets way, way higher.

Sometimes it really is worth getting a second opinion. Sometimes you need somebody to tell you, "actually, it is not normal to get tingly and sweaty every time you eat potatoes." There are ways to train your brain and leash your white blood cells that I sure as heck am not expert enough to address. There are, it turns out, ways to feel better. There are ways to mitigate the damage your own well-meaning defense mechanisms might do to yourself or other people along the way.

And: we can take a deep breath when someone with an allergy to something we've baked, something we've written, something we like, is lashing out trying to protect themselves and everyone around them from something they've registered as a threat. Of course they're wrong. Yes, we told them there were tree nuts in the brownies ahead of time; yes, they chose to eat them anyway. But it can be worth reminding them and ourselves that there's a difference between "this thing is toxic" and "this harmless thing has driven my own system into a defensive response that sure makes it feel like I've been poisoned." And it can be worth reminding ourselves as well as them that sometimes, that difference can be really hard to spot.

[riathedreamer]

You asked for it: live thoughts from Ria and @creatrixanimi​ watching RvB Zero.

So, after having a movie night the day before (third movie night in a week, actually, we are very productive) watching Neil Breen movies and “Cool Cat”, it was now time to touch upon Zero. Sadly, Zero does not belong in the “so bad it’s good” category, but alas, Ria had to spoil Haley’s innocence.

This is not a proper edited review, but just snippets of our live reaction while watching the thing together. We are not drunk, but this continued way past midnight for Ria, so maybe her brain isn’t fully functioning. Also, Ria is a potty mouth because cursing is easy when it’s not your native language. Enjoy.

Episode 1:

Ria: I can’t figure out if they were trying to do a Grif and Simmons parallel with those two random guards talking outside, the ones with the Wash retconning.

Haley: Their armor doesn’t cover their noses. 

Ria: That’s gotta be cold. Frostbitten noses.

...

Haley: There is no exposition. Like, it feels like the writers had their idea and know what is going on, but we don’t so it just feels weird and random. It feels like a Marvel movie.

Ria: Is that a compliment? I haven’t watched Marvel.

Haley: Not a good one.

 ...

Ria: This episode isn’t that bad in itself. But it’s just there to establish that the OG characters can’t beat this new villain, but the new guys can, and, urgh.

 ...

Episode 2:

[The shot focuses on One’s behind.]

Ria’s dirty mind: Ass.

 ...

Ria: STOP CALLING HIM DAVID.

...

Ria: I like this character, but I don’t remember his name.

Haley: Raymond.

Ria: This is why we need a name system like with the Freelancers and states. Should’ve just been numbers all the way through. Except Eleven, you fucking whore.

 ...

Haley at the sight of Raymond’s phone: It’s so big.

Ria: It’s the future. I can believe it.

 ...

Ria: Here’s the thing driving me crazy. Axel is a normal name in Denmark. But like, only old people use it. I know two Axels and they are both older than eighty. So that’s when I think of when I see Axel.

 ...

[After the whole training montage where we are introduced to the characters, we are still confused.]

Ria: I can’t remember their names.

Haley: Well, they didn’t show all of them. They didn’t show One.

Ria: They did!

Haley: They did?

Ria: Wow. So we got all that tell and no show, and we are still confused.

 ...

Haley: When it comes to genre, it’s actually not that bad with the narrated tell and don’t show. If it wanted to be a cheesy/bad action movie, that’s a trope that’s used relatively frequently in the genre. It’s a bad action movie. But it’s not RvB. It’s kinda like a particularly bad Marvel movie.

Ria: You’re really not selling me on the Marvel movies tonight.

 ...

Ria: I know I’m just a sucker for Joe, but I keep thinking of s15. Like, here they just use the files as a cheap way to introduce the characters. But like, in s15, Dylan just read out loud Grif’s file, and it was not to introduce him, but like, to show the complexity of the characters and go against the files? I don’t know, it just seems way cooler now.

 ...

[After the whole “what’s East’s deal” scene, we were so confused. Literally paused for five minutes trying to figure who was whose dad and why and what. How many daughters did Axel have? And where are they? We were just lost. Future Haley: Him waxing poetic about his daughters while watching the two girls in his team train confused me like I thought he was talking about East and One and couldn’t count sdfghjk. Future Ria: I’d even watched the show before and I was still confused.]

Ria: I can’t figure out if they’re too fast or if we’re just stupid.

Haley: It’s like I’m trying to remember the details but it all slips through my fingers.

Ria: The whole Zero experience is to feel too old for this shit.

 ...

Ria: STOP FUCKING CALLING HIM DAVID

 ...

One: This is how it’s done, grandma.

Ria: Fuck you.

 ...

Episode 3:

Haley: People would like it if they love dumb action shows. It works as a mindless action show.

 ...

Haley: So this is a temple?

Ria: I hate the worldbuilding. Is this the same planet as before? Like, Chorus had temples, but it also had lore about it. Is this the same sort of temples?

Haley: So shouldn’t this temple have its own key? Why do they need to include Tucker? It makes no sense for the temple to require a totally different sword from a different planet.

Ria: So they could beat him up ‘cause OG characters are weak now.

 ...

Haley: I don’t like the training scenes. They are so long and boring.

Ria: This is like the third episode where they are training. Holy shit.

 ...

Haley: It’s not that bad. But if you like Red vs. Blue, it’s not something for you. They aren’t really comparable.

Ria: I just don’t understand what they wanted to continue for Red vs. Blue. Like, it’s not the worldbuilding or the plot or the characters. I just don’t get it.

 ...

Haley: Raymond is the best character.

Ria: I like Raymond.

Haley: He’s RvB. He should be the main character.

 ...

Ria: Did East just use the “I’m not like the other (girls)” line?

Haley: I don’t like her. She’s a brat. Why did Carolina have to apologize? They were just training, this is something she’s gonna have to deal with on a daily basis lmao.

Ria: Didn’t Carolina have a cast on her arm? It’s gone now. I can’t keep up with the timeline. So, she’s healed, but how long was Wash gone? They are so vague about everything. Worldbuilding, timeline, motivations.

 ...

Ria: …Did Carolina just say she’d suit up? While wearing a full armor suit?

 ...

[And this is where the cursed part takes place. To talk, we’d often pause the thing. Here, I randomly paused during the introduction for Starlight Laboratories. There’s a desk in the shot. With a fucking marker on it.]

Haley: That’s a Crayola marker. That’s a Crayola marker on the table.

Ria: Glad we can appreciate the details by pausing.

[Haley then missed the entire Axel flashback scene because she was too busy looking up pictures of Crayola markers. When this is revealed, Ria lost it for like, three minutes]

Haley: I had that marker as a kid. 

Ria: So 4/5 stars for the marker?

Haley: They were supposed to smell like blueberries or something but they just smelled like chemicals.

Ria: This is the most excited we’ve been about Zero so far.

[Future Haley: I was literally laugh-crying you dont understand. This was the best part of the show.]

...

Episode 4:

Ria: They all have super powers. It’s so weird.

Haley: I keep thinking they are gonna explain stuff. But they don’t. So I’m just confused.

 ...

[Haley has now brought forth all the markers in her room to find a Crayola one. She drops them all on the floor. Ria loses it again.] [Future Haley update: I found a yellow one it smells like lemons :)]

 ...

Ria: They are all glowing and have super powers. It’s weird. Like, I know we had super powered armor before but that was all connected to AIs. I don’t get how all of this works. They don’t have AIs.

 ...

[We both agree that we enjoy Raymond and Tiny. Bless them.]

 ...

Ria: It’s weird. The dialogue is so oblivious, it comments on its own mistakes. Like, Carolina just acknowledged Wash has had a computer in his head before. But they don’t acknowledge the whole canonical lore about his trauma regarding computers in his head and why he’d hate this. Same with the name David. They just noticed that it’s his first name and that’s how they’d show how close Carolina is with him, but they didn’t acknowledge the canon lore that Wash dislikes people using his first name.

 ...

Episode 5:

Haley: Why didn’t they use Locus’ sword instead. It’d make more sense. He’s the one travelling around planets and wanting to help people?? 

Ria: What’s the worldbuilding here? Is Tucker on the same planet? Is this Earth? Chorus?

 ...

Haley: Gotta love it when they make Tucker hit on teenagers.

Ria: Oh god why did they make East 18.

 ...

Haley: They should have done something with the Warthog song, even if that’s a Red Team thing.

Ria: I miss Red Team.

 ...

Ria: Wait, so if these three swords are connected, why can the two first ones move by themselves and they have like super powers connected to them? When Tucker’s sword is just boring? They didn’t even make a joke about how the two new swords are longer than Tucker’s.

 ...

Tucker: I’m fine, I have my sword.

Ria: That line is so tragic in hindsight.

 ...

One: It’s Tucker. He is dead.

Carolina: Oh my god.

Haley: *laughs her ass off*

 ...

Haley: I don’t understand why anyone is doing anything.

Ria: Your brain is still thinking about that fucking marker.

 ...

Episode 6:

Ria: The dialogue did it again! Wash just said “amazing medical tech”. Like, he points out a plot hole. Because that amazing tech can heal brain injuries and bring people back from death, but East had to be tortured for years to heal her vague illness? Like, why couldn’t their amazing tech fix that.

 ...

[While watching the design of the temple.]

Ria: It looks like those are just plates glued to the wall. Dinner is served.

 ...

Haley: There is no logical reason why they brought in Tucker. His sword isn’t even from this planet.

Ria: To lure in fans.

 ...

Haley in a very sad voice: The speech wasn’t good.

 ...

Episode 7:

Ria: Is all of this happening on the same planet? They keep driving. The worldbuilding is so weird. At least earlier RvB made a joke about how they could just drive everywhere. This is like a big desert, a training base, laboratory, city and temples and Tucker’s workplace, and I don’t know if it’s even on the same planet.

 ...

Ria: Diesel is just standing there waiting while they outfit Carolina.

Haley: It’s like a video game.

 ...

Ria: The temple’s walls are filled with runes.

Haley: It feels like a free/bought asset. It doesn’t even look like the temples on Chorus. It looks like something in WoW or something like that.

Ria: It’s driving me mad. I can read runes! Imagine a big boss fight and the freaking alphabet is plastered on the walls. That’s what I’m looking at.

 ...

Haley: Zero is such a boring villain. It’s not interesting when we don’t know what this “power” actually is or what he wants to do with it.

 ...

Ria: That’s the helmet Spencer wore.

Haley: Oh god I forgot about him.

Ria: So did the writers.

Haley: Spencer should have been the real villain.

 ...

Haley: *sees the random model of the temple guardian alien* I miss Santa.

 ...

Episode 8:

Ria: The aliens are just dancing in the background while Carolina is fighting Diesel.

Haley laughing: Oh my god, they are. They are just jumping up and down.

 ...

Ria: So, the villain just turned overpowered, and the solution is that Raymond just flicks a switch we haven’t heard about and now the heroes are overpowered too?

Haley: It just makes them shiny. And like... they don’t even use the “power”, they don’t fight him with their powers which only some of them have, they just shoot their ordinary guns at him while doing unnecessary flips.

Ria: I just remembered Church’s dick switch. That had more dramatic buildup.

 ...

Axel: You’re too cocky for that.

Ria’s dirty brain: Cock.

 ...

Post Zero thoughts:

[Ria returns from bathroom break and Haley is proudly showing off her marker over video cam.]

Haley: There was too much going on so I just focused on the marker.

Ria: So how many stars would you give it?

Haley: It’s really bad.

Ria: How many stars for marker representation?

Haley: Three out of five. It was only there for a second.

 ...

Haley: In the beginning, it wasn’t that bad. It was dumb, but also fun and sorta cool. But then it just went on for too long and they didn’t explain anything properly and it stopped being fun really fast. But I can see why some people might enjoy it. Like, you’d love it for its action but only that. Not for plot and/or the character writing.

Ria: I think my biggest problem is the worldbuilding. They kept everything so vague because they didn’t want to connect, not really. Like, where is this happening? When? Why are Carolina and Wash there? Like, the motivations for all the characters were so vague as well.

 ...

Haley: Raymond was great. He had personality and some good lines. And he felt like RvB. Like, he used his brain and actually got shit done, but he also wasn’t over-powered. He followed a similar character arc to what the Reds and Blues had. He sucks at fighting but he’s efficient and smart in a practical way with his rocket launcher. He does the most and he doesn’t stop being a goofball! Even Zero was focused on stopping him the most at the end. And he didn’t need to do any stupid flips.

 ...

Haley: The borrowed assets annoyed me. It ended up looking stupid, like, the temple felt more like fantasy than science fiction. And nothing like Chorus. And normally, RvB doesn’t have to worry about being cohesive because all of the designs are from Halo so it all makes sense and it’s connected. But this is just so random it feels distracting, I feel like this is a big reason people felt that Zero was so jarring… but on a subconscious level. It just felt off and there was no cohesive design. Also everything looked like it was made for video games and not modified at all for the show.

 ...

Haley: Honestly I was optimistic at first but then I got confused really fast and it kept getting worse because it was so fast. They didn’t explain stuff properly or at all. Like, they made it too big. Should have been smaller. I thought going with the “Starlight Labs is evil and needs to go down” plot would have been A LOT better and would have tied together multiple aspects of the story that the temple plot didn’t.

Ria: If I had the power which I don’t, I dunno, but I if the main point was to introduce new characters, I’d keep them tied to lore and worldbuilding we already know. So we don’t get so confused and it doesn’t feel so disconnected. Like, I’m still in love with the idea that it should have been Carolina on Chorus dealing with these soldiers who have been fighting all their lives and now don’t have to do that anymore. But maybe Chorus still needing an army, and that’s why she is training it. I don’t know, but like, familiar, build on what we know. And then they wouldn’t be superpowered, but like, just competent-ish but normal soldiers and we’d get to know them better, but I just think Zero just wanted them to be these super cool soldiers even better than Carolina so they could pull off all the fight scenes. ‘Cause it’s all Zero has going for it. The fight scenes. It’s its strength and weakness ‘cause they sacrificed everything else to look cool. And it does. But it’s boring and there is nothing else going on.

 ...

Ria: I’m still so annoyed about the temples. Why are they there? Like, on Chorus it was a big thing, also plotwise, but it had lore connected to it and the worldbuilding explained it. So, where are these temples? A different planet, right? Is it the same aliens? Are people just cool with the temples? Why haven’t they been explored before. Chorus made sure to explain all of that.

 ...

Haley: The West and East scene-

Ria: Feast.

Haley: Confused me. ‘cause West didn’t really regret anything. He just said why he did it. And then all of the sudden East forgave him and rejoined the team. It was so weird. He doubled down on the thing she hated him for so much I was like “Wow he’s kinda an asshole” and then all of a sudden she was on his side? What?

 ...

Haley: Zero does its job if you want action and nothing else. And it’s not RvB. Don’t watch it if you like RvB. And I just want to acknowledge that we are nitpicking. Quite a bit. I’ll admit that. But, I wouldn’t nitpick the other RvB seasons the same way because the old RvB never took itself seriously the way Zero did.

Ria: I agree. We are nitpicking. But like, that’s why we have the movie nights.

Haley: But we are also allowed to criticize it. You can do that with any season. And with the other seasons, you could nitpick it and you can find stuff you don’t like, but there are always stuff you do like or that other people like. I just can’t find anything about Zero that I like. Besides Raymond.

Ria: Yeah. Like, I really love 15. And it had so many flaws people pointed out. And when it comes to criticism and Zero, I just don’t see many points about why people like it. They are allowed to do that though. But, like, we could have a movie night where we watch the Chorus seasons and we’d nitpick so much because we both have issues with it, but there is still so much stuff we’d still like.

Haley: I like Raymond though. He’s like Grimmons lovechild.

Ria: No. Fuck you. Don’t put that in my brain.

 ...

Haley: Raymond being in this… I want to say it feels like the Freelancers seasons but if Grif was part of the team or something. But that’s just “Hit and Run”. *laughs*

Ria: NO! That’s cursed. Shut up. Also, the Freelancers were way better written.

Haley: And those seasons made better sense.

Ria: And like, the Freelancer seasons did the thing with change of tone and have these new and super cool characters and fight scenes. But they kept half of the seasons to be around the Reds and Blues so we still had the humor and the dumbasses, and Zero just, it didn’t connect.

 ...

Haley: So, I have some thoughts on Zero.

Ria: I know, you fuck, I had to write them all down by hand.

Haley: I like bad movies, actually, but Zero didn’t stay fun, so no, I didn’t enjoy it.

 ...

Ria: Do you forgive me for making you watch Zero?

Haley: Yeah.

Ria: What should we watch next?

...

Also, Haley dressed up her dog for the event and you all deserve to see her:

[wistfulwatcher]

Hello I saw your tag on that "im 25 and dying post" please tell us how it got better for you. Im 26, still living with parents, currently having a fight with my boyfriend, and i still have a year until I get my bachelors. The comparison to everyone younger than me is killing me.

I'm really sorry to hear that you're struggling, but I hope you can take some solace in the fact that that post has a lot of notes and you are absolutely not alone in feeling the way you do! I can certainly try and share my experience, but unfortunately I think the biggest factor is just time (and like, a buttload of self-reflection).

I moved back home after college and worked full time at an administrative job I was doing during school breaks. I majored in psychology and anthropology in college, and was planning to eventually go into forensic psychology, but wasn't interested in going straight into grad school. So I did that administrative job for about a year, and tried to find something that was a bit more stable and at least semi-related to my field. I did end up finding a new job when I was 23 - stable, semi-related to my field (a psych/research background was required), and decent pay (especially as I was still living at home). Exactly what I needed, since I still wasn't ready to start looking into grad school.

I was doing pretty well, until I started getting comfortable at that job, and then I started getting hit with the "I'm not doing enough," and "I need to look into grad school," and "will I ever find a boyfriend?" (friendly reminder that 23-year-old me thought she was straight, yikes), "how will I afford to move out, I have to save my money and do it soon!", "I'm not doing anything but watching TV, I'm wasting my life," "I'm lonely, but I'm too tired to try and make friends," etc., etc.

But it wasn't constant. I'd have a flurry of those questions and fears, and then days where I was just living life and doing my job and taking care of my dogs, without any of that. And I don't think I felt good or particularly comfortable those days, it was more like I just wasn't actively thinking about it, like when you feel "good" after a physical pain goes away and you're just normal.

Eventually, I started thinking about all of these concerns I had, and the fact that it felt like it was URGENT whenever I thought about them. It felt like I needed to get my shit together immediately. I also started to acknowledge that there was this big sense of guilt around those concerns; I was too old to be living at home, I was too old to be single, I was too old not to be starting a career. I felt like I was wasting my life (cue the guilt), and I realized that part of why I felt like I was wasting it was that I felt like I was missing milestones I wouldn't be able to do at a later time because the older I was past "normal" the more humiliating it would be to try (cue the shame and embarrassment, hard).

I also started to doubt that I wanted to go into forensic psychology. More importantly, I started to seriously doubt that I wanted a "career" at all. My job (as I kept that same semi-related to my field one) was absolutely a job, not a career. And I think this was a huge tipping point for me, because a career had always been a given in my life. I'm passionate about what I'm interested in, so it literally just never occurred to me that I would be content with a job. I also started acknowledging that I had some messed up associations about being content with a job meaning that I was lazy (because the only way to be ambitious is with a career and, more damaging, a lack of ambition is fundamentally bad).

Now, I need to clarify that all of the above occurred over the course of years. I was constantly seeing "friends" (i.e., of the facebook variety) go to grad school, start careers, get married, buy homes, etc. And with all of that alongside the entire mess I've outlined in the above paragraphs, it was really, really, tough. It gets hard to find a foothold in better thinking, I believe, when seeing all of these people (some younger) doing things "right" was really just compounding my guilt and shame. (I feel like it's worth mentioning, too, that I was always "an individual" growing up, march-to-the-beat-of-my-own-drummer, yada yada. I feel like that's worth pointing out for others who may be in the same boat, because I think it can lead to another layer of shame in comparing yourself to those around you - especially if it's a big part of your identity that you DON'T do that, because I think it's inevitable as you get older, and you're looking to reach these milestones that prove you're an adult.)

So, here I am, acknowledging that I feel guilt and shame about what I'm not doing. And suddenly I ask myself my first really important question: Do I want a career? The question hot on its heels is: Do I want to go to grad school? Honestly, my answer is no. There is nothing in me that's excited by the prospect. But what, does that mean I'm just going to work my job for the rest of my life? How is giving up going to make me feel better about Not Doing Enough?

As I'm opening this door (remember, years), three things happen: 1) I realize I'm gay, 2) I watch Dirty 30, 3) I start playing D&D.

First, realizing I'm gay. Woohoo! Not only was this exciting because girls are amazing, but it made me seriously look at myself. Realizing I had spent 25 years assuming one thing about myself that turned out to be completely wrong made me question everything for a while. I started to ask myself, "Do I really like this?" more often, which seems like a really obvious question, but I'm not convinced that it's one people ask themselves consciously all that often. But once I did, I realized how freeing it was to answer, "No," and move on to something I did like.

Second, I watched Dirty 30, the Grace Helbig/Mamrie Hart/Hannah Hart movie. It feels dramatic to say that it changed my life, but the older I get the more I honestly think it did. Mamrie Hart's character is a dental hygienist who is freaking out about turning 30 and feeling very much like that text post I reblogged. But (spoilers), at the end of the movie, she decides that she loves her job (job, not career!) because it's comfortable and she has fun at work, and that it makes her happy. She has other things going on, but the idea that a character in a film is content with her job and choosing to "settle" into her life as-is and she's genuinely happy about it? I honestly can't think of a single other time I've seen that happen on-screen. I still think about that ending very often. And after seeing it, I started to ask myself another question regularly: "Am I happy?" Again, this feels pretty obvious, but I think there is something incredibly empowering about making sure you are happy on a regular basis, instead of just assuming that you're fine until something hurts.

Third, I started playing D&D. This is not a plug for D&D! (Well, maybe a little.) One thing that happened to me when I started to get into the urgent-guilt-shame-confusion mess of my mid-20s was that I got very much into a routine of go to work, come home, sleep, go to work, come home, sleep, be totally brain-dead on the weekend, repeat. I found it very difficult to feel creative because I was just wiped, and as all of my creative outlets (gifs, fanfic) are self-motivated, it was really easy to brush them off. I ended up starting Critical Role (this is also not a plug for CR! well, maybe), and I wanted to give D&D a try myself. (I was VERY lucky - my best friend happened to be listening to the Adventure Zone at the same time I started CR, and she wanted to try to run a game. The stars truly aligned!)

I started playing, then DMing, and found that it was a great fit for my interests. I used to be a theatre kid, and I was getting to act again (something I didn't realize I was missing). I was getting to build and flesh out characters, which is what I love the most about writing fanfic. I was also discovering that I was stretching myself - world building and plot had never been my strong suit, but as a DM it became the majority of my creative effort. It gave me soft deadlines with people I didn't want to let down, and it made me truly social again for the first time since college. Essentially, it was filling in all of the gaps of what I felt lacking in my life. This isn't a D&D plug because it wasn't D&D specifically, but rather a hobby that satisfied what was missing in my life. For example, I didn't realize how isolated I was before D&D until I had regular interactions with friends, and that isolation absolutely made the urgent-guilt-shame-confusion worse.

D&D gave me that final push to realize that I was OK with having a job and being passionate about hobbies instead of trying to fit myself into a career, because I was getting out of that hobby what I had been convinced I would get out of a career. I started to really value that I could punch out and go have fun doing exactly what I wanted to do. (It feels so obvious as I type this, but it took me a long time to get here! Sometimes it really is that simple!)

The above is specific to my job vs. career struggle which may not be in the mix of things you're struggling with. But what I do think is universal/can be your take away, is that sometimes you just have to actively choose to let go of the pressure to be doing things. Which, I know, sounds so much easier than it is (and part of why I think it just takes time/is part of growing older). But I think it's something that can be worked at over time, by checking in with yourself about what you feel, why you feel it, and what you need to make yourself feel better in the present.

It's been 6 years since I started that semi-related job, and I'm still there. I still live with my mom. I'm still single. My circumstances have not changed since 24, but honestly? I'm OK. When I check in with myself about it, I do enjoy living with my mom and our dogs (even though I'm 30 and "real" adults move out). I am happy more often than I'm not (much more, actually!). I have a job that allows me to be done after 8 hours, and I have hobbies I look forward to doing each night (and the energy to do them, most of the time). My weekends are free to play D&D with my friends and laugh until I cry. That is what I've worked out as my definition of what I want life to be right now. You'll notice it includes none of the "milestones" that those younger than me have hit.

As I noted on that text post tag, I still struggle with this. I definitely have days where I think, I'm a mess, I'm not DOING anything. It's hard. But time does help, those days become fewer and farther between.

I know that was probably a hundred times longer than you wanted it to be, but I did want to illustrate just how much of a process it is. It takes time. My summary advice is to check in with yourself often, be honest about what you want and what you need, do not let anyone else define where you "should" be. And if you aren't living life how you want to be, identify what you can do (however small) to make yourself feel like you're getting closer.

[uchihasakurawrites]

Of T-Shirts and Monsoons

Rating: T for language

Summary: In which Sasuke proposes to a fuming Sakura in a cave in the middle of Rain. 

Word Count: 2,243

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been about seven years since I last wrote for this fandom (or wrote creatively at all, really). This random idea popped into my head while I was watching old SasuSaku AMVs, and I just thought I’d go for it! I have a few ideas for longer SasuSaku fics, so I wanted to test out a few drabbles/oneshots to shake off some of the rust since it’s been a while. Let me know what you think! Also feel free to send prompts my way. This was done in about an hour, but I hope you enjoy~

Cross posted on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

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Sakura was fuming as she stomped into the cave, ignoring Sasuke’s wary gaze as she slung her pack to the ground with enough force to create fine cracks in the stone beneath it. She stripped out of her blood-and-rain soaked jonin vest and tossed it equally as haphazardly to the side, not sparing a glance to where it landed with a decided thwack. Sasuke rubbed the bridge of his nose and made quick work of using a small katon to set a small fire in the back of the cave. Typically, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of attracting unwanted attention, but he figured the benefits of not having to deal with an angry and cold Sakura were decidedly worth dispatching any rogues that were foolish enough to have followed them. Not that he and Sakura had left any of the nin in a state to pursue them, he thought with a smirk.

“Stupid Rain with it’s stupid freak monsoons and stupid rogue nin who ambush anything that fucking moves through their ‘territory.’ Sure, take out the fact that you’re bored in a time of peace out on civilians who can’t fight back.”

The clang of Sakura’s weapons pouch against the cave wall punctuated her impatience with the recent trend of rogue bands staking claim to smaller civilian towns and merchant paths. They’d managed to defend three different merchant caravans and liberated two villages from rogues in the past month and a half alone. She didn’t mind helping the civilians, of course, but why couldn’t these rogues get it through their skulls that this was peace time? She just wanted a little peace, dammit!

Sasuke crouched down next to his own pack to dig out a spare change of clothes. After just over a year and a half of traveling together, he was more than used to Sakura’s flinty temper and knew she would tire herself out soon. Best to keep out of it.

Sakura dropped to the ground to hunt for a clean shirt of her own. She pulled out shirt after shirt, noting with growing frustration that each was either covered in blood, lacerations, or sand. If she ever saw another grain of sand, it would be far too soon. A growl tore from the back of her throat.

“Stupid Suna with it’s stupid sand. Why the hell can’t some other village have poison experts so I don’t have to trudge through the damned desert just to collaborate on our new Inter-Village Poison Center? Who the fuck even came up with that idea?” Sasuke sent her a pointed look, knowing full well that she had fully supported Shizune’s initiative, which Sakura missed. “And why the hell can’t an epidemic break out in, I don’t know, the Land of Tea and not the middle of fucking Rain? At least then-”

Sakura nearly choked when she glanced up  just in time to see Sasuke pull off his rain-soaked shirt and wring it out. No matter how long they spent together or how intimate they became, Sakura’s mind never failed to short-circuit at the sight of Sasuke’s bare skin. It didn’t matter where or how much - one glimpse, and her mind checked out. Although he would never express it outright, Sakura surmised that Sasuke knew exactly what his body did to her and used it to his advantage - say, when he was trying to distract her from a particularly troublesome conversation or train of thought.

It worked more often then she cared to admit.

Her sharp eyes caught the way Sasuke shifted his weight away from his left side as he moved to pull on a fresh shirt - crisp black with the Uchiha fan emblazoned proudly on the back. After a brief moment admiring his figure before it was hidden by the fabric, Sakura frowned at the inflammation beginning to flare up around his ankle. She cleared her throat and motioned for him to come over, tirade momentarily forgotten. Kami knows Sasuke would never admit that he had lost his footing for a moment during their earlier confrontation, unused to fighting on branches that had been rotted through from near-constant rain, and actually ask her to heal him. He’d become much more willing to allow her to heal him after a particularly difficult fight, but it was rare for him to outright ask for her assistance. She usually offered before he needed to.

She met his withering look with a hard gaze of her own.

“You,” she jabbed a finger in his direction, and he raised a brow, “stop being a stubborn ass and sit.” She motioned to the spot next to her with a touch more force than necessary. Sasuke didn’t budge and continued to ruffle through his pack. Sakura’s eyes narrowed.

“Sasuke-kun, --”

With a sigh, Sasuke fixed Sakura with a stern look and tossed her one of his extra shirts before coming to sit next to her. Laying a hand on Sakura’s shoulder, he formed the tiger seal to send a small katon over her skin to dry off the remnants of water that clung to her skin and hair. His jaw tightened at the blue-purple tint her lips had begun to take in the chill. A smile worked its way onto Sakura’s face when she realized the telltale signs of concern in his posture as he hovered near her.

“Change, Sakura. Then heal.”

His gaze dropped pointedly below her chin, and Sakura’s cheeks heated as she followed his eyes and realized her state of undress. Over the course of her rant, she had stripped down to her chest bindings and fitted shorts. Although Sasuke had seen her in far less, embarrassment washed through her as she scrambled to unfold the shirt he had tossed to her.

Her demeanor shifted when she went to slip it on. Sasuke glanced over when he felt Sakura stiffen at his side, brow furrowing when he noted the pensive look on Sakura’s features. Her eyes, previously a battle-worn seafoam green, took on a deeper, more thoughtful jade. She snagged her lip between her teeth, and Sasuke glanced down to see her fingers gently tracing the outline of the Uchiha fan printed on the back of the shirt.

 Spine going rigid, Sasuke wracked his brain for the other instances Sakura had borrowed clothes from his pack - a shirt here, a poncho there. Her hands-on approach to fighting combined with the blood, bile, and poison that came with being a medic meant that her clothes tended to ruin more quickly than his. The sight of her rummaging through his pack for a spare change of clothes was a familiar one. What he hadn’t noticed, however, was that Sakura was always careful to select one of the few articles of clothing he carried that didn’t carry his clan’s symbol. He kept a few basics on hand just in case they needed to be incognito through a town that was still hostile towards the Leaf.

His mind jumped to the easiest explanation he could think of for her hesitation: she was ashamed. Not that he blamed her for wanting to distance herself from his clan’s marred legacy, but the very thought lit a fire in his veins that had him pulling away from her. Anger and bitterness combined with a pang of disappointment that he didn’t particularly want to address.

Sakura started, broken from her thoughts as she took note of Sasuke’s sudden change in demeanor. It was a testament to the time she had spent becoming attuned to the small giveaways of Sasuke’s emotions that she pieced two-and-two together. His flinty eyes shifted between the shirt in her hands and the cave wall as he refused to look at her.

With another quiet smile, Sakura carefully folded the shirt, laid it on top of her pack, and moved to stand next to Sasuke. She could feel some of the tension leave him when her shoulder brushed his, but his eyes remained stony.

“Sasuke-kun.” She waited for a moment before his gaze flickered down to hers, hoping that the softness in her own gaze would convey whatever she wasn’t able to in words. She placed a gentle hand on his bicep, hoping to ground him as she mulled over her words. Talking about the Uchiha Clan with Sasuke took a delicate touch, a touch she had learned after a short but explosive period of trial and error.

“Sasuke-kun, your clan’s history has nothing to do with why I won’t wear the Uchiha fan. Your legacy is a part of you, and I love you. All of you. Even the darkest parts that you don’t think love can reach. You know I’m damn persistent, and if I can wait this long to get you to accept that I love you, then I can wait as long as you need me to before you accept that that includes everything about you.”

She took a deep breath, averting her own eyes now that he had fixed her with an unreadable gaze of his own.

“Even if you won’t outright admit it, I know that your clan is precious to you. I’ve watched you carve the clan’s symbol into your kunai every time you replenish your stock. And I’m not an Uchiha, Sasuke-kun, so wearing the clan’s symbol - even casually like this, just feels like I’m not giving it the honor it deserves.”

Silence. Sakura was used to silence from Sasuke, and had learned how to interpret his different silences. There were the more distraught, brooding ones that required a bright, calming touch and the occasional pouty silence after she had smiled just a touch too openly at a flirty cashier; the explosive silences that she usually drew him into a spar during to release some energy and the frustrated, yet concerned silence when he thought she was too reckless in a battle.

This seemed to be one of his thoughtful silences - one that she didn’t feel she should interrupt. Noting with no small amount of satisfaction that most of the rigidity had melted away from his body, Sakura moved to turn back towards her pack.

“As for clothes, I’m sure I can put together something for tonight, so don’t worry about me. I’m pretty sure there’s a little merchant town not to far from here that we can stop by tomorrow to stock up on some new -”

Sakura swallowed her words as a cool hand enclosed her wrist and tugged her back. Her eyes widened when she found herself pressed to Sasuke’s chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her back. While Sakura was no stranger to small acts of affection from Sasuke - a forehead poke here and a sleepy  arm around her waist there - it was incredibly rare for him to initiate a hug. In fact, she was pretty sure she could count the number of times he had hugged her on one hand.

“Sa-Sasuke-kun?”

He huffed into her hair, something between a laugh or a sigh - she couldn’t quite tell. So she simply decided to remain quiet, tracing her fingertips along his back as she waited for him to voice his thoughts. She swore Sasuke Uchiha was going to be the death of her when he spoke again and she quite literally choked.

“Marry me.”

The words were so quiet that Sakura nearly convinced herself that they were a figment of her imagination. A statement, not a request. She pulled back slightly, wide eyes meeting Sasuke’s steady gaze.

“W-What?”

Sakura winced as soon as she asked the question, knowing Sasuke loathed repeating himself (though it was a well-kept secret that Sasuke didn’t mind repeating himself for her and her alone). But surely he couldn’t hold it against her given the situation. He simply sighed at her request, arching a brow that said he knew that she had clearly heard him yet repeated himself anyways.

“Marry me and wear the damn shirt, Sakura.”

When she continued to stand in front of him with nothing more than a shocked stare, Sasuke huffed again and half-rolled his eyes in a rare display of amusement. Tonight seemed to be a night for rare occasions, it seemed.

Sidestepping Sakura’s frozen form, he retrieved his spare shirt from its place on Sakura’s pack, unfolded it, and gently worked it over her head. A warm glow replaced the earlier fire in his veins as Sakura came to and allowed her arms to be guided into the shirt’s sleeves.

Sasuke spent a minute admiring the fan on her back, pride burning in his chest at the thought of Sakura as the Uchiha matriarch. A small part of him idly wondered if his mother would be pleased to see her position passed on to Sakura. He liked to think she would.

Sakura turned towards him, feeling a tug in her chest at the vulnerability in Sasuke’s expression. She wasn’t sure what kind of proposal she had expected from Sasuke - hell, she hadn’t even been certain she should expect one at all. At least, not for a while. She certainly hadn’t imagined one of the happiest moments of her life to come in the middle of a freezing cave in Rain after treating a minor epidemic, getting ambushed by a plucky squad of overambitious rogue nin, and nearly drowning in a monsoon.

So yes, she hadn’t expected a proposal to come in this type of situation, but she had known her answer to this question for nearly a decade.

“Yes.”

[kinetic-elaboration]

August 28: 3x05 Is There In Truth No Beauty?

Several days later, coming back to write up these Star Trek notes. I feel like I never got to talk this episode through properly, or even think through it properly by myself, because mom went right into watching AHS on Thursday, and I was too tired to even sort through my thoughts and when we talked yesterday, it was… entirely about other things.

So, here at least are my liveblog thoughts, and maybe I’ll remember some more as I write.

Right off the bat, this is such a cool concept: the friendly alien Ambassador who no one can look at because his form is not fit for human eyes.

Love Spock’s silly looking little visor. Not sure I get why he’s wearing it right now, when the Ambassador is in his box, but okay.

Dr. Jones is so beautiful. I love her dress.

I’m sure Spock is thinking “If only all Ambassadors could be put into little boxes like this.”

Okay, Ambassador’s coming! Everybody quarantine!

Right, I JUST remembered the significance of the dress.

Spock has experience with mind links with other creatures—a lot of experience that ho. Is he thinking about the pleasure of connecting to Kirk, that “dynamic individual”?

“My life is here.” With the Captain???

I feel like this episode is implying, all but stating outright, that Spock is very good at mindlinking. Like maybe even more so than the average Vulcan. Which makes sense because he does it so often. And yet he still messes up with AOS!Kirk.

I love the effects for the Ambassador. I’m not even being sarcastic; I think they get across the experience of looking at him quite effectively.

Hmmm, some non-touch telepathy. I know Spock has a little of that. I guess it’s mostly him reacting to Miranda, though.

Gotta get a dig in at Dr. McCoy before he leaves lol. Spock, so predictable.

Kirk’s flirting is off the charts today omg. Tone it down man.

SCOTTY IN A KILT aw yeah.

She learned from the Vulcans how not to read thoughts. Exactly!! Their telepathy is such an underrated part of the whole Vulcan thing, including why they remain ‘emotionless.’

She’s so jealous of Spock.

Honestly this whole scene… there’s a lot going on here! I’m trying to pay attention to the Vulcan telepath stuff but the men won’t stop flirting at 11. Especially McCoy, laying it on extra thick.

She does hold her own very well, though.

A preference for beauty—one of our last prejudices.

“Sleep well.” So cute. (I’ve already forgotten but I’m pretty sure this is Kirk.)

“We’re all vulnerable in one way or another.” KIRK SHUT UP I LOVE YOU.

Girls don’t like guys, girls like Medusan ambassadors.

This guy is so jealous. I barely know who he is lol; this comes out of nowhere.

Interesting angle on the hallway shot. I feel like there are a lot of those in this ep, like these weirdly long shots of the hallways… Maybe I’m just not used to seeing them with one or no people in them.

Kirk and the squad. Work work fashion baby.

“Larry? Marvick? Why?” Okay that is some real Shatnerian inflection there.

SCOTTY FIGHT SCENE.

*Ship veers obviously*

And look at this weird-ass view of the bridge. Like what the hell, where is the camera? On the lift? It’s so disorienting!

Spock needs to fix some stuff, calls for his protégé Chekov, of course.

And this funky music. So bizarre.

WE’LL BE SAFE AT THE BOUNADIRES OF THE UNIVERSE. Drama queen

This is a nutty view, this “unknown void.” Like one would think beyond space there’s… just more space, not a Windows 98 screensaver.

Space time continuum?? They didn’t time travel (again), did they?

“He just simply died.” How convenient.

“An entertaining suggestion, Mr. Chekov, but not very helpful.” Honestly, I do think he’s entertained. Spock has grown so much over the course of the show.. like I know there was controversy with his IC-ness this season but in this case, I really do think it is growth. Compare this to the Corbomite Maneuver, where he had a sense of humor but it was… a little mean, a little arch. There’s a certain warmth to him now.

Her mind must be so engaged that she doesn’t notice the plan for Spock to meld with the Ambassador = Kirk will seduce her. Lol. Of course. Everyone’s favorite honeypot.

He has absolutely NO shame.

The man sure does love his flowers, though.

She’s never been to Earth. So she’s a human born on a colony, I guess? That’s such a throwaway line, but so interesting. Could that be part of how she’s telepathic?

Oh no! A thorn!

“Violent emotion is a kind of insanity.” Can I steal this?

Too ugly to bear or too beautiful to bear?

Let me spell it out for you: this is romantic. (Again, I’ve forgotten what this refers to, but I’m going to assume it’s something Kirk said.)

Lol Bones just dropping truth bombs. How did he know she was blind? Did he recognize the dress or does he have access to her files as the ship’s doctor?

And Kirk accepts it immediately. “Of course! It’s the only reasonable explanation as to why you weren’t attracted to me.”

The Ambassador is brought to the bridge and placed behind a covid wall, I mean, protective barrier.

And now, we meet the Ambassador for real.

“THAT’s Spock!” Bones is so happy. He’s really not comfortable with Spock being all… smiley and flirty. Or rather, someone in Spock’s body, I should say.

Kollos is VERY flirty. And he and Miranda have chemistry for sure. It’s weird, because I don’t get any sense of that between her and Spock (rightly so) but Spock as the Ambassador and it comes right out.

I love the characterization of him. The idea that the Medusans’ thoughts are supposed to be particularly nice to engage with…. I really see how that would be. He’s so soothing.

Kollos is enjoying his time in a human body, I think. Mostly. Not all of it. (I got a little teary at the part about loneliness, ngl.)

Time to go back? So soon?

Noooo the shield! It’s like forgetting your mask when you enter a building.

[Spock wails]

Honestly, even seeing the steps to the upper level of the bridge is really weir. Like, I’ve always known there are steps there… but I’ve never thought about what they look like.

Kirk is so skeptical about all of this. Spock is in danger and his brain immediately goes to the pessimistic scenarios—very unlike him!

He’s freaking out nervous.

“Are we supposed to wake him with a kiss?” Idk, it’s worth a try. Why doesn’t Kirk give it a go?

Does Kirk have a game plan with Miranda here, or is he just honestly freaking out?

…The answer is honestly freaking out, which is rather a disappointment.

Trippy.

Spock has a necklace version of the IDIC symbol this time.

Everyone’s exchanging all these highly formulaic, formal goodbyes and Kirk’s like “Peace.” Wow, really trying hard with that one. Still rattled, I guess.

Also speaking of these formulaic exchanges—this fits very well with the HAICG-verse. Just saying.

This episode was really good! I loved Miranda, I am a huge fan of the underlying sci fi concept, and I though the Spock characterization and the hints of Vulcan culture were very interesting (and very in keeping with my own characterization and world building, imo).

The only thing I didn’t like was Kirk’s characterization. He felt like a stereotype, like who AOS thought TOS Kirk was, rather than himself—the over the top flirting, the dramatic rage, how he didn’t really seem in control of anything or on his game at all.

But, even though he’s my fave, the interesting Spock characterization made up for that, and I really appreciated these insights into him, interacting with someone who, while not Vulcan herself, had a Vulcan cultural background, someone he approached similarly to how he would one of his own people. It was very polite but with a lot of unsaid beneath the surface, which is how I imagine Vulcans are.

The introduction of IDIC truly was pretty random! I did like the idea of Spock trying to compliment her and not really landing it, because that’s just the awkward nerd sort of thing he would do. But it’s weird that the phrase has never been introduced before, and also that even within this episode, it’s only obliquely explained.

I’m not actually sure if I’ve seen the next ep or not. I don’t think so, but it’s possible I did and just don’t remember it very well…

[narutowtfareyoudoing]

Heres one- Akatsukis reactions to a fem!new member who does/says cryptic stuff even by their standards - like eating the paper of a fortune cookie or saying things like "that stressed me out so bad my kidneys gained 10 pounds, dont say stupid stuff like that again" (real things Ive personally said and done-)

You and me…we speak the same language the language of dumb shit. I love you. —- 

Sasori

Sasori is a quiet man but watching you chip your tooth on a piece of wood after wondering how strong your teeth were? That did rouse a few words from him.

Mainly what came from his mouth was ‘Why?’.

And your why’s never disappointed. Never. You were just curious if your bite was stronger than art itself. Of course. A question we all needed to know, are our mortal bodies stronger than the intangible idea that is art? 

Turns out you’re no match for Sasori’s art. 

Not this time at least but maybe the next?

Sasori has never protested your never ending quest to beat the intangible, while he doesn’t think your method is the best it does cause him to pause and ponder every time he hears a a quiet ‘fuck ow’ echo through his workshop. 

Deidara

Many people can’t wrap their head around the things you say, Deidara included but he does love the confusion you leave on everyone elses face. It’s his favourite part about group missions.

It’s an eventuality, there’s no if, ands or buts eventually you will say something crypic. Maybe today you’ll try to eat the plate your dinner came on, maybe you’ll threaten to pee in someone elses pants, you’re a wild card so he can never call it.

He’s simply full of glee with each and every antic you do. 

Kakuzu

Kakuzu has been alive for decades, he’s seen and heard everything under the sun or at least he thought so until you entered the Akatsuki.

You didn’t particularly bother him you just left him mildly confused and tonight was no different.

One night while he was counting money in a room you so happened to also be in and he witnessed you eat 4 entire jars of olives…juice and all. It was almost enough to make him sick to watch you slam jar after jar back.

And without being asked why you spoke out loud to maybe him, maybe to no one. “If I eat enough brine maybe I can pickle myself and become immortal.”

He didn’t say anything, really what could he say? He was disgusted and was left wondering if he could sell you to a freak show. 

Hidan

Death? You laugh in the face of death much like he does but unlike him you can’t be cut to pieces all though you’ve tested the theory, seeing if you can trick Jashin into giving you powers. Almost seeing if you can get a 30 day free trial.

Or at least that’s what you explain to him as he catches you about to chop off your finger to see if it’s worked.

If it didn’t offend him so much that you thought you could ‘try out’ Jashin he would’ve let you cut off your finger. But he goes on a ranting rampage to explain that’s not how it works, it takes years and years of true devotion. 

“So…what you’re saying is my finger won’t reanimate like in Evil Dead? What a rip off.” You mutter

Itachi

Itachi has the patience of a saint and can’t be bothered by much so he’s fine with you, if not a little concerned by your antics. 

You’ve heard Itachi doesn’t have the best eyesight and so sometimes you just write down things on pieces of paper and stand at different distances and see how long it takes him to read it out to you. 

And he’s come to learn that if he doesn’t read it out for you, you’ll simply get closer and closer until the paper is pressing against his face. You seem to have no fear of death, it’s almost like you’re missing the part of your brain that processes common sense. 

The messages range from: ‘Good Morning.’ to ‘Have you tried eating more carrots? I can get you more carrots, I’ve got carrot contacts.’

Kisame

Kisame’s got some sense of humour and you’re not exactly harmful so he can get a good laugh from watching you and hearing the weird things you come up with. 

You’ve got spunk he’s gotta give you that.

You once tried to get him a girlfriend by sticking your head into shark invested water and nearly drowning by attempting to tell all the lady sharks what a catch he is. 

He had to pull your head out mid-sentence so you weren’t eaten by said lady Sharks much to your dismay, you were pretty sure a big beautiful lady was coming your way to check him out. 

Konan

Konan is a stoic and powerful woman so seeing another woman act silly at first put her off.

She thought perhaps you were playing dumb, something she can’t stand but the more she hears you the more she comes to realize…you’re just like that, you’re just being unabashedly yourself which if something she can respect.

She even comes to smirk at some of your passing quips and thoughts not that she’d ever let anyone see or know.

In a way you remind her of Yahiko.

You definetly remind her of why she used to hit Yahiko over the head. 

—–~Admin Coral.Buy Me A Coffee?

[benedictscanvas]

all the wrong places [3/7] - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: It only takes a moment for Spencer to realise that he doesn’t just want to marry you someday, he wants to marry you as soon as he possibly can. But since he can’t come up with a solid plan, he turns to his BAU family for help in planning the most important day of his life so far. Is that a mistake? Most definitely.

Warnings: Series probably aren’t meant to be exclusively fluffy, but this one practically is! I need some fluff in my life, damn it! There may be some mention of regular Criminal Minds things, some language but mostly just good ol’ Spence lovin’

a chapter every day for seven days! (20-26th July 2020) so please drop an ask if you’d like to be tagged <3

---

Chapter Three - Flash Failure

Third time’s a charm?

No, turns out third time’s a fucking nightmare.

Penelope? A complete liability. Whilst Spencer knew she was an amazing friend and he couldn’t imagine any of the team’s lives without her, he also now knew that allowing her to help him with the proposal plans was not his finest moment. Allowing her was too strong a word: he had simply not stopped her.

“You booked what?”

“A flash mob! And they’re coming over to the downstairs gym later today to practice with you, make sure you know your section of the dance.”

His section? Of the dance?

“I’m not sure about this, babygirl,” Derek’s voice was wary, and if Derek was worried about it, then it must really have been one of Penelope’s outlandish ideas. But she had been so excited about Spencer proposing ever since she’d found out against his will, and when she begged to at least help with the proposal somehow, it wasn’t as if Spencer had the heart to say no.

“And why would that be, my most delicious chocolate thunder? You don’t trust me now, huh?”

“You know I trust you in every way imaginable,” he said with a wink, because they could flirt even when Spencer was clearly breaking down in the corner of the batcave, “But Spencer has messed up two perfectly easy proposals now. You think he’ll nail this one?”

“I haven’t messed them up!” Spencer said defensively, his voice just a little too high pitched, “Okay, I messed one of them up, but the other one was a terrible idea provided by JJ.”

He half expected JJ to turn the corner right at that moment to scold him, but instead there was a very familiar knocking pattern at the door that caused Spencer’s heart to drop. He pushed Garcia’s shoulder until she closed all the proposal (and wedding) tabs on the computer. On all the computers.

“Can I join the top secret batcave meeting?” your voice rang out as just your head poked round the side of the door, and Spencer’s heart melted at the fact that you really weren’t going to come in unless you were told you could.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said encouragingly, as Derek and Penelope both flashed you a signature very-not-guilty, nothing-at-all-is-going-on-here, smiles. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention, smiling widely at Spencer with abandon as you entered the room.

“Hi,” you said brightly, and Derek and Penelope would be annoyed that you’d practically ignored their presence if they weren’t kind of used to it. When you and Spencer were in a room together, 90% of the time there was no one that could tear you away from each other. The other 10% was all on cases, where your attention was elsewhere, but there would still be times that the two of you bouncing theories around would completely miss something else that had been said.

“What brings you to my lair, my dear?” Penelope asked you from her chair, which she was lightly spinning around in. You managed to turn your attention to her, and bit your lip sheepishly.

“Actually, I’ve been looking for Spence here. Wondered if he might like to join me for a very romantic lunch?”

“You’ve got a consult you want my opinion on?” he asked instantly and you groaned, pouting.

“Why couldn’t I just want to spend lunchtime with my very special boyfriend?” you say wistfully, but when he gave you that look, you huffed and relented, “Fine, I’ve got a consult I could use your expert advice on. But, I did buy you takeout to sweeten the deal?”

He shook his head, his previous proposal anxieties almost forgotten as he walked up to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“You’re enough to sweeten any deal, sugar,” he said in his best Derek voice, the man himself scoffing behind him as Penelope laughed hysterically. You were giggling too under his arm, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth as Spencer led you out of the room, “Let’s go. See you later, guys.”

“Yes. 4pm in the gym for our session remember, Reid?”

“I’m not coming!” he shouted back at the two of them, already having left.

Penelope looked up at Derek as he sat on the desk above her.

“He’s definitely coming.”

“Oh yeah. He wouldn’t risk making you angry, babygirl.”

---

Actually, Spencer absolutely would risk making Garcia angry, if the other option was participating in a flash mob style dance to ‘Marry You’ by Bruno Mars before getting down on one knee in front of your chair and proposing as if what he’d just done wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

He returned to the batcave after assisting you on your consult, providing important information about a few chemical concoctions that had come into play on the case, and told Garcia on no uncertain terms that she was to cancel whatever she had planned and that he’d be doing this on his own. She reacted relatively well, even if she was a little bummed. When he promised to tell her whatever he decided to do ahead of time, she perked up a little.

So when she scurried up to his desk at the end of the day, heels clacking loudly on the floor, he never expected there to be a problem.

“We have a problem,” she said under her breath, glancing over at Hotch’s office in which you were currently sat, going over your recent performance in a routine appraisal. You’d be out in five minutes, at most. The glance she spared towards you worried Spencer more than anything.

“What kind of problem?”

“A huge one. One that I cannot explain, nor can I fix unless you and your genius brain can come up with something incredible because as it is, I’m freaking out right now.”

“Okay, Garcia, you’re going to have to try to explain it.”

“Well, maybe I can explain it,” she admitted, bobbing quietly in her place beside his desk, “But I’m not sure I want to.”

Her voice was small. Timid. She was never like this. Derek clearly noticed it too, as did Emily, since both of them came over quickly.

“Everything alright, babygirl?” Derek asked, a comforting hand on her shoulder and she reached up to put her hand over his, nuzzling into it a little. Spencer was getting more agitated by the second.

“No,” she said warily, then suddenly she ripped Derek’s hand away from her, “And I don’t deserve your comfort!”

Emily and Derek both looked dumbfounded, but Spencer stood up and took her by the elbows.

“Tell me what it is,” he said softly, but with a firm tone that she couldn’t argue against, “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

She took a deep breath.

“Iforgottocanceltheflashmobandthey’reoutsiderightnow.”

“What?” it was all three of the others who said it. She sighed.

“I forgot to cancel the flash mob-” she said slowly, “-because Derek sent me a text right after you left my cave earlier. So they’re outside right now, with a huge picture of Y/N, waiting for her to exit the building which will trigger the...dancing.”

A pause.

“This better be a joke.”

“Oh god, just look out the window,” Garcia said sadly, resigned to her fate of the resident genius being immeasurably annoyed with her for the foreseeable future.

All four of them rushed over to the windows, even though Emily was only just starting to get an idea of what was happening. Sure enough, there was the mob. It truly was a mob too, at least fifty of them, with a huge picture of you on posterboard in the middle, all in colourful clothing. And there was a speaker. A large speaker.

“Fuck,” Spencer said, all matter of fact, no attempt to hide his language or keep it down.

“Yeah,” Derek breathed, eyes still on the ground, “How did you forget to cancel, Penelope?”

She whined, probably at him using her first name.

“You’re the one who sent me that particularly sexy text! What was I supposed to do? Not reply straight away?”

“Yes, Garcia,” Spencer said, sitting back down at his desk and putting his head in his hands, “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do. You were supposed to cancel that group of dancing idiots so I wouldn’t make a complete fool of myself in front of the woman I want to marry and then - then you could reply to Derek’s text.”

His voice was defeated. He couldn’t believe it. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this? There were other exits out of the building, most of them emergency exits, but they were still in the way of the car park. There was no way of getting out of this building without you seeing the mob outside, without seeing the gigantic picture of you on the sidewalk.

“This will not be the most helpful comment,” Emily piped up suddenly, coming over and crouching in front of Spencer’s hunched over frame, “But I have to say - I’m so happy for you and Y/N, Reid. You should have told me you were going to propose!”

“Oh yes, so you could offer the same kind of stellar advice I’ve received so far.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have suggested a mob,” she mumbled, earning her a sharp glance from Derek. Penelope was already feeling bad enough.

“Right, come on,” Derek said, more enthusiastically, “We have to make a plan. Y/L/N will be out of her meeting in no time, and asking you if you want to head home. What are you going to do?”

“Me?”

“Okay, okay - what are we going to do?”

“Yeah, we can help,” Emily said encouragingly, “We’re all in this together Reid. Maybe you should just take the opportunity and propose?”

“I am not proposing to Y/N in a flash mob!” he said, suddenly animated as he looked up, “You know how much she hates too much fuss. She’d hate it, and then, as a byproduct of that, she would hate me too and-”

“Y/N could never hate you, Spencer,” Emily said kindly, interrupting his worried rambles, “But if this isn’t the way you pictured it, that’s fine. We just have to get Y/N to your car, that’s it. So how can we do it?”

“Couldn’t Penelope just go downstairs and tell them to go away first?” Derek asked and Garcia shook her head, woefully.

“They don’t let people put them off once they’re ‘on location’,” she said, “Otherwise people against the engagement can call it off.”

“Oh, well that’s a sensible policy!” Spencer announced sarcastically, throwing his hands in the air.

“Woah there, Spence, everything alright over here?”

The one time that your voice wasn’t able to calm him down. Instead, all four of them turned to face you with thinly veiled panic, until Emily was able to speak up with an explanation.

“I went to a deli for lunch, dropped my sandwich,” she said quickly, shaking her head at her own supposed clumsiness, “But apparently they have a policy of no replacements.”

She looked to Spencer, urging him to back her up.

“Yeah, what kind of policy is that? Just makes me so mad-” he was laying it on way too thick, because you were starting to look concerned, “-because you should have got another sandwich, Emily! Ridiculous.”

He threw his arms up in the air again to drive the point home. Derek was physically wincing. This was the worst. The absolute worst.

“I think maybe someone needs some sleep,” you chuckled, reaching for Spencer’s hand and taking it in your own, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand until you felt some of the tension leave his muscles, “You ready to go?”

He hesitated, just staring at you with wide eyes.

“That tired, huh? No more sad stories about sandwiches, Em, if this is what it does to him,” you laughed, but you were stepping up your soothing gestures by the second, comfort radiating from you as you let Spencer lean into you and rested a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. He could see the worry you held for him in your eyes, “We’ll see you guys tomorrow. Come on, you.”

You tugged him along beside you as you began to walk towards the door, picking up his satchel on your way and delicately looping it over his head until it was in his rightful place. Spencer was following, but he turned his head back to the others, flashing them a help me look that was as terrified as it was desperate.

“Wait for us!” Penelope called out, tottering after the two of you in her heels, grabbing Derek and Emily by the wrists to take them with her, “We’ll all walk out together, like a family.”

“Okay,” you chuckled, shaking your head fondly, “But be quick! I think this one’s falling asleep on me.”

Penelope nodded and hurriedly shooed the others to go get their stuff, or at least whatever they could grab quickly.

“I’ll just grab some of my stuff too then, Spence,” you said gently, taking your arm from his back as if you were worried he might fall over without the support, “You okay?”

“Tired,” he said bluntly, because now he had no idea what was going on and he couldn’t keep up. His brain was firing in every direction.

“I know, baby,” you pouted, kissing him on the cheek before you sauntered off, turning as you walked, “I’ll be two seconds.”

He counted. One, two. You were a good few seconds longer, but you really did try to be quick for him. Penelope was back at his side first, even though she’d had to run to her lair to get her stuff first. “I’ve got a plan,” she said confidently, with a nod, “I got you into this mess and I’m going to get you out, Reid, I promise.”

He smiled weakly. He felt as if he had resigned himself to whatever might happen now. It was as if he’d lost his agency, like his life was continuing around him but he’d lost all say in the narrative. Penelope placed a hand on his arm, a gesture, before you, Derek and Emily emerged from the office and the five of you stepped into the elevator.

There was little small talk on the ride down. Everyone was exhausted, after all. A couple of cases in a row would do that to you, especially when you finally had a day where the adrenaline had left you and you were left to catch up on all the sleep you had missed to replenish the energy lost. Penelope was buzzing beside you though, bobbing up and down on her heels in anticipation of something, and you wondered whether she had a date or something.

Spencer rested his head against the wall. You squeezed his hand again. He could tell you were beginning to worry there was actually something wrong, that he wasn’t just tired, so he squeezed in return. That seemed to do the trick.

You were just walking out of the building waving your ‘goodbye!’s and ‘see you tomorrow!’s when Garcia squealed. Actually squealed, loudly, right in your ear before screaming as she pointed into the distance.

“Bruno Mars!”

And then she was suddenly off, sprinting into a crowd of people that all had their backs turned, looking in the direction of Penelope’s pointing. You squinted. Where? Derek and Emily shared a look behind you and ran after Penelope, pushing through the crowd and shouting themselves. Suddenly, Spencer didn’t feel so tired as he full on grinned after his friends, particularly Penelope, who had definitely more than made up for her earlier slip. He’d make sure to text her later.

“Surely she can’t have seen Bruno Mars,” you mused aloud, still stuck in place from the shock of the squeal, “Although there is a crowd, I guess.”

You shrugged, still looking carefully. Suddenly, he was worried you were going to pull him into the crowd and everything would go wrong. But you looked at him to your side, his hand still in yours and reached up with your opposite hand to push some hair behind his ear.

“Let’s get you home, mister.”

He couldn’t stop himself, even if it ruined the whole plan.

“You don’t want to see Bruno Mars?”

“No,” you laughed simply, “Not when it’s probably fake and my favourite genius looks like he’s about to fall asleep on the sidewalk.”

You tugged him with you towards the car. He followed behind you with a spring in his step he tried to disguise, glancing back at the crowd to find Penelope grinning at him, two thumbs up in air. He nodded at her. She knew she was entirely forgiven. Not that she wouldn’t have been anyway.

It only really hit him later that night, with your head resting on his chest and your hands entwined on his stomach that you loved him enough to skip out on seeing Bruno Mars, just to take care of him.

As he looked down at your sleeping face, his dopey proposal eyes were back again. There was no getting rid of them now.

---

taglist (ily all <3)

@mrs-dr-reid @soda610 @alexxcorona113 @thupidalethea @may-beforejune-afterapril @ilovesupersoldiers @hurricanejjareau @stardream14 @mortallythoughtfulgurl @aperrywilliams @saranyx @anotherspencerreidblog @thegayestdestielshipper @burkgolden @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @zozoleesi @baumindss

[im-the-punk-who]

Hey, I was wondering if you have a book rec

!!

Okay so in full disclosure, I have a really hard time reading books. My brain sometime around six years ago just decided that wasn't its style anymore, so I don't read a TON. A lot of these aren’t going to be recent releases. However, here are a bunch of books I would absolutely recommend checking out! I tried to include a variety of genres but I have uh.....five bookshelves in my apartment so if you're looking for more of a certain genre let me know!

Theatre:

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard

Waiting for Godot - Samuel Beckett

These are my two favorite plays - they're both absurdist, humorous, and have some fun things to say. They’re both by old white guys but like....I love both Tom Stoppard and Samuel Beckett DEEPLY and they have all of my love and respect.

Non-Fiction/Educational:

Why are all the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria by Beverly Daniel Tatum - this is considered a 'classic' on the psychology of racism, and was particularly helpful for me as a white person in arming myself against 'reverse racism' thoughts and in dissembling my own prejudices. This is mostly a rec for other white folks, but Tatum also addresses 'having the courage to sit at the black table' as a way of claiming your own identity outside of the stereotypes the dominant society expects of you.

Daring Greatly by Brene Brown - Okay listen I just really REALLY love Brene Brown, she is a therapist most famous for her TED talk about Vulnerability and this is just...listen I really like to read this book when I am sad and feel like shit because it makes me feel strong. I reread this book at least once a year.

Imagined Communities by Benendict Anderson - This is an absolutely fascinating read on the rise of nationalism. It’s a bit dry and wordy, but the ideas and use of history as propaganda, spinning the story of a nation to pit it against or on the same side as other nations, and the ways in which these tactics shaped cultural history is just!!!! Amazing.

Gay New York by George Chauncey - This is just one of the most informative and interesting reads of queer history in New York that I’ve ever come across. It’s one of the ‘must reads’ of queer history and has so many interesting tidbits that I have to recommend it. It’s a bit old(published in 1994) but I still find it relevant and interesting to read.

Personal Fiction/Autobiographical Fiction

White Girls by Hilton Als - I went to a reading of this book when it first came out. It was so much fun and so eye-opening for me as a baby queer in NYC that I bought the book there. I wanna be really clear that Als does not pull punches and a lot of people don’t quite like it, but I love Als’ style of writing. The stories and essays in this book are amazing and funny and heartbreaking and informative of queer experience - particularly black queer experience - that I always feel like...honored? to experience through writing? This is one of those ‘you’re gonna suffer but you’re gonna be happy about it’ reads - it can be hard to face because of how very hard the pills are to swallow but like....gosh I just love this book and it’s interesting and hilarious and great.

Confessions of an Economic Hitman by John Perkins  - this is my tin hat favorite. It hits....ugh. This is one of those books that came out and like every government agency freaked the fuck out over it. It’s an interesting look into the quote-unquote dark underbelly of capitalism; how and why countries manipulate each other through economic policies. Super interesting read with a nice style of prose.

The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest to become the Smartest Person in the World by A.J. Jacobs Okay so full disclosure I have not finished reading this, but I’m far enough through to rec it. This book chronicles the author’s attempt to read the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica from front to back, and it is just as kooky and hilarious as it sounds. I am very incredibly and deeply offended this author stole both my schtick and my initials, thereby preventing me from doing this exact thing. I read through the phone book in its entirety when I was three. I had it in me. Anyway, this is basically the author just listing weird interesting facts he’s read about and connecting them to his daily life, but it’s a fun read, and you learn a lot of totally useless facts, which is absolutely my jam.

When Skatboards Will Be Free by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh - HI I LOVE THIS BOOK. I’ve read it maybe three times over. It’s so fun and interesting. You may notice that a lot of the books I rec are very absurdist in their humor, and this is no exception. This book is full of the dry wit and just weird goddamn shit you could only expect from the child of a revolution that never came. You want to read a book about someone who Went Through Shit? Read this book. It’s funny and heartbreaking and just. AHHHH. Seriously I cannot recommend this enough.

Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosch - FIGHT ME ON THIS. I love this book.....so much. Yes it’s technically a comic book but the stories are so INTERESTING and hilarious and full of exactly the dry absurdist humor I eat the fuck up. Also! Allie Brosch recently released a sequel of sorts called Solutions and Other Problems that I recommend without even reading it.

Poetry

Pansy by Andrea Gibson - IF YOU ARE NOT READING THE POETRY OF ANDREA GIBSON WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING WITH YOUR LIFE. I cried seven times reading this book. There are only like 14 poems. Please please read this to break your own queer heart :)

Bloodsport by Yves Olade - This is a tiny book full of absolutely devastating poetry. Most of it has to do with the grief of relationships, but like....gosh I love all of Olade’s stuff. (Also!! This is available as a pay-what-you-wish pdf!!)

Bright Dead Things by Ada Limón - This book focuses a lot on the author’s experiences of loss, and knowing that loss is going to happen. I’m completely devastated every time I read this.

Science Fiction/Fantasy

The Bartimeaus Sequence by Jonathan Stroud - So what if I am a dumb millennial I love this series. It’s another dry and deadpan humor, with weird additions and Stroud’s use of footnotes to absolutely crack me the fuck up means I gotta rec this. I just gotta. Four(I think?) books following the deeply unlikeable Nathaniel and his Djinn Bartimaeus, who just wants to eat humans and have a deeply enjoyable enemies to lovers plotline with his arch rival.

The Magic's Price Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey - Okay I know I’ve recced this before. I will rec it again. This was the very first series I ever read that featured a gay protagonist and I was. Devastated? Reformed? I latched onto Vanyel Ashkevron and I am never letting this depressed emo boy go. Try me, I bite. Seriously, this book was released in the 80s and yet it is still relevant, I still cry - god i LOVE this series SO MUCH. And, MERCEDES LACKEY actually invented unbury your gays, sorry I make the rule on that one. :) Also there are magic talking horses??????? Seriously please read this series I love it so much.

Fire Bringer & The Sight by David Clement-Davies - This is another series that was absolutely formative in my baby lexicon. These are books about magical animals and their inner societal workings and both books address the ideas of good, evil, darkness, compassion and good will, and destiny. I am obsessed with these books, they are some of the most interesting of the genre I’ve read, and so incredibly intricately written. LOVE these books.

Vampire Earth Series by E. E. Knight - The Witcher before it was cool. Sort of but like...there are schools of Cat, Bear, etc and it has COOL VAMPIRES I LOVE THSI SERIES. Basically, earth has been taken over by a race of alien ‘Vampires’ and follows a human involved in the resistance. The writing in this series is...wow. It’s so intricate and interesting and involved. I own the whole series because I love it so much, including the after-series hardback novels. I’m so messy and I love it.

Kindred by Octavia Butler - You know how people are like ‘YOU SHOULD READ OCTAVIA BUTLER!!’ ? You should absolutely do that. This novel is mindblowing and interesting and the pace and narrative are so so so interesting. Heartbreaking, god, horrific. Butler is an amazing writer and this novel, while my personal favorite, is not by any means the only of her books I would recommend. STORIES. STORIES!!!!!!!

Fiction

The Ballad of Barnabas Pierkiel: A Novel by Magdalena Zyzak - This book is so fucking good. It’s imaginative, funny, intelligent....it’s honestly one of the best fiction novels I’ve ever read. Again, dry, absurdist humor, this book sort of reminds me of Terry Pratchett’s style of writing.

The Call of the Wild by Jack London - This is a classic, a true classic. The social commentary of this book is so so good, London’s style flows and, personally, as a dog and animal expert, the anthropomorphisation of Buck and his fellow animals is just so well done. I love this book, it’s quite an easy read, and I reread it at least once a year.

Rolling the R's by R. Zamora Linmark - Okay. Okay okay!!!!!! I gotta take a deep breath about this one. This book is. Yuh. This is a bit younger leaning than the other fictions, focusing almost entirely on high school level characters, however the experiences and commentary is just so so good. Focusing on a diverse group of characters growing up in Hawaii in the 1970′s, this book addresses the intersectionalities of gender, sexuality, race, immigration, education, and how we define who we are. I’m obsessed.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles - A heartbreaking novel about war, innocence, adolescence, and how we hide from our truths. It’s...so good, this book hurts me a LOT okay. The prose is phenomenal, the story is poignant, and it feels like I’m ripping my own heart out with a fishhook every time I finish it.

The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Viswanathan - This is one of those books I half recommend because it’s so good, and half because of the deep wealth of knowledge it presents the reader. The author’s use of her own culture is just....goddddddddd. Intricate and interesting and so delicately included in the narrative that you can feel the love the author has for it. It’s a long read and it took me almost a month to get through reading every day, but god. It’s so soft and amazingly written I both wanted to read it all at once and take my time with it. This is another one that deals with the duality of humanity and how we connect with one another. Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!

P.S. Your Cat Is Dead by James Kirkwood Jr. - I love this book I love this book I LOVE THIS BOOK. It’s fucking hilarious, entertaining, I literally laughed out loud at every single chapter. Hilarious and poignant and surprisingly deep, this book literally follows the journey of a man in which literally everything that could go wrong does. It’s fucking hilarious.

I hope that helped and gave you some new books!!! <3

[kineticallyanywhere]

I'd love to hear those fusion thots :eyes: the pacific rim ones were V good

If you’ve been around this house for a hot minute you might know that fusion aus are My Entire Jam Garden so you might imagine I’ve already put some thought into this and you would imagine right. The following was brainstormed in consort with @aryashi my second brain. 

The basis for this au is that fusion is possible in the forgotten realms and is just a thing people there can do. This also applies to sudden interdimensional travelers. 

tl;dr I wrote basically a one-shot’s worth of words down there but in short fusion is rad but also there's an unexpected amount of drama. which is basically a summary of the podcast but replace "fusion" with "fatherhood"

(preface: fusion is not a sex metaphor, just like pacific rim. Platonic fusion is normal. Familial fusion is normal. Okay, continue.) 

First inter-dad fusion: “I silence his dumb ass with a kiss” except its “I silence his dumb ass by accidentally fusing our bodies and consiousnesses into a single being w h o o p s” 

I like to name fusions as something other than their romantic ship name so let’s call him… o h yeah we named all of Henry’s fusions after animals. So this guy is Hare (like Darryl). Hare is pretty stable from the outside, but their internal dialogues clash really hard so they're incredibly slow to make decisions. 

Internally, Henry feels like he's crossed Darryls boundaries. They have to hold it, but he lets Darryl take the wheel and all similar mistakes are made. They make it through the thing with the Lance before unfusing. Darryl has no idea what that was and already has a lot of intimacy issues, so he’s not particularly inclined to try that again for funsies. Henry is curious, but there’s a buried part of him that’s making him deeply unsettled by the whole experience. He can barely have a straight thought about it, much less articulate the feeling, so he doesn’t try. He lets it go. 

First sons fusion: When the Lord of Chaos throws back his robe, yelling “Dad! !” it’s a GIANT Lark&Sparrow. They’re like trying to fuse two rubies together, you just get a bigger ruby. This changes a bit later, when the twins start to diverge from each other vis a vis Love Wolfism, but basically the Lord of Chaos is an Oak Twin the size of their dad. But still looks 12. It probably actually takes the Love Wolf speech from Henry and their divergent reactions to get them to unfuse. 

Second inter-dad fusion: That other time Henry and Darryl smooched while high on drug flowers. It was very unpleasant, they don’t talk about it, they don’t try that again for a while. 

They get a book on fusions from the Library that reads almost like a birds and the bees talk and there is minor culture-shock panicking about whether fusion is Like That, but something in Henry is telling him “No. It’s not Like That.” He doesn’t really know why he’s so solid in that belief. He understands that fusion is unique and powerful and a wonderful thing, but something about doing it is just… getting under his skin. 

Third inter-dad fusion: Glenn and Ron. I’m not even sure the exact context or anything. Maybe they were just vibin’. All I really know is that I imagine these two occasionally fuse for the weirdest things, like

Fourth inter-dad fusion: also Glon, fishing magic items out of a giant toilet. They needed to be taller. 

Glon is… gosh, what the heck is Glon. Performative out the ass, for sure. Down for basically anything. Allowed to wear bootie shorts. 

Back up a hot minute though, because first dad-son fusion: almost happens on the Tower of Terry. It comes so close. They’re in that hug, and Ron thinks maybe if they fuse, the magic won’t take TJ. Or even if it takes them both, that’s better than TJ getting taken alone. They don’t have to say “I’m sorry” or “I love you, son” out loud, but before it really takes, Terry gets ripped away. Because Willy can’t have that, can he? 

Fifth inter-dad fusion: is Glon again, but the circumstances are way different because Ron just saw the mummy of his wife and Glenn is trying to help him breeze past it and it works until it doesn’t and they fall apart with Ron a crying mess. 

Sixth inter-dad fusion buckle up because we’ve reached Ravenloft. Before dad-fusion 6, Henry gets caught in his dad’s claws. He feels something very familiar and rejects it with everything he has, and escapes to grab Glenn. Then he gets hit by Calm Emotions, Glenn reaches up, trying not to fall, and Henry is already super chill about everything all of a sudden, so when Glenn tries to fuse out of panic, Henry goes for it. 

Gila—Henry and Glenn—can do actual bard magic. They’re like Opal, in that a single moment of disconnect is enough to snap them apart and finding that disconnect is not difficult. But when the situation is saving their kids and telling their asshole dads to get lost, that’s plenty enough connection to cast an actual magic-ass thunderwave with a guitar and maybe a bit more. 

(Barry didn’t like that.) 

So another fun thing about adding this factor to cannon is that this lets the dads have glimpses inside each other’s heads. So certain conversations could change a little bit. For example, in the van while they’re driving away from the Ravenloft fight and Henry’s explaining a few things. 

Henry: I don't have a lot of memories from that time in my life—  Glenn: Not a lot? Try "not any.” Henry: Glenn—  Glenn: Dude, none of my business, but your brain was weird.  Henry: Glenn.  Glenn: Like did the government get to you when you showed up on earth or—   Henry: Glenn what the fff—rick are you even saying just shut up Darryl: …

Darryl had noticed, too, but Glenn has other fusion experience to compare with. Henry could catch glimpses and imprints and trains of thought which ground in different points of Darryl/Glenn’s entire life, and Glenn and Ron can do that equally with each other. But a bunch of things for Henry, if you try to backtrack to where the decision comes from it just. Stops. Especially with using magic, which Glenn got to do. And Henry’s thoughts on fusion end dead hard. 

(filtering all of this through Freddie’s headcanon that Glenn always figured Henry was from Faerun but was just wildly wrong about all the details is so much fun)

This is the part in the fic series where there’s a one-shot about Henry having a panic attack just outside of the camp at night, and the most he can explain is just that something about seeing his dad again set him off. 

And then we get to a lighter turn for first dad-son fusion but for realsies this time: Ron Stampler nat 20s to hug his son and then also is the son. And that dad. And dads are supposed to be inside to do a ritual for a demon cow. 

RJ is the sweetest dude. Also if you don’t sit on him he will wander off and do the most extreme version of the first thing that comes to his mind for a problem solution or release from boredom. And he will not tell you about it in advance, so seriously. Sit on him. 

So they stand there for a second like "yes... Yes. Yes... Okay. Im... I'm the dad. But I'm the kid? But im. The dad. And all the other dads are also the kid so... Dad... Trumps kid status. And I'm the dad... Cool." and they go in to help with the demon cow. 

The kids are flipping out outside. 

Henry spots them and drops the cage, almost like he’s Garnet and just spotted Stevonnie. While all the other dad’s are freaking out/fawning/curious, Glenn lifts their glasses and theres four eyes and he drops the glasses and never mentions this again. 

Rj: hi um. I'm a dad.... Yeah. So I'm here tooooooo frickin kill a demon cow let's do this Rj: got the good dad vibes comin out of my butt

For realsies though Terry should be outside, so they unfuse for the cow thing and the bbq but then Dennis happens. 

Second dad-son fusion: Dennis: are you sure you've got this?  Ron: i can do it  TJ: he can DO it dad GIVE ME YOUR HAND

RJ’s an arcane trickster and it’s real cool and Dennis looks so jealous ha ha ha and also they separate after the fight and suddenly Terry’s unsettled and needs to talk to Ron for a second because “Hey Dad is Dennis not real????????” 

Third dad-son fusion: is way less eventful, but who the heck can say no to more reasons to cry about the Wilsons at the tail end of the Supper Bowl arc? 

Fusion is not a replacement for talking, but it is a bit smoother in communicating emotions. It doesn’t happen until the end of their talk, when Darryl’s got his arm around Grant. I don’t think either of them are super attached to this whole fusion thing, (If Grant is, it certainly wasn’t his dad he’d been thinking about trying it with. Maybe one of the other kids… “maybe Terry.”) so they may not even pick a name. Henry certainly cries at least twice as hard, but when they want to just get something to eat and maybe just hang out for a while, nobody pushes. 

I think the most important part of this is that it gives Grant a kind of… emotional break. Lets him feel something nice again— like he does in the show, too, but in a way that’s a bit more stable while it lasts. Like the feeling when you’re a kid on a long car ride with your parents, one that ends in getting home late and you’ve fallen asleep and they carry you out of the car. 

Good things for Grant Wilson for til forever. 

Somewhere in that arc, though, Glenn approaches Henry by themselves. Glenn’s not really a feelings guy, but whatever’s going on in Henry’s head is a problem. It’s a one-up the o-dads have on them, and they can’t afford that right now. 

Glenn: so you like... Really don't hardly remember being a kid?  Henry: Glenn, I don't want to talk about it  Glenn: I bet your dad's gonna wanna talk about it  Henry: well... i don't care what he wants  Glenn:... You seriously don't know how you got to earth?  Henry: [exasperated] the frick are you-- I got to earth like anyone else, Glenn. You know where babies come from, right?  Glenn: of course i fucking know where babies come from. A mommy and a daddy love each other very much and then their kid runs away so hard he skips dimensions  Henry: wh-- wait you-- do you think I'm an alien?  Glenn: obviously  Henry: Glenn that's-- [sighs, rubs his face] Glenn this isn't the kind of time for your conspiracies  Glenn: hey as far as I'm concerned, a man who sleeps with an axe under his pillow is a fool every night but one. and you shoot poison from your hands and shape shift into bears

Which adds nicely to the slide of heading to Oakveil next

Henry: y'know what. When we leave here, we can get my kids next.  Glenn: your interdimensional kids  Henry: to prove to you you're being crazy. Again.  Glenn: De Nial is a river man, and we left it back on earth

And one more dialogue bite, because…

Glenn: claim your powers latched onto you from this world all you want. But that language you and your dad spoke, didn't come out of the air, it came out of the door in your head

...fusion means the other dads get to learn about the metaphorical brain door. 

This brings us into the most recent arc, heading into Oakveil. He and Ron sneak in, and Beary tells Henry he’s home, and pieces start to click together. Henry’s from this world, so he understands why he’s had such a particular view on fusion and that basic cultural understanding. That it’s considered normal. And that it’s even normal for a kid’s first fusion to be with their parent. Their parent who loves them and knows them wants to see them grow. 

Bear Ry’Oak is not that. 

First O-dad fusion: Henry’s first fusion was with his dad. 

I think the worst thing is that, when fused with his dad, Hen doesn't feel like he's not himself. one of the interesting things about the Oaks is that they're kind of all slight alterations on the same traits. Like as gross as it feels to admit, Beary is just Henry but with the condescension turned up to a billion and his high horse is basically an elephant and no self-awareness or care for how others might have different perspectives from him

But Beary is still so overwhelming to Henry that it just flattens pretty much anything that makes Henry, Henry. Specifically the parts that Barry dislikes. like Henry's anger. To directly quote Aryashi: “Beary thinks using fusion for combat is barbaric. obviously fusion is for Conflict Resolution. Fuse with Beary so he can sort out your disagreement with him!”

(and then bathe in bleach)

So Beary finds them in Oakveil and Henry starts panicking and he tries to Handle Henry like he did when Henry was a kid, fusing with him to stomp down on his feelings to cut a panic attack or outburst off at the pass. If Henry's in no place to fight back it usually works, but if Ron's there--literally pressed against Henry's back--to see the fusion coming, maybe he reaches for a fusion, too, and lets Henry's instincts choose which pull to follow, and Henry's instincts choose Ron.

Seventh inter-dad fusion: Wren is suddenly there before Beary can even start his attempt to coach Henry through breathing (his half-effort to help Henry and be able to say that he tried freakin hate him) and is sitting on the ground and the disgusted look Beary gets seeing this. (Fusing with an outsider is something he considers so beneath his son.)

Beary:... Ah. Ronald.  Wren, existing, suddenly, and mostly being Ron's processing power as Henry's mental wheels try to slow down to match Ron's pace (cultivated through a childhood of dealing with Willy) rather than amp them both up: uhm... It's just Ron, actually Beary: would you mind... (there's other people around so he can't say "decontaminating") liberating my son. (as if ignoring the role his son had in choosing this fusion over his) Wren: Henry is uh... (me? Not me? Yes me, not up for this, we should go somewhere else that usually works fine, we can just leave and find the others and that'll be fine) he's good. We're good, we're gonna... (looking at the other people who look like Henry and the "not amping each other up” thing is working less and less)  Wren: bye

And then they just stand up and fast-walk away

Wren is either chill af and rolling with every punch or the living equivalent of a coke bottle that you popped a whole roll of mentos in and then closed immediately. At this moment, it’s very much the coke bottle side. Beary lets them go because he knows Henry will be back, and they make it just outside of town to where the others have just shown up before they fall apart. 

Ron: We found the door!  Darryl: what door?  Ron: the one in Henry's head!  And all the dads know what he's talking about Glenn: did you open it?  Henry: no  Ron: a little bit  Henry(probably now starting that panic attack): the anchors in there  Ron: his dad came out of it  Darryl: his dad???????? Henry, vulnerability, Oak: I AM FEELING VERY VULNERABLE RIGHT NOW AND I HATE IT  [chorus of mumbled sorrys] Ron: oh also Oakvale is Henry's home Darryl: WHAT Glenn: Uh hey anyone gonna pick up the phone cause I FUCKIN CALLED IT Henry: That's not my home! My home is with Mercedes back on Earth! Glenn: Yeah, this is just where you were born.  Henry: Glenn I swear to God-- Glenn: Dude lay off, I was agreeing with you! Home's where the heart meds are and all that jazz Darryl: Wait, you have heart meds? At home? When was the last time you took your heart meds? Glenn: Uhh... not since I came here? It's fiiiiiine. Never felt better! Ron: Not to interrupt but Henry's on the ground breathing funny. Glenn, are you sure you don't have any heart meds? Henry: being hugged by both of his sons in a simultaneous way that is not their normal simultaneous way (i.e. the Lord of Chaos way): WHY ARE MY SONS TALLER THAN ME Glenn: I'm more surprised that they're hugging you  Lord of Chaos: to assert dominance! Any moment now, we will turn this hug into a suplex!

And that basically brings us to now? I want a Triple Oak Fusion (the King of Chaos) but with how the fight with Beary went I’m not sure where it’ll go. OH YEAH. 

Autumn stopped fusing with Hen even when he was a kid because she couldn’t stand to see how much her son craved the approval of that evil man who stole her life away. And whether or not Henry ever fuses with anyone ever again after finding out he’s got Eldritch in him has gotta be up in the air. 

And at this point I could easily be convinced that the next inter-dad fusion is Darryl and Glenn, those beautiful idiots. They could be… Denn. Glarryl? We’ll workshop it. 

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 11: Cait (Part 1)

You speak of the Grimm that scour the land outside the cities?

The real monsters are already here.

❃❃❃

“Can you please *hah* tell me why *heh* we’re running to *huh* Yuen’s office?” Cait wheezed.

After Hattie had so gleefully hinted at what they were going to do, she had wasted no time in dragging Cait out of the door and ordering them to run as fast as they could to the precinct, giving them only enough time to grab their weapon; a pair of chain flails they had christened as Entwined Catenary.

“I called her up, and she said that Sardion and her were going to go investigate a potential lead!” replied Hattie, her weapon Whirling Dervish strapped over her back in its gun form and her left hand firmly around Cait’s right wrist. Her jubilant attitude appeared to be doing wonders for her stamina—despite the fact that they had been running for a good half mile, she hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Wait, seriously? Where?” Cait asked, completely forgetting about their still-incomplete essay. Despite their past week of getting nowhere, a small feeling of excited anticipation sparked within them.

“I don’t know the details yet! We have to hurry, though, she said they’re waiting for us!” Hattie said as she finally let go of Cait’s wrist, keeping pace ahead of her teammate.

***

After a few more minutes’ worth of running, the duo stopped in front of the precinct to find Sardion already waiting outside. The streets were vacant except for the trio, with the building’s windows darkened and Yuen nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, so… where’re we going?” Hattie chirped, bouncing on her heels as Cait took a minute to catch their breath.

“Out to the Manju-Shage District.” Yuen answered. “It’s a long shot, but we might pick up a trail out there, if nothing else.”

“Manju-Shage?” Cait asked. “That’s a pretty long way from here.” Their legs weren’t suitable for a mile-long run and such a walk, with only a five-minute breather.

“Don’t worry,” Sardion said. “We’re taking a ride.”

A sound of a whirring propeller overhead caught the two students’ ears. They glanced up to see a compact Sailship descending from above them, lowering itself beside the trio to hover just above the pavement. It was noticeably smaller than the transport Sailships that the city police usually flew, but it looked to be big enough for the lot of them.

“Might as well get there in a bit of style, eh?” Sardion said, hopping into the cabin. “Climb aboard, you two.”

“Where’s Detective Yuen?” Cait asked as they hoisted themselves in. “Wasn’t she the one who called up Hattie?”

Sardion jabbed a thumb at the cockpit, and Cait turned to see Yuen sitting in the pilot’s seat.

“You two got your weapons and everything?” Yuen asked, turning to speak to them. “I don’t want to waste any time.”

Hattie nodded, her grin brimming with excitement. “Locked and loaded, captain!”

“Detective Captain,” Yuen replied, feigning amusement. “Well, at least you’re enthusiastic about this. I’ve never seen anyone this eager to check out Manju-Shage.”

“Hey, where’s Rudyard?” Hattie asked, realizing the man in question was nowhere to be seen. “Wouldn’t he want to come along for this?”

“No idea where he is,” Sardion said, shaking his head. “We tried to get through to him before calling you, but he left his Scroll in my office. I left behind a note for him, just in case he comes back to look for it.”

Yuen cleared her throat, turning back to the sailship’s controls. “Alright, guys, hang on to something— I’m gonna take us up.”

With a rush of wind and a roar from the engines as the propellers sped up, the sailship slowly rose into the air, sailfins gently undulating up and down as the vehicle ascended.

“Whoa…” Hattie uttered in breathless awe, never having experienced a ride so high before. “I can see the whole city from up here. If it were lighter, I could probably see Lake Matsu from here… this is so cool.”

“Mmm.” Cait hummed in apparent agreement, looking less interested than the former.

Sardion cocked an eyebrow at Cait’s uncharacteristically morose behavior, but chose to say nothing of it. He brushed his hand against the handle of his weapon, holstered in its pistol form inside of his jacket. While his gut feeling more or less indicated this excursion would be as inconsequential as the past seven days, he couldn’t help but entertain the uneasy thought that something would end up going wrong.

At least nobody said ‘what’s the worst that could happen’, he thought to himself. ‘...Wait, damn, does that still apply if you think about—’

“Don’t get too comfy,” Yuen called out over the noise of the engine, interrupting his paranoid inner monologue. “We’ll be there in ten minutes tops.”

***

To the two of them, the simple act of killing was an easy task, and a depravedly enjoyable one at that.

The art of assassination was not, nor was it particularly fun— especially when it involved multiple targets. The job called for sleepless nights, long boring stakeouts, the painstaking task of ensuring any kills had no trace of evidence, and comparably squalid living conditions in hideouts.

While they weren’t exactly the neatest duo for such a profession, they had tried their best. The two had always preferred making their kills nice and personal, one of them in particular relishing the opportunity to savor every dying breath.

Suffice to say, neither had much regard for the mess they tended to leave behind. This time around, however, they had been given specific instructions to leave no trace.

“I gotta admit, the plan you had to clean up those two loose ends wasn’t half bad. Still doesn’t look like anyone’s caught wind of us yet.” Nest observed.

She stood atop a stump of concrete on the edge of a dilapidated apartment block’s roof, her partner sitting on the ledge beside her.

“If we’d kicked down both doors like you suggested, the whole Mistral City police force would be breathing down our necks right now.” her partner said. “You see, Nest, you should think sometimes about focusing on your brain rather than your brawn. Then again, since you don’t even have a Semblance, that’s not saying a lot.”

“…You calling me dumb, Moira?” Nest asked, bristling slightly.

“No, I’m calling you unreasonable and impulsive, because you always want to fight without thinking about your next move.” Moira retorted. “But if you want to call yourself dumb, I won’t argue with it. Just remember that you said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re just jealous ‘cause that tongue of yours isn’t all that useful. At least I can fly, froggy!” Nest hissed.

“Whatever you say.” Moira said. “Dumbass.”

“RRRRRRR—!” Nest growled, the metal wings fused to her back scratching together as she rounded on Moira, razor-tipped feathers glinting dangerously in the moonlight. “Say that again, I dare you! I double-dare you!”

“Calm down.” Moira said, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, your whole thing about ‘leaving them alive just to toy with them a while’ nearly cost us big. What are you, a housecat with anger issues? You remember as well as I do what Faine said about these two.”

“Tch.” Nest glared at her, folding her wings in reluctant acquiescence. “Fine, whatever. Any update on where we’re supposed to go with the kitty cat yet?”

Moira shook her head. “You know, if I’m being honest, I still can’t believe that we found them.” She leaned back, letting out a long sigh of disbelief. “It’s been so long, and just when we least expect it…”

“Mmmh..” Nest mumbled. “Boss’s still being too soft on them, if you ask me.”

“What, the whole thing he said about not hurting them?” Moira asked. “You make it sound like you didn’t expect it, but you know as well as I do how much they mean to him.”

Nest threw her hands up, growing more exasperated the more she thought about it. “Goddamnit, Moira, he hasn't shown me a tenth of the kindness he has to them for the last eighteen years, and here I am, ready to die for him! Cait… that little bastard’s got an ungrateful streak half a mile wide. That's why I never cared much for them, you know?”

She shook her head in disgust. “I just can’t stand anyone who won’t stand by their own.”

***

Cait hunched over in the cabin, their elbows on their knees and their hands holding their head as they stared at the metal floor. Their chest felt painfully tight, and butterflies were practically swarming in their stomach.

“Are you okay? Even without my Semblance, I can tell you’re not feeling well.” Hattie asked Cait, the latter sitting alone in the center of the sailship. “You’ve got ‘anxiety’ written all over you.”

Cait looked up, a bit surprised that Hattie had noticed. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a bit stuffy in here, that’s all,” they said. 

Hattie pouted. “I’m not dumb, Cait— it’s a chilly night, and we’re in an open-door sailship.

“If you want some air, maybe it’s best for you to come closer over here.” Sardion added, pointing at a seat next to the edge of the cabin where the windstream was stronger.

“I said I’m fine.” Cait said, a bit more emphatically. “Seriously, don’t worry about me. It’s just… jitters or something.”

Hattie and Sardion looked at each other. “Okay, just... don’t freak out, okay? We’ve got this.”

Cait nodded, looking down again.

While it eased up slightly with the pair’s reassurances, the knot in their chest remained as the sailship drew above Manju-Shage. It was a feeling of dread they had felt before, and it had been a long enough time since they did that the sensation felt almost foreign— but still, they knew it all too well.

It can’t be him. Not here, of all places… there’s no way he could have found me so soon…

***

“You see that?” Moira said, pointing up at the sky.

“Of course I see it.” Nest snapped. “What’s a sailship doing out here at this time of—” She froze in the middle of her sentence.

“What?” Moira asked, turning to her partner. “What’s the matter?”

“Hold up.” Nest motioned to the open cabin, squinting. “Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or is that… Sardion Sarikaya? And… the kitty?”

“That— oh. Oh, that’s just wonderful.” Moira said, displeasure clear in her tone. “If he’s here, then that means he and the baldy already narrowed it down to here. I knew that we didn’t cover all of our tracks.”

“Stop whining, Moira, don’t you see how good this just turned out for us?” Nest said. “We’ll be killing two birds with one stone. Kill Sarikaya and whatever sidekicks he brought along, sedate the kitty, fly ourselves back home in grand style like we were never here in the first place. I’m telling you, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

Moira raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to rebuff her partner before pausing. “I could dismantle any tracking device that’d be on that ship… and we could scrap it once we touch down.” After a moment, she nodded. “Okay, Nest. Let’s play it your way.”

***

“Whoa… this place is super gloomy.”

Under the sailship’s floodlights, the bright blue accents of Hattie’s dress stood out from the dilapidated grays of the decrepit Manju-Shage District. Yuen had opted to land the sailship dead center in the ruins of the abandoned city expansion, in a small area where a park likely would have stood. The grass around the perimeter was clumped and overgrown, neglected yet still alive.

“It’s a shame this wasn’t even finished.” Sardion said. “Would’ve been a nice place if they’d gone through with it, but now it’s just a big waste.”

“Speaking of, pay attention to your surroundings.” Yuen said, a shotgun slung over her shoulder. “Sometimes a Grimm or two make it in here, but never anything the police can’t handle. What I’m worried about is the squatters.”

“Squatters?” Sardion said.

“Yeah. We’ve had a few times where some thugs from the Hana Guild or the Spiders decide to drop in and lay low if they’ve made trouble in the city.”

“They ever killed anyone before?” Sardion asked a bit warily. “Given who it is we’re looking for…”

“No,” Agave replied. “There’s a first time for everything, though, so stay alert.”

***

“They’re coming closer, froggy.” Nest called down to Moira, beating her metal wings to keep herself level as she hovered a few meters above her partner.

“How many?”

“Four in all. The leader, the detective… the kitty… and their teammate.” Nest replied. “So what do you say? Who gets who?”

“I’ll deal with the grown-ups, you take the children. Look, just try not to hurt them too much— he won’t be happy at all if you do, and I’m not taking the blame on your behalf if you screw up.”

“Fair enough.” Nest said, landing beside her, a tense note of excitement in her voice as she furrowed her wings. “When do we start?”

“Patience, Nest. Let them play around a little bit more.” Moira said, flicking out her serpentine tongue. A single fleck of spittle dripped from a polymer barb on the end, and landed on the concrete below. It hissed for a second, then melted right into the stone, leaving a penny-sized crater behind.

Her lips, pocked and distorted by scars and welts, curled into a predatory grin. Several stories below, the quartet from the sailship entered the apartment block.

“Oh, this is going to be ever so fun.”

[sirsparklepants]

I've been staring at my WIPs a lot recently, as you do, and I think it's time to release everything I've got of my favorite story I will never write. I kind of fell out of Overwatch before I had the spoons for longfic, and now there's so much lore to catch up on (this dates from before Doomfist was released) that I'm just not going to be able to incorporate, but it's still a really great idea that I really love, so I'm going to put my story notes and snippets out into the wild.

The Darkness In Our Hands

Jesse McCree wasn't expecting to get a message when the Recall went out. He'd been Blackwatch, after all - he'd written half their playbook. But he'd lived five years with the death and slander of Gabriel Reyes burning in his chest, not knowing who to blame, and this new Overwatch was the best way to find out who had killed him so he could kill them right back. But the deeper he looks, the more mysteries he finds - and he'll need some help if he's ever going to get his justice.

[[MORE]]

Crime and conspiracy fic

Opening: McCree, in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico - give insight into the state of the world and how territorial governments are, him thinking on Reyes and what he owes to him, the recall message, decides to respond but have his own agenda.

He travels thinking about how different from the rest of Overwatch Blackwatch was, and how he hopes at least one Blackwatch agent has made it back, thinking about past with Genji - flashbacks to unsavory missions maybe? Arrival - he sees new faces and is not particularly prepared because he didn't feel it was secure enough to ask on a comm line who was there. Not as familiar with this base, paranoia rising, but then a familiar face! Sort of. (when he arrives Reinhardt and Brigitte are fighting about Brigitte calling Torb on him, Reinhardt doesn't want to pull Torb away from his wife) ← might combine these two into one chapter?

Genji puts him off when he initially tries to talk though, and when McCree pulls him aside to speak about his own personal mission Genji talks first about Hanzo and Genji's changes, and McCree realizes that Genji is so utterly different as to be unrelatable, so he never does tell Genji the whole story of why he's there. Genji asks him to give Hanzo a chance instead of acting on his loyalties to Genji and providing retribution. End of section, Hanzo arrives

McCree and Hanzo spend some time scoping each other out but they can both tell they're very different from the people around them. A particular do-gooder incident happens and they bond over looking at each other like “r u srs rn”. Meanwhile, Winston is creating profiles for everyone and trying to find a fit for like… intelligence gathering, brute force, explosives, etc - team roles I guess? In the interests of that are exhaustive interviews and training. First kinky sex somewhere in here

McCree is getting antsy at this point and I need to move along from character development to actual plot, so time to send out trial field intel squad for a rootin tootin hopefully not shootin time! They go - somewhere with a large Asian population where someone McCree’s size won't stand out. Uh. This is a note to do more research into where Omniums are. Hong Kong maybe? Hong Kong is a good city for crime. Maybe Singapore if I want to make things difficult for them what with all the weapons laws. Anyway. Somewhere with an omnic population that's not great with outsiders but Genji knows enough about their culture to be respectful and he's metal enough he won't stand out. They're not actually researching Talon but McCree is! Hanzo catches him and then they're wary partners. The omnic culture thing is a breadcrumb, be sure to emphasize it.

They leave and Genji finds out Jesse and Hanzo are screwing and starts laughing and taunting them both and being a fucker, he gets slightly let in on the Reyes plot, Intel Squad tentatively a success, they've all bonded and everyone is confused about it

Meanwhile while they were gone a stomach bug swept the base and Mercy throws a fit about not being a GP. McCree shares a cigar with her to calm her down and starts making a plan to try and get information sneakily out of everyone by reminiscing - I think??? No one knows who Reaper actually is at this point??? Anyway everyone talks shit about the UN and there's more worldbuilding dumps because this feels like the right place to put it. McCree and Hanzo and Genji are kept basically quarantined until the base isn't contagious and in that time they devise A Plan. Also enter Zenyatta because Mercy really needs a backup doctor

Lúcio isn't vetted yet so McCree gets sent out alone to send him an offer, there's a Talon base in Brazil he investigates on the way maybe? I feel like this is enough outline to be getting on with atm tho. Yeah, talon base in Brazil where there's a mention of Talon trying to infiltrate Vishkar

Meanwhile, Ana and 76 have shown up at Gibraltar because they figured out someone was tracking their movements and wanted to go to ground in the general area but spotted the activity there and they're both not best pleased that Overwatch has started back up. When McCree comes back with Lúcio there's another fight he walks into - a running joke? Every time he returns to base there's someone yelling. Second kinky sex, very dominance and pain flavored because McCree needs to shut his brain up. Or maybe not, that’s a long time to go without porn??? Maybe they have coitus interruptus with Genji and that’s how he finds out

Ana and 76 hang around for a while but can't stomach the idea of being there too long because they have their own mission but they drop the bomb that Reaper is Reyes and he's Teh Evulz now because they know too much and i need to get rid of them so we don’t have experienced field operatives for mccree to work around. Also some Widowmaker info dump here. McCree pretends to be shocked but he has a different definition of evil than most people so he doubles down on his investigation and wants Hanzo to give up some contacts. Metal arm fisting here maybe???

what. the fuck. has reaper been doing all this time. has he just been swanning around in the background ruining investigations? maybe he’s laying low because the winston raid thing made him so visible? talon needs to work underground so yeah this sounds right. in the meantime VISKHAR because lucio is here now so we can talk more about the evils of corporations and have corporate espionage going on. Lucio says they should look more into vishkar and they make contact with symmetra who is a whistleblower, ideological clash because that’s what i’m about. lucio and symmetra are both trans with prosthetics btw, that’s happening now because i said so and because hormones are a horrible way to control someone and so it makes sense that vishkar controls sym’s access to them along with her arm. because they’re fuckers. A N Y W A Y vishkar knows things about the old omnica corporation.

sombra makes contact with them here because she’s been keeping an eye on the new overwatch and talon thinks that maybe mccree could be an ally, not that he knows that at the time but they test him out with a dead drop with omnic-related code shit on a TEAM MISSION which happens to, idk, build goodwill or something. winston got info from someone for something and i have to have at least one team mission happen in the foreground, it can’t be all background shit and Intel Group. the mission goes. okay-ish. someone gets fairly seriously injured? tracer, maybe, or reinhardt, either way i can write their significant others fussing over them. it’s a member of old overwatch so winston can be conflicted and take people off field missions for a bit so mccree can tinker around and end up having to ask zenyatta for help. a much longer sex scene than normal here somewhere? OHYES this is where i’m gonna stick the scene where Hanzo makes McCree take off his prosthetic legs and makes McCree leave on his prosthetic arm (because pain kink and metal arm kink and he has to have both arms to handle him) and basically makes McCree fuck him in exactly the way he likes, up to and including making McCree bounce him up and down on his lap. AND THEN ACTUAL AFTERCARE HAPPENS FOR ONCE, A TURNING POINT. perhaps there’s a scene where one of them lays their head on the other’s sweaty heaving chest and doesn’t even mind the sweat in fine romance novel tradition

something has to happen here for pacing reasons but i’m fucked if i know exactly what. uhhhh for Reasons they have to go to an omnic city? more omnic culture and worldbuilding dump here.

aaaaand then the Reveal Chapter: reyes knows something about this mystery mccree stumbled into when he was investigating the death, and he’s willing to talk. hanzo and mccree make plans to meet with him. and then we find out that the reason reyes blew switzerland was because he was working for talon ALL ALONG. the chapter ends with a ridiculous dramatic sequence where mccree puts together all the evidence and goes “so talon was created to fight the god programs”

okay this is the chapter when i get down to the nitty-gritty and break down the structure of talon and have like. a nice artsy chapter explaining how the omnics came to be and how the government created wars to be fucks and all that. i will get to the details of this LATER but the important part is that at the end of it hanzo and mccree are secret talon moles and they have actually pretty kink-free sex while staring into each other’s eyes and kind of freak each other out with how they like and trust each other and that doesn’t happen in their world but it’s overshadowed by the freakout of them agreeing to work for a shadow organization that wants to destabilize all the world’s governments, the fuck were we thinking??? the fuck was i thinking this isn’t even the proper climax, i die

okay for pacing reasons i have to have at least two chapters of them doing double agent things and getting more deeply involved in overwatch, fuck. some public missions should be mentioned where they like. intervene in humanitarian crisises and shit. crises. whatever. maybe hanzo and mccree have to split up and feel sad that they miss each other? one chapter for hanzo to make contact with his shady criminal underworld people to get verifiable info - maybe like. idk. plastic surgery clinic records - and mccree to re-emerge and rehabilitate his image?

and after that one chapter where like. winston gets suspicious about shit. and maybe??? they have to bring EVERYONE in on this huge conspiracy? they have enough evidence to convince other people? yeah i like this, i want to emphasize how ragtag and vigilante-like and underground the new overwatch is. probably an actual defining the relationship talk and possessive sex here.

story ends with like. a giant news story break i think. as i get closer to the end i’ll know more about what threads need resolving. BUT that is the end of my outline. I DID IT HOORAY

Notes

So McCree responds to the recall not because he believes in the cause like Winston does - he probably still sees most of Overwatch as outsiders, although he's at least surface friendly with most of them by the time he leaves based on in-game interactions - but because something in Overwatch killed Reyes, who he doesn't yet know is Reaper, and joining back up with Overwatch is his best chance to find out what it was and hit them back for killing someone who had his loyalty. He's friendly still because that's the best way to get what he wants, i.e. information and access to records, but this isn't like Blackwatch. He's not surrounded by people who came from the same type of lawless loyalty structure he did, who think the way he thinks - they all believe in restorative justice, and his whole life, justice has been nothing but punitive. The only person he was counting on to understand him, Genji, has changed, and it's probably better for him, but he's become different. He doesn't lash out the way he used to. He believes in second chances, where in the places they both came from, you paid for a second chance in blood. He's done with revenge. He's well and truly gotten out of the life, and McCree has never changed his mindset and never will, because it's kept him alive this long. But Genji has brought along someone he does understand - his brother. McCree gets Hanzo, he gets why he did what he did, even though he regrets it. McCree isn't happy about it, but when he was fifteen he came along to meet the cartels with Deadlock, and when he was sixteen he saw what they did to turncoats. You pay for treachery with blood in their world, and Genji betrayed the Shimadas by passing along information. Hanzo paid when he lost his place, and he made his clan pay for what they made him do. Him, McCree understands, and McCree starts testing him out, because he could use an ally in finding out what was under the surface of squeaky clean Overwatch.

And Hanzo understands him. Hanzo is here because he owes a debt to his brother, still, and because he wants to understand Genji. But everyone in Overwatch is alien to him. They take him working for them as a given, as if of course he would want to make up for what he's done. But there's a difference between owing a debt and regretting his whole life. Hanzo was an assassin after he left the Shimadas, and he feels no need to atone for that. It was what he was skilled in, and he also became skilled in finding things out his clients did not wish him to, because being manipulated by his clan taught him to be canny, to find out people's real motivations. So he knows McCree wants his skills for something, but he's willing to make an alliance for the sake of mutual understanding.

So they ally together, with the understanding that any betrayal will be paid in blood, that they both know different tricks of the trade. McCree wants information on Overwatch, and Hanzo wants protection and information on Genji. McCree works on the old guard to find things out, and Hanzo gets in touch with his criminal contacts in every place he's deployed on a mission. And they start to find things out about Talon...

I don't actually know what the resolution to that story would be. The talon-is-hydra-overwatch-is-shield thing has been done. Maybe I'd go a route of "talon was actually founded by Reaper to fight corruption in the UN and that's how he has all those Blackwatch members" and there would be a worldwide conspiracy where the God programs and therefore the omnic crisis were created by top tiers of government and weapons corporations to create a threat that would keep governments separate, give them more power, and give the companies more profit.

...y'know what I actually really like that idea. The world was getting closer and closer to more human rights and one large global government, and corporations and world powers really didn't like that. So what's the best way for humans to give power to government? When they want to be protected from a threat, of course. And they won't be thinking rationally. They'll want to stay apart, because of course the whole thing is *insert other country*'s fault. So Hanzo and McCree run into Reaper and discover this conspiracy and are from then on Reaper's agents inside Overwatch, both to get information and to get enough media exposure they're familiar faces and trusted by the public. So when they blow this thing wide open, it can't be swept under the rug.

Bonus things in this story:

-they have to bring Genji in because he has the most connections to the omnic community through Zenyatta and Omnics have some key evidence to the conspiracy

-bastion provides an essential clue.

-omnic culture and worldbuilding

-underground cities

-Sombra is key, both as a contact that knows what's going on in Mexico (where Important Things should happen just because I mentioned the cartels so they should play at leat a minor part) and in helping them to get into Blackwatch data undetected

-symmetra helps them spy on Vishkar, which was one of the corporations to profit the most from the crisis because they got the most contracts for rebuilding

-Hanzo, McCree, and Genji sit around and exchange stories about things they had to do for deadlock/the Shimadas; it's all horrifically violent and gory but they all three get drunk and laugh about it because it's their life and they won't let it break them and it kept them alive

-it ends with Genji being happy that he's not forced to do lots of violence any more and McCree and Hanzo being perfectly happy with their very violent lives

So Talon has a ruling council which both Reaper and Doomfist are a part of and factions are #confirmed (ty for info people who are up on overwatch lore I Cannot watch a video rn), and Talon is all involved in a global conspiracy. That's canon. So what if Talon is several disparate movements that allied themselves? They need to fight this war on all the fronts they can, given the potential power of their opponents.

Irl, the UN is not a super powerful body - people put much more faith in individual governments of countries. So what makes the UN able to create a peacekeeping force? Well, what if before the crisis, some large thing happened that made the world move towards one earth government and the UN being powerful is remnants of that?

Kind of tempted to channel my frustration with the world falling apart and all the political conflicts into saying that in like... 2022 or sth, something bad enough happened that humanity decided that the only solution was to come together - perhaps we came close to nuclear annihilation? Just writing about it as a small bit of backstory and making the Scary Potential a side note in history seems like it could be really reassuring. Thoughts? (2020 note: I wrote this in 2017 and all I have to say today is OOF)

With this cooperation between nations, corporations couldn't take advantage of cheap labor in developing countries any more, and there was more of a focus on education. That could account for the leaps and bounds in science in sixty years. But that lack of cheap labor meant that robotics was developed more and more, until automation became artificial intelligences. Omnics.

The game takes place in 2076 and the Crisis took place anywhere from 20 to 30 years before that. I'll say it didn't officially start until 2050, but for several years there were developing tensions and small-scale attacks. Historians disagree about the exact cause of the crisis.

It was in the best interest of the Omnica Corporation to not let on how intelligent and sentient Omnics were - with the new focus on human rights, it was only a matter of time before an omnic rights movement erupted.

But the information started to leak. Sometime in the late 2040s, people who worked closely with Omnics started to talk to other people, tell them about how they really were intelligent and person like. And if it came out that the corporation had been deliberately hiding that, things would be bad.

So they had to do damage control.

Meanwhile, the governments of nations that used to be world powers, that used to do as they pleased, aren't that pleased with the fact that they have a lot of eyes on them and they can't meddle the way they used to in the world.

So they get together, and they throw money at the problem, and they come up the the God Programs.

Scientists worked in cells, and when they were done, they often disappeared. There could be no evidence.

And then it didn't matter how intelligent Omnics were. They were the enemy, and everyone hated them. The top executives of the Omnica corporation knew they would be hated, so they had a backup plan. They disappeared. They had surgeries. Their money went somewhere else under a different name. And they resurfaced in areas very far from any of the fighting.

Here is the secret that the Omnics and Sombra help uncover: Omnics were not meant to evolve, to change, beyond basic learning. Originally, they couldn't modify themselves. They had to come to a licensed technician, who was human. Quality control. Planned obsolescence. What the God programs did was take that cap off, distribute a patch that meant that Omnics could fix themselves - but there was a worm in the code that allowed them to be taken over. And the information that would allow that to happen? Before the crisis, it was proprietary corporate information. That shit had the highest security levels in the modern world. Corporations are very protective of their secrets. So either they were infiltrated or the crisis was an inside job. Either way, it was orchestrated by humans.

There's an implication that no humans worked in the Omniums at all, that they were completely automated, and I'm just... Gonna ignore that because it boggles the mind. The people who worked there did have to wear constant radiation shielding because apparently if Omniums are destroyed they leak radiation (or is it that the Australian one was destroyed with a nuclear device? Can anyone help me find a straight answer on this because it makes no sense) but they did work there because automation and seeing things indirectly through cameras and things means the Omniums were networked, and if they were networked they were less secure. So people worked there.

The plan to make the god programs was started off by the fraud accusations and was what caused the executives to bail the fuck out. Several plastic surgery clinics got entirely new wings just before the omnic crisis and I think this should be a weird clue that someone - probably Sombra through her hacking or Symmetra through her knowledge of corporate ins and outs - digs up.

The God programs and the militarized omnics that were pumped out allowed omnics to modify themselves and to develop things like their own independent communication methods and languages. Omnic language is a combination of binary and different computer code languages. There are different regional "dialects" depending what code language was easiest for the omnics in the area to learn and adapt to when modifying their own programming. It's also most often encrypted with... Probably some method I'll have to do research on.

Oops well I think I just ran myself into a big fuckin' wall here, and that wall is Widowmaker. She is canonically brainwashed by Talon into an assassin, and I don't want to make her husband Awful Abusive Forever and erase what was done to her.

Maybe Widowmaker is the face of Talon's moral ambiguity - she was created by a now-defunct Mad Science branch because while her husband wasn't awful for her, he was in a key position, and killing him would destabilize the power structure, and because Talon as a group's motto is probably "the end justifies the means", they still use her. This is probably a major sticking point for any omnics that want to join Talon's cause, and I could use that to highlight how desperate people can get when they're facing someone who has massive power over them.

Actually, have a couple of crime and conspiracy fic tidbits related to that: when he first went on the run, Hanzo got a nasty infection because he was so used to biotics that he didn't glove up or properly sterilize his tools before treating his own wounds. After a ten day course of penicillin derivative and a bad stomach reaction to them, he learned. Conversely, Deadlock probably had one or two fairly low-power biotic emitters, probably military surplus, and use of them was a privilege if you were high-ranking or a reward if you'd done particularly well but got kind of fucked up in the meantime. McCree has one or two big scars on his torso, and they're pretty visible because he got them young, but they don't inhibit his movements because he got treatment for them during his Blackwatch days. Hanzo, on the other hand, has a nasty hypertrophic scar on his upper thigh from the infection he got, and it occasionally restricts his movements.

Snippets

The stomach virus one

They hadn't been directed to medbay after the debriefing. This new Overwatch hadn't exactly established much standard operating procedure - hard to when you were a bunch of vigilantes and more or less all wanted under international law - but it still struck Jesse wrong, whatever Winston said. He'd known Angela longer than he'd known anyone here but Genji. They didn't run in the same circles, but they'd both been recruited before they were really supposed to be, and that gave them a bit of camaraderie Jesse wasn't afraid to lean on. He left the Shimadas to their not quite good-natured bickering and headed for the office just off the infirmary.

Angela's face, when he opened the door, made him glad he'd stopped by. Even her legendary (and probably nanite-enhanced, given the direction of her research) youthful looks were flagging under some kind of strain. Her undereyes were dark and her mouth was drawn, which in a trauma surgeon used to work in the field meant she'd been working for days on four hours or less. Jesse didn't have to do much beyond waving the nice cigars he'd picked up in (location) at her before she was out of her chair and headed towards the nearest balcony with him, monitor clipped to the lapel of her white coat. They hadn't smoked together since the recall, but the old tradition they shared seemed to be as clear in her mind as it was in his.

He was quiet for a few moments, just passing her the lighter, until they'd both blown out slow mouthfuls of fragrant smoke. Then Angela sighed, and some of the tension slipped away from her shoulders as she stared off at the waves. "You probably shouldn't be even this close to me, Jesse."

Jesse laughed at her, a low quiet chuckle. Anything truly serious and Athena wouldn't have let him anywhere near medical. "And why's that?" he asked her, slowly pulling in the rich smoke and rolling it around his mouth.

"The whole base has come down with a nasty stomach virus," she told him. "I have most of them in cots, hooked up to IVs. It's horrible! A certain amount of bodily fluids is to be expected in this job, of course, but the cleaning drones simply can't keep up. It's as much as I can do to keep everyone hydrated and mostly clean. Comfortable is out of the question. It's very contagious, and I haven't done work like this since my residency! I'm not a generalist. I don't prescribe birth control or deal with routine ailments!" Her accent grew sharper as she spoke, and when she'd finished, she took a deep breath before taking her own smooth pull of cigar smoke.

Jesse winced. He was glad any lingering sour smell was covered up by their cigars. He'd take blood and guts over vomit any day. "The whole base?" he asked. No wonder the corridors had been so quiet.

Angela nodded emphatically. "Everyone present, except for Winston, of course. I'm simply thankful it isn't zoonotic."

Jesse whistled. The infirmary had to be filled to capacity. "And nothing you've given 'em makes the nausea any better? That does sound nasty."

Angela froze with her cigar halfway to her mouth, and then began to curse emphatically. (German curses here.) She pulled her bangs with her free hand. "I can't believe I've been so stupid! I never give patients an antiemetic, it's dangerous when they could have been drinking poisoned water, but that doesn't apply here! (More German curses.)" Eventually, she subsided and took a particularly vicious pull off of her cigar.

"Easy with that," Jesse told her. "That's the good stuff - don't waste it."

"Oh, I'm not wasting it, believe me," she told him. "It's keeping me from storming Winston's office and demanding he add a generalist to the staff. Doctors have specializations, and this one isn't mine!"

"I could talk to him, if you like," Jesse told her. His voice was even, though inside he was triumphant. He'd wanted a reason to bring Zenyatta on, and the universe had just dumped it in his lap. "Might even have someone in mind."

"Would you?" Angela asked him, staring wistfully at the half a cigar she had left. "It's only - I have to dose everyone now, and wait half an hour to see how they respond, and I haven't slept since - too long."

"Wouldn't mind a bit," Jesse told her. "You worry about clearing out the infirmary. I'll work on our fearless leader."

Angela looked, briefly, as if she was about to cry. Instead, she breathed in deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, her expression had settled. "Thank you, Jesse," she told him, and smiled. The expression was no less lovely for being surrounded by signs of her exhaustion. "These really are quite nice," she added, puffing again on her cigar.

Jesse laughed. "You come find me whenever you need another one," he told her. They smoked the rest of their cigars in silence.

The twelve o'clock high one

76 - Morrison - sighed. There came the sounds of him pacing around the room, his ridiculous boots heavy against the grating. "Winston," he said finally, "you like movies. You ever watch any old war movies - from the 20th century, I mean?"

"Well, no," Winston said, sounding honestly puzzled. "Most of them are well over a century old. I didn't think they'd have much cultural relevance."

Morrison snorted. "Not much cultural relevance," he repeated. "Maybe not out in the world, but here in Overwatch - in any place you've got to take command and order people into the line of fire - they still matter. Put one on your list. Twelve O'Clock High. The original, from 1949, not the remake they made right after the crisis." His gruff voice didn't make it a suggestion. Still used to ordering people around, McCree guessed.

"I will, but why would you pull me aside just to say that?" Winston sounded baffled and slightly irritated.

Morrison sighed again, a heavy put-upon sound. "This would be easier if you'd seen the damn thing. Used to have all the command track recruits watch it." The pacing sounds started up again for several moments.

"It's a movie about leadership," Morrison said finally. "And about what happens when you get too close to the people under your command. It's bad for you and it's bad for the mission, and it gets people killed. You can't be their commander and their friend at the same time."

"I fail to see how any of this is your business," Winston said, voice firm and starting to get frosty. You tell 'em, bud, McCree thought.

"I watched this organization fall once because of its commanders," Morrison said. "I can't watch you make the same mistakes. I bowed too far to the UN, but Reyes was too close to his men. Some of them came in young, but they'd done things that made sure they would never be kids again. Reyes couldn't see that. They were all loyal to him in their own way, as much as they could be, but he thought it meant he owed them some loyalty too, and he couldn't do that and send them into danger like we had back then for special ops. They got into his head, made him too much like them, and he snapped."

Winston was saying something else, and McCree forced himself to pay attention to that instead of the rush of blood in his ears, his clenched hands, his pounding heart.

"I believe that will be all, 76," Winston said. The frost in his tone had thickened up into a full ice sheet. McCree took that as his cue to slink out before the super soldier sniffed out his hiding spot - literally, maybe.

Morrison thought his loyalty put Reyes in a bad spot? It sure had - but it was his lingering loyalty to Jack Morrison that had gotten him killed, McCree was sure. Morrison really was blind if he thought Reyes had been doing anything in Zurich besides trying to pull Morrison's blond ass out of there before it blew.

what I have of chapter one

Jesse McCree had disappeared. Oh, he surfaced every now and then in some attention-grabbing way, but it wasn't healthy for a man with a bounty as high as his to go around under his own name. He'd taken a handful of false identities with him when he'd left Blackwatch, and he did enough flashy stunts with his familiar getup from the bounty posters to keep anyone from digging deeper and finding them. Most people figured he spent the rest of his time lurking around all the lonely, uncivilized places of the Southwest, like he had before he joined up - it was closer to the twenty-second century than the twenty-first, but urban sprawl hadn't conquered all the emptiness of his home state yet. So he was very surprised to receive any communication addressed to Jesse McCree at all, much less on the secure comm he carried more for sentiment than practicalities these days. And yet there was still a quiet, persistent chirp indicating a message for him.

Jesse wasn't stupid, of course. He didn't open the message that day. He'd spent too much time in a covert ops unit to trust anything that could send an active signal. He let it stay in the hard-sided guitar case that held his weapons and anything else he didn't want connected to the soft-spoken insurance adjuster who rented his Albuquerque apartment. Instead, he used his legitimate phone to reserve Chris Stevenson a campsite at a national park and rent a car for the weekend. No one had yet managed to bring enough signal towers out there that phones worked, and the campers liked it that way. Chris liked it too - it gave him a good excuse for not being available if his boss called with a last minute assignment, he told the park ranger.

Jesse, on the other hand, wasn't much for camping - he'd spent more than enough time out under the stars, first in Deadlock and then in Blackwatch, and his back wasn't as young as it used to be. But needs must - the signal could be a trap, or it could be someone from the old days needing his help. You could say a lot of bad things about Jesse McCree - most did, these days. But he knew what he owed Reyes and Blackwatch both, and he paid back his debts.

The canyon he'd chosen had several isolated hiking trails, and he set off for one just after dawn the day after he'd arrived. The other tents, few as they were, were quiet. He still waited until he'd reached the peak of his chosen trail, where he could see anyone coming, before he played the message.

Of all the faces he'd expected to project in front of him, Winston's wasn't among them. He was too recognizable, and Jesse stifled the urge to curse. The audio was routed through the wireless headset he'd brought, of course, but five years on, Winston's face still screamed Overwatch to anyone who cared to see. A talking gorilla was hard to forget. Still, Jesse let the message finish - it was very early - and dropped the comm into a pocket of the backpack he'd brought with him. Then he sat down right where he was.

Anyone passing by might have thought he'd be watching the sunrise, but he'd seen too many from the wrong end when he was with Deadlock to be stunned by nature's beauty any more. Chris was watching the sunrise, of course - a natural early riser, he saw sunrises from as many places as he could get away with. But Jesse McCree just happened to be staring at the horizon while he contemplated his options.

He didn't doubt the comm had sent some sort of locational ping out, so he'd need to burn Chris no matter what he decided. A pity - he'd liked being somewhere familiar, a place where he knew the lay of the land, how to find the best restaurant in a little highway town, which outcroppings kept you out of view of the satellites passing by, which streets nice people avoided at night. Couldn't be helped, though. Most of the Southwest was dangerous for him now. He couldn’t be sure someone hadn’t piggybacked whatever ping Winston’s call had sent out. He was inclined to curse his luck, hop a train, and move out - somewhere east, maybe - except. There was something he owed, and a debt to a ghost didn't make it any less real. He didn't have anything in common with the old Overwatch staff he guessed that idealistic message had been aimed at, but they had resources and records. Maybe he could use them to track down what really happened to Reyes.

Jesse’d been halfway to disappearing on a deep-cover mission - all they did in Blackwatch those days - when the news about Zurich broke. He could smell bullshit on a cover story from a mile away, and this one reeked. Reyes wasn’t jealous of Morrison - that asshole had to deal with the paperwork and politics while Reyes got to intervene in the real hot spots. If he’d been in Zurich, it was out of a sense of loyalty to his old army buddy. That loyalty had gotten him killed, and no one in Overwatch seemed interested in doing anything but slandering him after the fact.

Just because they didn't do much of an investigation didn't mean that they didn't still have records up in Gibraltar, though. The Watchpoints had all been networked at one point. Athena had had limits put on her when the Petras Act passed, but Winston had made her devious, under all the fussing. She had to be if she was going to fight Overwatch’s enemies. McCree's access had been stripped when the UN had recalled Blackwatch’s authorization, but that meant jack shit if Athena decided he needed to know something. And he knew how to ingratiate himself with her.

It’d mean the end of his relatively peaceful existence, but hell, he'd already known he'd have to get rid of Chris and go on the run. Might as well run a little farther than usual. He could check out the lay of the land, see who all was there and what they were up to. It wouldn't be fun - he was Reyes’ man to the bone, still, and none of the proper Overwatch agents would understand that - but this was the closest he'd come to being able to pay back the man who'd changed his life in years. He couldn't let it slip through his fingertips.

International travel was, according to those who could remember, a bit more difficult to manage now than it was before the Crisis. The United States especially had buckled down on the jingoism, blaming most of Europe for letting the Omnica Corporation run wild. It wasn't as bad as it has been in the 20s, of course, but if Overwatch hadn't provided the encryption on his passport themselves, McCree would have found himself paying a pretty penny for a good fake. As it was, he wasn't exactly flush with cash right now, so he was glad Chris’s papers were still good.

Chris Stevenson, despite his whitebread name, had family in Spain: a sister who'd recently taken ill. So he - and Jesse McCree, under his skin - was flying to Madrid. Teleporters were still new and expensive, and Chris couldn't afford one. The days of the ancient, cramped airliners were long over, though. Chris had a ticket on an overnight flight, with his own little cot and plastic privacy wall and two credits to use in the onboard cafeteria.

The flight attendant directed them all through the ship’s amenities, pointing out the cafeteria and the bathrooms as well as the small rec area, on the way to direct them all to their berths. They had to go through the first class lounge first thing, of course - probably to make them all regret they hadn’t coughed up enough to spend half the trip on leather furniture drinking premium cocktails. Jesse couldn’t care less about it. He planned to eat, sleep, and then eat on this trip; airline food wasn’t that great, but he’d eaten plenty of bad shit in his life, and he’d need the rest and the calories to find the best ways to ditch Chris’s identity and make his way across the border into Gibraltar.

The berths were more private than the ones on most of the Overwatch transports he’d been on in his time, but that wasn’t saying much; military didn’t think anything of communal bunkrooms for everyone but officers, and Overwatch had always been true to its military roots. The ship wasn’t ritzy enough to have sound cancelling tech in any cabin but first class, so he could hear the contained but emphatic ruckus happening two berths over. Politeness would have dictated Chris did his best to ignore it, but Jesse had always been an incurable snoop, and years of covert ops hadn’t exactly curbed that. He tucked his bags under the plastic frame of his ship’s cot and leaned against the thin barrier under the guise of working his boots off.

“I don’t see why we’re kept out of the lounge,” a voice Jesse pegged as belonging to someone around Reinhardt’s age said crossly. “We paid our fare just like everyone else!”

“I’m afraid the lounge is for first class passengers only,” said their flight attendant, in the calming tones universal to customer service employees who weren’t allowed to tell customers to fuck off but who really wished they could. “However, if you would like to upgrade -”

“Don’t you upgrade me!” the older voice said again. “I went on these transports when they were first made, twenty years ago, and they didn’t have any sort of restrictions! This is just - it’s a cash grab, is what it is, by unscrupulous -”

“Pop! He can’t do anything about that. I’m sure it’s corporate policy,” interrupted a younger voice, audibly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry about this.”

“It’s quite all right - I understand change is difficult. Can I offer you -”

“We’re not interested in little placating gifts, like drink tickets, you corporate shill!” the older voice yelled again.

Jesse felt a twinge of sympathy for the flight attendant having to deal with all that, but he felt it was safe to tune out at that point. His boots - sturdy hiking boots, not the attention-getting cowboy boots of his wanted poster getup, good for grip on all sorts of surfaces - were unlaced and under the bunk and they weren’t quite underway, so he decided he’d be hitting the cafeteria early. And maybe he’d shell out for a drink for the old man’s traveling companion, he thought, shuffling quietly past the squabble. He was sure the flight attendant couldn’t drink on duty, or else he’d send him one first.

It was a ten-hour flight, and mission discipline should have sent him right to sleep for seven of them after his mediocre cafeteria meal. But he hadn’t had anyone hanging over his shoulder to enforce that discipline in five years, and sleep didn’t come easy. After an hour of trying to force himself into something deeper than a doze, he gave up and summoned the flight attendant for a drink. Jesse would have preferred to work out his troubles in a gym or at the range, but the transport had neither, and this was a good enough substitute to quiet the buzzing of his brain enough for a few hours’ rest.

He just couldn’t work it out, was the thing. Why had Winston called him, of all people, back? It didn’t fit with the do-gooder message he’d sent out. Jesse didn’t recall running with him much on the very few occasions he’d been sent to liaise with the main Overwatch forces, so it wasn’t out of some misplaced nostalgia. Winston’d been close with Tracer, though, and she’d seen him in action enough to know that he didn’t hold with tugging on heartstrings as a way to run things. None of Blackwatch had. Why did Winston bother sending the message out to them at all?

Jesse doubted many of the Blackwatch members - those still out of jail after the Petras Act stripped them of their pardons, anyway - would be at Gibraltar when he showed, with a message like that. Maybe Genji would. He’d been pretty tight with Reyes. Not as tight as Jesse, but the man needed some guidance on letting anger fuel you instead of rule you when he first joined up, and Reyes had that in spades. Jesse hoped he’d be there, or else he’d be running a covert mission in enemy territory solo, with no extraction plan and no end point. He could do it, but it’d be tricky. He hadn’t used anything more than basic infiltration skills in years, since his neighbors rarely required the effort. Overwatch was all trained operatives, though, and he’d be kept on his toes even with reliable backup.

Wasn’t worth borrowing trouble about, though. Jesse had more immediate concerns, like the best way to ditch Chris without raising too many suspicions, and how long he’d have to wait in Madrid before Peacekeeper made her own way across the Atlantic. And before all that, he needed to sleep. He knocked back the last swallow of his liquor and laid down, determined to get a little rest while he was secure.

It turned out that Peacekeeper wouldn’t be in Madrid after all. His smuggler contact had left him a coded message that told him to meet her for dinner in Malaga. Jesse’d had to hustle to get to the train, but he’d made it - and he was riding on the inside this time. Europe had more satellite cameras fixed on it than the deserts of the US did, and there was no reason to draw the attention of their flagging algorithms. Besides, the wireless connection inside the train was better.

One of Overwatch’s support staff had cooked up a program that disengaged an identity from public records gradually, in case anyone needed to use them again or the activity was being monitored. Jesse wasn’t supposed to have it still, but it’d been useful enough he transferred it from phone to phone. Over the next couple of weeks, Chris’s landlord and acquaintances would receive messages that his sister was sicker than he thought and he’d need to stay in Spain to manage her affairs. His bank account would make purchases to back that up. And with no close friends in the area, he’d quietly disappear unless Jesse needed him again. The program needed a stable connection to work, though, so it could learn from the communications he’d sent as Chris. The connection on the train was nicely anonymous, so it couldn’t be traced back to him.

Twenty minutes out from Malaga, Jesse took his bag into the bathroom. Instead of Chris’s baggy sweatshirt and wind pants, he put on tight jeans and a flannel button-up and pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. When he came out, he begged a hair tie off of a woman on the train, waggling his prosthetic fingers in explanation (they did get tangled in his hair if he wasn’t careful). When he was done, he looked like a tourist of a different type - a hipster American with a backpack and a guitar. The two days of stubble on his face made most natives peg him for an aging graduate student and give him a wide berth.

Carla, his contact, had left him a note at the Malaga information desk, and he followed her instructions to a worn-down bar that had probably been popular before the Crisis. It was looking a little worse for wear, though, and even before sundown had plenty of quiet, dark corners. Jesse spotted her iron-gray braid at a corner table and sat down, though not before getting a glass of wine at the bar.

“Auntie,” he said in Spanish as he settled in. He was sure Carla had heard his boots and spotted him well before he’d reached her table, but no use not being polite to someone who had your prize possession. “I hope you’ve been taking good care of my girl.”

Carla looked up at him and rolled her eyes. “Don’t I always?” she said in her crisp Iberian accent.

“You do, but the way you left Madrid, I’d almost think you wanted to keep her,” Jesse said, smiling in a way that didn’t hide the watchful glint in his eye.

Carla shook her head, but Jesse noticed she didn’t outright deny it. “Madrid gets so crowded this time of year,” she said. “It’s a little quieter here.”

“La Linea is even more peaceful, I hear,” Jesse said, leaning back as he sipped his wine. “That’s where I want to take her next.”

“Ah, going to take her to see the Rock?” Carla asked. “It’s quite the sight.”

“I am,” Jesse told her. “In fact, you could call it the reason we even came to Spain. There’s a little problem, though.”

“Oh?” Carla asked. “Nothing to spoil your holiday, I hope.”

Jesse put the fingers of his flesh hand to his mouth and then put it back on the table, like a man fighting the urge to bite his nails. “I hope not either. See, I want to cross the border, but I don’t have all her papers - her mother, you know how she is. But I really want her to be able to see the sights. Are the guards there understanding?” Meaning, of course, could they be bribed.

Carla shifted in her chair and leaned in on one elbow. “Most of them are family men and women, not career military the way it was a few years ago,” she said, meaning mob. “They should be able to work something out with you - they understand how it is for men in your position. After all, it’s not like there’s anything really dangerous she could get into these days.”

“That’s true,” Jesse agreed. “And I’ll keep a close eye on her, of course.” Meaning that he’d make sure Peacekeeper didn’t cause any trouble that brought too much attention to their operations.

Carla nodded. “I might just know a young man down there who could help you,” she said. “I’ll send him a message once I see you both get on the bus, and he’ll look out for you both.”

“I appreciate it,” Jesse told her, with an expression of relief. Carla’s reputation would make it a lot easier to get past the border guards while he was carrying. “How much did she cost you? I know how my girl can eat.”

“No, no,” Carla said, waving her hands in a way that was all show. “She was a pleasure. It wasn’t any trouble.”

“I insist,” Jesse said firmly. “Let me pay for the train tickets, at least. You couldn’t have been expecting Madrid to be so busy.”

“Well, that’s true,” Carla said. “But I’d watch your girl for you any time, you know that.”

“I do,” Jesse agreed. “Now, c’mon, tell me how much the tickets were, and I’ll pay you back.”

Carla named a sum with a show of reluctance, and Jesse added it to the already agreed-upon price before transferring it to her account. If she’d had to leave Madrid in such a hurry, it was probably because the law was getting too close for comfort, and Jesse was sure she’d had to bribe her way out. It was just good business to pay her back for that, and he’d been trusting Carla with Peacekeeper for a long time. His burner phone beeped, and after a moment, so did hers. She nodded, satisfied, and pushed away from the table.

“Come, let’s go get your girl,” she said. “I’m sure you missed her. She’s waiting at the bus station.”

Carla had been as good as her word. Even with Peacekeeper sewn into the lining of a laptop bag, Jesse hadn’t had any trouble getting past the border into Gibraltar, and even if she wasn’t at his hip, he felt better holding her steadying weight. He’d transferred all his belongings into a hiking backpack when he’d gotten there, and only as he started up the Rock did he send the signal from the communicator that would tell Athena and Winston he was on his way - and exactly how close he was. There were plenty of hidden protections that he was sure were still active on the base, and he’d need the signal to get in.

It only took a few moments to connect, and Winston’s voice was cautious as he answered. “McCree?”

“In the flesh,” Jesse answered. “Know I didn’t call ahead, but I was hopin’ my invitation still stood.”

[wizisbored]

@hatchetober day 2 - universe

basically this promt remids me of a fic idea i had a few months ago - the gang are camped out in hidgens’ bunker after the events of black friday, and some wiggly portal shennanigans led to a connection to the tgwdlm universe and now theres 2 pauls - paul and musical paul - and 2 emmas - LXIX and CDXX

so anyway, i typed up one of the scenes i wrote in my notebook while i should have been paying attention in class

"She… wants to speak to you, Emma."

Emma freezes momentarily. She did kind of expect this - and she's been curious to properly meet her too, honestly - but you can't blame her for being fucking freaked out by the woman. An exact copy of her from an alternate reality? That's some weird shit.

Taking a deep breath, she nods to Becky. "Alright. I'll talk to her, that's fine." Looking around, it's clear that nobody believed that.

"Are you sure?" Paul asks.

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Paul," Becky tells him. "She's still a little… on edge."

"Oh. Yeah," he says, gently knocking his fists together.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," Emma tries to reassure him, "if she's an exact copy of me, then she's going to be just as great as I am, isn't she?"

"I guess so," he agrees, smiling. "You are pretty great."

Emma gives him a quick kiss on the cheek - she has to go on tiptoes to reach - and turns to follow Becky to the 'sick bay'. Gently opening the door a crack, the nurse peers into the room to address her patient.

"Emma? Your… the other Emma is here."

"Okay. Thanks, Becky."

Hearing her speak sends shivers down Emma's spine. The two of them even have the same voice. She starts to follow Becky into the room but stops short just inside the door, stunned. Sure, she's seen her before, and she knew she was going to see her again now, but there's a difference between remembering she looks exactly like her and seeing she looks exactly like her. It's almost like looking in a mirror - the double looks about as freaked out as Emma feels. There's a long pause.

"Uh… hi?"

They speak at the same time, and see each other's eyes widen as their own do. That must've been a coincidence, right? Slightly more freaked out now, Emma glances to Becky and back to her double, seeing out of the corner of her eye that she does the same thing. "What the fuck?" It's whispered, but once again simultaneous. "What the fuck?" They both look to Becky for help, though they don't really know what they expect her to do.

"Well this is… Unexpected…"

"No shit!"

"Alright, I think you both need to take a few deep breaths,” Becky suggests, a little sterner than she sounded before. Closing their eyes, both Emmas do as she says.

“I understand that this is a strange situation, but panicking won’t help. Now, how about we try this again and I’ll help you make sure you don’t speak at the same time.” She places a hand on the nearest double’s shoulder. “Alright, Emma?” She looks the woman in the eye as she says it, trying to make it clear who she’s addressing. It works - only one of them replies.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Becky.”

The nurse flashes her a smile, then turns to address them both again. “Do either of you particularly want to speak first? Do you have anything to ask the other?”

Neither of them speak. It’s not that they don’t have questions - they have millions of questions - but neither knows where to start. The nurse resorts to turning to the nearest one once again. “Well… Maybe you could go first?”

“Um… Okay…” She turns to look at the woman sitting on the camp bed. “Hey… Emma. How… how are you doing?”

She shrugs. “Not great, honestly. Leg’s fucked... But hey, at least I’m going to live. Oh, and this whole alternate universe thing is… confusing, and… I’m kinda scared.”

“I’m confused and kinda scared too. I mean, this is the weirdest fucking conversation I’ve ever had.”

The Emma on the bed chuckles. The other is a little unsettled - she has her laugh too. But there’s something off about it. It’s not a ‘that’s funny’ kind of laugh. It’s a ‘this is fucked up and I’m uncomfortable’ kind of nervous laugh. The standing Emma looks closer at the other’s face and, since she sees it every time she looks in a mirror (well, minus the scars) it’s easy for her to notice everything off about it. This isn’t an exact copy of her, she realises. This is a version of her that’s trying to pretend she’s not terrified.

“I’d thought you’d feel the same way,” the one on the bed says, “since… you know…”

“We’re the same person,” they finish together. For a while the two of them just stare at each other, not knowing how to move past the first real acknowledgement between them of their situation. And then it clicks - for both of them.

“That’s why we’re speaking at the same time,” they say together, “we’re reacting to things in the same way.”

Becky looks from one to the other in disbelief. “You must be having identical thought processes, at least when you say the same things.”

“Woah.”

It’s completely surreal, but it’s starting to make sense.

“We must have had the same experiences, up to a point,” they say together, “so our brains developed in the same way. But then…”

The Emma on the bed drops off, and the one by the door continues alone. “Something must have changed.”

She looks again at her double’s face, at the fear she’s trying to hide. All she’s told the inhabitants of the bunker so far is that the creepy version of Paul that came into this reality with her is ‘infected’, and that her leg was injured in a crash. That, and the fact that she thought she was dead for sure before the portal opened.

“Emma?” the standing one asks. “What happened to you?”

“What, you want my whole life story, or…?”

She’s trying to laugh it off, avoid the question. Shaking her head, the other continues: “something fucked up your reality, didn’t it? I’m guessing it’s got something to do with whatever’s wrong with your version of Paul. And I think you’re still scared of it. More than just ‘kinda scared’.”

There’s a long pause.

“Your reality’s fucked too,” she eventually mutters, “we wouldn’t be in this bunker if it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but I managed to avoid most of the fuckery. Hell, I spent most of it watching shitty kids’ films with Paul and Tim. My version of Paul didn’t start spitting up blue shit and try to kill me.”

The Emma on the bed shrugs. “Fair point.”

“So what happened?”

She sighs, looking down at the bandage wrapped around her thigh. “Becky, could you leave me and Emma alone for a bit?”

The nurse nods slowly, though she looks uncertain. Turning to the one by the door, she tells her to find her if they need anything, then leaves.

The Emma by the door steps a little closer to the bed. “Why did you ask her to go?”

“I don’t-” She pauses and sighs. “It’s not that I don’t trust her. She saved my life. But I don’t really know her, you know? I know you - I know that’s weird to say, ‘cause I just met you a few minutes ago, but after all that synchronization shit I figured you’ll react the same way I did, so I can figure out how to explain it so you’ll understand.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

The sitting one nods, then takes a deep breath.

“This isn’t going to sound scary but it was fucking terrifying. You have to think about the implications. Seriously, think about them. I didn't at first and that didn’t go well.”

“Okay. I promise I’ll think about it.”

“The world… turned into a musical.”

She says it with a gravity that stops her double from laughing, but she’s still confused. This doesn’t go unnoticed. “Please. Think about the fucking implications.”

She tries to figure it out. Sure, people randomly bursting into song would be unnerving, but terrifying? Not really. Maybe it was what they were singing. Did people spill their darkest secrets? Or maybe people had to sing and dance, like they were possessed. And then, all of a sudden, she remembers.

“That creepy version of Paul… You said he was infected. The musical was a disease?”

“Yeah, well that’s what we called it. But it wasn’t really. That thing that came through the portal with me wasn’t just Paul with a virus. That was - is - his corpse being puppeted by an alien hivemind. It was trying to kill me so I could join it.”

Her double stands in silence, shocked. The injured woman draws her right knee up and hugs it to her chest, resting her chin on it, tears welling up in her eyes.

“He died trying to kill it,” she spits bitterly. “But it got him too.”

As carefully as she can, her double perches herself on the edge of the bed. She’s almost surprised to find they’re the exact same size - the other looked so small crying there alone, wrapped in one of Tom’s flannels. Putting an arm around her feels strange, but right.

“You probably know this reality’s Paul better than I ever knew mine,” she sniffles, “but I cared about him.”

“I know you did. If it’s even a tiny fraction of how much I care about him, I know how much you cared. You have my s-”

“I don’t need your sympathy Emma,” she chokes out.

“I know you don’t, we’re-” the other begins,

“-the same fucking person-” they continue together.

“I know.” The injured woman finishes alone.

“I was going to say you have my support, Em,” the other explains gently. “I know sympathy does jack shit on its own, I... “ Her voice drops to almost a whisper. “I lost Jane too. So I know what it’s like for me- uh, you? ...us? I know what it’s like for us to grieve. I can help you.”

“Thanks. Some help would be good right now.”

Her double offers what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “Hey, look on the bright side. I know you came close, but you managed to escape dying in Hatchetfield.”

The injured one chuckles. “God, you don’t know the half of it. I almost died in Clivesdale.”

They take a simultaneous breath. “Fuck Clivesdale.”

[savysavannah]

Challenge 1

Special thanks to @damian-schreave and @hadleyjaneharper for the rps.

Also the last section is not in fic format because its 2am, im lazy, and you get the gyst from the RP. Apperantly this is too long so part 2 soon.

    The Prince was off in Paloma for a bit so we were of little use in the Palace, no idea why they had us move in so early. Therefore, I’d spent most of the day with some books I’d grabbed from the library. Primarily they were legal books since it never hurts to brush up. But every once in a while, such as now I’d need to go and grab some food. 

I brought my notepad and a book on contract law with me and walked into the kitchen. There was another girl also in the kitchen. We haven't spoken to each other, she didn’t seem unfriendly or particularly awful company, just hadn’t really had the moment to. I grabbed a plate of fruit and wondered if she would say anything. After a moment I sat down and resumed reading. 

Then a small sad sigh came from the young woman who was looking down at her phone with a sad face. It wouldn’t be too bad if I took a break for some conversation. However, the young woman looked troubled, she may not be in the mood. I yawned and stretched then mumbled, but loud enough for her to hear, “God, I could use a drink.” and wondered if the other would take the bait. 

There was a beat before the other spoke, “Long day?”

“More or less. Lots of reading, missing work. How about yourself?”

She shrugged “Its...different than what I’m used to. Lots of sitting still when I’m used to spending my days moving around.” SHe grimaces then sighed, “The adjustment period is always the toughest, though.”

I thought for a moment trying to remember the occupations of the selected, “The dancer?” I asked. 

She grinned “Yeah. Hadley.” She raised an eyebrow, “And you?”

“Lawyer.” I said and stood from the table, walked over to Hadley and held her hand out, “Savannah Mars, Labrador, three.”

She shook my hand, “Nice to meet you.” then thought for a moment, “You said you were missing work? Do you work at a law firm?”

“Kinda. I work for the Illean Civil Liberties Union in their legal division. It's a non-profit which focuses on civil rights and for me civil legal cases. Lgbt+ rights defense, domestic defense, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, that’s really cool.” She said, seeming actually interested in my work. “Are you missing the casework, or something else?”

“It's pretty hard for me to step back from my work. Since I'm kind of left worrying about my clients. A new guy took over my cases but I'm trying to still work in my own way by studying up on some legal sections I work in less frequently but still may come up. Such as contract law.” I explained not fully hearing her other question. 

She nodded, “I understand, sort of. I’m left worrying about how my ballet company is going to perform, with somebody else taking over the role in the Nutcracker that I’ve had the past few years.”

“Yeah the transition really is nerve wracking. Have you seen them perform though?” I asked hoping that could at least provide some solace. 

“I’ve seen pictures on Instagram, but no videos yet. We were just finishing up our performance of Cinderella when I left. Nutcracker rehearsal started a few days after, but it’s a show we do each year, so... “ She sighed “ It /should/ be fine.”

I nodded, “well if they assigned them the role try and have faith in their qualifications. That's what I'm keeping in mind for mine. They did go to law school so it's fine. They got the role so it’s fine.” I said partially for her and partially for me. 

She sighed a little hesitant, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Competition is just gonna be a bitch and a half when I’m sent back.” She chuckled wryly.  

“Well maybe you'll win and then you won't have too. Who’s gonna take a role away from the future queen of Illea.”

“That’s extremely unlikely to happen.” She then almost smirked “What about you? If you win, nobody’s going to tell you no in a courtroom.”

I laughed, “If I win I'll kill myself.” Then I realized how dark that sounded, though it didn’t seem to phase her.

“I hate to say that I feel the same way, but…” She shrugged and nodded, “I feel the same way” For a moment I was confused, why would she join if she felt the same way? Then it clicked, a dancer would be a five, lower class, need the money.

“You're a five right? Did you apply for the money? If you don't mind my asking that is. It would just make sense why you'd dislike to win.” 

“It…” She bit her lip, “Kind of? It’s a long story involving a deadbeat mom, a shitty health care system, two starving artists, and a kid with leukemia.” She said with an apologetic smile. Whatever she’d be apologizing for I can’t say. 

“Well shit man, I'm glad you got in then. Both for the money and for a break from that. I know this society fucking sucks and we've got a likely shit for brains hier, but if you ever need a lawyer I'm here to help. Hopefully, being a three now will provide some help for you too.” I said then caught myself making a mental note to not be so vulgar with my language. 

She gave me a small smile, “Thanks. Now I just have to figure out what I’m doing with the rest of my life, after throwing my career into dance, only to become a Three.” She laughed, “What about you? Why did you enter? It sounds like you had a pretty cushy gig going on.”

It wouldn’t be smart to tell the truth, but lying when Hadley had been so open felt wrong, I sighed and said, “My brother. Basically he forged my entry and I didn't want him to get into legal troubles for that. He's a fucking idiot.” I sighed and let that last cuss word slide as he is a fucking idiot. 

She snorted, “Men really do only have two brain cells.” She gave a small smile, “I’m sorry that you ended up in that situation, though. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. I tried to beat him up but my other brothers stopped me. It was really a mess. Had to find out from a waitress asking for a photo with me.” 

She shook her head, “My best friend told me that he was so upset to see me, “throwing my life away,” as if I hadn’t entered to help him and his brother.” Sounds like an ungrateful ass. She sighed and looked down at her fruit, “When did life get this messed up?”

A question with too big of an answer. A bit panicked and not knowing what to say I took a strawberry off my plate and held it out to her, “Fruit?” 

She chuckled and took the strawberry, “Thanks.” She takes a bit, chews, and then pauses, looking at Savannah, “You know what I could really go for right now, though? A good gin and tonic.”

“God that'd be great. You know what, let's make some. One glass can't hurt.”

She shrugged, “Sure, sounds fun. I’m down.” She looks around, “I know they keep the wine in that cabinet, but I haven’t found the liquor yet.”

After gathering our ingredients we get to work making the glasses, “so, what's your plan in all this?”

“In the selection?” She raises an eyebrow and then shrugs, she starts pouring things into the mixer bottle, “Stay here for as long as I can so I keep making stimulus checks, and then get sent home before I’m stuck spending the rest of my life here.” She finishes pouring and looks at Savannah, “You?”

I sighed, “about the same. Give the money to the non-profit I work for. I was hoping I could root for you to win, you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders to influence him, but the more I think about it the more I realize that's like damning to hell.

She snorts, “Well, I still appreciate the compliment, and I would’ve said the same about you.” Then she sighs, “I’ve always known that it’s been like this, though. He gets to squander every penny he has on luxury shit, whereas my paychecks…” another sigh, “But life isn’t fair.”

“Yeah. And then waste the money on useless shit and trying to pass dumb laws like making 'cats' illegal instead of actually fixing the problems in this country.” I said and poured myself a glass of the drink.

She poured some for herself and then shook her head with an eye roll, “Don’t even get me started on that debacle. Why even joke about things like that?”

“Because he doesn't comprehend how the people of his own country are suffering. He's just so blind with privilege. Not that I have much to speak on but at least I freaking try to think about others in the country and their situations.”

She gave me a small smile, “You didn’t seem like the type to blow your money on worthless things to me, at all. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him when we have that interview in a few days.”

“Yeah I think im just gonna be polite for the sake of not causing a scene that'll haunt me my whole life” I said and took a sip, then clarified, “polite though, not kind.”

She nodded then drank too, “I really went from putting on one type of show for Twos to another.” 

“Any idea what you're gonna do as a three?” I asked.

She pursed her lips and shook her head, “I haven’t taken a science or maths class since I was eleven, and I don’t have the money for university. I guess I could work as a translator, or if that doesn’t work out, marry a five and go back to dancing.” She took another sip of her drink, “Hopefully I’ll be here long enough to figure it out.”

“Do they not have like threes who are dance teachers? I haven't really looked much into the area myself but it may make sense.”

She shook her head, “For me, at least, it was mostly Russian immigrants who were former dancers themselves, so Fives.”

I thought for a moment, “Well if you ever need history lessons, english, or legal aid I'm around. I dug into my pocket and pulled out a business card, since it’s not like either of us plan to be here long,  “Just all the way up in Labrador. Where are you from again?”

“Allens. So, not too far. Thanks.” She replied and looked at the card.

“Welcome.” I replied, finished off my drink then wrote down another idea. 

Hadley narrowed her eyes curiously, “What are you writing?”

“Just an idea for a proposition with the ICLU. There are probably other girls in a similar situation as you being lower caste now upper be it through marriage or selection, it may be helpful to talk about implementing a caste readjustment program.”

She lifted her head, smiling just a little, “That sounds like a great idea.” Then a little quieter she added,  “I'd appreciate it.” 

“Hopefully my boss will agree and pass it onto the innovation department. I'll write a quick memo about it to her later.” I smiled happy to have something to do.

“You really love your job, don't you?” She asked. 

I nodded, “It makes me feel like I have some kinda purpose. As cheesy as that is to say.” Making actual change in Illea instead of just prancing around doing whatever else I could have grown up to do. 

“No, I get that.” She looked down, “As a kid, I never really felt like I belonged, but on the stage, dancing?” She looked a little distant, “Standing out was a good thing.”

I nodded,  “Mhm. Have you thought of ways you could continue working while at the palace?”

She smiled, “Actually, I had a conversation with Prince Eaton about that, and I’ve been able to work out a schedule that allows me to still practice, even though I have to do a little more work to catch up on lessons.”

“That'll be good. If you wanted too you could put on a performance and donate the profits. That way you could be working towards a goal too instead of general practice.”

She tilted her head, “That's an interesting idea. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I nodded, “Well it was nice meeting you, Lady Hadley. But it is probably time for me to get back to work.” Then held out my hand to shake goodbye.

She took it, giving it a shake. “Nice to meet you too.”

It was pretty late in the afternoon by the time I was escorted to the interview room. Damian was in a navy blue suit jacket, dress pants, and a white button up shirt. He smiled at me as I got closer.  His eyes flicker to my nametag for a second before he speaks, “Hello, Lady Savannah. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

I smiled trying to stay polite, then gave a small curtsy, “The same to you, your highness.”

He smiled back, taking a few steps back and gestured for me to go into the interview room. In the room is a sofa, surrounded by stage lights and a few cameras, what a romantic first meeting. There is one camera on a swivel stand, that is currently focused on Damian and I. He starts walking into the room, looking at me as he talks, "How have you found your first few days here, so far?"

I debated giving him a short one word answer of 'fine' but Danny's words of 'don't ruin your own happiness" slipped into my head. "They've been fine. I've enjoyed your library. It's helped me feel like I can in some ways continue working by catching up on legal matters normally outside of my areas of expertise."

He nodded while smiling then took a seat on the sofa, "So you're a lawyer, then? What kind of law do you practice?"

Reluctantly I sat next to him, hopefully I wouldn't catch an STD from proximity alone, "Yes, I practice primarily civil and criminal law with the Illean Civil Librities Union. So primarily defending people who are in bad situations due to outdated laws which need amending." My tone came out more passive aggressive than intended, but it was slightly justified as he should have been working to amend said laws and help people instead of partying.

"That's a great thing, to be doing. What got you into law?"

"Well I was at the University of Labrador. My best friend I'm the sorority I was in decided to go to a protest over women's rights in illea. We went, someone man came and antagonized some women, she defended herself verbally, got arrested, felt up by the officer, then was unable to do anything legally about it. I felt that was unfair so I decided to look into being a lawyer, liked the process, graduated in 2 years, went to Yale and here I am." 

He lets out a low whistle, looking down for a second. I couldn't help but be a but prideful at my accomplishment, then looks back up at me, more serious than before, his jaw tense, "I'm really sorry that happened to your friend." He said and fell silent. What a conversation killer. 

"It's fine." I said trying not to dwell on it, "How was your time in undergrad? Partied a lot, I saw." I said the passive agressiveness coming out again. 

He smiled, a little more relaxed than before, but not as relaxed as he was when he first entered the room, "I enjoyed my last few years of freedom before entering the real world, yes." He then raised his eyebrows, grinning a little wider, kind of teasing, "And what about you? Being in a sorority and all, I doubt you were much of a homebody yourself." 

I couldn't help but completely flush and bit down my urge to absolutely smack him upside the head. "It was a brief phase. It was fun. But also a waste of time." I chuckled a bit remembering my airheaded behavior in that year, "had I already been working harder I may have been able to finish faster and help more people."

He grinned a little at how flustered I was, which just made me want to punch him more, then smiled a little more genuinely towards the end, "We're still young. We have our whole lives to keep fixing things."

i frowned, "That isn't true. We never know when we're going to die. Something could always happen so we should be trying to help as much as we can. Not to mention while we" I paused after my slip of the tongue, but didn't correct it "partied in undergrad people were suffering who could have been helped."

There's a flicker of a frown on his face when I mentioned how short life is, but he lets it go, tilting his head when he looks at me, "We can't save everyone. That's impossible. We can try to do as much as we can, but there will always be more people in need of help.

"Partying isn't trying."

He raised his eyebrows, "You didn't even know you wanted to be a lawyer, back when you were partying in college."

I got kinda flustered again, he's right, there's no logically sound way to win. Yeah but I should have, I wish I had. Would have made the time a lot less regrettable." I said then cleared my throat, "Though, this is a bit of a heavy topic for our first meeting, don't you agree? Your- Damian." I barely corrected myself from saying Your Highness.

He chuckled, "A bit, but it's different from the surface level talk about work and provinces." He inclined his head, "Though, if you think about it, you never would have discovered your passion for law if you hadn't joined your sorority." He shrugged and gave a stupid grin which made me blush even more. 

Finally I snapped and turned to point a finger at him, "You won okay. I can't regret something if I didn't know to do something better, but that doesn't make topless jello shots any less of an embarrassing memory." I exclaimed then heard what I said and wished to curl into a ball and die. 

He chuckled a little, "We all have our moments. It's okay."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door then, and a guard pokes his head in. Damian nods at him, then turns and looks at me, "Unfortunately, we'll have to exchange stories another time. It appears our time today is up."

I sighed in relief at my rescue, then mumbled under my breath, "Thank God." I stood to curtsy, "Your-" I cringed a bit at the error, "Damian."

He chuckled again, "It was a pleasure to meet you Savannah. Until next time." He smiled at me when we got to the door, and stopped in the doorway.

I smiled back politely, "Thank you for the conversation. Till next time." 

*savy was taking a break from her work and decided to out for a walk in the gardens. She had always been a fan of taking runs when stressed snd the gardens were providing a peaceful alternative. She was walking around when she thought she saw a bunny in the bushes. Being the gal she is she wanted to see it closer so she stepped off the path and walked into the gravel. Immediately her heel sank in the gravel. She lost her balance for a moment but didnt fall. Instead she panicked. She debated stepping out of her shoes to get it out but she didnt wanna hurt her skin on the gravel. Instead she tried to wiggle it loose and hopped no one was near*

*rip savannah, but Damian is out distressing by playing basketball at that point in time, and from where he's standing as he shoots this basket, he can see someone clearly struggling with something in the gardens. he can't see who it is, or what the problem is, but he figures he should go check it out. he tucks the basketball under one arm, jogging towards the person he can see, calling out* Hey, everything okay?

*savannah hears him call out an knows immediately it's the last person in the world she'd want to find her like this* Absolutely peachy! *calls back and debates ditching the shoes*

*he slows to a stop when he gets closer, his eyes going from savannah's face to her foot* Mmm, looks like you've got yourself in a bit of a sticky situation, there.

*is extremely flustered* no situation at all. I said I'm fine. *aggressively wiggles the heel and almost trips so she squeaks but manages to catch herself*

*when he sees her almost trip, he lunges forwards to catch her before she hits the ground, but then she catches herself, so he's like "oh was that for nothing?" he looks down at the shoe, furrowing his brows, thinking* Here, let me help with that, before you actually fall.

I'm not going to fall and I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of defeating some gravel on my own

*he takes a step back* Alright... if you insist... *hes not going anywhere, just watching her, waiting to see what she'll do*

*huffs when she doesnt hear him walk away and continues to wiggle then huffs when shes not getting anywhere* Fine. If you're just going to stand there anyways you may as well help.

*he chuckles, setting the basketball down on the ground, kneeling down to look at the gravel and the heel, before beginning to dig the heel out with his fingers* Not the best shoes to walk off the path in.

*rolls her eyes* I didn't think about that. I thought I saw a bunny and got distracted

*he can't help but raise his eyebrows at that, grinning, twisting the heel a little to unscrew it from the gravel* Was it at least a cute bunny?

*his tone is a little teasing*

It was cute, be careful with your tone though when your face is near my foot. *once its free she steps back on the path so she doesn't sink again*

*he chuckles, joking* What, are you planning on giving me a royal nose job with your shoe?

You could probably use one. *offers a hand to help him stand back up*

*he picks up his basketball, taking her hand, still grinning at her, teasing* Maybe it's just the angle you've been looking at it from.

*stands on her tiptoes looking at his nose* Nope. It's a little off. Nose job it is.

*she pinches his nose* its a big flaw. Doubt you'll be able to get a wife like that

*he chuckles* I don’t know, my nose has never gotten in my way before

*considers* You're right, I'm sure that was just your sense of responsibility that got in the way.

*he raises his eyebrows* You know, I’ve never turned in an assignment late, or anything for work late. Never asked for an extension.

I somehow find that doubtful. Your reputation of being a loose partier precedds that of a responsible duitiful person.

Well, it’s the truth. *he shrugs* If you’re really curious, you could email my professors. It’s all about finding a balance. *he smiles*

*grumbles because he seems to be honest about it* What did you even study?

I dual majored in political science and marketing. You?

*sighs in relief* at least you werent a buisness major. Political Science and History for me on a prelaw track.

*he nods, smiling, genuinely curious* Did you prefer one over the other?

Probably political science. I mean I love history it's why I added it. For fun since it's just like learning stories and seeing the modern day impact of said stories. But political science felt more efficient. Like it helped me have a better understanding of the philosophy of political thinking which has helped me a lot in law. Plus I just liked the professors more.

*he smiles* Understandable. Good professors make it so much easier to learn the content

*smiles* yeah and lots and lots of highlighters. Did you have a favorite topic in political science?

*grinning* I took a really cool course on comparative political economies - I really like the economic side of things. That, and the classes I had to take on international politics. *he looks over at savannah* What about you?

Probably civil politics. I've always been a fan of civil work. I honestly thought about working for the AFEI instead of the ICLU but decided I wanted to do more personal legal work than policy legal work. But it's always been the work that has interested me more since it's important to bring up civil conflicts within the country and try to help as much as possible. But learning about where we came from in terms of The United States vs the civil policies of Illea was an interesting course for me, especially because of the overlap of History and Political Science.

*he nods as she talks, thinking that all over* I think work guided what classes I liked as well. Because beyond national politics, I also have to think about international politics, trade agreements, and maintaining Illéa’s position in the world.

*seems slightly surprised* so you actually liked your major? I assumed you just were kinda forced to pick it

I was kind of forced to, but I could still pick the classes that interested me more. *He shrugs* Plus I really enjoyed my marketing major.

*thinks for a moment* Can I ask you something and have an honest answer? No bullshit PR answer. I'm just trying to figure out if we can trust you to be our future king through this, at the very least.

Sure *he nods, pursing his lips a little* Ask away.

Do you actually want to be the king of this country? Like aside from the perks you have from it, do you care about the work?

I do care. *he pauses, swallowing* I really do. It’s just...it’s a lot of pressure to accept from a young age.

*she thinks for a moment* Noted. Thank you for your honesty. *Looks at the basketball* Do you play much?

*he smiles kind of sadly* Not as much as I used to. I’ve gotten a little busy helping to run the country, and such.

*gets an idea* Do you wanna make a bet with me?

*he grins* Depends on what it is

Basketball. I'm working on a program right now with the ICLU, a coworker wants to come visit me and discuss about it but appreantly work visits aren't allowed during this. If I can get more hoops in you'll arrange that?

*he furrows his brows* Better yet, I could just organize for your coworker to visit under the guise of another event going on. Just give me a few weeks to work out the details.

*kinda chuckles because shes competitive* oh? Youre scared you'll lose? But if that's what you prefer

*he laughs* No, I just know I’d win, and I’d hate to deny you the ability to see your coworker

Fine. You'll set up the meeting, then I'll just prove to you that I would win had their beem stakes.

*he narrows his eyes at her, extending a hand to shake, still grinning* Deal

*shakes it firmly then kicks off her heels planning to walk to the court barefoot.* Would be an unfair advantage for me to still be in them

*he raises his eyebrows* Why, they helped square up the height difference between us, at the very least *he chuckles*

*almost elbows him over that but barely stops herself* I don't need that help. I'm perfectly capable of crushing you independent of my shoes

*he laughs* I played basketball in uni, you know?

As did I. Well- not in a club. A guy who I was *ponders for a moment* acquainted with, played it therefore I played with him and his friends fairly often

*he raises his eyebrows* And how tall was your acquaintance? Because I’m used to playing with people my height, but also my mom and sister, who are - *he puts his hand somewhere around his shoulder because they’re 5’4” and 5’5”* - about this tall

He was around 6'3. His friends the same or more. Don't worry I'm well aware of the disadvantage of my height and very prepared to utilize it

*he chuckles* Oh, I’ve got to see this. *when they get to the court he starts dribbling the ball casually, walking towards the middle of the court* Do you want to start with the ball, or should I?

*thinks for a moment and puts her shoes down on the edge of the court and rolls up the bottoms of her dress pants a bit* You can start with it.

*he raises his eyebrows at her rolling up her dress pants, but he nods* Okay, if you insist. *he waits until he’s ready before starting the play*

*she walks up prepared to steal since she cant block*

*he starts dribbling more seriously, quickly maneuvering around her, taking three large steps with the ball, and then shoots a basket, and it goes in*

*she kinda huffs about that dislikes. But once he has the ball again she tries again, this time getting it and doing her UNDER THE LEGS MOVE AND SHOOTS*

*he turns around, a little in shock* That is not a legal move!

Hmmm *puts her finger to her chin very smug* I dont think it explicitly says in the rules that you're not allowed too. You use your height I'll use mine *VERY SMUG*

*he narrows his eyes* Fine, best 2 out of 3? Whoever gets this next shot wins, then

*SHES BEING COCKY NOW* Aw is the wittle princey calling it quits so soon? His fragile ego damaged? *bats her eyes teasingly*

*he narrows his eyes* Fine, best three out of five, then. *he starts dribbling the ball right from here he is, and it’s a long shot to his basket from there, but he’s pretty confident, so he goes for it, and somehow it actually goes in. he raises his eyebrows at her* Still think you’re gonna win?

*crosses her arms* That was luck. *goes to get the ball since shes closer*

Or just sheer skill. *he smirks a little*

*turns to face him just to roll her eyes and gets the ball. She then dribbles it back to the middle or something idk how basketball works*

*he follows her to the middle, standing in front of her, knees bent in that “ready” position idk wtf it’s called lmao*

*that position makes knees wide so she dribbles and goes to do her fast under the leg move again*

*he sees it coming this time, and takes a few steps back, keeps his arm in front of him to reach for the ball, which he gets, and then dribbles across to the the hoop he has to score in, taking the shot, and watching it go in again. he grabs the ball as it bounces back up, raising his brows at savannah* One more, or are you good? *he grins a little*

*huffs again and crosses her arm* Fine we'll call it at 3 to 1. But in my defense it's been awhile.

*he grins* Well, you’re always welcome to practice out here with me, if you want.

I can't tell if you're being taunting or not *rolls her eyes and walks up to him then holds out her hand to shake for the end of the game*

*he takes her hand and shakes, then gives her a genuine smile* No taunting. I mean it. I’d love to have someone new to play with.

I'll consider it then. I am getting slightly bored of your homes running path for exercise.

*smiles back even tho she doesnt wanna because it was a nice offer*

*he tilts his head from side to side* Yeah, the running trail through the gardens is kind of short. There are better ones /in/ Angeles, if you ever want to check them out

Not sure I'm allowed to just waltz on out of here, but I'd love the names of any you know. My grandmother lives near her so I'm sure I'll be visiting soon enough after this if not immediately so.

*he shrugs* I could also drive you sometime, if you want. I /do/ have a car.

*seems a bit surprised* You know how to drive?

*he furrows his brows* Of course! I got my license as soon as I was legally allowed to.

But its not like you need too? Don't you have like drivers?

*he looks a little confused and taken aback* I’m sure some exist, but why would I want someone else to drive me when I could be free and drive myself?

I'm not sure. I just know rich people, like for example my cousin *mumbles for a moment to find the phrasing* So my grandmother is in charge of the Mars Candy Corporation. My mom's older brother Nathaniel will be taking over it, his kids also my cousins all have drivers. They're like twenty something now but Jackson is always bragging about how he doesn't have to take the effort to drive himself places. I just assumed other people who could afford them would have them, especially busy people who could work instead of drive.

*he blinks* Wow, I never even would have considered that. *he shakes his head* No, I like driving. Being able to roll the windows down and blast the music...it’s like a few moments of freedom. *he shrugs, smiling a little sadly*

*she noticed the smile then something clicks* so freedom is your vice. You act out to feel free, thus the partying. You mentioned earlier the responsibility of being a prince being am influence on the partying. A lack of freedom makes sense. *she knows shes getting too personal but her curiosity and worry for the future gets the best of her* But what does that mean you're going to do when you're king? You'll have even less. How do you plan to maintain that restriction without bursting and needing freedom?

*he stiffens a little at her analysis because damn it’s spot on, but sighs towards the end* Getting as much out of life as I can now. I always knew what my future held for me. So I can plan accordingly. *he forces a small grin, trying to joke* Besides, with any luck, I’ll be old and almost out of energy by the time I’m king.

*furrows her eyebrows concerned* That doesn't work. *sighs* Believe me I'd know. But we aren't wired to run off memories. Instead we develop habits and coping mechanisms. Everyone snaps from time to time, you'll go back to what made you happy last. For you I assume that'll be partying. Which is something you can't do as king, and assuming it wont be till your old isn't right either, regardless of if that was a joke it's not something that you can lean on since millions of people could be relying on you and you'd be unprepared. You are going to be king, You are not going to have freedom, you are going to be under immense pressure and responsibility, honest answer, what are you going to do when you need to snap?

*he narrows his eyes at her, this time more out of irritation than anything else, and he’s a little sarcastic* Gee, thanks for the reminder. Though, for the record, I /haven’t/ partied since uni, and I have no plans to in the near future. So perhaps I’ll rely on my other coping mechanism, such as basketball, or taking a drive.

Yeah well it's the truth and uni wasn't that long ago. It's hard to break habits. I mean I partied like 4 times a month in undergrad and I still use it. That was forever ago but that's not how humans work. You're gonna lean on what you've leaned on. You're going to get shitfaced, you're going to want what you used to have, you're gonna idolize those times in uni and want them back. But you're not going to have it and it's going to be hard and shitty but you have to tough it out because of the country that relies on you and this is proving to me that you're not going to be a reliable King for the people who need you.