#but nah i like these in particular cause my god mark does not know what to do with his arms 😭

[skitskatdacat63]

Favorite Martian pics atm

[scxrlettwxtches]

A Fake Night | Lee Mark

Request: 10, 23 Mark Leeeee pls and thanks 💕💕💕

Genre: fluff, slight angst

Warnings: underaged drinking (sorta?) 

Word Count: ~3.8k

Prompt: “I might have had a few shots.” |  “Just pretend to be my date.”

A/N: hi lovelies,,, so I'm still alive :)))) so sorry for the delay. ive been working on this particular prompt for a while now; the setup took way too long ack... I'm really sorry Anon!! you asked for a drabble but I literally wrote so much... anyways hope you enjoy!

“No way.”

“Why?” Mark whined, uncharacteristically pulling at your sleeve, bothering your attempts to eat your sandwich in peace, “Can’t you just help me this once?”

“Stop framing this situation like I’ve never done anything for you,” you warned, pulling your arm away from him. A growing sense of agitation had begun to settle in your gut, and you really really didn’t want to blow up in Mark’s face.

However, like usual, Mark never knew when to give up, “Come on! Why won’t you just do this for me?”

You squeezed your eyes shut before snapping, “Because it’s stupid, Mark! I’m not going to pretend to be your girlfriend just because you’re too much of a wimp to go confront her directly about your relatio-or whatever you two are now.”

Mark recoiled, looking slightly hurt, and you turned away before the guilt began to claw at your throat. No, you told yourself, he deserved that. You would do anything for you best friend, but this? This hit way too close to home for you to even bare thinking about it.

In case it wasn’t obvious enough, you loved Mark. You’ve loved him since you were little, when you first moved in to the house across from his, when he introduced you to his friends in kindergarten, when he punched a guy who was bullying you in middle school. You’ve never loved anyone but him, and the fact that he was actually planning to use your feelings (although unknowingly) to win back heart of another was just too much.

“You know I can’t,” Mark changed tactics, sighing dejectedly, “You know I’ve tried, but I just can’t get myself to talk to her. She won’t pay attention to me if I just went up to her.”

“Sucks for you,” you replied, jealousy turning your words cold and bitter.

Mark grew frustrated at your lack of cooperation, “Just pretend to be my date, okay?” he spoke exasperatedly, running his hands through his hair in that annoyingly handsome way of his, “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Oi,” Jeno, who was sitting a little ways away with your other friends, decided to but in, “cool off, Mark. Stop trying to force Y/N into doing something she doesn’t want to do.” he glanced at you worriedly, knowing about your feelings for the dense boy.

You gripped the strap of your backpack so tightly your knuckles turned white. You knew it was a bad idea, every fiber of your being screamed just that. But you hated hearing Mark sound so desperately helpless. You hated everything about his relationship with her. It was glaringly obvious how little she cared about your best friend, but he groveled at her feet like a lovesick puppy.

“Why? Why do you keep trying to win her back?” you asked him, searching for an answer.

Mark seemed as if he wasn’t going to answer you for a moment, but realizing that his plan was solely dependent on your decisions, he replied shyly, “She’s the prettiest goddess I’ve ever met,” his tone took a sickeningly lovestruck aura, “Everything about her is just perfect.”

Ouch. Way to go, you tell yourself, you just personally played a role in re-breaking your own heart.

In the end, you caved, just as you always did. You could never find it in your heart to say no to Mark anyway.

“I want boba for the rest of this year,” Mark looked right about ready to refuse, but stopped himself as you continued, “And you better be paying for everything at the party. It’s bad enough that I’ll have spend effort to get all dressed up. It’s a couple days before finals, too,” you grumbled to yourself angrily.

“God, you’re the best Y/N,” he gave you a sudden hug, squeezing your shoulders, “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

You tried to ignore the pain in your heart, rolling your eyes and shoving him away playfully.

“How’s this?”

A week later, you were getting ready for the party later in the evening, trying on an array of outfits.

“Eh, I guess it’s okay, you look less like a hot mess in this one than the one before,” Jaemin had invited himself over to your house to help you, claiming that “you’d be a laughingstock if you decided on what to wear tonight.”

You huffed, frustrated, “This is the fifth outfit! Can’t you get off my damn bed and just pick something something for me?”

“Jeez, so antsy,” Jaemin slid off your bed, sauntering over to you closet, “Let’s see what we can work with.”

Thirty minutes later, with a couple angry snaps and hisses, the two of you finally decided on an outfit that seemed pretty close to perfect. Not too revealing and not too “unfun” as Jaemin called your taste. You thought you were free then, about to jump on the bed and watch some anime before Mark came to pick you up, but your friend insisted on doing your makeup as well.

So now, the two of you sat across from each other on your bed, your eyes closed as Jaemin worked whatever miracle he wanted to with your face.

“You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Jaemin spoke softly, as if knowing how fragile your pretense in this situation was.

As he gently brushed on some eyeshadow, you chuckled, “I already told him yes, and I don’t wanna go back on my word.”

“He certainly didn’t care about his own word when it came to you,” Jaemin retorted harshly, and it was true. How many times had he ditched you last minute, just for his stupid infatuation? How many times had he made promises to pick you up, only for you to have to call Jaemin or Jeno to come in his place?

Jaemin looked guilty, “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

You shook your head, not a bit upset at him, “It’s alright,” you smiled, “In messy relationship drama like this, aren’t best friends supposed to stick with their bros?”

“Just cause Mark’s my best friend doesn’t mean I have to support everything he says and does,” Jaemin shrugged, “And I really don't support how he treats you.”

To be honest, you didn't know what to say to that. You guess you always had that feeling, that Mark was more important to you than you were to him, but someone actually voicing out these thoughts made it much more real. In Mark’s defense, you don't believe he's intentionally hurting you, it's just his personality.

But it still hurts.

“And...done!” your friend rummaged around the messed up blankets for his phone. He switched around the camera to give you a mirror, “What do you think?”

You checked yourself out in the camera, smiling, “You still have that magic touch of yours, Jaeminie. I'm impressed.”

“You're already beautiful, all I needed to do was accentuate your features a little,” Jaemin looked at you with adoring eyes. Out of all of Mark’s friends, you had grown the closest to Jaemin over the years, the boy instantly taking you under his care like a sister he never had.

He opened his arms, and you folded into his invitation, burying yourself into his chest. He rubbed your arms comfortingly, and whispered in your hair, “You fell in love with such an idiot.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

A sharp phone call pierced the quietness peacefulness in your room. Stepping out of Jaemin’s arms, you picked up your phone half-heartedly, “Hello?”

“Ey, Y/N? I'm outside, are you ready?”

You took a deep breath, “Yeah, I'll meet you outside,” before he could reply, you ended the call curtly. Sending Jaemin a feeble smile, you grabbed your purse and jacket from a hook on the wall.

“Oh,” you called behind your shoulder, “make sure to lock the door if you're gonna stay for a little bit, ‘kay?”

“Gotcha,” Jaemin said, his eyes a little droopy from lack of sleep. God knows what that boy does at night, “You sure you don't want me to come?”

“Aren't you supposed to go to the movies with Jeno later today?”

Your friend shrugged, “Yeah, but you're more important than a movie. I'm sure Jeno wouldn't mind either.”

Touched, you turned around, “It's alright,” you refused gently, “Go have fun with Jeno. I can handle myself, don't worry.” Jaemin chuckled at that as you bounded down the stairs.

Mark was leaning against his Jeep when you opened the front door, head lost in thought. He looked way too good, dressed in ripped black jeans and t-shirt, hair messily slicked back with a little gel. Slipping on your shoes, you made your way towards him, purposely clicking your heels a little louder to interrupt his daydream.

“Hey,” he gave you that soft smile you loved since you were kids, before giving you a subtle look up and down, “Wow,” he looked at a loss for words, which made you want to run back upstairs and change into your PJs.

“What does that mean?” you complained.

Mark backtracked quickly, “No, no! It's nothing bad,” he assured, his cheeks ever so slightly pink, “You just look really nice.”

Turning your head a little and averting your eyes, you grumbled out a thank you, trying desperately to control the schoolgirl blush that was threatening to erupt on your face. To avoid any further situations, you jumped in the shotgun of his car, anxious to just get this stupid night over with.

The drive was relatively quiet, with you electing not to start up any conversations and Mark awkwardly not knowing how to break the ice. Usually, you were the one to open Mark up when he got shy, but you really weren’t in the mood at the moment.

Finally, Mark couldn’t stand the silence, clearing his throat, “Um, I saw Jaemin’s bike outside,” he began, “Were you guys watching Game of Thrones again?”

“Nah,” you replied, “He just came over to help me get ready for this party we’re going to.”

Mark made a noise of understanding, the silence eating up the atmosphere again. You looked out the window, hoping he got the message that you weren’t interested in a conversation.

But of course, Mark never cared about what you wanted, “Does it bother you?” he asked suddenly, sounding as if he’s been wanting to say this for a long time.

Startled, you turned to look at him for the first time since you got in the car, “Bother me?” you repeated, “What are you talking about?”

“Pretending to be my date,” Mark looked sheepish.

“No,” you lied quickly, “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you already didn’t want to when I asked the first time,” Mark had the nerve to look a little guilty, “And Jeno seemed kinda annoyed with me about that after. Really, I know I was pushy, but if you don’t want to-”

“Mark,” you interrupted, your heart doing that painful thump knowing that he had absolutely no idea how you felt, “I wouldn’t agree to something if I totally didn’t want to do it. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t entirely the truth, but you weren’t completely lying either. Maybe, just maybe, you can enjoy this night and pretend to be something to him that you’ll never be.

In your two seemingly very long years of high school, you had never went to a single party. Not even one. Everyone else you knew had gone to at least a couple, but you stayed adamant about not going. After a while, you began to wonder whether you were just a boring person.

However, standing in the midst of your first party, you immediately understood that your decision to not go to any was possibly the smartest life choice you have ever made. It was messy, loud, and wild. Basically take all the things you dislike, throw them in a blender, and you get a high school party.

You began to back up instinctively as people spotted you and Mark at the doorway, but Mark held you in place with a sneaky arm around your waist. It didn't feel romantic in the least, more comforting than anything, but you found yourself sinking into his side.

“Yo Mark!” One of the boys greeted your friend with a well-practiced handshake. He turned to you a grinned, “Who's this?”

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Mark replied smoothly, shocking you a little with how easily the lie slipped out. You waved hesitantly at the crowd, who all cooed at various levels of volume.

After introducing yourself to some others, Mark guided you to a part of the house that was relatively quieter than the rest of the rooms, which wasn't saying much. Breathing a little easier, you let out a big sigh of relief.

“How are you doing?” Mark asked, rather concerned. He knew about your anxiousness around a lot of people probably before you even knew it yourself, “I'm sorry. I didn't think there was gonna be such a big turnout.”

“It's fine,” you breathed, trying to regroup. Your head felt like it was swimming, and your hands were already clammy.

Mark found a place for the two of you to sit down, “Let's just rest here for a bit,” you agreed wholeheartedly. With your head resting against his shoulder, he began to point out some of his friends and acquaintances, describing things that he did with them. You always knew Mark had a much bigger friend base than just you and your little crew of boys, but you never really knew the scale.

Turns out Mark knows basically everyone.

He chatted animatedly, letting you just rest and listen without needing much input on your part. Occasionally you'd ask a question or make a snarky comment, but you mostly just basked in his comforting presence, trying to calm your mind. You missed this hyperactive side of him; it seemed to have disappeared as he grew older, but it seems like it was still there.

“Oh, and that’s Jaehyun, Taeyong’s crush. If you ask him, he’ll deny it to the moon and back but-” Mark trailed off, spotting someone at the door. Of course it was his ex, walking in with an entourage like she was the Queen of England or something. You hoped she wouldn't notice the two of you but she did, the only tell of her surprise being a condescending raised eyebrow. She didn't spare you another glance, her eyes targeted on Mark like a hawk.

Mark, to his credit, looked unsure of whether to go over. His eyes darted around nervously, and for a moment you thought maybe he was going to refuse her, but your gut feeling told you not to be so optimistic.

“Y/N,” he began slowly, cautiously as if he were treading on eggshells. Of course, he'd always pick her in the end. If that was the case, then there wasn't any point in keeping him away.

“Go,” you tilted your head over to the girl, “Isn't that why you came?”

Mark seemed rather shocked at your enthusiasm to push him away, “Are-are you sure? I can't just leave you here.”

It wouldn't be the first time, the voice in your head whispered.

“I'll be fine,” you answered instead, pushing him off the seating, “Go get her, you lovesick fool.” It wasn't right of you to expect he'd be adamant about staying with you, but a part of you really did hope that he'd see through your well crafted mask.

But Mark only sent you a grateful grin before dashing away without another glance. Your cheerful facade dropped, and you sank into the couch.

“Geez, what a hypocrite, you lovesick fool,” a voice sneered from behind you. Tensing slightly at being called out, you relaxed when you recognized his voice.

“Donghyuck, it’s good to see you.”

And it was. Lee Donghyuck, Mark’s former best friend and partner in crime. The two of them rarely did anything away from each other, but Donghyuck ended up in a different middle school, and the two of them lost touch. You and Donghyuck were always at each other’s throats, fighting over Mark’s attention, but you couldn’t say you didn’t miss him and his snarky attitude.

“It’s been like five years, and things are even worse than when I left,” Donghyuck took Mark’s seat, flopping onto the couch with practiced ease, “You still haven’t told him anything?”

You scoffed, “Well as you just saw,” you gestured to the door that Mark had gone through, “it doesn’t seem like I’m getting the option, does it?”

The boy hummed, “These are just excuses. You never let other people stop you from doing what you want. At least, you don’t with literally anything else. So what’s stopping you?”

You were silent, unsure how to answer. To be honest, you didn’t know. Why were you so scared to just tell him? There were so many things unsaid between the two of you that you couldn’t possibly unpack them in a one word response.

Sensing your discomfort, Donghyuck mercifully stopped torturing you with his prodding, “I think I gave you enough food for thought. Anyway, how’s everyone? Jeno and Jaemin doing good?”

You gratefully took his attempt to change the subject, “They're good,” frowning suddenly, you asked, “Have you not been keeping touch with them?”

Donghyuck had the decency to look a little abashed, “Ah, not really?”

Rolling your eyes, you held your hand out expectantly. The boy looked back at you, confused.

“Give me your phone,” you clarified. He narrowed his eyes at you, before unlocking his phone and handing it over suspiciously. You tapped in Jeno and Jaemin’s number before pressing it back into his hand, “Give them a call,” you smiled encouragingly, “They won't be angry, I promise.”

Donghyuck finally let out a gentle grin, making him look eleven again, when he was young and innocent, “Thanks,” he said gratefully. Suddenly, his eyes darted to the doorway, “Uh oh, I think you've got incoming.”

You had a bad feeling in your stomach the moment you watched Mark stalk back to the two of you, his expression unnervingly dark. You'd never seen an expression like that on his face, and it frankly scared you a little.

He walked over, positioning himself in a strange standing position between you and your old friend. You glanced up at him, unsure of how to act, but luckily for you, Mark seemed pretty focused on the boy sitting next to you.

“Hyuck, didn't think I was gonna find you here,” the tension was suffocating, and you wanted to do nothing but sink in the floor and just escape.

The other looked rather unbothered, “You know me, I just kinda go where the wind takes me,” Donghyuck grinned.

For a moment, Mark looked ready to snap, and you were halfway out of your seat to stop what might've been a nasty fight when he turned to you. You froze, momentarily knocked off guard by the intensity in his gaze.

“I'm gonna steal Y/N for a dance.”

“You are?”

“Do you not want to?” His question was polite, but his tone was uncharacteristically daring. And you never backed out of challenges with Mark.

So you relented, “Just for a moment,” you replied, both of you knowing that you were only bluffing. Mark’s eyes gleamed exultantly. He gripped your hand firmly, and pulled you away from Donghyuck, dragging you to another, much wilder room.

The music boomed from multiple speakers, and the room felt suffocating with the large crowd. Bodies were pressed against one another in a tight squeeze, but in the moment, all you could focus on was Mark, calmly leading you to the center of the room.

In a sudden yank, he pulled you into his chest. With a yelp, your hands reflexively caught his shoulders, and you found his wrapping around your waist.

Oh my god. Your brain blacked out for a good five seconds and you hoped to god that the poor lighting could hide your red face. Mark swayed to the music, hands squeezing your sides.

“Why are you pretending you can’t dance?” he teased, “Loosen up!”

You nodded dumbly, but your limbs felt as if they were just pulled out of the freezer. Then, Mark leaned down close to your ear, his breathe gently blowing your hair as your heart stopped.

“What are you afraid of?”

And at that moment, you realized. You didn’t care about that stupid girl. You didn’t care that maybe Mark didn’t like you. You just wanted to bask in this moment, and stop the time.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling your face close to his, “Nothing at all.”

From that point, there was no stopping the two of you. Lost in the music, you swayed against one another, lips always close to touching, his hands never leaving your waist. You danced until the two of you were dripping in sweat, and only then did you pause, both of you panting.

“Are you drunk or something?” you gasped.

Mark shrugged off your question, “I might’ve had a few shots.”

You laughed, “God, you’re seventeen, Mark! You shouldn’t even have one shot!”

As you gave Mark a look over, you confirmed that he was indeed at least 67% drunk, so you decided it was probably best to end the night there before he went off and did something he’d regret.

“Alright,” you put a hand on his chest and tried to push him away, “I think you’ve had enough for today.”

Mark looked a little unsure, taking some time to process your words before he suddenly frowned.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head definitively, which merely convinced you more that it was time to go.

You tried again, tugging his sleeve gently, “Come on, I’ll drive you back to your place.”

Mark shook his head again, strangely adamant, “No,” he said again, even stronger, “Not until I give you my surprise.”

You stopped, confused. Surprise? You never heard anything about a surprise. But you figured that Mark was never going to leave until you relented, so you leaned closer to him and asked, “What surprise?”

With a surge of inhuman speed, Mark bent down slightly, taking advantage of your proximity, and promptly pressed his lips on yours. It was both everything and nothing like what you’d imagined your first kiss would be like. He cupped your face in his hands, and you instinctively kissed back because oh my god it happened wtF.

After what felt like an eternity, Mark broke off with a giddy laugh, “That surprise,” his lips were red and slightly swollen, a light blush colored on his face.

Later, when you drove silently with Mark dozing in the passenger seat, you heard him murmur under his breath, “Can I date you, Y/N? You make me so happy…”

Blushing a bright scarlet color, you stared intensely at the road, a shimmer of hope bursting in your heart.

Mark Lee, you have a lot of explain once you’re sober.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Sway Pt.7 - Danny Rayburn x Reader (Bloodline)

HAPPY 50th BIRTHDAY BEN MENDELSOHN! AND THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING!

It’s only appropriate for me to post this particular fic today...

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6  / Here / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Authors Note: ...I uhm... Hope that cover doesn’t look TOO much like a wedding... Despite the jokes in this...! I edited it several times! Having said that I did get to use another Dirty Dancing 2 image - THAT THIS ENTIRE FIC STARTED BASED ON WAY BACK WHEN!!! So I’m happy about that! I also had to take advantage of Danny in a suit! So... I essentially wanted to write this, then cut it, then wrote it to take Sway to 10 parts... and it’s ended up really long!

Gosh darn, I just read this back to edit and... There’s a few super significant paragraphs in here I forgot I ever wrote...

Disclaimer: As ever, I only own my OCs! 

Premise: As Danny’s departure for the Rayburn’s 45th Anniversary looms, you reminisce on Anniversaries of your own... However, deep down, you know you’re only wasting precious time...

Word Count: 8991

Warnings: DUI / Swearing / Sexual Amble (!!!)  / Another load of people talking trash about Danny. Oh god, and I promised we’d get LESS angsty didn’t I?! 

I believe, things happen for a reason Even though you might not see it at the time Cause now I know Every plan that came unravelled Every crooked path I travelled in my life Led me here to your side

Could it have been easier? Yeah A little smoother ride? Maybe so But lying here with you, would I change one thing ‘bout that road? No  --- Looking at you looking out the window right now, Those eyes, that dress, that smile, that laugh If I could hit pause I would somehow  But it don’t work like that --- There’s nothing I wouldn’t try  If I thought it would change your mind And I know as soon as you walk out that door… Pain’s a comin’, tears are runnin’ Yeah that’s kind of the way I’m feelin’ Trying to stop your leaving…

Present Day - Your Apartment, Late

You were standing on your balcony, tapping your fingers against a glass of water and watching the sun sink down over your favourite skyline. Another day gone, and you were fast running out of time… The Rayburn’s 45th Anniversary was in just 2 weeks… If you couldn’t stop Danny from leaving… You shook your head, not wanting to think on it, and let out a groan. He joined you, winding his arms around your waist, kissing your cheek and nuzzling his face into your neck; his hum was content… The Anniversary though, only made you think of your parents. You and Danny were fast approaching your 3 year mark. Which made you crack a smile, remembering your Dad’s jest in the middle of his toast. So much had changed over the past year… You entwined your fingers with Danny’s as you placed your hands on his; resting your head against him. AT LEAST during that time, you and him had been something consistent… ***

Previously… You realised, staring at the pile on your kitchen counter, that you might need more help than you thought. And certainly wouldn't be able to get all this in your car at once... 

You must have been staring at it for a good few minutes because you heard your balcony door slide across, and were greeted with a call of: "Need any help!?" Danny had gone out for one last cigarette before he put in a couple of hours in the restaurant ahead of tonight. The party would take all day to set up, so you'd offered to go down early to help your parents and friends. "No, no baby that's okay I...!" He threw his smoke down and hurried over, you sighed; "You need to get down to the restaurant." He hummed "Yeah, maybe, but you know I'm never late... C'mon, there's a lot here..." He stacked a few boxes, and held his hand out for what you were already carrying, you held it behind you defensively. "Uh uh! No! You don't get to see this yet!!" He laughed; "Why not!?” Mostly because whatever him, Javi, and Javi’s cousin had decided to dress Danny in remained a mystery - turns out Javi called in a fashion industry favour - and you wanted to be just as mysterious. But you also liked the way Danny would study every inch of you if you ever wore something he'd never seen before. You'd rather he saw this on than off... Well. Maybe off. Later. “Because...!” You didn't need a reason That only made him laugh harder “Don't tell me!! This wedding anniversary is going to turn into an actual wedding...” That made you gasp for effect, but laugh, "Will you stop...!!!" He joked about this way too often. But you only left him shaking his head as he collected the boxes and opened the door for you, "Which car?" "911..." "You’re NOT gonna fit all this in that car!” "It'll fit!” “Nah! We'll put some in mine and I'll follow you down.” “You don’t have to do that...” “I know I don't...” He leant across to catch your lips “But I'd sure like to...”

 You managed to squeeze nearly everything into your car’s limited two-seater space, but Danny still insisted that he help you out. So, now he was following you down the seaway. When you pulled up Danny stayed in his car and just stared. "What?" You opened his car door “It's on a yacht!?” You looked back, it could probably be classed as a liner. Looking like a classier version of somewhere you might have a high school prom. “Yes.” “... Don't tell me your dad bought this.” “Noooo... His friend is letting us borrow it.” Danny shook his head. “His friend!?” *

“Where's papa!?” You embraced your mom “Oh. Called to some project. It’s okay... Men will only get in the way!!” You raised an eyebrow, there were plenty of males around helping! Also... “Oh! Danny!! You sweetheart! You didn't have to!” “What? No, my pleasure...” He put the boxes on the table your mother indicated and joined you, “See you later…!” “Yeah have a good day...” You embraced him He looked around “Well, I know you will...” Kissing your cheek he turned to accept your mom's hug, "Don't go day drinking too much!!" He walked backwards back towards the gangplank with a cheeky wink; only making your mom laugh. “God, I like him...” “I know.” “And so does your father…” She turned to you with a suggestive look. “Yeah, I know!' That much was obvious. Even though Danny was your boyfriend your dad treated him like the son he never had.

 ***

 Everything was ready and set up; except you. Still trying to get those finishing touches looking just right... You sighed, for some reason the place cards on this particular table just weren't playing ball. Your mother called you from across the deck, "Y/N!!!! Are you still not dressed!?" "Mama!! This just isn't working!!" She shook her head "Too much like me for your own good!" She took your arms and steered you away from the table: "Oh yeah... Because I certainly got the perfectionist thing from you with my work in progress..." It was the way she had described Danny as being like your father when she’d first met him. "Danny is a fine man. I'll deal with the table..." She pulled you down a deck and headed towards a large suite of rooms, “Absolutely he is fine..." You tried to hide your smirk, "Do you know what he's wearing?" "No..." "Has he seen your dress?" "No. Mama. I wasn't about to ruin the main event!" She laughed and ushered you into a dressing room; "Now get changed!! People will be arriving soon!!"

You shook your head as she closed the door behind you. You took a quick shower and dried your hair... You already knew it was going up tonight... You took care with your makeup. Going for a little of that classic movie star flawlessness from all those old films your parents loved to watch. Approaching your dress you ran the fabric through your fingers, white into powder blue; halter neck with a cut taken straight out of the 50s. Sporadic clusters of Swarovski crystals covered the skirt and the ribbon that tied it coloured the same blue the dress bled into. You studied it in the mirror for a second and twirled. The only thing that disappointed you was that the cut was modest; whilst the chain was visible the ‘D’ wasn't... You sat and began on your hair, when there was a knock at the door, you beckoned them in and heard your mother gasp. "Oh... My baby is so grown up...!!" She approached you, and taking the straighteners from you she helped finish your look.  "I can't wait to see his face." “Mom, this is your anniversary..." "I know I just..." She hummed, sliding pins into your hair "... You remind me so much of us..." You couldn’t stop the smile; but it felt strange, that your mom would compare you and Danny to her own relationship with your father. In your eyes the two were completely different… Maybe she saw something you couldn’t see… But that also meant, as Danny has teased so many times, she saw real longevity in this. For once, you were starting to believe that too. She finished with a pretty hair slide from another one of your favourite designers, leaving some of your hair to frame your face. "You are so perfect..." You almost beamed, but then pulled at the chain again: "Just this... You can't see it... " "Come here... We'll see if we can't make a change..." She took the fine chain in her fingers and uncoupled it, looping it around your neck again she pulled it to make more of a choker and linked the ends back together through the ring to hold it in place, "There... " "Why didn't I think of that!?!" She chuckled "Thinking too much! As always…" she presented you with a box, "But, I also want you to wear this..." You hesitated, looking to her, and opened it with a gasp; "Mama. No..! It's too much!! I can't!!" You knew the bracelet well. The amount of times your mom had worn it for dance competitions... It was the first thing your father had ever saved up and brought her. It held the same significance to your parents as your necklace did for your own relationship. "You can, and we want you too..." ***

Amanda and Evelyn were the first two people you really greeted with enthusiasm. You did, however, have to raise your eyebrows at Amanda’s outfit – never passing up the chance to take someone home (and her relationship with Javi more of a… *cough* summer fling *cough*) her dress was skin tight and verging on inappropriate. That was just like Amanda, though. Evie had gone full on floor length ballgown – never missing the opportunity to dress up. You were thankful they were here, to take your mind off waiting in anticipation for Danny to show. Suddenly there was a buzz around you, and Amanda had to catch someone to explain what was going on. “OH. Someone pulled up with a Zegna Maserati. God, Y/N, I thought your dad was the only one outside of Italy with a car like that!?” “Isn’t it his!?” “No. Different number plate – Your dad came in the Lambo anyway…” What-!? It MUST have been your fathers. “So who are they!?” “You mean the man who looks like YSL dressed him personally?” They jerked their thumb over their shoulder “Talking to your dad…” Now this you had to see. “…If he’s single…” Evie suggested, but you laughed; “I’ll put a word in…” You walked through the crowd, aware they were both following behind you, just as intent on finding out who was the new celebrity. “-Wait!?---Is that--!?” You hushed them in the event this was a mirage. Your dad tapped his arm and he turned. The air left the deck; for both of you. His blue eyes fell on yours and he swallowed hard. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You could just about make out the look on your father’s face, but everything else melted. You bit your lip shyly, and made your way across the floor to him. The crowd parting for the daughter of the couple they were all here for. You noticed your friends hung back in order to let you have this moment. How many people here knew about you and Danny? It was clear none of them knew who he was – but the fact that putting him in a suit and a fancy car made them all want to know him was very telling of Miami high society. You swept your gaze over him and realised you’d be thanking Javi for a very long time. The suit was fitted; taking every advantage of Danny’s height and body shape – they had obviously tailored. It looked black and simple until you got closer; his jacket gave him smooth lines, the silk iridescence of his collar was bordered in a deep, rich navy which translated into the lining, shining ever so slightly against his shirt in the lighting. The shirt was crisp and bright white – but the stitching black in contrast - the fabric of high quality, to let you know if for any reason you might want to rip through those buttons, it wouldn’t be happening easily. As both of you were having difficultly finding words, your dad stepped in. Introducing you like Danny was a friend and potential suitor; “Mr. Daniel Rayburn, allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Miss. Y/N Ervin.” Danny at least managed a laugh; “It is a pleasure. Although I do believe I’ve seen you around…” “…I was just about to comment it’s lucky I’m not single Mr.Rayburn… Though I’m not sure looking at you tonight that would stop me…” He held out his hand, as if for you to shake and you realised that your dad had not only leant him the car; he was wearing a Cartier watch. And your breath caught again as you pulled his hand towards you. “…Oh my god! DAD!!” Your dad laughed, Danny only looked a little confused, “…You gave him…!?!” The bracelet that your mother had given to you was clearly all part of the plan. Stupidly it hit you that Danny probably hadn’t even gone to the Restaurant today; the cufflinks that he was sporting matched the bracelet perfectly. They had always been your parent’s lucky combination… The fact you and Danny were now wearing them at their 35th wedding anniversary was no mere coincidence. As Danny turned your wrist in his, the significance hit him also. “Oh…” He turned to your father; “…I…” Jack Ervin just laughed, harder than before; Danny at a loss for words was a rare event. Which meant it was much more than just obvious how grateful he was. “Think nothing of it.” You took the opportunity of Danny’s attempt to express his gratitude to study Javi’s fine work closer. The bow-tie had the same gleaming effect running through it that his suit jacket did; but his belt… His belt held the unmistakable Zegna ‘Z’. Was this a big Ervin-Viva Caputa colab that you had missed out on!?! With that expensive glass of champagne in his hand, he certainly looked the part. And everyone on that boat knew it. And he was here, talking to you! “Okay. What the HELL did Javier even do?!” That got their attention back on you, but Danny only held his hands up innocently “I dunno! Ask him!” You then rounded on your father; “You let him DRIVE the Maserati!?” Your father looked like he was about to cry laughing “YES.” “Danny!!! Danny!! Dios Mio just LOOK at you!!” Your mother had swept through the crowd almost as easily as you. Her red dress exquisitely beautiful and looking like something a Flamenco dancer would wear, she embraced her favourite Rayburn and looked him over. She turned to you, because nothing got past her, and gave you an approving nod and wink. Before turning back to him, taking his face in her hands; “How is my boy?!” He laughed and pink dusted his cheeks, “I’m… I’m good! Yeah!” He took her hands in his; “How are you? Oh my gosh – Yeah! Happy Anniversary! Both of you! Congratulations!” “Oh-! It’s nothing! It’ll go quick!” She beamed, but your father made sure to at least thank Danny. Before your mother took your hand and placed it in Danny’s “Enough from us!! This should be a celebration of everyone in our family!” She gave a wink to Danny, who gave another slightly embarrassed laugh “You look like the most important man in the room. This is good! It suits you! Muy muy guapo!” Then she took your fathers hand and dragged him away from you both.

Danny blinked a few times and turned to you, still watching them leave… And it took you a while to pull your eyes back to him, although you knew you weren’t the only one staring; Tonight his intense blue eyes were softer, they matched his demeanour rather than his sharp suit; “I can’t breathe you look SO good.” “I feel it…” He ran a hand over his chest, “But I can’t say it’s me…” You laughed “…I’d rather be on this boat with you in a T-Shirt over this too… I know what’s you. I love you because you are you.” “Still…” He scanned the party, “I think I’ve managed to make an impression on them… And you…” He tipped his expensive glass and whistled “A significant portion of people want to BE me. For once…” he couldn’t help laughing; “You are, as always, stunning…” “Stop…” You murmured it, pushing gently against him, which made him laugh again; “No way… Not tonight… I’m lucky to get to show you off…” “You!?” You shook your head as he wound his arm around you and pulled you in so that he could kiss your forehead “…Baby, no, tonight I get to show you off! I am the Lucky one.” Without your parents here you suddenly remembered the exactly reason you’d thought about inviting him in the first place. “AH!” You made him jump at your suddenly exclamation and the way you held his shoulders “…I asked you here to meet my friends; right!?” “Well, it’s not like I haven’t…” “Yeah, but…” You made a face that said not really “…And you do NOT have to answer all their questions…! In fact, please DON’T.” “Oh, What kinda conversation is this gonna be?” He raised an eyebrow suggestively; but that just made you agree with him. “Yeah. It’s gonna be exactly that.” You turned to Amanda and Evie, and then almost found yourself with a smug smirk at the way they were both staring at Danny. Caught up in that thought, it was him who waved to them both; making them give each other the same look and him stifle a laugh. “Do I have to fend these two off?” “…Hey. I saw you first.” You nudged him into quiet agreement as they came over at your beckon. “I know we’ve done drinks… Kinda… But, Amanda, Evie – Danny. Danny, my two best friends.” Then you added a warning; they all had great ammunition on you the other party could use, “The three of you collude on anything – Not kidding, you’re going overboard…!”

 They loved him, it wasn’t surprising to you that they did. Considering that you were pretty sure they also both wanted to date him. It was the impression you’d got that very first time. The impression didn’t change now. Your friends might have been from this world and have long strings of high-class toy boys. But they found it refreshing that Danny was a down to Earth, Southern working boy from the Keys. And older. The more he talked, the more impressive the looks they kept giving you were. He’d passed the best friends test; you knew he would. The two most important people on this ship to you loved him. And your parents loved him… More importantly than that, Danny had done all that hard work himself. Showed what the Rayburn’s really knew…

You introduced him to many members of your family. Danny even managed to stumble through some basic – if not broken, but incredibly polite – Spanish to your fathers’ mother. She had her husband and son to look out for her, so she’d never really had to learn English. Which means every time she turned to you to pay Danny another compliment, making you go bright red and laugh, she completely lost him. Which was great, because every time she did you could see him desperately wanting to ask you what she said. From your father’s father Danny figured where you’d both got your business head from. A retired self-made business man, and extremely proud of his son’s success – and that his son had surpassed him. Although, he had that American patriarchal air that demanded respect from everyone. In a different way from his own father, Danny noted quickly – he could see exactly where Jack had learned to be a man. All at once he was grateful for your family – at the acceptance he seemed to be receiving even from those on the extended side… Maybe he’d finally get the family he always wanted… Dinner was a little different and overly formal. Walking around a party hand in hand with you, and a glass of something strong to calm his nerves, worked on Danny like a charm. But here, sitting in a suit and surrounded by topical conversation of those living the high-life he had very little opinion on ,or stomach for, made Danny look uncomfortable. You noticed it straight away, so you moved your chair closer to his and spent a lot of time with your hand resting comfortingly on his thigh. When he could, his hand would find yours and you could almost feel the nerves. Every so often you’d whisper comforting phrases to him or give him context – because he would be expected to talk. He seemed to position himself as a say little but say something that sounds profound. And it was expertly done; although there was a little shake to his voice from time to time. You knew that would bother him – but he was so far out of his comfort zone now you couldn’t help but be proud. Of course, as ever your father and mother were on hand to help out and you would pick up pieces of his sentences to elaborate on. When they asked about his family, he got into his element because no word of that was stretched truth; he came from this – even if it was different in the Keys. Eventually though, he got back into his nervous ticks and the two of you drifted from the main table conversation into your own world; he held your hand even tighter and he tried not to look like he was getting the I need a cigarette jitters… You kept him steady until most of the table began to disperse. To which he breathed a sigh of relief and you gathered him gently in your arms. He wouldn’t have to suffer much longer… You hoped.

** Later that evening, as you still hadn’t left the table (Danny needed that quiet…), further family members began to wonder exactly who your man was. That left you sitting with Danny and your aunts. Your father was an only child, but your mother came from a family of 4 sisters. She was the youngest. They were all fussing over him and asking questions; at first they were the right kinds of questions, where he grew up, what he did before Miami, where he lived now, what he was doing now… and then they weren’t… where did he attend college… what car did he drive… what was his job… what was his salary..? At the point he said he was the chef, and not the owner/manager – although really Danny was both – and then they broke into the salary question Danny cleared his throat, you could tell that made him uncomfortable…  And you didn’t like that… Putting your hand on his knee again you pulled him back to you; “Baby… Do you mind getting me a drink?” He looked more than grateful; kissing your cheek gently, “Sure thing, I’ll be back…!” He took his leave politely and wandered off. You took a breath – and turned back to the table. They were also watching him walk away with some interest. Although as soon as he was out of earshot they all turned to look at you, and the conversation continued. In Spanish. “Isn’t he too old for you!?” That first shot hurt, but it didn’t hit as hard at the others; “There is no way he makes enough for you to both live comfortably on.” “…And he’s living in downtown…” “He must have borrowed that suit…” “Agreed, he looks so awkward in it… He can’t be from here…” “-And the car!” “Y/N, really… He didn’t even get a college degree?” You could hardly believe what you were hearing. SURELY, SURELY your family could not be as bad as the Rayburns!?! In fact, this was WORSE. Because the Rayburns didn’t say it out loud. “You can do better… Look at the men around here…! What about the men you work with!?” What hurt even more is that they actually tried to make themselves sound sympathetic towards you; like Danny was just a mistake you’d made. No – your mistake was clearly thinking this was a good idea, and forcing Danny to be here with you in the first place. You stood in one movement. Attempting to swallow the lump in your throat. “You’re right. I can do better. And so can he!” You left, but you didn’t get very far before you got upset and started crying. Unfortunately for you, Danny was just strolling back to your table. When he saw you, his face became instantly worried and he attempted to catch your arm; “Y/N… What’s wrong!?” But you didn’t want to make a scene here… It was your parents anniversary after all. You shook your head and ran quickly for the stairs to the lower level rooms. He wasn’t the only one to notice that you were clearly upset. As he called after you, Amanda and Evelyn rushed to him. “What happened?!” “…I dunno… She…!” He hesitated… Putting the glass he was holding down, he followed you “Y/N! Wait!” You locked yourself in one of the bathrooms and sat down. Just a few deep breaths. Just a few deep breaths… that’s all it would take. Hot tears stung your eyes as you tried your best not to ruin your makeup by having them stream all over your face. You were angry, at them for saying those things. At everyone else here for clearly thinking it – you’d seen the way some of them were looking at him like he wasn’t good enough for you… - At yourself, for not standing up for the man you loved SO much. You wanted to yell at all of them. Danny didn’t have to be here. He’d be having a better time anywhere else in the world right now than being in that suit on this ship. But he was here for YOU. He was dressed up for YOU. They weren’t worthy of his time or his presence here… Hell, they didn’t deserve to be in the same room as him. Danny loved you dearly, he had a better heart and mind than half those people on deck… His family couldn’t see that either; you didn’t know why you’d expected Miami socialites to be any different. You heard a knock at the door; “Y/N… C’mon… What’s wrong…” Now he sounded visibly upset, which didn’t help you. You found yourself holding back sobs. “…Baby…” his voice was soft “…Baby, I’m here… C’mon…” You heard other hushed voices, and he replied to them. They were both female. Of course Amanda and Evelyn would be just as concerned. He knocked again; “Y/N… Darlin’… Open the door… Let me in… Or… Let them in… I don’t know, just… Baby please don’t cry…” Saying that made you actually sob. And you heard the noise he made. “…Y/N… Please… I’m right here… Sweetheart… I’m here…” Only now you continued to sob. You heard a fourth set of footsteps and the hushed voices fell silent for a minute… Three sets of footsteps disappeared… Then there was another knock. “Danny? Girls? What happened?” “We don’t know… Y/N got upset and ran down here… Danny followed her, we wanted to support her too…” Danny moved away from the door and bit his lip, “She’s cryin’…” Jack noticed that Danny looked like he was about to tear up too… “Okay… Go back to the party all of you… It’ll be alright… I’ll get her out…” The two girls left, looking to him sympathetically. Danny was reluctant, but followed. Jack placed a hand on his shoulder; “Danny… I’m sorry…” “For what?” “...I know this isn’t easy for you…” “I’m not doing this for me, I’m doing it for her.” Jack nodded “I know. And you have no idea how much I appreciate all you do for her… I’m very proud that you are with my daughter…” “…Thank you?” Danny wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to react. Jack just smiled, like he understood how Danny was feeling; “Whatever they say… Hers will always be the only opinion that matters.” “I agree…” Danny said it softly, but then smiled “I… Kinda think that yours matters too…” Jack laughed. “You’re too good. Mr.Rayburn. Too good. Wait at the top of the stairs, I’ll have her back to you in 5…” With that, Danny headed back to the top deck, and your father tapped on the bathroom door. “Y/N.” Oh, great. Way to ruin your parents party by having your dad find you crying in a bathroom… “Open the door. I’m the only one here…” You reached up and unlocked it. He slid it open, shaking his head. It hurt him to see you like this as much as it did Danny and your friends. He shut the door behind him and locked it, sitting next to you he took you in his arms and handed you his pocket handkerchief. “Estrella… What’s wrong? What happened? Who said it?” “Who said what…?” You dabbed at your cheeks to stop your tears ruining any more of your makeup than they already had. “I’ve been watching all night, to know that you have been watching all night. I’ve seen the way they look at him too…” You didn’t answer, still sniffing away… “…You know. Your mothers’ sisters never liked me either. Hated me in fact. I was a nothing too. I could dance, great, but how was that going to make a good living?” He knew exactly what had happened. You wondered if your father was protecting Danny just as much as you were. He chuckled; “Better believe that all changed when I was able to get them into places like this…” He shook his head “…Why they act so high and mighty I don’t know… They’re not exactly from the echelons of Miami either…” He rubbed your arm affectionately. “Your mom’s father however… Now of course no man was ever good enough for his youngest… But… All he cared about was how I was going to treat her… He knew there was more value in love than money. Still, Jorge decided that maybe I ought to earn something if I wanted to raise a family…” “…You built the business… for mom?” He shrugged “For mom and you… When you came along. The point is, I value what her father values…” You raised an eyebrow; “So… He’s not good enough for me?” He laughed; “No one will ever be good enough for you, until one is. And… he IS.” He brushed some of your hair back into place; “I believe I’m right if I make the statement Danny is the best thing that ever happened to you…” “He is…” You didn’t hesitate. You knew that. Like fact. “Then, he is more than good enough for you. And I will let those hateful bitches know that myself.” You choked on something between a sniff and a laugh; “Papa. I probably wouldn’t say that to their faces!” “Watch me.” He smiled; “For the record. Danny is better than ¾ of the people out there.” “They’re your friends.” Weren’t they? People your parents liked? “…They’re friends we have to make. The society in which we live. We all know who the real friends are…” He fumbled around in his pocket; “…The whos-who… Probably not to be associated with after tonight…” “Because of how they are treating Danny!?” “…Something like that…” He twirled what looked like a pen, and held it out to you “I don’t want anyone I know, or invited tonight, to cause anything to happen between the two of you. You are happy. The happiest I’ve ever seen you, and I’ll be damned if I let some high-and-mighty socialite ruin that… For either of you.” You laughed, realising he was holding out liquid eyeliner, you took it with a grateful smile; “I thought you might be crying over something else, tonight… So… I thought I’d keep it just in case. You don’t look too bad. Touch it up, but hurry now, your man is waiting…” You dried your eyes one final time before he helped you stand up. You embraced him; “Gracias Papa!” “It’s nothing… Not for my little girl…” He exited the bathroom and then turned back “He looks good in YSL don’t you think?” You turned to the mirror, yeah; a little bit of a touch up and you’d be fine. “…He looks a bit awkward. He was carrying it well, then when we all sat he looked uncomfortable… Now he’s standing again he’ll…” You looked to your fathers face; “What?! I have to admit that! He’d rather be in a T-shirt, or chefs whites c’mon daddy…!” “…You noticed what he’s wearing didn’t you.” “He’s wearing your watch…” You let the eyeliner glide smoothly as you began touching up “…He’s wearing the cufflinks that match this bracelet, don’t think I don’t know what you and mom are up to…” you smiled. “…Yes. Mr. Daniel Rayburn looks fantastic. He really does. But it’s not him, and he knows it’s not him.” “…And so do you, so, tell him to be comfortable... He looks awkward because he’s trying to make that suit look natural. He is wearing it, it is not wearing him.” “Then YOU tell him that. He respects you.” “But he loves YOU. We both know he didn’t turn up to this party for your mother and I… He came because you didn’t want to turn up with anyone else…” When you reached the top of the stairs, Danny was indeed waiting for you, and you weren’t even on the top step before he’d gathered you in his arms again; “Are you Ok?” “Yeah… God, I’m sorry… I just…” You shook your head, “I know… This isn’t you… And you want to be anywhere else right now… I’m sorry I made you come here… and wear a suit and…” He shook his head, and his smile was brilliant. “Baby girl… I am here… with YOU… You look amazing, and I am proud to look at least half decent next to you… Darlin’… When you are here, make no mistake, there is no place on Earth I would rather be than right here with you in my arms…” “But they-” “I know. I’ve only been used to it my entire life…” He shrugged, and rolled his eyes “What is one more night.” “Tonight wasn’t meant to be one more night, though, it was meant to be your night off…” “Tonight is very much a night on…” He guided you through the crowd, his hand respectfully around your waist “…Overtime…! Tomorrow, we will have a lazy day… on the couch… watch movies… I might even consider ordering take out… God, what am I saying…!” You wrapped your arms around him as you continued to walk… Funny thing was, you knew that would be a better day than you would ever have hanging out with half the people here tonight. Guests had begun to gather around the bottom of the stairs with drinks. You guessed your parents were about to make their big toast… You both collected your own drinks and found Amanda and Evie. Both glad you were okay, even more glad you were back in Danny’s arms.

“…I want to give a toast to the best thing that ever happened to us over the past 35 – married – years… Our daughter-” oh God! You placed one hand to your forehead – Here we go! You weren’t surprised that Danny led the cheer on that one. Your father continued his speech, making increasingly embarrassing anecdotal comments about your first steps, first words, your first car and teaching you how to drive (the red tape mark and the boat thankfully remained buried and your Rayburn boys were sworn to absolute silence), college degree, graduation, first job… promotion… Everything part of a world Danny wasn’t from. But Danny, seeing the look on his face, was living all of those moments with your father… He couldn’t be prouder of the person Jack was talking about, even though he wasn’t a part of any of it. He couldn’t be any prouder of you. That he got to experience you. “But I didn’t want to make a toast just to our daughter, on an anniversary, right!?” Your father laughed and left a pause for emphasis; “I also wanted to make a toast to the best thing to ever happen in her life…” You felt Danny hold his breath as you looked to him; your father was really toasting him!? “So…” Your father raised his glass with a wink; “Mr.Danny Rayburn… I want to thank you for putting that smile back on me daughters face, I’m grateful for the way she talks about you… For you bringing her down to Earth, because you did that when she needed it most…” He laughed “I… Just hope I get to make many more of these!” You and Danny shared a significant look; doubtless your dad was thinking about Wedding speeches already. Your dad took a sip of his drink through the applause, with Amanda and Evelyn pushing Danny’s shoulders with a bit of pride of their own (they’d seen this through from the beginning, after all), and just when you thought he might switch subjects, he continued; “…I ALSO want to say a big thank you to Danny and his incredible team at Viva Caputa! Thank you for the catering tonight!” Another round of applause went up and you turned, quick; “What!?” Danny raised his glass to your father; you smacked his arm “WHAT?! Why didn’t you TELL ME!” “Mmmm… Mmmm…!” Danny shook his head like that one was remaining a secret. “Oh my god! I can’t believe it!” He laughed, murmuring; “It’s Ok… The guys have a well-deserved day off…” Danny had his arms around you for the duration of your parents’ speeches and toasts, every so often he would brush his fingers against your side gently, calming… Like he was never going to let you go... In a room full of people like this, you belonged here with him.

**

 Your parents took centre stage and held each other. Barely a breath was taken over the hushed crowd as they recognised the stance instantly. The way your heart skipped as the music swelled. They were about to perform the dance that had won them state… AND nationals, and had put your parents on the map. Everyone in the dance world knew them because of these very moves. It was your favourite; because of the story it told. Every time they performed it they added a slightly different element, because it was about them. About their relationship; and of course, in 35 years plus of performing this that relationship had grown and changed…

Danny nudged you, making you look at him; “What?” “We should…” he tilted his head to the dancefloor, you looked back to your parents, the next graceful turn they made. It was all so natural to them… Look at the way they looked at each other… Was that how you looked at Danny when you were in his arms like that? “No… This is them… It’s all them…” “Trust me… We should…” “Danny..?!” He took your hand, with confidence and pulled you out. He was crazy, this was THE dance, this was your parents dance.  If you were going to go onto the dancefloor at all, it wouldn’t be this early! You did trust him, though, implicitly. You took a breath and watched him pick up the next bar of music, the way he moved. Then you realised, he wasn’t just matching the music… He was matching your dads’ movements. OH MY GOD--!? No way, your parents--- Did your parents teach HIM this!? He held out his hand, and you took it, instinctively. You knew this dance off by heart, you couldn’t believe that your parents would be this sneaky… But your heart… You couldn’t have loved any of them any more than you did right then…

 *** You approached him again. You'd been trying to help your parents usher people off the ship or get them home safe. This left Danny to his thoughts... Something you weren't always sure was good... He hadn't touched his shoulder all evening, which was a good start. But it also wasn't like you hadn't noticed him sneaking his painkillers every so often either. "Darlin'..." He turned back to you from looking at the city lights, as you wound your arms around him, he had a cigarette in his hand and you were glad he was unwinding... He'd lost his tie; his top shirt buttons were undone and all at once you knew he was more comfortable. "You ready to go?" "Mmmhn?" He looked around at the remaining guests. "It's not over yet?" You shrugged "It is for me..." He looked to his half-finished glass and gave his own shrug, placing it on the nearest table he took your hand in his; "Better say goodbye to your parents. Is there anything we need to take back?" "Don't think so... We can always head down tomorrow... It’s not like this liner is GOING anywhere..."

Danny called your dad over; "Thanks, again, it’s been great." "Come now, Danny, it’s always my pleasure. I'm glad you came." He nodded to you "She's even more so... It'll be smaller next year!" He made the promise like Danny's presence would be concrete. You liked that. Your dad embraced you. "Estrellita... You have yourself one hell of a man... You are lucky." "I know papa..." "With any luck, one day you'll get your own one of these... Then you can learn from my mistakes..." "Oh. Y’know... Only around 34 years to go... Then..." He looked to Danny, then continued in Spanish "Don't let this one go...!" "I don't intend to..."

Your mother hurried over upon realising you were both leaving "Oh...!!! No!! Not my favourite daughter and her other half!" "Mom I'm your only daughter!" "Yes, well, I'm more concerned over our Danny here...! You won't stay?" “If she calls it I'm following her, M'am!" Maria was obviously disappointed as she embraced him "You really outdid yourself tonight Danny, in every capacity. You should be really proud of yourself." "Ah! It was nothing...!" His smile was shy and you could swear that red was crossing his cheeks for once. "No. It was everything!!" She smiled, then turned to you, as your dad also embraced Danny tight. "My darling girl... My sisters they..." "Mama I know..." She gave you a look that let you know there was possibly a world of hell coming "... You will look after him?" "Always." "He will certainly look after you." She smiled "... I could not have wished for better for you..." Honestly what was with your parents!? It was like he had gotten down on one knee already. They were almost definitely hoping for it. Geez... They were probably planning it all in their heads already. But you were sure neither of you were ready for that. "Oh!" Danny held out the Maserati keys "Better give these back..." Your dad didn't hold his hand out, rather backed away; "What? It's not like anyone else will be driving her tonight." Danny froze and looked at him like he was insane "No! Jack-! I can’t-!" Your father winked, patting him on the shoulder "Go on. Take her out. You deserve it!"

*

Danny stared hard at the car as he unlocked it; "Is this a good idea?" "How many have you had?!" "Like... More than should be allowed, but I'm lucid, is this legal?!" You noticed that someone, somewhere had changed the number plates back to your dads. "...Either my dad has a city agreement..." it wouldn’t surprise you "Or its going to be one of those legal for rich people fines..." Danny raised a questioning eyebrow, but now wasn't the time to get into those details. You both entered the sleek, stylish Maserati and he turned the key in the ignition. Making the "oh." sound that turned him into another boy-with-a-toy at the hum of the engine. You could hardly believe your dad was about to let him take you on a thrill ride in THIS car. "You ever actually driven a supercar before!?" He noticed the way you checked your belt more than once. "...Yeah, I drove this down here didn't I?" "Carefully, like your life depended on it, I bet!!" "My life DOES depend on it.” He looked to the dashboard "Sorry this can go HOW fast!?" "Don't you DARE!" "Oh God! How many of these are there, 100?" He put the car in gear and laughed nervously, checking around he reversed smoothly out of the parking space "...There'll be 99 after tonight!" "Don't say that!" Your voice practically pitched, and he took a deep breath. "I made a promise to get her back in one piece. I have a feeling your dad didn't mean the car...." You were watching him very carefully. Although he looked a little jumpy, and his eyes held all the excitement he wasn’t allowing to show on his face, he was checking and double checking every road and mirror as he pulled out of the Marina. He tapped the screen and the SatNav flickered into life; "Ah ha..." "Daniel. Eyes on the road..." He rolled his eyes "Back to Daniel, am I?" He took your hand "Darling." He emphasised the G like he was trying to be sophisticated "Would you please zoom out the navigation system so I can see the appropriate stretch of road." You were staring at him like he was crazy "I certainly will... On one condition." "Which is?" He leant over towards you, but kept his eyes on the road "Drive with two hands, and STOP talking like that." Danny laughed hard; "I’m trying to be the kind of man that owns one of these.” "Then you missed the point! My dad just wants you to be YOU." "And what do you want…?" He glanced at the screen to watch the road that headed up the coast line and onto the interstate, where he would really let this car fly... You smiled across at him "...Well. I know who I fell in love with. That's all I ever asked for.” "...I don't think he exists anymore..." "Hmm!?"             "... You already made him a better man..." He paid attention to his mirrors again and blatantly didn't look at you "...So he just hopes you’re still in love with him." You shook your head, what was with Danny tonight? Did it had something to do with your dumb crying episode, which you were now SO over. "You tell him not to worry...." You looked out to sea, dark, the waves every so often lit by street lamps "...I'm not sure I've ever loved anyone more than I do him..."

You continued to stare out of the window as he brought the car up to the increasing speed limit – affording him to look back to you. Every moment he spent with you he tried to savour, if only life had a pause button he knew he’d find himself pressing it often. He’d always thought this was way too good to last… But he was also quick to realise that he could probably put you through anything, not that he would want to, but your versatility would allow him to – AND let him find you still holding onto his hand at the end of it all. Somehow this was working out for him; you, Nolan, the restaurant. Suddenly he stopped looking for all the things that could go wrong – and was starting to allow himself to enjoy everything that was going right… You wound the window down as the engine revved at the gaining speed, allowing the cool evening air that rushed past you to fill the car. Danny continued to carefully push the car into the next set of numbers – when they started to turn red at the top end of the speedometer he held his hand out for yours. “I’m scared of what you’re about to do…” He laughed, “You just gotta trust me.” You took his hand in answer and the next thing you knew the car was more than flying as he broke into triple figures. You found yourself getting that shot of adrenalin as the world passed you by in a blur, flashes of colour every so often melding into the dark of the evening. “Oh My God!!” You couldn’t help but let out something akin to a scream, which only made him laugh harder as he continued to let the speed climb. Even with just one hand on the wheel; he managed to hold the car steady. And even with his hand in yours his eyes were focused on nothing but the road.

He took it back down in notches, almost letting the car coast until the dash started to read something more sensible. Both of you were near breathless and he let your hand go; looking across to you. “Guess there’s still 100 of these!” You put a hand to your heart; “I think my heart is going at the number of miles an hour you were just at.” He chuckled; “That was good fun!” “Don’t be getting ideas.” “Aw, and here I was thinking about taking the Porsche out…” “Hands off the 911 Mr!!” “MMM… Careful…” He produced the keys from his pocket; spinning the keychain around his index finger; “Wait WHAT!?” “You forgot about it. I didn’t.” “Danny you are NOT driving that car.” He looked across to you almost disbelieving; “C’mon! What is one more joyride?” You tipped your head; thinking that phrase was a double entendre “Take me home and I’ll consider it.” “Hm.” He acted like it was a hard choice “Ok… Home…” He looked to the time on the illuminated clock; “Yeah… let’s… go home…” Then he looked across to you like he was about to say something impressive; “Our home.”

 * The Anniversary the year after had been a smaller affair with closer friends and family. As had happened with your surprise birthday party (you still weren’t forgiving anyone for that!) and Nolan’s birthday, Danny had closed down his restaurant for the evening. That also meant your parents got to invite his whole team (And Nolan, but that was given.) – especially after the efforts for their 35th. “Well, Danny… Team… You’ve all outdone yourselves once again!” Danny wasn’t one to be shy, but this time when he smiled to your dad’s compliment, he looked to the table… “Aw… It was nothin’…” He laughed “We’re happy to. You guys have given me the best time of my life. Honestly, I can’t thank you enough!” He had his arm over the back of your chair, barely moving from touching you or being that close all evening… You loved and trusted this whole group. None of them were judgemental. With time, and it wouldn’t be much longer, Danny would love them all too and accept that he was somewhere he finally belonged. It wasn’t a class, or a title, not even a name… But friends and family, real family. Sometimes family didn’t have to be blood relatives, after all. “To Y/N, and Danny. Thank you for everything, and I truly mean everything, over the past 2 and a half years….” Then he laughed again “2 and a half! Wait until it’s 35!”

*

Present Day – Your Apartment, PM

Even with the AC on nearly as high as it would go, with Danny all over you it was still SO hot in your apartment. Not that in the literal heat of the moment you particularly cared but hell… It was making your short breaths even shorter. Wrapped up in your white sheets on one such Sunday morning was where you found yourself today. “Danny… it’s… too hot…” You were breathless as much as you were laughing as he kept kissing you. The man was nothing if not persistent. Your bedroom window was open, as was the balcony door and you still had the AC cranked and you were still falling victim to the Miami sun. “Baby girl, trust me, there is NOTHING as hot as you…” Aw Geez… How the hell was this not affecting him too? Was he just so used to working out in it at the Keys? Or in a hot kitchen day-in-day-out in the middle of summer? Both. You guessed. Your office was air conditioned, your car was air conditioned... You only had to face the heat on the short walk from one to the other or when you wanted to face it on a beach. This was neither of those things. You laughed again as he kissed the base of your neck; “Alright, quit it!” “Nah…” He bit your collar bone harder than he perhaps meant to, judging by the resulting gasp from you. “…You need to know…” He kissed up your neck and then your jaw line to your lips; “…You’re so fucking hot.” “Yeah, that’d be the weather…!” You giggled again. “Or you?” “Mmm…” He gave you a playful smirk; “Well, hell, I know exactly how I make you feel…” There was no better feeling than being one with Danny. Now in a different way to how you were one and the same on the dance floor, but it gave you the same sensation none the less. Tangled up with him like this, even with it being too damn hot, made you feel like there was no place on Earth worth being than here. Oh-! “…That was…” “What?” You said it under your breath, but Danny Rayburn thought he caught on anyway… His blue eyes were alert, bright and intelligent and cool as the Miami water. “Sorry. Did you just say, sexy?”

Your problem now was… How many more times were you going to get to do this? Fast running out of lazy days where you could just DO this. I mean, in his parent’s house in the Keys!?!? Was Danny thinking straight?? Did he really know what he was doing…? Did he honestly think it was best for everyone for him to be heading there…?

@stcphstrange - I read a good portion of these paragraphs whilst editing and immediately thought of you... ☺❤😚

I use these GIFs you keep seeing because when I see them I think of the way I think of him looking at Reader... And I have a lot of feelings...!

*AFTER EDIT - 8/6/19* OKAY. So, those of you that have read this before now... I’m so so sorry you’re likely to miss this. But. The gorgeous Amanda (my Amanda, not readers Amanda... but if she wants to date Javi that’s fine by me!) presented me with this GIF of Mr.Mendelsohn. and HOLY SHIT If it isn’t Danny (and what he’s WEARING!) in this part!!!

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Trust

Summary: Jenna moves in across from Eddie and Venom after escaping an abusive relationship. Within hours of meeting the journalist, her ex-boyfriend winds up dead and she comes face to face with the creature terrorizing San Francisco.

Warnings: Physical abuse, domestic abuse, anxiety, violence

A/n I have this work on my AO3 but I wanted to throw it out here just in case people were interested. My Tom Hardy love has gotten out of hand. Anywho, let me know if you want to be tagged. If you’re in my permanent tags and DO NOT want to be tagged for this particular fic, please let me know. Thank you!

           Jenna knew she probably should have been at the peak of her life. She was in her mid-thirties which was the new twenties for Millenials. She had the opportunity to be a little selfish because she wasn’t married, had no kids, and was young.

           But it seemed like at every turn, Jenna was hitting obstacles. She grew up in a dysfunctional family but always blamed herself for her increasingly worse relationships. Her last boyfriend landed her in the hospital with three broken ribs, a broken nose, and a black eye. With some friends’ help, Jenna managed to escape and get herself into a new apartment. It was a pretty shitty one in a pretty run down part of the city, but she was free.

================

           “There is someone in pain by our door.” Venom brought Eddie’s attention up from his phone as he walked upstairs.

           “Huh?” The journalist jogged up the last flight of stairs in alarm.

           “She is in pain.”

           A woman was hauling boxes into the apartment across from Eddie’s. Venom appeared to be right. The woman looked young but in visible pain as she lifted the boxes. She walked with a slight hitch in her step as well.

           “Your pulse quickened. You think she is beautiful.” Venom’s deep voice was inquiring but had a hint of jealousy.

           Their relationship had been delicate. There wasn’t a Wikihow article about falling in love with your parasi-ahem, symbiote. But Venom was comforting and understood Eddie. There were a lot of factors to that, but Venom didn’t have to be in his mind to get him. And yet, there were the logistics of that matter.

           Could a human date an alien?

           Could someone date what was physically attached to them?

           Would he technically be dating himself because they were basically one entity now?

           Could a relationship work if you had zero alone time?

           Not that Eddie was annoyed; Venom was starting to understand boundaries. “Nah bud, you’re my number one.” Eddie comforted the symbiote as he walked to his door.

           “You cannot deny physical signs, Eddie.”

           The journalist fished for his keys and glanced over his shoulder. The woman came back out of her apartment and caught his gaze. “Hey, I’m Eddie.” He reached over to shake her hand.

           She pushed a strand of auburn hair off her sweaty forehead. “Oh, hi. I’m Jenna.” She shook his hand. “Guess we’re going to be neighbors now.” She gave him a polite smile.

           “Yeah, I was actually glad to see the last tenant go. You don’t happen to play guitar do you?” Eddie tried to joke but he could see the marks left from the beating she’d sustained just a week before. He couldn’t say for sure what the cause was, but he got a sinking feeling in his gut that it wasn’t accidental.

           “No, just sing in the shower sometimes. I hope the walls aren’t that thin.” Jenna replied in a light-hearted manner. But she was wary. “Are you going to do a news report on me if I do?” She teased.

           Eddie looked a little surprised, then let out a short, sheepish laugh. “You watched my segment.”

           “I did. I was sad to hear you weren’t on the air anymore. But, aren’t there rumors flying around that you were starting up again?”

           “Yeah, no.” He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Just rumors.”

           “Oh.” Jenna leaned against the doorframe. “So, what do you do now?”

           “Y’know, writing and just sticking my nose into places I don’t belong.” He cracked a wise smile.

           “She appears to like you.” Venom had been uncharacteristically quiet through the exchange.

           “Sounds exciting.” Jena picked up a lamp to bring inside. “I guess you have a lot to report about after everything with the Life Foundation. And that crazy…monster or whatever is running around San Francisco.”

           “Monster?!”

           “Although, it lowered rent here, so that’s good.” Jenna shrugged. “Whatever it is, I guess it’s going after criminals.” She noted. “Wish he’d go after my ex-boyfriend.” The woman muttered more to herself than to her new neighbor.

           Eddie’s blood ran cold because, despite her quiet voice, he had heard her loud and clear.

           “Her boyfriend did that to her?”

           Eddie tried to console the symbiote but felt just as angry at the possibility. The woman couldn’t have been more than 5’5 and looked harmless. He couldn’t imagine a man beating her up.

           “We must find him and rip out his heart and eat his head and then…”

           The symbiote continued ranting angrily as Eddie stood stock still in the hallway.

           Jenna gave him a puzzled look. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

           Eddie stopped listening to Venom’s violent plans. He nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah, totally. I’m really tired. D'you need help with these?” He gestured to the last two boxes in the hallway.

           “No, thank you.” Jenna shook her head. “You’re tired, I don’t want to work you to death.” She declined. Truthfully, she wanted nothing to do with men for a long time. There was no way she was going to lay all of her trust in someone only to wind up in the hospital again. Eddie could have been a nice guy but she wasn’t taking any more chances. No one was ever what they seemed on first glance.

           “You sure?”

           “Yep, got it. Thank you, though.” Jenna pushed one of the boxes into her apartment.

           “Alright, well…here.” Eddie grabbed a business card out of his wallet. It had been a while since he’d had one. Even though he was still freelancing, it felt like an accomplishment. Venom had griped about not being listed on the card. After all, he went along with Eddie on his interviews even the boring ones. The symbiote enjoyed chasing bad guys much more. “My cell number is on there.” Eddie gave Jenna the card and pointed it when she took it. “If you need anything, just let me know. You can call or text doesn’t matter what time.” He smiled.

           Jenna looked at his name printed above his number on the simple white card. “Thank you, Eddie, that means a lot to me.” She said but her nerve endings flared in anxiety.

           “No problem.” The journalist turned and entered his apartment.

           Jenna brought the last box inside and closed the door. She turned the lock and slid the latch in place. She stared at the door for a moment, wondering how hard it would be to add a few extra locks. The fear of her ex-boyfriend finding her was constantly looming in the back of her mind, ever since she made a police report and left the hospital. Her friends insisted she file charges, even though she was terrified.

           Her mind was in a perpetual state of anxiety as she just waited for the day her ex turned up again. Tyler’s anger was ruthless and once he found out he was being charged it was inevitable he would track her down. Jenna worried for her friends and family because they would be the first to be questioned about her location.

           Maybe she should have stayed to save everyone else the angst.

           Jenna shook the dark thought away. She was alive because she left. The police station was aware of the situation so they could get restraining orders if they needed. It just wouldn’t be easy.

           She eyed Eddie’s card in her hand but decided to keep it. She supposed it would be a good idea to have a neighbor’s number.

==================

           “Eddie.”

           Venom’s stern voice woke up his host fairly quickly. The symbiote had made Eddie a much lighter sleeper than he ever had been before.

           Groggy and startled, Eddie sat up in the tangled mess of his bed sheets. “What? What? What time is it, Ven?” He grabbed his phone to see that it was only nine o’clock at night. His ‘quick afternoon nap’ had turned into a deep sleep. He figured the symbiote was starving and just wanted to eat.

           “Does not matter! Get up!” Black ropes shot out from Eddie’s torso and grabbed onto the bed frame to force him to his feet.

           “Alright, alright!” Eddie stumbled to his feet, batting Venom away. “What is going on, man?”

           “There is someone outside Jenna’s door.”

           Eddie went to his front room and began to hear a disturbance in the hallway.

           “Jenna, for fuck’s sake just let me in!” A harsh voice accompanied banging on the door across from Eddie’s.

           “Tyler, just go away!” Jenna’s voice was slightly more muffled from the safety of her apartment. But there was intense fear and panic in her tone.

           “God, you stupid bitch, just open the door!”

           Eddie crept across the room to look through the peephole. A large guy stood in the hallway. His body was tense as he continued pounding on the weak door.

           “What are we waiting for? Let’s eat his face!” Venom roared and threatened to take control.

           “No, stop.” Eddie hushed him. “It could just be an argument.” He was slightly hesitant to get involved because it would ultimately mean Venom trashing the apartment building (again) and scaring Jenna. And it would be for nothing if it were just a harmless argument between exes.

           “She is scared!” Venom was incredulous at Eddie’s lack of action.

           “Just wait!” Tyler began shouting again. “When I kick this door down, you’re going to regret going to the police. Your dumbass friends won’t even be able to recognize you when I’m through with you!”

           “Is that enough reason to eat his head off?”

           “Yep, let’s do this.” Eddie threw open his door so hard it almost flew off the hinges.

           “Hey!” Venom’s bass tone was starting to already take over his voice. “You can get the hell outta here, she doesn’t want to see you.”

           Jenna’s boyfriend turned around and recoiled in fear when he saw Venom’s full figure standing over him. “What the fuck?!” He shouted.

           “You don’t seem to understand basic human decency. You have made a big mistake, what do you think that mistake was?” Venom’s head tilted to the side as he bared his teeth. Eddie expected him to just finish the guy off as soon as he turned around, but the symbiote had a habit of playing with his food.

           The man was cowering in fear, his eyes desperately scouting out an escape route. “Man, I’m sorry.” He stammered.

           “And what are you sorry for?” Venom crouched down to come close to the man’s sweaty face.

           “Sh-she ratted me out to the police. I dunno I…”

           Venom growled and grabbed him by the shoulder making him scream in panic. “Wrong answer.” He was done with playing around and unhinged his jaw to bit off the man’s head. But he didn’t swallow him whole. Instead, he threw the decapitated body out of the nearby window.

           Jenna’s door slowly opened and she peered out. A strangled scream left her mouth as she found not her abusive ex, but San Francisco’s monster vigilante.

           Venom didn’t move so he wouldn’t frighten her further. “Do not be afraid, Jenna.” He spoke in a quieter voice to reassure her. “I would never harm you.”

           Jenna stared at him in utter shock. She couldn’t move her tight grip from her doorknob and she couldn’t run. Her feet felt cemented to the ground. “H-how do you know my name?” She sputtered.

           “I would call the police and inform them what has occurred. Tell them the truth.” Venom didn’t answer her as a commotion started to kick up on the streets below. “What matters now is he will not harm you again.” The symbiote made a hasty exit out of the shattered window. He climbed up the building and stayed in the shadows. He perched on a nearby roof to watch the chaos below. They would have to wait to return to the building so Eddie could act like a confused bystander.

           “You like her.” Eddie’s voice piped up from behind Venom’s shield-like form.

           “She is innocent. I do not like bullies.” Venom huffed.

           After about an hour, Eddie grabbed a few things from Mrs. Chen’s store and returned to the apartment building. Someone stopped him by the flight of stairs.

           “Area’s been roped off for an investigation.” The uniformed officer told him.

           “I live up there,” Eddie replied. “What happened?” He feigned ignorance of the situation around him.

           “There’s been an attack, sir.”

           “Is my neighbor okay?” He hoped that would be a good reason to be allowed past the tape. He was pretty good at getting into restricted areas with or without permission.

           “The young lady? Yeah, she wasn’t hurt she’s just in shock. They’re talking to her now.” He answered.

           “I can I make sure she’s okay? Please, I’m the only person she has right now.” Eddie was agitated but thought it would probably pass off as a concern. The officer looked conflicted but finally lifted the yellow crime scene tape to allow him upstairs.

           “Jenna’s in distress. Her heart is racing.” Venom said as they ducked underneath the tape and hurried upstairs.

           “Well, she just saw you, handsome, I’m sure she’s still in shock.”

           “Perhaps, but I sense something is wrong.”

           Eddie found a criminal investigation underway on their floor. Jenna was in her doorway shaking as a detective stood over her in an intimidating manner.

           “You need to tell me how your ex-boyfriend ended up killed after coming to your doorstep, Miss Prince.”

           “I told you, I have no idea. He was trying to get into my apartment. I heard him scream and the glass break so I opened my door. There was this creature just standing there.” She struggled to get the words out to recount what she saw. “The window was broken before I opened the door. I didn’t even see Tyler.”

           “You’re giving me this bullshit story that an alien bit your boyfriend’s head off an threw him out a fucking window?”

           “You’ve heard cases all over the city…”

           Eddie stepped in as Jenna tried to defend herself. “Whoa, I’m sorry, what’s goin’ on?”

           “Who the hell let you up here?” The detective snapped.

           “I think the better question is about your methods. You really think this woman decapitated her boyfriend, picked him up, and threw him out a window? Are you insane?” He wedged himself between Jenna and the man.

           “Let’s eat his head too. We are still hungry.” Venom snarled.

           “This isn’t any of your business, Brock, move along.”

           “Oh, so you know me.” The journalist smiled. “Then you can probably guess that I can ask tough questions too. Here, since I’m your size and not a five-foot woman, you can pick on me instead.”

           The detective glared at him. “This is an ongoing investigation and she’s a suspect. You have no right to just…”

           “Find any blood in her apartment? On her? I can imagine it’s pretty hard to behead someone without getting any blood on your hands. In fact, did he even read you your rights?” Eddie glanced over his shoulder.

           Jenna met his eyes and shook her head. “No.” She answered quietly.

           Eddie turned back to the man with an overly exaggerated look of shock. “No kidding!” He tutted. “Doesn’t make your department look too good, officer.”

           “I didn’t know you were a lawyer on top of being a nosy douchebag.” The detective spat back at him but looked caught at the mention of Miranda rights.

           “Nah, just a nosy douchebag. But I do know a lawyer. In fact, we’re going to drop by her place now. Jenna’s not answering any more of your stupid questions.” Eddie replied. “Why don’t you grab a few things to stay over her house?” He said in a softer voice to his neighbor.

           Jenna still looked overwhelmed with shock. She didn’t argue or ask any questions though. Instead, she retreated into her apartment to pack a small bag.

           Eddie leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “You’re probably in Captain Scott’s precinct. Or, I apologize, was his precinct. He’s still got a few months left on his sentence, right?”

           The detective’s nostrils flared in anger at the mention of his deposed captain. “I could have you arrested for obstruction.” He snarled.

           “What did I expose him for?” Eddie played dumb just to get on his nerves. He wasn’t threatened with the petty offense. “Fraud? Corruption? Y’know I lose track sometimes. This will be a good one though, six-foot asshole detective threatens abused young woman. I can see the public outrage now.” Eddie’s eyes flashed gray for a moment as Venom vibrated with joy over the torment of the man.

           “Fuck off.” The detective spat before moving away from him.

           “Jenna’s lawyer is engaged to a doctor, maybe he can help your oversized ego!” Eddie yelled one final jab.

           “That was funny. But I still wish we could have eaten his head. He is a bully as well.”

           “Yeah, but he’s not a murderer, bud,” Eddie said under his breath.

           “Could be.”

           “Yeah, I guess he could be.”

Permanent Tag List: @what-the-buckybarnes @captainmarmel

Masterpost

My Masterlist

[marlahey]

we stumbled in the dark; i knew we’d be alright (part three)

a shawn mendes rpf fic rating/warnings: standard teen language; references children and illness (sorry this keeps going to sad places) misc notes: thank you so much for all the love – I have never gained so many followers in such a short amount of time! please reblog/drop in my inbox/tag any reactions with wsitd. any feedback is really loved and appreciated. I have a paper due this week, so have a super long update to tide you over.  and because I want to know if anyone actually reads these notes; a question with no context: ‘queen’ or ‘champagne birthday’? also how much does everyone love the new album? I can’t stop listening to it. (previously; start at part one here)

lisbon; now Shawn’s a little superstitious when it comes to new venues.

He’d deny it up and down out loud, but you’ve now spent enough time in his company to know the truth. You have to carefully avoid laughing while he places a worn pick in the exact centre of B stage, or getting distracted when he always hums Life Of The Party with his acoustic before any other song, his feet dangling off the edge while he waits for the crew to finish setup. “Is that even on the setlist?” you ask, though you know the answer: of course it is. 

Shawn’s smile is a little rueful as he scrubs a hand through his hair. “I just want to remind myself to remember, you know? Where I started.” You throw your arms out in the cavernous arena. “You mean you didn’t spend your childhood in concrete stadiums made to seat twenty thousand people?” There is a particular kind of joy you get in making Shawn laugh that hasn’t really faded over time, though it’s less of a surprised pinch in your stomach than a warm glow, now. He shakes his head a little, his you’re ridiculous face. “Nah, can’t say I did. Pickering was missing out.” You let your grin spin out as you do a little circle there in front of him at the floor edge of the stage, on the other side of the metal grate. It’s just high enough that you’d have to stretch your arm to touch him, if you wanted. “I can see why you love it.” “Is it big enough for you?” Shawn asks, and you stop, confused. You find him on his feet, leaning down towards you with his hand outstretched. You know he’s strong enough to pull you onto the stage; you’re a little more doubtful of your own ability to balance on the only foothold available: the barrier. “C’mon El, I won’t let you fall.” The trust me is implicit; you can see the question in Shawn’s eyes, behind his grin. All you can do is dig your foot between the pipes and take his hand, and pretend that it’s Shawn hauling you across two feet of empty space that caused your stomach to summersault a little. It’s further than probably either of you realized; you land unsteady on your feet and then Shawn’s hands are there, on your waist, keeping you upright. His necklace clangs against your forehead while your nose presses into his sternum. Your heart is hammering a little unsteady in your ears. At least, you think that’s yours. “You’re lucky,” you mutter, uncurling your fingers from his shirt. “Ava would have killed us both.” Shawn exhales against your hair, a faint laugh. You remember the flight and pull back as normally as possible. “What were you saying before? Big enough?” He blinks, and then his smile is wide and familiar and you’re sure you imagined something off in his face. Shawn steers you by the shoulers to face out from the stage, right at centre. There’s already a white x of tape at your feet to mark where the mike stand is meant to go. “This,” he says, and you follow the line of his gesturing hand out to the sea of empty seats. “Everything the light touches is our kingdom?” you ask, just to make him laugh again. “Not unless you think Queen is about you,” Shawn says. “And I wouldn’t let you sully Mufasa’s reputation with such a lie.” You wince and you’re suddenly glad he’s still looking out and not at your face. There’s a memory there you’ve tried to forget. “No, just hang on. Stay here.” His hands leave your shoulders as Shawn hops off the stage with infuriating ease and vaults over the barrier. “Show off!” you call after him, and from here you can see his shoulders shake a little. Shawn turns around in the centre of the standing floor. Even in the middle of nothing, or even in the middle of everything, you’d always be able to find him. It’s a fact you’ve resolved never to examine too closely.  “What do you think?” Shawn asks, looking amused that you still have no idea what he’s talking about. But you indulge him anyway, pulling your eyes away from him to properly look around. Alone, the arena feels even more massive than before. You think back to that first concert in Ottawa, crammed up against Ava and hundreds of other bodies. Though you’ve traveled across two countries with Shawn doing exactly this, you’ll never know what it’s like to throw your voice out and have twenty thousand people send theirs back. “It’s huge,” you tell him, as if it weren’t obvious. “Sometimes I still can’t believe you do this every night.” Shawn’s smile is that pleased, humble one. Fondness for him wraps around your ribs. Shawn lopes forward, draping his arms over the grate and leaning forward to speak as though you’re the pop star. It’s a strange thought. “In Montreal,” he says, “You told me that you like to visit places places that make you feel small. Like the ocean.” His lips lift in a teasing smirk. “Well, smaller.” You’re so busy wracking your brain that you don’t even respond to the dig at your height. “Montreal? But we won’t go there till…” You trail off. “You mean, Montreal almost two years ago?” “You don’t remember?” Shawn’s tilted his head, looking up at you in vague disbelief. “On the bus, before the show.” “I do,” you assure him. You have to grapple with the truth of what you’re about to say. “I just...I had no idea you did.” God, is that horrible? But Shawn doesn’t look upset. “Wasn’t that like, the day after we met?” You have to make a joke before a carefully controlled part of you freaks out. “I can barely remember what we ate yesterday.” It’s that you’re ridiculous face again. “Tims. I think your exact words were, timbits are a Canadian institution and if you don’t eat this, you’re no longer allowed to tell people that’s Toronto’s skyline on your arm.” It’s been a while since Shawn’s made you flush in embarrassment and endearment at the same time. You cross your arms, feeling petulant and silly. “I stand by that statement. We were about to leave the country for four months! I even gave you the last chocolate one. I can’t believe you almost gave it up.” “Yeah, and there was only jelly-filled left.” “You hate jelly-filled,” you remind him. Two can play the memory game. “So do you, Lenny.” Ava’s nickname, even teasing, is so strange coming from his mouth. This stalemate is a lot more loaded than a conversation about timbits ought to be, in your opinion. But Shawn is clearly trying not to laugh and you’re losing the fight against a smile. “Let’s go you two!” Mike barks from offstage. “If you think I’m setting up all this equipment by myself you’ve got another thing coming.” “Duty calls,” you say. The moment is broken and you can’t decide if you’re disappointed or relieved. “Shouldn’t you be rehearsing, superstar?” Shawn makes a face. “You know I hate it when you call me that.” You just smirk at him. “Fair’s fair.”

toronto; then Hannah: So I have a surprise for you.  You: Ooh tell me. The tour left Montreal at sometime past midnight, arriving at a Toronto hotel at dawn. You and tech crew fall into bed to sleep for a few more hours while Shawn and Ava rise for an early morning interview. They pick you up in the tour bus and all you can think about is how this might be the last time you ever get to see it. Hannah wants to FaceTime. Slide to answer.  You scramble up from your bunk so fast you nearly hit your head. There’s only another few seconds to figure out if there’s anything revealing in the frame; thankfully it’s your phone instead of your laptop and only a blank section of wall is visible.  You can see Shawn on the couch on the far side of the bus, earbuds in, engrossed in his journal. You scramble to plug your own headphones in. You should be fine. Hannah’s smile is suspiciously normal, though her eyes give her away. 

“You know, I still can’t believe you got to bail on the last few days of school.” “I wouldn’t call getting an ear infection bailing, but fine.” You feel badly lying to your best friend, but it was Ava’s first condition: no one can know.  “Where are you?” Hannah asks, peering into her screen. You try not shift uncomfortably.  “Doctor’s office. Just getting the all clear.”  “Good timing.” She’s just bursting at the seams to tell you something, but you can’t help a coil of dread that twists in your stomach. “So you know who’s playing the Air Canada Centre tonight?” He’s like three feet from me. “No,” you say, feigning ignorance. “Who?” “Shawn Mendes, idiot! Remember, that guy you’re always trying to get me to listen to?”  “You–” You can barely choke out the words. “You have tickets to Shawn Mendes?” You don’t mean for your voice to crack – or project – like it does. Ava’s head jerks up from her desk right across the bunks. Paul, Shawn’s personal security, winces. Shawn’s pulled his headphones off with that classic, I just heard my name? look on his face. You clamp your hand over your mouth, which thankfully Hannah just takes as shock. Which it is. “Surprise! I’ve been dying of boredom since you’ve been gone so I finally just sat down and Youtubed him. He’s amazing! My mom got last minute tickets at her work in a raffle. The seats are shit but...”  Ava’s eyebrows are shouting at you, get off the phone and Shawn’s getting up. This whole thing is too hilarious; you can barely suppress panicked laughter. “Han, I’m sorry they’re calling me in. I have to go!”  “Okay, good luck! I’ll call you later with the details and we can meet there!”  You drop your phone.  “What,” you hiss, “the fuck?”  “Language,” your sister says, more automatically than with actual disciplinary intention. Shawn snorts a laugh. The absurdity gives way to horror. You bury your head in your hands and groan. “This can’t be happening.” Andrew is surely going to kick you off the tour for this.  “Don’t panic.” Ava clearly doesn’t share your concerns as she taps away at her phone. “Worse case scenario, you go to the concert with Hannah and then you go straight to her house from there. Saves me from having to drop you off.” No one says it, and you can’t either: the Winnipeg stop.  “At least the seats are awful.” You finally look at Shawn, and then wince. “No offence. I mean, it’ll be amazing from wherever.”  He laughs. “You’re trying to save this and it’s not working.” You exhale. “I’m just glad she doesn’t have a meet and greet package. Pretending I haven’t seen you live before is one thing. I don’t know if I’ll be able to fake having never met.” Shawn recoils dramatically. “Are you doubting my acting abilities?” It’s your turn to snort. Even though it’s only been a few days, the thought of missing him is an ache, so deep and wide you have to push yourself away from its edge. Please don’t let this be the last time I see you.   The bus pulls into the Air Canada Centre. You can’t move. As if on cue, Ava’s phone rings. “Oh Mrs. Marshall, so nice to hear from you! Mhmm, yes she’s feeling a lot better now.” Your sister sticks her head out the doors, and then nods at Paul.  “Ready you two?” he asks, and it occurs to you – like it had the first night you met Paul – that he could probably very easily haul you anywhere, whether you were ready or not. But as it stands, you sling your purse over your shoulder and nod. Keeping up with the strides of your bee-lining sister and two men who clear six feet isn’t easy, but there are no frenzied screams. You’re safe. “Of course, Elle would love to have dinner with Hannah before the show. I can just drop her off– oh yes, that’s perfect.” Ava ignores your attempts to disaster wave as everyone troops behind her through the arena. “She’ll see you at six. Great. Bye!” At your affronted expression, your sister rolls her eyes. “You’ll survive. But you’ll definitely need to change – you’re going to a concert, not the farmer’s market.” “My avocado shirt resents that!”  Shawn is smiling like he’s trying not to. “It’s a great shirt.” “See?” You gesture at Shawn and force down a blush. “The pop star approves.” “The pop star,” Ava says, pointing you both into the dressing room in the next hall, “wore khakis and Vans until Serena sorted out his wardrobe.” You and Shawn look at each other. You can’t decide whether or not you’re allowed to laugh, until Paul intones, “You’re gonna need some ice for that burn, kid.” Twenty-five minutes later, you’re in the room adjacent to Shawn’s, wearing the only dress in your poorly packed emergency travel bag, your sister’s leather jacket, a hasty smokey eye and lip gloss, and are trying (and failing) to fasten a third bracelet with your left hand.  “Need help?”  You whirl around to find Shawn, clearly ready. His hair is shinier, the curl slick, dark skinny jeans paired with a grey button down, rolled up to reveal his guitar tattoo and his watch. You have to blink to reconcile him with the Shawn from an hour ago, slouched in a hoodie into which he burrowed like a turtle. He blinks, like he’s doing the same.  Embarrassment feels like a default reaction at this point. “Um, yes. Please.” You meet in the centre of the room and you hand Shawn the small string of black marbles, holding out your wrist. “Thanks.” “Don’t thank me yet,” Shawn says. His fingers are warm on your skin in the room that is just a touch cold. Do not be weird. All you can smell is his cologne. The clasp doesn’t click at first; he swears under his breath and your stomach jumps. “Language,” you half-whisper, desperate to be rid of the butterflies. Shawn’s silent laugh shakes his shoulders. The marbles clink together.  “God El,” he mutters. “Stop that. This is precision work we’re trying to accomplish here.”  No one’s condensed the name you buried with your parents into one syllable before. Shawn finally manages the bracelet; for a moment he doesn't move and you take it to admire his swallow again. You wonder if it always looks like it’s in flight, if that’s why he put it on his hand, so it’s always in motion.  You want to ask him how you find home without a place, when most of the people who make up your home are gone.  “I’m amazing.” Shawn’s victorious grin as he steps back is so ridiculous you can’t help but smile back. “I should just call it a night right now.” “Please don’t,” you say. “Hannah would never forgive me for introducing her to your music if you bailed.” You pick up your bag and point at him. “And yes, I introduced her to you. Don’t let it go to your head.” You have no idea where all this sudden confidence is coming from. Maybe it’s just all the energy you’ve amassed from being stuck on a bus and in dressing rooms for hours at a time. Maybe it’s delayed reaction from the fact that you’ve just spent the last four days with one of the most famous teens in the world and you haven’t made a complete idiot of yourself. Or maybe, he’s as real of a person as you never let yourself believe before.  There’s so much you wish you could say to him, because this might be your last chance, but you can hear Ava’s shoes from down the hall.  “Thank you Shawn.” You can only smile and hope that’s enough.  “Wait, El–” He stops. “That’s okay, right?” You shake your wrist. The bracelet holds. You hold it up, but Shawn shakes his head. “I mean– El. It’s okay I call you that?” Your heart’s doing something strange inside your chest. “Of course it is.” You’re suddenly torn between laughing and crying. His smile is so wide it’s hard to take in all at once. “I’ll see you soon,” Shawn says, like he’s certain. You flash back to Ottawa. The gaping space without him is open beneath your feet. “Have fun.” Ava is making a we gotta go wave at you. So you let her pull you out of the doorway, and even though your last glance at Shawn is of him smiling, you pretend that that the look in his eyes is because he’s sad to see you go. * You meet Hannah on the steps of the arena. By some miracle you make it through dinner without falling apart and confessing to this whole wild charade. Security is tighter than you’ve ever seen at an event here; parents stick close to their merch-covered kids and teens and your heart aches a little. Hannah clutches at your arm, chattering in your ear. “I think my favourite is Ruin–” “Excuse me, girls?” You both turn to find a middle aged woman hand in hand with a little girl, who has two tiny clear tubes extended from her My Little Pony backpack to wrap around her face and nose. You jerk your eyes back up to the mother, afraid you’re staring.  “Clara and I had special passes to meet Shawn before the show but I’m afraid we can’t stay. Would you like them? We’re not–“ The woman’s smile wavers a little. “We’re not feeling too well. You can have our seats as well, if you’d like to be closer to the front?” You recognize the look on Clara’s face. She’s distraught, but clearly holding it together for her mother. You remember being close to her age. You remember seeing that face in the mirror. Your throat feels so tight that at first, you can’t speak. “Oh no,” you start, “We couldn’t–“ “Thank you so much!” If Hannah can read your horrified glare, she ignores it in favour of grinning brightly at the woman and accepting the pass from around her neck. Clara silently holds out hers to you; her nails are sparkling. You’ve never wanted anything less in your life. You’d never be able to look Shawn in the eye again. “What’s your name sweetheart?” Clara’s mother takes her daughter’s pass, pulling the card from its plastic case. She's looking at you expectantly, but there’s something soft in her eyes, a kind of motherly understanding, as though she can see how awful you feel.  “Ellie,” you manage. The woman just nods, scrawling something in pen on the back of the pass. She takes Hannah’s and does the same.  “There you go,” she says. You take yours automatically. “Just in case they give you any trouble at the doors.” Her expression is resigned, as though this is the best she can make of whatever situation she’s been given, but her sincere smile crinkles the corners of her eyes. You’re so ashamed of yourself that you can barely keep her gaze. “The tickets are in there too. Have fun, okay?”  “Thank you!” You stare at Clara’s backpack until she and her mom are swallowed by the crowd. “Oh my god Ellie can you believe–” “We shouldn’t have done that.” You’re a lot calmer than you thought. There’s a deeper, angrier reaction somewhere further down, but you can’t bring yourself to have a full blown fight with your best friend in the middle of a concert venue. “Han, they–” “They weren’t gonna use them! You heard her, Ellie. You were seriously ready to pass up an actual meet and greet with Shawn Mendes?”  You open your mouth, but Hannah has clearly had enough of this conversation, and turns her attention to the pass. “Oh my god, we only have ten minutes to get there! God, where are we supposed to be?” While Hannah flags down a passing security guard, you force yourself to take a deep breath. And another. Don’t deprive her of this chance just because you can’t bear the thought of seeing Shawn again. But that’s only the reason you’re using to coax your feet to follow your best friend; you can’t help but think that Clara deserves this more. You recognize the guard at the top of the dressing room hall, where a barrier’s gone up and teens and parents line up and peer down towards the room you left Shawn in not two hours ago. Your heart hammers, harder even than it did when you first met. Cameron’s eyebrows furrow as the other guard explains the pass swap; you make as subtle of a wave at Hannah and an I’m sorry as you can.  Cameron looks from you to Hannah, who eagerly thrusts her pass at him while the two girls Shawn’s just seen, flushed and giggling, make their way back up the corridor. You can see Paul now, standing outside the dressing room door. Cameron lets the other girls back through the barrier towards the main concourse hall. “Okay, go ahead you two.” Your steps feel like lead. Hannah is squeezing your arm so tightly it almost hurts. Paul’s surprise is – like most of Paul’s on duty expressions – almost imperceptible, but it’s too late for any sort of communication, because you’re in the doorway and Hannah’s practically pushed you ahead of her into the room.  Shawn looks up; some irrational part of your brain screams at you to run. You have no idea what you look like, but you feel trapped. You’re sure this is it. Hannah is going to find you out and everything will be ruined. Until he smiles, stands, and turns first to her instead of you. “Hi.” Hannah is very rarely speechless. Some distantly vindictive part of you is strangely smug to see her this way. “Oh my god, hi.” She goes to hug him and you look away instinctively, flipping over your platinum pass as Hannah proceeds to find her voice and explain her mother, the raffle and–  Plat pass for Ellie. Don’t let go of that big heart. – Alice  

“I just love your music so much.” “Oh thank you! That’s so sweet.” “I’m Hannah, by the way.”  “Hi Hannah, it’s so nice to meet you.”  Your best friend giggles – the kind of giggling she flirts with. Your stomach turns. “Someone just gave us their passes! Her daughter was sick. I still can’t believe it.” You can tell without having to lift your head that Shawn’s looking at you. Can he see your hand shaking? Can he see your guilt? The truth of what you’ve done slams back into your ribcage; Clara’s determinedly okay expression is burned behind your eyes. It’s hard to tell in the moment that if your secret didn’t entirely depend on your ability to fake enthusiasm, that if Hannah wasn’t standing right there, if you’d have let yourself cry.  You can’t remember the last time you cried.  You really need to stop letting the almosts be with him. “I’m excited for the show,” you blurt, grasping at the memory of Ottawa to keep you grounded. Shawn’s eyes are searching for something in your face. You can’t tell which one of you is currently worse at this ‘we’ve never met’ game. Panic squeezes in your chest.  Just keep pretending. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”  “I’m definitely real,” Shawn says, smiling not quite the way he had four days ago. From outside, Paul tosses a quick, perfunctory wave into the room. Time’s up. Shawn nods, but looks back at you. “I can even prove it.” Here at last is something you don’t have to fake. You’re not sure what to blame on the innocuous fact that you’ve never hugged Shawn. Both Ava’s sisterly concern and Andrew’s constant watchfulness flash through your mind. But you don’t have time to overthink it, stretching into the space Shawn leaves as he bends down to meet you. His cologne’s gone softer against all the perfumes and deodorants of everyone he’s probably already hugged tonight, but you can still catch traces of it. You want to close your eyes and squeeze a goodbye around his ribs, but you don’t. Shawn’s arms reach nearly all the way round your back and your waist; his hands slide down your elbows, dropping from your wrists as he pulls back. The marbles of your bracelet clink and go silent.  “Have a great time, guys.” Shawn’s smile sweeps from you to Hannah and it’s almost a relief. “Thank you for coming.” “Bye!” Hannah waves, her hand clamping around your arm like a vice, and you’re being dragged away from Shawn for a second time. You don’t look up to see his face. Hannah is practically vibrating beside you. She skips forward, hopping through the open metal barrier, but it swings shut before you can follow. “I’m sorry miss,” Cameron says when you gape up at him, his lips twitching on the last word. He has his hand to his earpiece. “I’m told you dropped something in the dressing room?”   Your face flames as people gawk. You hurriedly pat yourself down – bag, phone, rings– “I’m sorry, I don’t–” You don’t know he’s talking about, but Cameron just nods down towards Paul, who is beckoning you back. You’re tempted to bolt back to him just to escape the particular awfulness of public humiliation, but you manage a fast walk instead.  Paul just points into the room. “You have thirty seconds, Shawn.” Your eyes dart around: his jacket, his guitar, a water bottle. When they finally land on Shawn, you can only stare as he holds up your marble bracelet.  “How–” “I saw that look on your face,” he says. Now that you’re alone, you allow yourself to really look at him. It seems like concern in his gaze, almost urgent in its openness, but there no time to process it. “When Hannah said someone gave you those passes. I just–” Shawn’s mouth twists, a shadow of regret, as though he wants to say more. “I saw it.” Well that answers that question. “I didn't want them,” you blurt, feeling helpless against fear of his judgement.   ”Do you know her name?” Shawn asks, and you’re too dumbfounded to pull away when he reaches for your wrist and returns your bracelet. “The girl?” 

“Clara.” Shame presses tears into your eyes. You blink and blink and none fall. “She’s so little,” You say in a rush. “She had oxygen. Shawn, I–” “It’s okay, El.” He hasn’t let go of you yet. You don’t want to look at him, but you’re still powerless against his pull. You see the same soft smile from that very first night, when he was close enough to touch. “It’s okay.” “Time to go,” Paul says. You turn to leave; Shawn’s fingers catch on yours as he drops your hand. Paul looks down at you, his face seemingly as impassive as ever.  “Deep breath now, little one.” You force it. You can see clearly again. Paul nods, and you follow in his shadow back to Hannah, and hold up your wrist. “My bracelet fell off,” you tell her, loud enough that it’s audible to the girls still staring with something like vague suspicion in their eyes. “He just helped me get it back on.” It’s only a half lie. At least, you’re fairly certain.  Your best friend makes a noise that can only be described as a squeal. “God he is so sweet!” You move through most of the night on autopilot. It’s probably a credit to Shawn’s showmanship that you can, at least for a while, forget whose seats you occupy in the 100 section of the arena. After TNHMB, Shawn riffs a little on his guitar while the crowd waits with baited breath.  “So I’ve already met a ton of really amazing people tonight.” Hannah squeezes your hand as she screams. “But my team let me know that there was someone super special whose been in the hospital lately, and who really wanted to be here but couldn’t make it.” Your heart leaps up to your throat.  “And I thought, because Toronto has to be one of the most amazing cities in the world–” Shawn smiles when the crowd drowns him out. “We might all send this little girl some love.” He waits for the screaming to die down. “So Toronto, if you have a cellphone light, please pull it out. Clara, I don’t know if you’ll see this, but this is Never Be Alone, and it’s for you.” The tears make it hard to sing.  You’ve never asked Shawn about this, in the weeks and months since. No video recording captured it with clarity, but some people are sure that in the final measures of the song, as Shawn pulled out his earpiece and listened as he did every night, that there were tears in his eyes, too. * Four days later, you lay on your stomach on Hannah’s bed while her iTunes shuffles in the background. You’ve successfully stopped flinching every time Shawn’s voice floated through the speakers. Ava had dropped your bag off with a hug and an, “I’ll let you know.”  It’s half a fear of being annoying and half a fear of confirming your own disappointment that keeps you from texting her at all.  “Oh my god!” Hannah’s shriek nearly makes you drop your phone. “Look!”  She shoves her own phone under your nose. It takes a minute, but eventually you realize you’re looking at Shawn’s instagram story, where Hannah’s thumb has paused on a still of Shawn’s feet walking through a pristine white hall. surprising someone special!  She clicks forward; your hand flies to your mouth at the sight of Clara, looking even tinier than she had the night of the concert, sitting up in bed. Her shock and her tears as Shawn walks into her room, someone else recording now, takes your breath away. “I’m so jealous of this girl,” Hannah says. “Can you imagine getting to meet Shawn by yourself?” “She’s in the hospital, Han.” “I’d put myself in the hospital if I got to meet him.” Thankfully your phone chimes then, saving you from having to come up with a reply. Ava: Get somewhere private. Calling in two minutes.  Is it possible to have a nerves induced heart attack? “Ava’s calling,” you say, lurching to your feet. “I’ll be right back.” Hannah lifts her hand in a wave, engrossed in her phone again. You dash into the hall, down the stairs, and out the back door to the backyard, forcing yourself to sit on the steps of her deck.  Ava wants to FaceTime. Slide to answer.  You have to close your eyes for a moment before you accept. But it isn’t Ava’s face that focuses into view: it’s Shawn. Your mouth falls open as you look frantically around the yard, as if anyone else were here besides the squirrels squabbling on the back fence. You look back. He’s still there.  “Shawn?” It comes out a little squeakier than you’d have hoped. His grin stretches from ear to ear.  “El, hey! Busy?”  “Um, no?” You don’t have time to untangle your wilting, half-up bedroom hair. You don't even know if you can hold your phone up without shaking.  “Someone wanted to say hello,” Shawn says. You catch the blur of a white room as he passes the phone to someone else. Alice, leaning down to get her daughter in the frame, just smiles as you clamp your hand over your mouth.  “Hi, sweetheart.” Clara waves and you return the gesture with a trembling hand.   “That was a really wonderful thing you did,” Alice says, her eyes bright. “We just wanted to say thank you. It means so much to us. ” “Shawn did all the work,” you croak. “I’m a terrible singer.”  Clara giggles. You think you hear Shawn laughing just beyond the screen.  “Still,” Alice’s smile is fond. “He’s even better for having people like you in his life.” “Thank you,” you whisper, because you don’t know what else to say.  “I’ll pass you back now. Say goodbye to Ellie, Clara.” “Bye!”  You don’t even realize you’re crying until you can’t see them anymore.  “Oh no, El–” You wipe frantically at your eyes to find Shawn’s mouth downturned, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, I never wanted you to–” “No!” You shake your head and let out a disbelieving laugh. “No, Shawn. Please, I’m fine. I’m better than fine. Thank you for this.” You try to push your reassurance through the screen. “You just made my whole week.” Shawn’s relieved smile makes your heart stutter. This boy is seriously going to give you a heart attack. “Good. I have a question, before I go. Av looks like she’s going to rip her phone out of my hand.” You snort. “Classic Ava.” Shawn glances off camera, and then back. He makes a face like he’s trying to be serious, and failing. “Do you have a raincoat?” The question takes a second to compute. “Do I have–? Um, yes?” You don’t know why it comes out like a question. Fucking hell, Ellie. “I have a raincoat.”  His grin fills your tiny screen. “Make sure you bring it to Seattle.” (part four)

[kirilisms]

Not sure if you’re still accepting Drabble prompts but Therius with the prompt of “Is that my shirt?”. Lol it’s been on my mind lately.

I would like to apologize in advance for how off-prompt I went. I know the prompt itself was vague, but it always brings to mind fluffy boyfriend shirt scenarios and this.....is almost the exact opposite of that.

(It’s also a little bit over 2,500 words, so I think I got a little too.......excited over this particular scene.)

Either way, I’m super sorry, I had meant to get it out by Thursday but here we are on Saturday and I’m just now sending this out. I hope it’s still okay!

PSA: Formatting goes away when I copy-paste from Google Drive, apparently; this’ll be up on AO3 in a handful of minutes, too, if you want it with the italics intact.

Cyrus has never seen his lover shirtless. That may seem odd for some, since intimacy plays a large role in most relationships, but it's a level of comfort that Therion isn't at, and Cyrus doesn't want to push him.

It is ridiculous, however, when Cyrus returns to the inn one day after helping Ophilia with a request, turns the doorknob to their shared room, hears a loud crashing noise followed by a distinctly Therion-esque curse, and walks into the room in time to see the thief leaving casually against the wall, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath and......

Wait.

“Therion, is that my shirt?”

He even has the audacity to look mildly surprised upon glancing up at Cyrus. “Oh, hey. Didn’t see you there.” Therion looks down at the shirt he's wearing - long sleeved, too big for his small frame, yes it’s most definitely Cyrus’s - before replying. “Before I stole it? Possibly. It’s mine now, though.”

“I should have known you would say something of the sort.” He’s well aware of Therion’s ability to dodge questions, and it seems like the thief just isn’t going to let up. Instead of pushing the subject, however, he simply moves further into the room to sit on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t fail to notice the way Therion moves away from him ever so slightly, but tries not to think on it too much. Instead, he turns his attention to what looks like a splotch of dampness on the cloth covering Therion’s side, turning the usually pristine white fabric a faint green. His first assumption is a salve of some sort, which is corroborated by the small tub of pale green cream sitting on the bedside drawer. “Did you get injured?” He’s not particularly worried at that moment; yes, seeing his boyfriend hurt isn’t high on his list of welcome sights, but Therion can take care of himself, and seeing as he’s safe now, Cyrus can only do so much to fret over what was apparently already taken care of.

However, Therion shakes his head in response, denying Cyrus’s assumptions. “Nah. It’s just old stuff. Alfyn usually......” He trails off, and shakes his head again. “Never mind.”

It’s suspicious enough that Therion is so talkative, but even more so that he stops himself, and Cyrus frowns. “If something is the matter, then perhaps I can be of assistance?” He reaches out to at least place a hand on Therion’s waist, but stops, shocked when Therion pulls away even further.

“I’m fine.” His hands are at his sides, agitatedly resisting from curling into fists, and he glances away from Cyrus. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

Cyrus can't help the confusion that laces his voice; once more, he's dodging a question, but it’s one that he already had half a mind to answer. As Therion moves to brush past him, Cyrus grabs his wrist, forcing Therion to stop. “What is possibly so important that Alfyn is allowed access but I....”

His eyes flicker between the tub of cream, the spot on his shirt and Therion’s face, and the question trails off. Therion looks to the side, refusing to answer what Cyrus has already pieced together by himself. “Do you get it now?”

He does, but it still doesn’t sit well with him. There's a lack of trust that Cyrus doesn't want to question, but being inquisitive is in his nature, doubly so whenever his boyfriend is concerned. It doesn't help that a bubble of jealousy had popped somewhere close to his heart when Therion had mentioned the apothecary. “Why?”

“Why what?” Asked casually, but with a bit of an edge; he’s back to being defensive, and it hurts, more than Therion may realize. It’s a habit that Therion has worked on, and while not perfect, Cyrus knows he’s at least trying to be more open, especially with the man he’s in a relationship with. But hearing him close up again....Cyrus has to wonder if there will ever be a day where he doesn’t have to push to be the support that Therion knows he needs.

“Why are you hiding from me?” Because that's what Therion is doing, and they both know it. It isn't just something being swept under the rug, it's as though he's retreating back into the shell that has served more as his prison than his home.

Therion is still as stubborn as ever. “And so what if I'm hiding? News flash, I’m a thief. That's what thieves do.” It’s not an answer that Cyrus wants. It’s dismissive, as if Therion is pinning the blame on some immutable property that doesn’t exist.

“It is your choice to hide.” He tries to keep the bite out of his voice, but he can't help it if a small bit leaks through. He pulls Therion closer, noting how Therion moves willingly, even if still hesitantly. It's a battle the thief is losing, maybe even one he doesn't want to fight as he turns to face Cyrus. Still, he doesn't look directly at him, instead opting to stare at the door.

Cyrus doesn't say anything, and for a long while Therion doesn't either, trying to maintain a stalemate that he knows he'll eventually lose. If Cyrus is one thing, it's too persistent for his own good. “I didn't want you seeing it,” Therion finally relents, still refusing to look at him. “Still don't.”

Cyrus knows he has a choice. He can ask why, again, and get either a half-hearted response or a sarcastic retort back. Or he can drop it, apologize and leave with a heavy reminder that they'll inevitably have to have to this exact same conversation again.

He's about to say sorry when lithe hands move down to lift up the ends of his shirt- but not the shirt that he's wearing. “Therion,” Cyrus begins, but he's stopped by an intense look. He can't describe it as mad, or even upset, but the intensity is still equal, and it makes him pause.

“This is what you wanted, isn't it.” Therion poses it more as a statement than a question, and gives Cyrus no room to reply. “I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it’s not. But you.....deserve. To know.” The way Therion struggles to admit it would be endearing under any other context, but as it is Cyrus just nods slowly. He’s already pushed Therion far more than he usually does, but as long as it’s of the thief’s own accord, he won’t stop the rolling stone that he’s already caused.

Therion slowly lifts up the shirt covering everything he wants to hide before discarding it on the bed and looking away, and Cyrus understands completely Therion’s hesitation from before. It would be a lie if Cyrus says that they're not ugly, but his distaste doesn’t come from their appearance; instead, they’re reminders of ugly actions against the thief. Slashes of varying sizes and depths litter his chest and stomach, while more prominent - and deeper - scars line the right side of his body. The single most painful looking scar looks like nothing but a large divot in his right side, closed up but still an obvious reminder of some type of puncture. Of all of the wounds, it’s the only one slathered in green cream, and Cyrus assumes it to be the most painful. He doesn't even want to begin questioning where they all came from, but considering Therion’s history.....he can hazard a guess. “They're not exactly beauty marks,” Therion grouses softly to break the silence, but despite the casual attitude, the way he refuses to look at Cyrus betrays exactly how uncomfortable he still is.

His exact choice in words, however, is what surprises Cyrus the most. “Is that what this is about?” He's almost offended at the insinuation; he prefers to believe that he doesn't come off as shallow as Therion assumes, if his fears of rejection are based purely on his physical appearance. “By the gods, Therion, I'm more worried about your wellbeing than anything else.” He traces his fingers over the lesser wounds, and while Therion lets out a shuddering breath, he doesn’t stop Cyrus. “I would never think less of you because of these.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Therion retorts immediately, as if it’s something he’s been holding back for a while. Maybe it is, and maybe Cyrus is still too dense to realize it. It’s more than Therion has expressed before, at the very least, and he can’t help but let a bit of his shock leak onto his face as Therion continues. “You’re flawless,” he says bluntly, and Cyrus knows it’s not meant as a compliment. “Smart, attractive, basically nobility....and if you haven’t noticed, people like you are usually targets, not friends.” And much less lovers, the sentiment goes unspoken but not unheard. “Can you blame me for-”

“Yes, I can.” Therion looks at him in surprise, the first time since revealing his scars that he's even turned to face Cyrus; he’s not one to interrupt others before they finish their thoughts, the result of being a professor for so long, but Cyrus doesn’t want him to finish that thought. It can only lead to nowhere good. “You’ve known me for gods know how long now, and you still have the gall to make these baseless accusations?” Therion says nothing in response, most likely taken aback by the outburst even if the reaction doesn't show on his neutral expression.

Cyrus, on the other hand, is clearly agitated, but he's still of sound mind. Realizing that getting mad would be counterproductive, he ignores every feeling in his gut telling him to argue more and instead grabs the cream off of the table, eyeing the scars that haven't yet been covered. “Show me what to do.”

Therion doesn't react immediately, but he eventually relents, taking the cream and rubbing it into one of the deeper scars until it fades into his skin. Cyrus follows suit, gently massaging the ointment into Therion's skin while avoiding the largest wound in fear of irritating the skin around it. He works in silence for a moment, trying to focus instead on the task at hand, before finally speaking again. He doesn’t address the previous topic, but whether it's out of courtesy or fear, even he can't tell. “Do they hurt often?”

“Not really.” Therion's muscles relax under every touch, stress dropping out with every application of the salve, and so Cyrus continues as he plays closer attention to Therion's words. “This is usually just a routine, but they actually did hurt today. Last time was after the fight with that ex-boss of yours.”

Headmaster Yvon; Cyrus remembers that as the day right before he had confessed to Therion. The threat of losing not only Therese, his most earnest pupil, but also Therion, the man he loved, had shone a whole new light on exactly how dangerous his situation was, and he had believed it an important decision to make in the heat of the moment. In retrospect, Therion had been groaning in pain, and he had told Cyrus to shut up and tell him tomorrow and no it's not a rejection don't worry just go away damnit, but Cyrus had assumed it had been from his wounds sustained during the attack, not any previous afflictions. “I apologize for not noticing sooner,” he says quietly after turning Therion around to tend to the scars on his back. They're lesser in number, a good indication that he at least knows better than getting ambushed from behind, but they still look like hell, and his fingers trail over them even after applying the ointment as an unspoken regret.

“You weren't supposed to,” is Therion's equally soft reply. There’s still a lingering discomfort at that thought, but Cyrus tries to tamp it down. Therion has already endured so much from him, and Cyrus is selfish for asking for more.

“It’s not like I hate myself for them,” he continues, trying to assuage Cyrus’s worries while still feigning nonchalance, and it’s true as far as Cyrus can see. There’s no self-deprecation when he speaks of his wounds, no malice against him or anything that’s caused the scars. It’s as if they simply exist, and it’s.....comforting, Cyrus supposes, to know that Therion has come to terms with his own past downfalls, even if he still isn’t comfortable with Cyrus seeing the physical reminders. “They’re just.......history, I guess.”

“They are your history,” Cyrus interjects softly, his gaze trailing over each one individually before looking back up at Therion, who still refuses to look him in the eyes. “But everything here is proof that your story has yet to finish. Yes, life might not have been gentle to you thus far, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Therion’s still quiet, and there’s a brief pang of worry in Cyrus’s stomach that he’s said something wrong again, but it disappears when the thief finally replies. “Idiot.” He’s shaking slightly, and Cyrus can feel it under his fingertips, skin brushing softly as Therion’s sides tremble. It’s not a bad tremor, though, if the way his ears turn red are any indication. It's the first blush Cyrus has seen on him since the start of their conversation, and he hopes that it's a sign that he's growing more comfortable after the tension from before. “No wonder people like you. You always say exactly the right things.”

Cyrus wants to laugh, wants to say that it only matters where Therion is involved, but he’s pretty sure that would be playing straight into his hands, and so he just smiles. “Are you feeling better?”

There’s a beat of silence before Therion replies. “Yeah.” It doesn’t sound like a lie, at least, and that gives Cyrus comfort as he reaches over to grab his shirt again and give it to Therion. However, he’s surprised when Therion refuses it, instead choosing to sit next to him on the bed, still shirtless. “It’s still weird, though.”

He takes that as a negative, and frowns, the hand that had moved to wrap around Therion’s shoulder instead resting on the bed. “Apologies. I....it wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

Therion looks a bit surprised at the admission, before hiding his reaction under a smirk. It's a soft one, though, amused and disbelieving at the same time. “Intention or not, it’ll take a lot more than that to hurt me, Cyrus. I just need some time to get used to it.” As if proving his point, he reaches over to grab his arm and wrap it around himself, trying to relax at the touch.

It’s the most affection Cyrus has ever received from Therion, and he’s almost at a loss from the whiplash. From feeling untrustable mere moments ago to having Therion initiate contact he had been so adamant about avoiding, he doesn’t know whether or not the thief realizes just how nerve-wracking it is, not just for himself but for Cyrus as well. But it’s all right, he reasons as he holds Therion, fingertips grazing gently across tan skin and savoring the sensation as Therion shivers at the touch. After all, that’s all he’s wanted this whole time, for Therion to be comfortable around him, to not feel the need - or even the desire - to hide things from him. And if it takes more time, time spent together like this? Well.

“You have all the time in the world.”

[chroniccombustion]

I Can’t Help But Care (ch 2)

Genre: Trans!AU, domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort Rated: K+ Characters: Yosuke Hanamura, Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), mentions of Izanagi/Shadow!Souji, mentions of Naoto Shirogane Warnings: minor mentions of dysphoria and self-hatred Status: twoshot, complete

<- previous chapter

“No, you—Don’t apologize, man.” Yosuke places his hand over the one Souji’s using to fish for his discarded shirt and gives it a squeeze. He groans behind his teeth. “I’m the one that should be sorry; this is the first time you’ve ever had your shirt off around me and all I’ve done so far is act like an ass.”

Chapter 2: I Just Complicate it When I Say Too Much

 The shower is running by the time Yosuke makes it back upstairs. It had taken him all of thirty seconds after paying to decide that he really didn’t want to bother setting up in the living room, so, food in hand, he plunks down on the floor in front of Souji’s coffee table. Originally he’d planned on letting Souji shower first while they were waiting; Souji’s showers never take very long, so the food probably would have arrived right as Yosuke was finishing up his own. He likes it when they eat together, since it’s almost like a stay-in date when the setting is right.

Now, though, for obvious reasons, that particular plan has been ever so slightly derailed. He could wait; he’s hit the point of exhaustion where he doesn’t really feel the hunger he knows is there. However, if he waits on Souji, then Souji will wait on him, and Yosuke doesn’t much like the idea of making his boyfriend wait any longer than necessary.

So he starts in on his food and waits for his partner to get out of the shower.

Souji reappears not long after, still shirtless, but dressed in his pajama pants with his sleep shirt tucked into the crook of his elbow as he scruffs a towel over his hair. He carefully seats himself beside Yosuke and offers him a quirk of his lips – a tired, fond smile.

“All yours,” he murmurs, mimicking Yosuke’s earlier words. He reaches out to snag his own bowl of takeout and pull it closer.

Up close, Yosuke can see the binder marks along Souji’s skin. They’re fainter now, still red but not as angry as they were before. A lot of the lesser chafing has all but faded, leaving only pink patches here and there in between the heavier outlines.

Yosuke must take too long to respond, because Souji looks over and catches him staring. He glances away, down at his own torso, and seems to curl inwards out of habit. “Sorry,” he says. He gropes around for the shirt he’d let fall beneath the table and starts to tug it closer.

“No, you—Don’t apologize, man.” Yosuke places his hand over the one Souji’s using to fish for his discarded shirt and gives it a squeeze. He groans behind his teeth. “I’m the one that should be sorry; this is the first time you’ve ever had your shirt off around me and all I’ve done so far is act like an ass.”

Souji huffs a laugh. He turns his hand over in Yosuke’s and folds their fingers together, giving a squeeze in return. “A protective ass,” he murmurs, voice teasing. “But I kind of sprung it on you, too.” He sneaks a glance back up at Yosuke from the corner of his eyes. His hand on the table fiddles nervously with his unbroken chopsticks. “Does it bother you?” he whispers. There is a thread of sadness in his tone now, of worry, like he’s still convinced that Yosuke will suddenly find him disgusting. He gestures at the irritation along his shoulder with his free hand, using a chopstick like a pointer. “They’re still tender; the water helped but I’m afraid if I put my shirt on they’ll stick to it.”

Yosuke doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he slowly leans forward until he’s able to properly catch Souji’s eyes. Gently, he raises their clasped hands and brings Souji’s fingers to his lips, brushing them over each one before pressing a quiet kiss to the back of Souji’s hand. “Nothing about you bothers me,” he whispers against his boyfriend’s skin. He watches Souji watching him and lets a soft smile stretch over his features where Souji can see. “I know I’m not doing a great job of showing it, but I’m really glad you took your shirt off.”

Souji looks at him with an expression full of affection and awe, so warm that Yosuke can feel it in his chest like sunlight. Souji is like a sun, but shyer – a guiding star in the darkness – and Yosuke wonders if it’s possible to fall in love with someone he’s already fallen for a hundred times over.

And then, suddenly, that warm expression becomes one of mischief as Souji snerks. It isn’t really a snort, much like all of Souji’s other laughter is never really laughter in the conventional sense; it’s a light, gravely sound in the back of his throat that grows into his usual breathy huff through the hint of his exposed teeth.

“Are you now?” he asks, somehow managing to keep his voice level despite his sniggering. His eyes gleam in a way they haven’t since before the two of them left the tv world, mirthful and happy and it makes Yosuke’s stomach swoop.

Even if he’s being teased for his unintentional innuendo.

He lets out a noise of exasperation – not the first one of the night – and rolls his eyes so hard his head drops back to rest on the couch seat behind him. “Oh ha ha, dude, and here I was feeling all sappy ‘cuz you’re actually comfortable around me.”

Souji ‘snerks’ again and clings to Yosuke’s hand when Yosuke tries to pretend he’s done enough to pull it away. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding it at all. “Couldn’t help it.” He sighs happily and tugs on the hand on his own until Yosuke relents and leans sideways.

Souji rests his head on Yosuke’s shoulder and hums. His breath is warm on Yosuke’s skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. Souji is warm, solid, real; how did Yosuke ever get so lucky? He tilts his head and brushes his lips over Souji’s forehead, earning him another hum in response.

“I knew what you meant, though.”

“Yeah?” Yosuke shifts just enough to be able to search for Souji’s eyes beyond that silvery shimmer of his still-damp hair.

“Yeah.”

They stay that way for a few minutes, taking comfort in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, Yosuke feels Souji’s breathing start to grow shallower and he nudges his boyfriend gently with his shoulder. “Hey, man,” he murmurs, and soft grey slowly blinks up at him through moon-colored lashes. (God, Yosuke is so weak for him.) “You still need to eat and I’m pretty sure I smell like a gym bag, so…”

Souji sits up. He winces slightly as his skin moves, but he makes no outward protest to being disturbed from his spot on Yosuke’s shoulder. Instead, he just rolls his shoulders back – or, at least he tries, but it doesn’t seem to do him much good since he’s obviously trying not to jostle his ribs too much. “Mm,” he agrees, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

He releases Yosuke’s hand and scoots closer to the coffee table, sitting up straighter as he locates both of his forgotten chopsticks.

Yosuke pushes to his feet, legs reminding him that that he, too, had spent several hours fighting shadows. He takes a second to press a kiss to the crown of Souji’s head before picking his way over to his bag to retrieve his sleep clothes. He pauses again just before he steps into the hallway and looks back over to where his boyfriend has finally started poking at his dinner. “You gonna be okay?”

Souji smiles sleepily around the end of his chopsticks and nods.

---

Yosuke: hey got a ?4u

Yosuke: u evr get binder rash?

Naoto S: THAT IS A VERY SPECIFIC QUESTION. I ASSUME UR ASKING FOR SOUJI-SENPAI?

Yosuke: yea. he left his binder on 2 long & now hes got red marks

Naoto S: HOW LONG DID HE WEAR IT 4?

Yosuke: all day

Yosuke: & n the tv

Yosuke: Naoto he fights n it

Naoto S: HE WHAT???

Naoto S: NO THAT IS TERRIBLE HE SHOULD NVR DO THAT

Yosuke: ikr?

Yosuke: hes got mad chafing. messed his ribs up 2

Naoto S: DO U NEED ME 2 SCOLD HIM?

Yosuke: nah i alrdy did

Yosuke: maybe 2moro tho

Yosuke: cant hurt

Yosuke: how do i help him 2nite?

Naoto S: 4 THE IRRITATION TREAT IT LIKE A SUNBURN OR SKINNED KNEE

Naoto S: USE ANTI-BAC MED ON BROKEN SKIN. LOTION ON REST

Naoto S: RIBS R TRICKY. HOW BAD?

Yosuke: idk? he can move ok just seems sore

Yosuke: he took a shwr. think hot watr helped

Naoto S: GOOD. MOBILITY IS GOOD

Naoto S: IF NOT 2 BAD THEN BACK RUBS CAN HELP

Yosuke: ty!! ur the best!!!

Naoto S: I AM AWARE

---

Yosuke takes his time rubbing the water out of his hair, standing in the bathroom in his pajamas with a towel in one hand and his phone in the other. Honestly, Naoto was a godsend – they’d been endlessly helpful after Souji’s dungeon, when Yosuke desperately wanted to learn but was afraid of bombarding Souji while he was still recovering. Naoto was patient, too, which was a bonus when dealing with someone like Yosuke who didn’t mean to be an asshole but was so out of touch he might as well have glued his foot directly to his mouth and called it a day.

He really would have to find a way to thank them somehow. Preferably in the near future.

Tucking the phone into his pocket, Yosuke glances around the bathroom. Lotion will be easy to get his hands on; Souji has a bottle of it over on his desk, probably for situations just like this. (Yosuke frowns at that thought but tucks it away because now is not the time.) Antibacterial medicine is the thing he actually has to go looking for, and despite how awkward he feels poking around in Dojima’s stuff, it’s for a good cause. Squashing that awkwardness, Yosuke digs through the medicine cabinet before finally locating a tube of gel.

He does his best to put everything back the way it was, before finally stepping out of the bathroom and heading back to where his boyfriends waits.

Souji looks up as he enters, giving him a slow upturning of his lips. He sits with his arms crossed over the top of the coffee table, like he’d been resting his head on them before Yosuke walked in. His shirt is still on the floor where Souji left it earlier, the irritation on his skin so faded now that other than the fiercest of the red lines his torso looks almost normal again.

“Hi,” he says sleepily. “I put the leftovers in the fridge already.”

Such a Souji thing to do, Yosuke thinks, returning the smile.

He steps over to the desk and snags the little bottle of lotion before plopping down beside his boyfriend. He presses a gentle kiss to the crest of Souji’s shoulder, earning a happy little hum in return. “How ya feeling?” he murmurs, eyeing the chafe lines closest to him.

Souji shifts. “Better. It’s starting to pull, though.”

“Ribs?”

A quiet huff. “Well I can breathe.” He looks over at Yosuke with fond eyes. “Just feels like I slept wrong now.”

Yosuke sets the tube of antibacterial gel and the bottle of lotion on the table in front of him. “Can I do something?” he asks quietly, pulling back enough so he can watch Souji’s expression.

Souji quirks a brow at the items on the table but doesn’t answer.

Yosuke scratches absently at his cheek. It’s one thing for Souji to be comfortable being shirtless around him; if Souji doesn’t want Yosuke actually touching his skin then that’s a roadblock Yosuke will have to respect. Even if it’s technically for medical purposes.

“I mean,” he tries, searching for a way to ask without being weird. “Are you okay with me touching you? Not—! Not in like, a sexual way, I just…” He gestures helplessly between Souji’s reddened skin and the stuff on the table, hoping it will be clearer than his failed attempt at words.

Luckily, Souji seems to understand, because he slowly nods after a moment of silent deliberation.

Yosuke lets out an exhale of sheer relief. He could probably have coerced Souji into letting him rub gel onto his shoulders but he’s not terribly keen on doing that. Souji’s trust is important to him; he doesn’t even want to chance bending it, let alone break it.

Taking up the gel first, he angles himself so that he’s facing Souji more completely. He unscrews the cap and squeezes a bit onto his finger, rubbing it between them to warm it up a little. “Can I?” he asks softly. He’s already been given permission, technically, but there’s no harm in double-checking.

Souji nods again. He shifts a bit, getting closer and leaning his shoulder in for Yosuke to start with.

Yosuke takes a moment to look at the chafing up close. It’s not as bad as it had initially looked – thank god – and most of the surrounding redness has faded out. All that remains, of note, at least, are the places where the edges of the binder had rubbed Souji’s skin raw to the point of breaking it. Yosuke doesn’t see any actual blood, though, which means that most if not all of the damage is surface-level. Okay. He can handle that. With all the weight of a feather, Yosuke touches his gel-covered fingertips to his partner’s battered skin, just outside the worst of if.

Gingerly, hesitantly, he starts to pat his way along the outline. He keeps his focus on his work but spares a glance upwards now and then to check and see how Souji is doing. Neither of them speaks for the next few minutes; the only sounds are the soft ‘plip plip plip’ of the gel as he carefully works it into Souji’s wounds and the occasional hiss of discomfort in response. When Yosuke finishes with the side he can reach – Souji’s shoulder and back being the worst of it, with only one spot beneath his underarm where the first layer of skin has peeled away – he heaves himself up and moves around to get at Souji’s left.

The left side of Souji’s body is marginally better than his right had been. The marks under his arm are just barely red, thankfully unbroken, and his shoulder has far fewer patches of broken skin than Yosuke had been expecting. The only place that looks as bad as before is along the curve of Souji’s shoulder blade where the binder scraped as Souji pulled his arm across himself to wield his katana. Yosuke bends down and brushes his lips over the unmarked expanse of Souji’s spine. His boyfriend makes a stilted, muffled sound low in his throat.

“Why do you wear it in the tv?” he whispers into his partner’s vertebrae. “Why don’t you just do what Naoto does?” He squeezes another heavy bead of gel onto his fingers and starts the process all over again.

Souji hums. It’s not his usual hum; it’s lower, like an audible frown, and Yosuke can picture the way his boyfriend’s brows draw together “I can’t,” he murmurs after a pause. “The binder’s the only thing I have.”

Yosuke stills. He looks up from the outline he’s been working on and tries to peer around the side of Souji’s face to catch his eyes. “Wait, so… Nothing else?”

Souji’s lips press into a thin, straight line. He stares ahead of him, eyes fixed somewhere on the far wall, and slowly shakes his head.

Yosuke sits back, hands falling away from his partner’s back to rest palms-up on his folded knees. He blinks stupidly at the back of Souji’s head. “Not even like a sports bra or…?”

“No.”

“Do you just not own any?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Yosuke bites down on his lower lip and chews it, nervous. It’s clear he’s hitting on a sore spot here, and he wants to press harder because this is something affecting Souji’s health, but he also recognizes the tightness in his leader’s voice. There isn’t a wall between them yet, but the cinderblocks sit ready, just in case.

He takes a deep breath, then takes the leap. “Why?”

Souji’s body goes rigid – the lines of his back sharpening as he tenses. But then he’s sighing, louder than he usually is, and slumping back down as the tension ebbs away. When he speaks his voice is tired, small, and Yosuke has to lean in a bit to hear him.

“I had a panic attack the last time I tried to go shopping for one.”

Oh. Oh fuck. Yosuke feels his face burning with awkward guilt as everything hits him with crystal clarity. Of course Souji wouldn’t own one; the poor guy couldn’t have just casually gone wandering through the women’s underwear department without getting the worst kind of stares, and even if he could his anxiety would have made it impossible to ask for a fitting room.

He wouldn’t have anyone to buy them for him, either, since it’s not like his parents would ever have bothered to buy him anything, especially clothes. The only other options would have been to come out to a stranger in order to ask for help, or to go shopping dressed as a girl, which… No. No, absolutely not. Yosuke clamps down on that thought before he makes himself sick.

He remembers how pale and empty-eyed Souji had been when Izanagi had revealed himself, remembers how violently Souji had been shaking as his shadow-self descended the stairs with long silver hair and a short uniform skirt.

Never again.

Yosuke sets aside the tube of gel and eases his arms around Souji’s middle, well below the chafing and the aching ribcage. He leans forward and rests his head between his boyfriend’s shoulder blades, careful to avoid any reddened skin or still-drying gel. Before he closes his arms, he whispers, “Is this okay?”

Souji’s reply is to lean back into Yosuke’s embrace and drape one of his own arms over the ones around his waist. “You’re always okay.”

Yosuke laughs softly. “I’m still gonna ask, though.” He gently squeezes his arms – more a twitch than anything – and nuzzles against Souji’s back.

Pressed together like this, Yosuke can feel the vibrations in his partner’s body as Souji hums; they spread through Yosuke’s chest and feel like home.

“It’s appreciated,” Souji says.

Yosuke could stay like this all night. He kind of wants to, but with his face pressed so close to Souji’s damaged skin he can feel that faint traces of heat still lingering in the chafe lines and he knows he still has just a little bit left to do. “Speaking of,” he starts. He waits for Souji to tilt his head back in Yosuke’s direction. “Would it be okay if I gave you a backrub? Or are your ribs too sore for that?”

Souji thinks a moment, gauging. Yosuke can feel the way Souji stretches and tests just how much his torso will let him move. He grunts, just once, and catches on a movement when he tenses too much on one side, but makes no other outward show of pain as he assesses his body. “They’re… tender,” he finally says, voice thoughtful. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” As if to further clarify his permission, Souji sits back up and leans across the table once more, leaving Yosuke to miss the feeling of warmth against his chest.

To compensate, and to make everything easier on the both of them, Yosuke tucks a leg up underneath himself and shifts so that he’s directly behind his boyfriend, with Souji positioned between his legs once Yosuke gets settled. It’s so domestic and intimate that Yosuke has to take a moment to remember what he’s doing and not just wrap his arms around Souji’s waist again and press their bodies back together.

He shakes his head to clear it before Souji can start to wonder if something’s up, and reaches past the other boy’s shoulder to snag the lotion bottle off the coffee table. There will be time for cuddling later. A whole lifetime’s worth, if Yosuke has anything to say about it. For now though, back to work.

Just as carefully as he had with the medicine, Yosuke takes a small amount of lotion, warmed between his hands, and starts to swipe it over the parts of Souji’s back that need it most. It’s nothing special, just something to help keep chapped skin from cracking open, but Naoto had said to treat it like a sunburn and Yosuke’s had enough sunburns in his life to know that dry skin peels in horrible ways. Granted, he’s never had the kind of chafing that Souji is dealing with, but he trusts Naoto’s advice.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish up with Souji’s back and sides, gently soothing the lotion into his partner’s skin. He hesitates when he gets to Souji’s front, which he would try to avoid but there’s a bit of irritation on Souji’s collarbones and Yosuke is certain the skin further down is probably in need of attention, too. Luckily, Souji is as observant as ever and holds his hand out wordlessly for the bottle. Yosuke presses a kiss to Souji’s neck in silent thanks and lets his boyfriend tend to his chest on his own.

While Souji is busy with his chest, Yosuke devotes his attention to Souji’s ribs. Slowly, pressing as lightly as he can to start, he uses his lotion-slick hands to smooth across the planes of his partner’s body. He digs his fingertips in when it seems he isn’t causing Souji any pain, pushes in with the heels of his palms when he can feel Souji stiffen under his touch. He doesn’t knead, nor try and undo any knots – there aren’t any, really, not around Souji’s torso – just gently works his hands over aching bones to try and alleviate the worst of it.

At one point he works up the courage to slip his hands around to the place just below the high points of his partner’s chest. He stills, asking for permission with his pause, and Souji gives it in the form of a nod and contented sigh. Yosuke keeps his fingers on safe places; he won’t go further up until Souji is ready.

When he finally moves back up to Souji’s shoulders, that’s when Yosuke finds the knots of stress at their worst. He’s always wondered how much his partner – their leader – really carries on his shoulders, both physical and metaphorical. He’s seen Souji roll his neck in battle and sometimes it seems less of a way to loosen up before a fight and more like a bid to keep his body from locking. The worst is when they’ve been under a time crunch, back before, when their friends and team members had been trapped in their own personal hells with only a few days to save them before the next blanket of choking fog.

Yosuke presses his thumb into a spot just between Souji’s shoulder blades and feels something shift that makes the other boy groan in appreciation.

All that pressure that Souji works under, the weight he carries, and all of it on top of being in an article of clothing that he should never be fighting in, should never wear as long as he does each and every day. Yosuke feels something in his heart twist at the thought of his boyfriend being in physical discomfort, or even pain nearly constantly because of this. And yet Souji has never once complained. Instead, he bottles everything up and lets it sink like a stone until he’s drowning. No wonder Izanagi had seemed so exhausted between his bouts of mania.

And that just leads to another thought that leaves a bitter taste in Yosuke’s mouth. Does Souji even get to relax at home? He’s too polite, too worried about other people’s comfort; it wouldn’t surprise Yosuke if Souji wore his binder right up until it was time to head upstairs for the night so that he didn’t have to be around his family with nothing on under his shirt.

Yosuke is finally pulled from his thoughts by the sound of shallow, even breathing. He blinks, bringing himself back to the present, back to Souji’s bedroom with his boyfriend nestled comfortably between his legs. The sight before him makes his heart stutter in the best of ways.

At some point while Yosuke was absorbed in his musings, hands methodically running patterns along his boyfriend’s back, Souji had slumped forward across the coffee table and laid his head in the crook of his own elbow. His eyes are closed now, and from his spot behind him Yosuke can see the delicate way Souji’s pale eyelashes rest against his cheek, the way the long day has melted from the lines on his face. Souji looks so peaceful in sleep – it’s not something Yosuke gets to see often, but is forever grateful that he’s the one that gets to see it when it does happen. Not all of Souji’s dreams are good, he knows, but for tonight it looks like his partner is somewhere safe inside his head.

Yosuke sighs. He hates to wake his boyfriend up when he looks so serene, but bent over a coffee table is not a good way to sleep; if Souji’s back wasn’t already sore, it sure as hell would be after a night spent like that.

Yosuke carefully hoists himself up – trying to let Souji have a few more minutes of peace before he wakes him – and moves as quietly as possible while getting everything squared away. He pulls the futon out and fluffs up the squashed pillows, plugs in both his and Souji’s phones, switches off the lights. In the morning, he’ll text Rise and Naoto and ask them if they’d please take his partner shopping, since Naoto will know what to look for and Rise can be their foil in case the boy and the gender fluid detective get any strange looks while looking at sports bras. They’ll take care of Souji; Yosuke doesn’t know if there’s anyone he trusts more than their friends.

For now, though, it’s late. There’s no school tomorrow, no work, no tv world. When they wake up they’ll have the house to themselves. There’s nothing to rush them or keep them from sleeping in.

When Yosuke finally manages to wake his sleeping boyfriend and usher him into bed – shirt still in a heap in the floor – Souji is dead asleep again the moment his head hits the pillow. Yosuke, however, keeps his eyes open for a while longer, watching the easy rise and fall of Souji’s chest as he breathes. He slips his arms around Souji’s waist and presses them as close together as he can, so that it’s nearly impossible to tell where one of them ends and the other begins.

He drifts away like this, wrapped protectively around the person his heart has decided to call home, with Souji’s shoulder beneath his lips and a silent promise to help heal him echoing in Yosuke’s head.

He wakes in the morning to the sight of Souji’s smile.

[vera-invenire]

VnC Liveblog - Chapter 7

.All chapter liveblogs are linked HERE.

Hey, note for people following along: the last two chapters (5 and 6) didn’t show up on the main Vanitas no Carte tags because Tumblr filters out any posts that have outside links in them. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But they’re done and the links for them are right up there. ^

Now, on to chapter 7!

Methinks MochiJun is running out of art for the chapter covers. That’s okay, I like this guy’s face.

OH MY GOD ARE WE GETTING WORLDBUILDING I AM EXCITED

So. Paracelsus. Famed physician and alchemist, called the Luther of medicine. He’s got a wikipedia page that I’m not gonna link to here *shakes tiny fist at tumblr* but probably the most interesting thing about him (if not the most important, in this context) is that ‘Paracelsus’ was his pen name. His real name?

Theophrastus von Hohenheim. Yeah. That von Hohenheim. Or at least the original one he was named after.

More pertinent, I think, is the fact that Paracelsus was a doctor, like our main character. He had a reputation for disdaining conventional medical thought (as this was the 1500s, this was not unwarranted) and for prioritizing practical experience over unproven theories preached by people with silly titles. Going by Vanitas’ fight with Orlok, I think he would have liked Paracelsus.

With Paracelsus involved, we now have a timeline for Babel -- it occurred sometime during the first half of the 1500s, creating vampires, astermite, the border, and, apparently, a number of disasters.

(the sudden appearance of vampires among the human population might have been disastrous enough, but I wonder if there were other things that were thrown out of wack.)

I don’t...quite get this formula business yet, so I’m gonna wait to comment on that until it’s more clear.

Nice job breaking it, Hohenheim.

This is like the tenth time the church has been mentioned, when are they gonna show up?

Hello, Creepy Teacher. Still without eyes, I see.

But not all coal and not all humans were altered.

And what is that on Teacher’s lapel, a clock with wings --

...time flies. You think you’re clever, don’t you.

...he’s planning on using Noé, the last Archiviste. Noé is key to something. What are you planning, Creepy Teacher.

Memoire 7 Bal Masque

Night of Sneering Masks

Lord Ruthven has a real swanky place, don’t he.

On the one hand, I want to go to a ball like this. On the other, it is full of vampires. Who, admittedly, seem like fairly decent people on average -- when they’re not losing their minds and going on murderous rampages.

Kinda looks like the Charlatan parade, though, no?

Hm, Domi is a bit shorter than Noé than I thought she was.

...wait, wait, wait, hold up. let’s zoom in here.

that’s Domi??? that looks like Unnerving Boy. crap, is she Unnerving Boy? i was joking about that before.

Glad I’m not the only one making that connection. The narrative wants this decadence to remind us of Charlatan. re: we shouldn’t trust it.

Domi: That guy’s gonna keep a low profile, right?

Vanitas: *seducing ALL the ladies at the ball*

Y’all knew he was an unrepentant grandstander. What did you expect.

(note: Vanitas knows sleight of hand)

(note: vampires can smell humans)

Hahahahaha, “I don’t understand how vampires define ‘friend’“ is my new favorite line, right along with “several different kinds of unfortunate”.

So my question is, can he only see the memories while he’s drinking? Or can he revisit them whenever he wants?

Vanitas adapted to the usefulness of that collar real quick.

I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN, I KNEW THAT DUM-DUM WOULD LEAVE THESE TWO ALONE AND SHIT WOULD HIT THE FAN

this is gonna be good

So spoketh Dominique de Sade. Never has a character been more aptly named.

(yo, is that Ada’s iron maiden. and a tortured stuffed white rabbit in the corner, too. the spirit of Vincent is alive and well.)

Meanwhile...Noé has found a new toy.

precious cinnamon roll, too pure, etc etc

ohoho, I think we know this kid.

HI, LUCA. And Jeanne can’t be that far away.

These guys are bodyguards, or retainers? Dressed like plague doctors, nice touch.

Luca (Lucius?), this is the man who held you hostage, why you lying.

Uh-oh. Something is clearly wrong with Jeanne.

...you might even say, she should probably see a doctor. *baddum-ting* (I think she’d prefer to die of consumption)

But it seems to be something she’s suffered from before? Is it her breathing or her throat?

Likely the same sister who lent Domi the collar and chain. Sister has interesting hobbies.

“I was all excited!” Yeah, this game is gonna be called Ha Ha, Surprise, I’m Kinkier Than You.

Point, Vanitas.

But Domi rallies nicely.

This is where we start getting real; Domi doesn’t fuck around when it comes to Noé. But does she really need to threaten to carve out Vanitas’ eye with a knife??

...throw more knives at him, Domi.

This is why you need to learn to keep your mouth shut, Vanitas. (also check the misogyny, I don’t want you to turn into Vincent, please)

She brings up some very good points.

Ooo, and it looks like something she said hit home. ...or one of the knives stabbed him. Nah, the black border means a brief flashback of some kind.

...Vanitas hates the Vampire of the Blue Moon. Well, well.

So why did he take his name?? And his Book???

(omg, did he steal the Book)

He’s cracked. He’s gonna do something stupid and/or reckless.

HE’S GONNA THROW HIMSELF BACKWARD OFF THE BALCONY. 

Well, he did say he was gonna get their attention.

(”you’re worried about Vanitas? you should be worried about me.” “no, wait, i mean, i’m here to save vampires. yes. out of the goodness of my bitter heart.”)

The chandelier’s made of bones, it’s a vampire ball, why wouldn’t it be.

Poor Domi’s like, ‘crap, I pushed the punk too far.’

The cajones on this kid.

Like, seriously, isn’t he supposed to be hiding the fact that he’s human...?

This is revenge for always wandering off and disappearing, Noé.

The gloves are coming off again and this time it’s not a bluff.

Holy crap, that’s a lot more extensive than I thought it’d be. Looks a lot like the moon and spider-webbed sky above Altus Paris, doesn’t it? And this mark is lower on his arm than we saw earlier.

Actually, let’s go back and compare. This is from chapter 4 --

So in chapter 4, we saw marks on his left arm. But...is it the same kind of mark? And how many marks does he have?

Branding is something you do to livestock.

The eyes look like the moon look like the brand. (ha, how much you want to bet the moon over Altus Paris is red and Vanitas’ mark is blue)

And the hourglass is front and center once again. He wears that thing for a reason and that reason is connected to the Vampire of the Blue Moon.

So was he really granted some kind of power, or is this another bluff? Then again, the power could be the ability to use the Book.

I’m starting to think the Vampire of the Blue Moon isn’t the only one who hates vampires...

(”fighting monsters is best left to other monsters”)

I would not trust a doctor who looked at me with a face like that, i’m just saying

And now this crusade to save the vampires makes much more sense.

In doing this, not only will Vanitas get the pleasure of having the vampires he’s curing at his mercy, but with each vampire he saves he sticks it to the Vampire of the Blue Moon.

This was never a charitable cause. This is a fuck you to the entire world, the original Vanitas in particular.

Everyone: “oh shit, this guy’s even crazier than we thought.”

Did he...not mean to say that part out loud...? Or did he see something in the crowd?

Guess we find out next chapter! Which is -- HERE.

[naernon]

OC Questionnaire - Estryon Thramian

Found this in my drafts, and decided to finish off what I had to distract from the tediousness of trying to decide what to do with the aspect of his backstory mentioned earlier. I filled this out according to how he was at the very start/before the events of Skyrim, unless stated to be what happens later on.

Feel free to use this for your own OCs, I don’t mind.

TW; Mentions of pregnancy (of a trans man). Also, some NSFW implications.

GENERAL

Name: Estryon Thramian

Alias(es): Estre is a little nickname Ondolemar took to using later on. Arelnian, the parent who carried him and the only one he met (they died when he was two, his father died prior to his birth), also called him this. It is also his birth-name. Perhaps a bit of projection on my part. I don’t mind my birth-name. (altho it could just be because if i do mind it, i’m in for bad time from it)

Gender: Male.

Age: 25 years old.

Place of birth: Sunhold, Summerset Isle.  Or rather, Alinor. Morning Star 19th, 4E 176 (The Ritual)

Spoken languages: Tamrielic and Altmeri. Unsure exactly how native languages vs the common tongue works in TES, but I’ll just assume/HC it’s either like Latin (commonly taught but not used in every-day conversation) or just very secondary compared to Tamrielic. So that’s the status on his knowledge of Altmeri. Also had a minor interest in Ayleidoon when he was younger, so he knows some basic vocab, but not too much. Like you know how some people go through HS and take the entirety of Spanish/German/Whichever for the full four years and as soon as they graduated they forgot all of it? That’s Estryon with Ayleidoon.

Sexual orientation: Gay.

Occupation: Thalmor agent. Mainly used in assassinations and to stoke the conflict in the Skyrim Civil War by framing (in murder, accusations of law-breaking, etc.), propaganda, etc. Prior to that, as I’ve recently elaborated, he was a member of a elite force in Summerset called the Accipiters. They’re, as said, are similar to the First AD’s Eyes of the Queen, except with more brutality and tendency to murder. They are charged with cutting down all heresy and resistance against the Thalmor in the Isles through more silent and undercover tactics. Through whatever course of events I settle with, he is suspended and demoted within the Accipiters and sent to Skyrim to work as, again, a basic Thalmor agent for the time being. It’s not like he’s put into a useless job. Thalmor forces in Skyrim, according to this , are rather stretched thin, and with someone as combat skilled as Estryon, his work is much, much needed. Doesn’t mean he likes it, though. He hates it.

APPEARANCE

Eye color: Vibrant yellow/amber.

Hair color: Pale cream/blonde color.

Height: 6′ to 6′3/4. Haven’t decided.

Scars: Slight slashes/cuts on his right cheek and a scar on his right bicep. Likes to use… risky methods in his assassinations because he’s a dumbass and that has given him a few severely close calls on fatal weak spots; there’s a medium-length scar across his left abdomen, a shallow, light scar on his collarbone (was an attempt at his heart), and a few small ones on his thighs.

Burns: No major ones, but a lot of little burn marks because 1.) He sucks at cooking and 2.) Little mishaps in destruction magic usage.

Overweight: No.

Underweight: No.

FAVOURITE

Color: Yellow.

Hair color: He likes lighter hair colors but it’s not a huge factor.

Eye color: Yellow, but as said, not too much of a preference.

Entertainment: Horse-back riding. Causing general issues and difficulty for those around him. Taking care of horses. This man really likes horses. He also has a fondness for burning different stuff he finds, some of that stuff being important shit to someone other than him. There’s one major entertainment he commits to a lot but I’ll leave that unmentioned for modesty’s sake.

Pastime: This dude really does not do a lot to entertain himself other than [censored]. He spends a lot of time meandering and wandering and just.. being there. Either that or he rapidly switches between different pastimes because he can’t stay with one for the life of him. (he gets bored very, very easily) But. If anything, as said, he likes to experiment with magic and alchemy, and he loves horseback-riding and taking pleasure rides. This easy tendency towards boredom leads to recklessness and an unhealthy lust for thrill and adventure.

Food: As typical of Sunhold natives, he gravitates towards sea-food and he likes crab. Not typical mudcrabs from just anywhere, however. As is common knowledge, there are a lot of different varieties of Mudcrabs and there’s one particular off the coast of Sunhold that is high-demand and very flavorful. But other than that, he has a guilty sweet tooth in general, and he B U S  T S  A  N U T for vanilla ice cream.

Drink: He’s boring. He just likes water. He enjoys some lighter alcohol, though,  and perhaps some tea, but again. Water.

Books: Enjoys magic studies and books. Doesn’t like a lot of heavy-information stuff other than that, though, but he does like a bunch of light interests like aromatics and alchemy. He has Arelnian and their large array of aromatic/alchemy books + store to thank for those two interests.

HAVE THEY

Passed university: Yes.

Had sex: Pft. Yeah.

Had sex in public: Depends. Like, straight up banging in like, a marketplace? Nah.

Gotten pregnant: No. Not during the events of Skyrim, at least. Not until much later.

Kissed a man: Yes.

Kissed a woman: Yes, once or twice.

Gotten tattoos: Yes. Little ones. He has an eagle wing on each side of each of his ankles, and the Dominion emblem on the back of his neck. All hurt like Hell (especially the Dominion emblem one) and he’s kind of halted off of getting any after that.

Gotten piercings: Ear piercings, yeah. He typically likes small gold hoops or little jewels, but he tends to go through long periods of time where he doesn’t have any in.

Been in love: Yes.

Had a broken heart: Oof. Yeah.

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yes. He oftentimes has trouble sleeping. Has been that way since he was little, according to Ohtehil, at least.

ARE THEY

A virgin: Pft. No.

A cuddler: Not really, but, I mean. He’s not beyond it. He’s just not a very personal person in general.

A kisser: Yes.

A smoker: Not frequently, no.

Scared easily: Not typically, and even if he is, he takes care to not show it. He might flinch and recoil and you can get a little bit of a gasp from him but other than that, no. Unless it’s something incredibly outlandish or unnatural or… terrifying. Like a dragon. A large, ebony black dragon with red eyes flying from the mountains and passing over you, rumbling the ground and triggering all your fight or flight instincts. Yeah. Kinda scary. (but even then all he did was dive out of sight and hide underneath a little rock overhang. he may have taken a bit of a tumble in the process but i’ll have you know his cold altmeri exterior ™ was still in-tact)

Jealous easily: Gods, yes. He wouldn’t let that be known, however.

Trustworthy: Absolutely Not

Dominant: In terms of personality, yeah. He hates being told what to do, he thrives on spiting others, and while he is quite reserved and quiet he still manages to be…. over-bearing and dominant. He has three very particular methods of getting what he wants and one of them is a glare that could kill and keeping all words to the minimum, while also having those words cut sharp. Does that make sense? He’s one of those people that just have an overpowering presence without the need to speak. That’s one reason he doesn’t have a lot of friends, really. Anyways. One other method is straight-up killing whoever he wishes to and the other… Well. If you’re talking dominance in bed, he adapts to what is needed, wanted, or what he’s in the mood for. Whatever leaves his target vulnerable to a swift kill, framing, or easy investigation of possible heresy/conspiracy. So yes, actually, I guess he is dominant. Quite so.

Submissive: In any other context other than the Spicee (tm) one, no, not really. If in that context, then, only if he wishes to be.

Single: Yes, no committal relationship until later. Although, there was one earlier, but I haven’t developed it completely. I’ll give a little peek. It was with Thalmor Agent Sanyon. That dead Thalmor, at a Talos shrine? Yeah. High-school sweethearts, if you will. Estryon finding Sanyon’s body at the shrine, or rather, going there at all ultimately sets the course of the events of the main questline. That little event, along with Ohtehil’s little ‘turn-into-a-werewolf-and-slaughter-all-your-colleagues’ theatrical go hand-in-hand in starting it all. Estryon finding Sanyon dead would not have happened at all if not for Ohtehil, actually.

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have they harmed themselves: Minor things.

Thought of suicide: Yes.

Attempted suicide: No.

Wanted to kill someone: Yes.

Actually killed someone: Yes.

Ridden a horse: Yes. He’s quite the horseman.

Have/had a job: Yes.

Have any fears: He isn’t too fond of heights. Or blood.

FAMILY

Sibling(s): Ohtehil (22 years older) and Tretlas (55 years older).

Parents: Arelnian and Ciryarel Thramian. Both fought in the Great War/First War of the Empire on the Dominion’s side. Ciryarel was a skilled mage who worked rather high up in the Dominion and Arelnian was also well-respected as an informant and recruiter stationed primarily in Hammerfell. Ciryarel perished in the final battle and Arelnian received significant injury. Survived two years post-War, but a highly weakened immune system as a result of the injuries ultimately cost them their life.

Children: No. Later, however, he does adopt Lucia and Sofie and does have Diatres, his only biological child.

Pets: Cyrel, a smokey black and sleek Summerset-bred mare. Had her imported upon the discovery he would be suspended in Skyrim for longer than anticipated. Prior to that, she was being boarded for a rather expensive price over at the Sunhold stables. And then Umaril, a “Pocket” Salamander. Ohtehil got it for him for his 9th birthday not anticipating a long lifespan nor the HUGE size they grow to be. Once it started growing alarmingly fast and large Ohtehil figured as long as Estryon was enjoying himself it would be fine; once he grew older he could get rid of it if he tired of taking care of such a massive and intelligent creature. Estryon did not get rid of it. Quite the opposite. He’s the dude to have a suspiciously large bag being lugged around and you see him stop once he’s in the clear, unzip it, and suddenly his dog or in this case a very large monitor pokes his head out. His commitment to Umaril and Cyrel is incredible compared to his dedication towards actual people.

[skygirl5]

Zenith Redux

A Castle Pornado One-Shot

This is a reboot of a universe from a Castle fanfic prompt over a year ago. The original 2 parts can be read under this tag; however since this is a reboot, reading the originals aren’t necessary.

Setting: Caskett AU Circa Season 3

“Ah, c’mon Kate—one more dance!” Richard Castle encouraged the moment his partner turned away from him.

“No,” she laughed as she tried to pull away from him as he scrambled to grab her shoulder, then her elbow, and finally her hand as she pushed her way through the tight dancefloor crowd. “My feet need a break, Castle.”

“Party pooper.” He grumbled at her, but she merely rolled her eyes.

“I never said you had to stop dancing too.”

“But it’s no fun if you’re not out there with me. We’ll break for two songs and then we’ll go back.”

“I make no promises.”

A few steps later they had reached their table in the seating area of the hotel ballroom and Kate turned her chair so she could sit and also watch the celebration on the dancefloor. Once down, she crossed her legs so her left shin balanced atop her right knee and she could examine the big toe of her left foot. Upon seeing the red mark, she grimaced; well that was definitely why her foot hurt. She rubbed gingerly at the angry mark made by the cross-foot strap and winced again.

“Yikes, Beckett; that doesn’t look good.”

“No kidding.”

“And here I thought you could run for miles in heels…you’re ruining the illusion.”

She let out a noise of derision as she continued to examine her foot. “First, those are heeled boots, not sandals. Second, I’m really not sure what’s going on because I’ve worn these before and they haven’t bothered me.” Granted, that was probably almost a year earlier, but how much could her feet have possibly changed between the ages of thirty-one and thirty-two?

“Want me to get you some ice?”

She shook her head and patted his arm in appreciation. “No, no; I’ll be fine. You can go talk to Espo if you want.” Kate pointed towards their coworker who was hovering by the bar, sipping his drink, and watching the crowd. As they had learned earlier that evening, Esposito was not a fan of dancing at weddings; evidently he wanted to use his time to scope out a date so Kate figured he could use a wingman.

“Nah,” Castle replied. “I’m fine right here.”

Kate settled back in her chair and gazed out at the dance floor where she caught a glimpse of the bride and groom dancing, smiling, and laughing; it made Kate smile, too. She was so happy for Kevin and Jenny and was so glad she could be there to celebrate with them. Toe pain aside, the evening had been entirely wonderful starting with a beautiful ceremony and continuing on through dinner and great speeches at the reception. Kate knew that at least in part her evening was enjoyable because of her chosen date.

When Ryan’s invitations arrived three months earlier, Kate had declined her “plus one” without second thought. She wasn’t with anyone at that moment, and didn’t want to waste time trying to find a date that might not enjoy the event at all. There would be enough people there she knew that she wasn’t worried about going solo; she knew she would still have fun. Then, the following day, Castle had asked her about her invitation and as they were chatting said, “Well, if neither of us is taking anyone, maybe we should go together.”

She hesitated for a moment before agreeing with, “Sure, Castle; we can go as friends.”

Though she picked up a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes, he quickly promised her that they would have a great time—and they had. By all accounts Castle had been the best friend-date she could have asked for. In fact, they had such a good time that it made her—no. She wouldn’t dwell on such things for she was not able to change the way the world worked.

After just another minute or so of resting her feet, Kate and Castle’s seclusion was interrupted by two women approaching from the bar with drinks in their hands. Kate recognized them as Jenny’s friends, but did not know their names. They sat at the table next to where Kate sat and she would not have thought of them again were it not for the loud and inappropriate conversation they began having.

“Oh my god, I just don’t understand how they could do this,” the first girl said in a disgusted tone.

“Sarah!” the other chastised.

“I’m serious,” Sarah continued. “There’s no way I could marry someone who isn’t my soulmate.”

“So you’ll never get married then.”

“Better than committing to something that won’t work out.”

“You can’t know that!”

“Unless they know for sure both their soulmates are dead, that’s a very high possibility. I mean, why wouldn’t you want to keep searching? I know I will and if that means I won’t get married, so what? At least I won’t throw it all away like Jenny is.”

“I kind of think it’s nice.”

“It’s stupid,” Sarah concluded.

Feeling her face flush, Kate leaned over to her partner and said, “I’ll be back. I, ah, need some air.”

“Let me come with you.”

As she wanted to escape the ballroom as quickly as possible, Kate didn’t argue. She merely stood, grunted at the return of the pain in her toe, and moved as swiftly as she could through the tightly packed tables and chairs. Once she reached the hall, she wasn’t entirely sure which direction to go, until she recalled the small sitting area tucked into one of the halls she’d traversed on her way to the ballroom. She retraced her steps back towards the lobby until she found it; mercifully it was empty.

“Sorry,” she said to her companion as she sat down on one of the vacant loveseats. “I just couldn’t listen to those women anymore.”

Castle nodded as he sat beside her. “They were being very rude.”

Kate pressed her lips together and considered his statement. She very much doubted Sarah and her friend were being purposefully rude. That was: she doubted Sarah expected her statements to be overheard. At the same time, what she said was unkind, but Kate would have been lying if she said she hadn’t had similar thoughts herself.

When Ryan announced his engagement, Kate was of course happy for her friend. With the way he was grinning so wide it would have been impossible not to be. Yet, at the same time, she knew for certain that he and Jenny were not soulmates, which caused her to wonder why they were choosing to get married. She understood that they loved together and were choosing to start a life together and she could respect that, but for Jenny in particular it seemed like merely accepting a life of disappointment, and Kate wasn’t sure she could make the same choice.

Gazing over at the man beside her, one who had chosen similarly—twice—she was curious. Clearly as Castle had married two women that were not his soulmates, he did not agree with Sarah’s statements. But at the same time she doubted there was any man in the world who appreciated the true moments of magic in life more than Castle. By that thought process, surely he wanted to find his soulmate as much as anyone, which made her curious as to why he’d chosen to marry—especially the second time.

“Hey Castle?”

“It didn’t bother me.”

“What?”

He turned to face her with a small smile. “You were going to ask if it bothered me to marry someone who wasn’t my soulmate; it didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I loved Meredith and I wanted a family and when she got pregnant I figured…okay, this is how this is going to go.”

“And what about Gina?”

He cringed a little and turned away. “Well…that was different and not as thought out, if I’m entirely honest, but not because of anything that had to do with soulmates.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip she asked, “But…didn’t you wonder who she was? You of all people seem like you would.”

“Of course; I still do.” He assured her. “Someday I hope to experience that; I think we all do…right?”

“Right,” she echoed, though her tone was not even the least bit convincing. Naturally, her partner picked up on it.

“What does that tone mean?”

She huffed out a breath and leaned back against the sofa. “Soulmates…it’s just always seemed like a curse, somehow.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well it’s just like that girl said. Of course I would never call Jenny stupid. I actually admire her and Kevin for their choice, but I’m not sure I could ever make it. I…I already keep one foot out the door in relationships…”

“Because you want to find him?” Castle guessed.

Kate shrugged and nodded.

In her mind, the soulmate concept had always seemed exactly as she described: cruel. The fact that women could not climax sexually without their perfect worldly partner—their “soulmate”—seemed an immeasurably cruel fate that evolution should have fixed, but it did not. Humans would never know the exact reason, but the ‘ancient curse’ theory seemed about as reasonable as any of the others. Ultimately it didn’t matter how it had begun, because the fact could not be changed no matter how much they wanted it.

Every sexual experience Kate had since her first at the age of seventeen had been, on a basic level, disappointing. True, some had certainly been more fun than others, and she certainly didn’t hate sex, but as she’d yet to find her soulmate she had never fully enjoyed it either. That was why she shied away from long-term relationships. As much as the concept angered her and she wanted to maintain the, “I don’t need a man to complete me,” mantra she had through most of her life, she wanted that lifelong partner; she wanted happiness.

Some days, that want made her furious and she hated herself for it, which was why before Castle had showed up in her life she’d been a rather angry and bitter person. Really, it was a manifestation of jealousy. Only around one quarter of the population found their soulmates so her not finding hers actually put her in the majority, but that didn’t matter. Her parents had been soulmates as were her grandparents and her aunt and uncle. To her, being with a soulmate was a norm and damn it she wanted it too.

“It’s not wrong to want to find your soulmate, Kate.”

“I know that, but…it’s been thirty-two years.” She let out a rather bitter laugh. “It’s why I…it’s why I never bother starting things because I just know eventually they won’t last. There’s no point in getting too close.”

“But…if you don’t get close enough to find out if they’re your soulmate, you’ll never find him…”

She gave him a sideways look. “Emotionally close, Castle; I’ve vetted plenty in the soulmate category.”

���You haven’t vetted me.”

Kate’s heart stuttered in her chest and she gave him a sideways look. Had he really just said that? With her jaw slightly agape, she merely stared at him before he continued in a stunningly casual manner. “I mean, by the logic you just stated, we should have done it long ago.”

“I…well…” She stammered out for a moment, trying to make her brain work properly again. Finally, she shook her head slightly and cleared her throat. Turning away from him she said, “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“You’re right; it’s not. I think—and forgive me if I’ve made the wrong assumption here—but I think you’re afraid of this thing for the same reason I am: what if we cross that bridge and we find out we’re not soulmates?”

As her heartrate sped, Kate felt the burning of tears in her eyes, for he had captured her exact thought process. She had thought about it so many times—so many times. If Castle had been any other man she would have dragged him into her bed to see if they were a match. Then, when she found out they weren’t, they would have both gone their separate ways. It had happened to her dozens of times and for each of those times she hadn’t cared. Except with him.

Because of his, well, Castle-ness she hadn’t wanted to drag him into bed for the first few months of their partnership; he was far too annoying for her to even remotely enjoy that experience. Then, things began to change. He became her partner, and then her friend, and then her confidant. She loved spending her days with him and didn’t want to give them up, for losing his partnership would be sadder than losing yet another chance to find her soulmate.

“That’s why it’s cruel.” She brushed a tear from her cheek before looking back to him. “We can either live here in the unknown forever…or have reality break our hearts.”

He moved his hand so it closed over one of hers. “You realize there’s a third option there.”

She breathed in a shuddered breath and he quirked his lips into a smile.

“I’m in if you are, Kate.”

“Oh god, I…” She sniffed as more tears fell from her eyes. Quickly using her fingertips to brush them away she admitted, “This is really not how I saw this evening going.”

His hand had fallen to her knee when she moved hers so he squeezed her there. “I know; me neither.”

“But I suppose it’s been a bit inevitable, hasn’t it?”

“For three years, actually,” he pointed out and they shared a quick laugh. Bringing up his other hand, he brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “So, ah, I should get us a room?”

She shook her head quickly. “No I’d rather be at home if it’s all the same to you.” That way when it didn’t work out, she didn’t have to move. She could just pull the covers over her head, cry, and mourn what could have been.

“Sure; I’ll call us a car.”

“So, ah, should we have a drink first?” Castle suggested once they had arrived at her apartment.

Kate shook her head as she took off her shoes and sighed with relief at the end of her toe pain. “Ah, no…no I think I’ve had enough tonight. You can have something if you want.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

They stared at each other for several seconds before Castle stepped forward and used his fingertips to gentle tilt her chin upwards. Then, he kissed her. The kiss was not their first as they had kissed the year before during an undercover assignment. As she had been mostly concerned about their safety at the time, she had not enjoyed the softness of his lips on hers as much as she wanted to. In that moment, however, she melted into him and wound her arms around his waist.

“Mm Kate.” He hummed before kissing her again and skimming his hands down her neck to the tops of her shoulders. From there, they roamed her back until his right stretched all the way down her spine and cupped the curve of her ass.

Kate gave a small yelp when her heartrate spiked. He asked her what was wrong, and she tried to brush it off, but she couldn’t; the reality of what they were about to do was settling into her gut too strongly and wreaking havoc with her insides. “Sorry I…Jesus I don’t think I was this nervous when I lost my virginity,” she confessed. Of course during that event she was certain the smoking grunge rocker she’d been casually seeing was not her soulmate, but she’d wanted to, as dumb as it sounded in hindsight, “get it over with.”

“Well that’s certainly not a good place to start. Do you want to just cuddle for a little bit?”

She nodded in acceptance of his offer and led the way to her bedroom. He shrugged off his suit jacket and let her hang it up in the closet while he untied his shoes. Then, they climbed onto her bed, both of them lying on their sides with him spooning his body against her back. He draped his arm over her waist and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck and she shut her eyes, enjoying the feeling of him beside her, even if it would be for the only time.

“How do you have so much faith, Castle?”

“I guess I just do. I see the good in everything because it’s a better way to go through the world. If you were specifically asking about us: it’s because I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel like you do.”

She snuggled closer to him and shut her eyes. She understood that feeling as it was one she felt herself, but that didn’t make her any more confident that they were soulmates. She had seen the darker side of the world too often to have that level of faith. “How long have you felt that way—about me?”

“Awhile, but I knew for sure we were soulmates the moment we first kissed. How about you?”

“I haven’t…I never let myself think about it, because I was too afraid, but I…I finally acknowledged how I felt about you when I thought Jerry Tyson had hurt you.”

He hummed with his lips against her neck. “Yes it was thrilling to watch you burst into that hotel room.”

She let out a light laugh and turned her head so she could look at him. He was hovering over her, smiling, and her heart filled with more joy than she ever thought possible. She lifted her head enough to brush her lips over his, but that was the only indication he needed, because he immediately rearranged himself so he was laying half on top of her as they kissed. With absolutely no reason for hesitation or holding back, Kate parted her lips and took him in and—god—it was so much better than she imagined it would be.

As their kissing grew more heated, Castle’s hand skimmed down her body until he found the bottom hem of her dress. His fingertips delved beneath the fabric climbing higher and higher on her thigh until he stopped suddenly, pulled back, and moved his fingers back and forth on her leg. “What…what am I feeling? What’s happening?”

“What? Oh shit,” she cursed, a little embarrassed. “I’m wearing Spanx. Didn’t think anyone would be interested in my underwear tonight,” she added with a slight laugh.

He pulled his hand out of her dress. “For the record: I’m always interested in your underwear.”

“Perv,” she teasingly accused before rolling away from him and out of bed. “I’ll get ‘em off—hold on.”

“Let me.” He stood off the bed and joined her on her side so he could draw down the back zipper of her dress. She shimmied out of it and let it pool at her feet revealing her black bra and the black “tummy control” undergarment that went from just above her waist down to her mid-thigh.

“Sexy right?” she joked as she began to peel it down.

“You’re sexy no matter what.”

She gave him a small smile before turning her back so she could work the garment off. Fortunately, taking it off was easier than putting it on; stuffing herself into it was most assuredly an unsexy procedure, but off wasn’t as bad. It did, however, take away a bit of the mystery of the evening, as it left her completely nude except for her bra.

After tossing the Spanx into the hamper by her closet, she turned around to see her partner wearing an expression of awe. “You’re beautiful,” he told her. Then, he stood up, reached around her back and felt for her bra clasp. “And you no longer need this.”

She chuckled softly as he discarded her bra and once her arms were free she lifted her fingers to the buttons on his shirt. “I think we need to even this situation up a bit more.”

“Sounds fair enough to me.”

Once his shirt had joined her clothes on the floor they climbed back on the bed and lay side by side once again. While her hands roamed his bare chest, his began to map their way across her expanse of flesh, covering nearly every inch of surface space. As his kisses moved from her lips to her neck, he skimmed his right hand up her body and across her left arm until he found her hand. He linked their fingers together and held her hand down beside her head just as he found her pulse point. Kate let out a moan as she felt her body flush and her heart speed up again. God, he was amazing at that—just as she imagined he would be.

Castle’s kisses soon trailed down her sternum until he reached her breasts. He dragged his tongue over to her right nipple, swirled it around the tip, and then captured it between his lips. She gasped and arched her back, pressing herself against his mouth. He hummed and flicked his tongue over the stiff peak which had her rubbing her thighs together to reduce the tingling she felt there. God, it had been over a year since she’d had sex and she’d forgotten what it was like to be this turned on—to be this wet.

“Jesus…Castle…” She purred as he turned his attention to her left nipple, mirroring his actions on that side.

Her hands settled on the wings of his shoulder blades as he kissed the underside of her breasts and began trailing his lips southward. He glanced up briefly at her, winked, and he began to lavish her belly with kisses and soft nips of his teeth. Suddenly, Kate felt her chest tighten and tears come to her eyes as she had never felt such sensations before; it was truly incredible.

With nearly every encounter she had men had performed the same actions as Castle was—kissing her belly, paying attention to her nipples with their lips—but it had been so different. This was the man she had come to know over the years; the one she trusted above all else. He made her laugh; he made her feel safe. He was the one she trusted.

He was the one she wanted.

As though she’d surfaced from a long swim underwater, the notion poured over her like a breath of fresh air and for the first time Kate understood why a person might choose to be in a long-term relationship with someone not their soulmate. Sixty percent of adults still chose to get married even though less than half of them had found their mates and she knew why: because being deeply in love with someone changed everything. Everything.

“Castle,” she uttered out, her voice sounding more tearful than she had intended.

He quickly lifted his head and said, “Sorry—did I hurt you?”

“No, no I just…I wanted to say that I understand now—I understand.”

“Understand what?” he asked gently, brushing away one of her tears with his thumb.

She curled her fingertips around his shoulders and pulled his body closer to hers until their bellies touched. “I understand why Kev and Jenny got married. Why so many people do. I—I love you and it doesn’t matter how this ends because—because that won’t change; no matter what.”

A grin exploded across Castle’s face and he immediately covered her mouth with his. After a long kiss and two shorter ones, he pulled back. “I love you too, Kate. We deserve this.”

“I know.” She squeaked out.

As he trailed kisses down her body once more, Kate shut her eyes and quickly wiped away the tears staining her cheeks. She felt Castle’s hands against her legs and waited for the bed to shift while removed his remaining items of clothing, but it never did. Instead, his hands continued to caress her inner thighs and were soon joined by his lips. Her eyes popped open.

“What are you doing?”

He lifted his head and winked. “Trust me.” Then, he moved his lips back to her right thigh. Kate watched with no small amount of curiosity as he kissed his way out to the inside of her knee before switching legs and kissing his way back towards her centre. There, he settled down further against the mattress and, much to her surprise, he began to kiss her lower lips.

“Wha—“ she began, but her voice disappeared, mostly from pure shock as she had never had a man kiss her there before.

Soon, she felt Castle’s tongue sliding up and down her slit and, when it reached the top, she felt a small electric jolt that had her gasp, “Oh!” Again, Castle lifted his head and smirked, before returning to his dutiful work.

As his tongue worked her slit, she felt his thumb move up to the small bud at the crest of her pubic bone. She knew this bud was pleasurable to touch, but it always left her wanting more. In that moment, however, each time he touched it she felt a jolt that made her hips twitch and her belly tighten.

He caressed her with his tongue for several moments before moving his mouth to cover the area his thumb was touching. From that angle she could look in his eyes, but only for a moment, because as soon as he began flicking his tongue against her nub Kate was unable to stop her head from rolling back against the pillows. “God, Rick,” she moaned out. Jesus—if she’d known how amazing it would feel, she would have asked a man to do this to her ages ago!

She spread her legs even further as his tongue swirled and flicked—both of which felt incredible—but when he began to suck lightly, she cried out again and balled her fists against her pillow case. Her hips arched into his mouth and Kate felt a rush as though a wave was washing over her before a quick release of pressure left her crying out. Two tears slipped from her eyes as she lifted her head and gasped; she had no idea what the hell had just happened.

“Castle…” she managed, but he was already reacting, practically jumping on top of her and kissing all over her face.

“I knew it! I knew it! Kate, oh Kate.”

“Was that…? But, I…we—we weren’t even having sex!” She stammered out.

“Sure we were.” He grinned. “My buddy told me about that—his wife loves it.”

“I can see why,” she responded, still a bit in a daze. Then, she lifted her hand to stroke over his cheek. “Oh, Castle…”

He turned his head to kiss her palm. “I told you, Kate—we deserved this.”

Her chest filling with pure joy, Kate threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. Only when she did this did she feel her legs brush up against his pants and realized he was still half dressed. Pushing his shoulders down, she flipped their positions so she was on top and grinned a bit wickedly at him. “Now, let’s celebrate, by doing it for real.”

Her brain still functioning with limited capacity, Kate kissed her way across Castle’s chest and down to his belly while simultaneously undoing his belt and unfastening his pants. When she slipped her fingers inside she could feel how rock hard he was, clearly straining the fabric of his boxers to the absolute limits. Smiling to herself, she dipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and when she slid her fingers around his length he moaned out, “Jesus, Kate.”

She gave him a few strokes despite the restricted space before removing her hand. She crawled down his body and grabbed both pants and boxers to remove them together. When his erection popped free she let out a small sound of astonishment; so all the jokes about him being well endowed were not jokes after all. For a brief moment she wondered what he would feel like inside her. This was something she often did when she revealed her latest partner’s manhood, but then she realized she no longer had to wonder; he was guaranteed to feel incredible.

After tossing Castle’s pants off the end of the bed, Kate swung her left leg over his shins so that she straddled him. She used both hands to stroke her length, but as she dipped her head he stopped her with, “No—not tonight; I just want to be inside you.”

“Okay.” she agreed with a soft smile. Then, she scooted up his body until her centre hovered over him. With her left hand balanced in the center of his chest, she used her right to guide him inside her. As she slowly sank down, she met his gaze, and their jaws dropped together as she descended. “Shit, Castle,” she breathed out, feeling fuller than she’d ever felt before; he was incredible.

“Ah, Kate.” Castle grunted out. “You feel amazing.”

Kate arched her body over his, stretching out to press a sloppy kiss to his lips before she rolled her hips once, then again, and a third time before she felt him hit a spot inside her that made her gasp. She pushed herself back into a more upright position and rolled her hips again, but she didn’t find the spot. She began moving at even intervals, trying to find it again, shifting ever so slightly right and left until—

“Oh, shit…” she breathed out when she found it again.

Castle’s hands landed on her thighs and he held her tight while she thrust her hips into him again and again. With barely any thought she moved her left hand to the small nub Castle had been sucking earlier and brushed her thumb against it while she rolled her hips and—god—it was incredible.

“Rick…fuck…”

“Don’t stop, Kate—I’m right—shit—with you,” Castle groaned out.

Now almost frantic, Kate thrust her hips again and again, feeling a miniature fire burst inside her every time he hit the right spot until finally her belly tightened and the next fire burst was an all-out explosion. She cried out as her entire body trembled. Thrusting her hips once more only intensified the feeling and she was vaguely aware of her partner crying out as well, but Kate could barely move or breathe; pleasure had completely overtaken her.

Though she remained rather frozen in place, Kate was vaguely aware of Castle sitting up, gathering her in his arms, and rolling them both onto their sides so they could lay down, still connected. He dusted his lips over her brow and her nose before asking softly, “Are you okay?”

“No.” She laughed. Then, she opened his eyes to see his adoring face. Stroking his cheek she said, “It’s so totally unfair you could always do that.”

“Well now you can too,” he rationalized. Then, giving her a quick kiss he said, “So you liked it?”

She felt as though her eyes practically bulged out of her head. “Are you kidding me? Let’s do that every day!”

He smiled and hugged her close, sighing out, “For the rest of our lives, Kate.”

Tucking her head into the crook of his neck, Kate cuddled up to him and shut her eyes thinking she had absolutely no problem with that whatsoever; it would be perfect.

Thank you for reading!

[a-tired-bass]

i’ve been tagged by @greyjioys​! Yes, questions!

LAST:

drink? Milk

phone call? Dad probably - I only ever actually call people for logistics stuff. All my other communication is over text or discord

text message? So i’m subscribed to a twitter feed called Dog Feelings, so if my last text wasn’t from them, it’s a rare day indeed

song you listened to? Choir music. I’ve got performances over the weekend so I’m playing our set-list on loop

time you cried? Proper cried? Couple of weeks. Needed to cry, couple of days. Been having trouble letting emotions loose recently

HAVE YOU:

dated someone twice? Nope

kissed someone and regretted it? I’m... not really certain on that one

been cheated on? Yes

lost someone special? Yes

been depressed? Yes

gotten drunk and thrown up? Only once. Never drinking that much again

THREE FAVORITE COLORS:

Deep blues, rich reds, and black

IN THE LAST YEAR, HAVE YOU:

made new friend? I have! Some might even stick around :P Curse of transient uni semester mates

fallen out of love? Yes

laughed until you cried? Yes

found out someone was talking about you? Yeah. I introduced my mum to the choir manager - cause gig venue and events and stuff - and it’s weird hearing them talk about me indirectly sometimes

meet someone who changed you? Yes

kissed someone on your Facebook list? Only one, but they are no longer on my facebook list

GENERAL:

how many of your Facebook friends do you know irl? The vast majority. There might be a couple I don’t know at this point, and of course since it’s been so long since I’ve seen many of them it’s effectively moot

do you want to change your name? Nah

what did you do for your last birthday? Nothing. I haven’t actually ‘celebrated’ a birthday in many years. It’s just a day at home usually

what time do you wake up? Anywhere betwen 7 and 10am atm. It used to be 7 on the dot, but i’ve been pushing it later with sleep ins and my insomnia 

what were you doing at midnight last night? Games, of course. That or watching videos of people playing games

something you can’t wait for? Summer to be over. I’m dying here

last time you saw your mom? Many weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing her again in a couple of days though

what is one thing you wish you could change in your life? My health. Whether that be physical or mental, I don’t really care, I just want one of them to improve

what are you listening to right now? Choir set list. On loop. My brain is dying for this prep

have you every talked to a person named tom? Multiple. One of my best friends as a child was Tom, before he moved to England. We rarely chat nowadays, and it’s kinda weird

something that is getting on your nerves? My dad is always getting on my nerves. He never does any cleaning

most visited websites? Gmail, Facebook, Tumblr, Youtube, Reddit (and only in that particular order because it thats the order of my bookmarks, not their order of use)

OTHER INFO:

mole/s? Yeah, I have a couple. They’re hard to distinguish amongst the freckles though

marks? Of course there are marks on my skin. Scars, freckles, stretch marks, you name it

childhood dream? I was one of those stereotypical things that wanted to be an astronaut. Or a fairy. Or Sailor Moon.

hair color? Brown

long or short hair? Long!!!!

do you have a crush? Just 1 persistent one

what do you like about yourself? My voice, when I’m not hearing it in recordings :P

piercings? No

blood type? Absolutely no idea

nickname? Daz mostly, otherwise my gaming moniker

relationship? I wish....

zodiac? Capricorn

pronouns? He/Him

favorite TV show? Brooklyn 99 holds that spot

tattoos? Nah. I’ve never been committed enough to one. I’ve thought about it a bunch, but...

right or left handed? Right

surgery? I’ve been in surgery a bunch of times. It’s rarely good. One time was really interesting though - they were using a type of anathesia that doesn’t necessarily knock you out, just makes you super relaxed, on top of a local anathesia. I was awake during parts of the surgery, in which they had taken a wire, put it in my leg and travelled it up to my heart in order to play with it using electricity. Having your heart beat outside of normal volition is a seriously weeeeeird feeling

dyed hair? No. I tried once and it didn’t stay at all. Maybe one day

sport? Far less than I should? I’m not an active sporty person (though I used to be deep in one area of esports) so I do far less than is good for me

vacation? God there are so many places I want to go to, and right now, ALL of them are in much colder climates or in winter. I’m dying down here

sneakers? Ummmm. I don’t know. I don’t wear them like, ever.

MORE GENERAL:

eating? Last thing I ate was a biscuit. The next thing I eat will be a biscuit. I am currently eating biscuits

drinking? Water

waiting for? Summer to be over. Pleeeeease

want: A hug

career? I don’t really know. Something music i’ve decided though

get married? I suppose. The concept of marriage doesn’t excite me, but the ideal of marriage being with soemone you want to spend the rest of your life with? yes please

hugs or kisses? As a form of greeting? Hugs are more common here

lips or eyes? Eyes

shorter or taller? I think shorter girls are cute if that counts?

older or younger? Younger

nice arms or nice stomach? I’d be happy getting rid of my tummy fat. Lack of buffness doesn’t really bother me

sensitive or loud? I’m somewhere in the middle

hook up or relationship? Relationship absolutely. I am NOT a hookup person.

troublemaker or hesitant? I’m only hesitant in my brain, or when talking about emotions

HAVE YOU EVER:

kissed a stranger? No

drank hard liquor? Yes. Preferred drink in fact

lost glasses? Sunglasses. Made me super sad, because finding sunglasses that fit me is really hard, I have a wonky head

turned someone down? As if i’d ever even been asked

sex on the first date? God no

broken someone’s heart? Fuck that. They broke mine

had your heart broken? Yeah

been arrested? No

cried when someone died? Yes.

fallen for a friend? I guess??? I don’t think it affects our friendship, and they’re aware of it

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

yourself? No

miracles? Nope

love at first sight? Definitely not

santa claus? Funny story, I stopped believing in religion before I stopped believing in Santa Claus

Other:

kiss on the first date? Very unlikely

current best friend? Probs Harry and Jake

eye color? Blue! I like my eyes

favorite movie? ‘Tangled’. It makes me happy

Let’s tag... @uniqueic3cream​ and @aches-and-paeans

[learmagazine-blog]

Some Lite Irony

I meet Bum el Niño in a local coffee spot called Buona Caffe. The weird thing is, neither of us drink coffee, a kind of irony that Niño exudes in his work: contractions, opposing values, and a sense of clarity that seems slightly out of place. I want to figure out why this album sounds the way it does, where this sense of direction comes from despite the diverse sound scape. Every song on the record is unique. Unique enough to be on a separate album, a fact that of course is ironic as our first few exchanges at the table. I order a spiced tea, and find Niño at the table in the back. He has his own water bottle, which is weird only because he suggested we meet here, yet he orders nothing. I decide to ask him if he wants anything.

Niño: No, I’m ok, I got my water.

The water bottle is a blue 32 ounce wide mouth.

I: What do you usually get from here? You have any favorites?

N: Nah, I’ve had the tea once, but usually I don’t get anything.

I couldn’t help but think of the sign at the counter that asked that all guest purchase something. It seems Niño’s very presence here was a contradiction.

I: So this is just a good spot to conduct interviews then, huh?

N: I really don’t do press (chuckles).

I: Well think of this as a studio session (chuckles).

N: (Laughs): That’s cool. Turn me up on the left.

I: As a prerequisite for my studio sessions with new people, I am a little interested in past sessions.

N: Told you I don’t do press (chuckles). They’ve been productive, which might be another way to say boring.

I: For the latest project in particular?

N: Yeah, those been really productive, but I think the least boring one might’ve been Free Max B. That was a fun session.

I: That’s a compelling record. I imagine you’re referring to the second part. What inspired you, or should I say  what inspired the smoothest brother?

N: Definitely the greats: Bootsy, George and ‘nem. Sly fasho. Probably Sly the most. I was thinking Sly would say some slick, pimp like shit like “I know you like to be polite, but baby I can do ya right” you know? And alot of funk seemed like the the soundtrack to black power. So I tell my people don’t give up so easy, which I think we know but forget sometimes.

I: People as in black people?

N: Yeah.

I: Of which we’re the only two here, if you noticed (laugh).

N: (Laughs) Oh yeah I always notice.

I: So this is kind of an interesting place for a studio session coming of this album. It seems like you’re making some strong statements about race throughout-

N: If you’re about to ask if the album is for Caucasians, then no (laughs),

I: (Laughs) That reminds me of a line on Let Loose: “I am not from the Caucasus, I am not Caucasian”. When I heard that line I thought of irony.

N: Ok, why’s that?

I: The line seemed out of place. I think you created a world on the project, in which white people are very, uh, absent. Like this album is that  juke spot on the corner where the racial make-up is opposite of this spot. There are two of fewer white folks, and you can feel the results of their actions, like maybe segregation, but everyone is so concerned with enjoying their time, no one thinks about segregation or racism.

N: Except the conscious, afro-pick soul brother.

I: (Laughs) Exactly, that line on Let Loose is that dude, always chanting about the man keeping us down.

N: Is he a drunk?

I: Maybe a little (chuckles). It makes me wonder, who are you speaking to on the song? Which makes me wonder who you are speaking to throughout the project.

N: A bunch a different folks. ‘Cause you know how Let Loose starts right? Like (sings) “I know he need you”. So like a love interest is distracted by another person. But the chorus is speaking to America. Like black people been parenting and grandparenting this mug since it started you know? But I think that line came from seeing alot of people forget about the roots of Hiphop. They forget this is black music, even though it’s alot of people who ain’t black involved now. Them people don’t rap about helping us. Sometimes it seems like they exploiting the art form.

I: I see.

N: But your take is bonkers, I’m feeling that.

I: (Chuckles) I wonder if some themes you deal with are sort of difficult for the black community to talk about. There’s a line in Supa/Fun: “Fuck Clarence Thomas, God Bless Anita Hill”. That case was a little before your time, and I think about how some of us really thought Anita Hill should’ve sacrificed her own well-being for the sake of Thomas’ progression as a black man.

N: Yeah, that’s part of what built this country. Black people, and especially black women, putting themselves aside so other people can shine. But whoever don’t get that just being selfish. Those people couldn’t achieve their own accomplishments because their selfishness lead to nowhere, so it hurt them to see other selfishness get interrupted. That be some of them fist afro pick dashiki niggas too.

I: (Laughs) Are there times where you’re a fist afro american? I think of a line again on Supa/Fun: “I flow ‘cause they swam through my ancestor’s blood”. It seems like you’re providing the audience, which is our community, with consciousness. All these lines are amazing by the way. You wrote them all right? (laughs)

N: (Laughs) Yeah, I wrote everything except the verse on Lite In The Daytime. And yeah sometimes you gotta let em know.

I: Kick the knowledge. Speaking of Lite In The Daytime, this album sometimes feels like Rakim and sometimes feels like Pimp C. What were you listening to during the process?

N: Like I said, alot of Sly. There’s A Riot Going On.  Probably listened to that like 50 times. A record by Bobby Hutcherson called Head On was in heavy heavy rotation. One of my homies from the web had the cover on his social media profile back in 2013, and I’ve been listening ever since. It gives me direction when I’m making an album. It’s where I got the seven track method, the switch-ups, alot of technical shit.

I: So hold on, homies from the web?

N: Yeah, met him through Instagram.

I: Ah, I’m not on that.

N: Quick story, he came to the city once bought me some breakfast, and dropped like 2 g’s on records. I ain’t even have no job at the time so I was like “yo that’s wild”, but you know, some people get down like that. (Laughs)

I: Do you collect records?

N: Not quite. I buy records to listen to ‘em.

I: (Chuckles).

N: Man some people buy records just to say they got ‘em, never play ‘em, just take pictures of em or brag about special presses or retail value. I think it’s silly. Like if you ain’t doin’ nothin’ with it, you may as well give it to somebody who can use it.

I: You mentioned Bobby Hutcherson; he’s a jazz musician correct?

N: Yeah, vibraphonist.

I: You might be the first rapper I’ve met who knows that. Did you sample any of his records on this project?

N: Can’t tell you that (chuckles). But nah I didn’t. But he inspired what I was trying to do alot. Sometimes you gotta have reverence when it comes to sampling. Some records shouldn’t be touched. Like have a top five that you’d never sample.

I: What are yours?

N: Hmm; it’s gonna seem like I was waiting on this question but Head On, I Fooled You This Time, Original Ragga Muffin, What Time Is It, and Is My Living In Vain. I’ll never flip anything on those. They’re too good.

I: That’s outstanding. That last one’s a gospel record correct?

N: Yeah, The Clarke Sisters.

I: So how’d you feel about the Jay-Z sample? (Laughs)

N: Terrible. (laughs) Like one of the worst flips I ever heard. But it’s on my forbidden list so I wouldn’t even touched it. Honestly, I didn’t care for the flip on Lite In The Daytime at first. But when the bass line hit I started feeling it.

I: How’d that song come about?

N: The homie I worked with, Jermond, was saying how he rapped. And you know, everybody be rappin’ so I ain’t really pay it no mind. Most of the time, I don’t take rappers seriously unless I hear ‘em do some freestylin’. I think that’s the mark of a dope emcee. So one day I heard freestyle and I was like “ok you got skills”, so I told him I made beats. Fast forward like two weeks and I’m listening to a famous harmonica player. I found like a six second section I liked. Broke up the notes in the [Boss SP] 303 and then played em backwards. Then I added some drums from a lil mini drum machine. Then I was like, this beat is trash. The thing about the 303 though is it saves workflow, so it was still even after I turned everything off. So the next day, I turned the 303 back on, and it was still there. I got out my bass machine and just started playing a random scale and boom, there it was. As I was playing the bass line, a hook came to my mind. It felt like some pimp shit (chuckles). You know Maya Angelou was a madame? So I thought of some Maya Angelou pimp shit (laughs), like I’m tryna put you on game, share some wisdom you know? Anyway, Jermond spit a dope freestyle, and one day we was at work not doing much and I showed him the beat and the hook. He was like “Oh snap that shit crazy” you know. And I was like “yo you wanna get a verse on here”, and he was like “Hell yeah”. I sent him the beat to his email. So fast forward another two weeks, and I recorded the hook. I also had a verse partially written down on the cover of a Klique record. So I hit him that day, no answer. Very next day: I was just about to go in to record that partial verse, and he calls me, kind of drunk. He was like “I got a verse ready man” and I was like “when can you record” and he hit me with the “I’m out of town these next couple weeks, but after that anytime”. Man I was like “aight” (laughs). So in the two weeks, I’m listening to the Streets Taste song and this instrumental, got them both in heavy rotation. And I think hearing together made me like the instrumental alot. The hook and the bass line made it more enjoyable for me. Two weeks pass, and I finally get Jermond in the studio.

I: (Laughs) And smooth sailing from there?

N: (Laughs) He didn’t have the verse written if that’s what you mean by smooth sailing. But he did bring a notebook and his own water. No pen though. So I had to play the beat over and over, and he finally got it finished, and recorded in a only a few takes. That’s when the smooth sailing probably happened. Like on his way out the door. But it was a fun session, and his verse ended up being the length of the rap section so it worked out. But yeah dope bass lines, catchy hooks, and listening a thousand times might make you like a beat more (chuckles).

I: (Chuckles): That makes me wonder, what are some of your favorite songs on this project?

N: Knock is wild. Shout out to Bruce and Daniel; they came through on them joints for real. I really love that (sings) if I had a-nother sack/I would roll it light it pass it around. That’s exactly the music I was trying to make. Of course Streets Taste. James was behind that beat. That was the first one that was made so everything else kind of fell into that genre. It’s like the running theme. What they call it, thesis?

I: Right.

At this point things started to make sense. The irony of being black in America ties this album together, tied this very conversation together. We don’t really belong here, but it wouldn’t exist without us. We all experience being black differently, but get treated with the same disdain. It seems that Lite Won’t arrive Late is summarizing or soundtracking this phenomenon. Niño continues.

N: Let Loose was a dope session. Art came in straight killing it from the jump. Harmonizing like Zapp and Roger and shit. Then we put that Color Me Badd on there. Oooooh!

Niño beings to sing the song, replicating the beat on the table with his fist, knuckles and snaps. As a white woman looks over, he simply continues, failing to acknowledge her. Again irony arises.

N: (Sings) I wanna bless you up! Ooooh. That joint was wild, man.

I: So since we’re back at Let Loose can you talk a little about  your rhythmic approach.

N: Nah that’s a secret (chuckles). But lemme talk about skits. To all the sorry, non-creative ass rappers out there, you gotta be thoughtful about the skits. They gotta bring your shit together.

I: Do you think the skits help with the coherence?

N: Yeah that’s what they there for (chuckles). You heard Badillac?

I: Yes. Very powerful record.

N: ‘Cause the skits.

I: Were you influenced by any West Coast rap on that one?

N: Most def. I was tryna get that G-funk feel in the whole thing. Yo, Ice Cube had them skits!

I: (Chuckles): You drew from alot of comedians also. Was that intentional?

N: Can’t tell you none of that, but test in power to Bernie Mac.

I: Indeed.

Niño begins to rise, collecting his water bottle.

N: Is this the part where I plug the album?

I: It can be.

N: Well I’ll say go write ya’ll Congresspeople to get the monuments at the Legacy Museum in Alabama and work on ya’ll skits!

As I leave the coffee spot, Niño hands me a cassette tape of the album.

N: (Raps) Never put me in ya box of ya shit eats tapes (Laughs). Peace man.

The irony that Niño masterfully displays in this project, along with the technical skill, creative risks and wins, and themes of black empowerment makes Lite Wont Arrive Late required listening in this turbulent era, where too many give up on progression to easily.

Ian Greenwood is a journalist for Leer Magazine, father of five, and music professor  at Paint University. 

[worktherooms]

Bartenders and Bud-light

Lin x Reader

Word Count:4,209 (I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened :/)

Disclaimers: Alcohol mention, 1 curse word? 

A/N: This is my first fanfic of any kind, so feedback is definitely welcome!! I took a prompt online “you make eye contact with a stranger across” and just ran with it. Thank you @secretschuylersister for reading it over!! I hope you all enjoy (cause I enjoyed writing it!!) 

You found yourself at another stupid college party, where groups of college kids were chugging god-knows-what from red solo cups while some Top 50 song blared from unseen speakers.

It happened to be the first party of your senior year, friends were reuniting after their semesters abroad and talking about their respective summers. You scanned the room in search of someone you knew, but instead your eyes landed on a dark-haired boy chuckling in a corner. You have seen this particular male around campus, either running to class late with mismatched shoes or goofing off in the dining hall with his soccer team.

You two have never really crossed paths since he was a theater/music major, while you were a journalism major. Although do remember having an English class together your freshman year, but he didn’t talk much in class so you never paid much attention to him. But seeing him at this party sparked your interest, maybe because it was your senior year and all your friends all seemed to have found their soul mates? That couldn’t be! You were in the process of job applications and thesis planning– definitely not the time for romance.  

You were standing alone near the drinks, the people who you came with were off somewhere playing beer pong or catching up with others who were back from abroad. Bored, you glanced down at the drink that your friend Maggie had concocted for you before she disappeared with some frat boy. You took a hesitant sip, winced, and set it down. There was way too much vodka and you had one too many incidents with the alcohol. Instead, you reached for a bud light.

Suddenly someone approached the table, it happened to be mysterious-theater guy. He glanced at you, and after a beat he asked “Hey, can you hit me up with a bud light too?” You shrugged and passed him the beer. He thanked you, dark, thoughtful eyes never leaving yours, and made his way back to his group of friends.

It had been a normal interaction between two people. Why was my heart pounding so fast? And why was I thinking how his hand had lingered on the bottle for a second before letting go? You thought, taking a gulp of beer. And how he had eyebags and disheveled hair but still looked good? Before your thoughts could spiral even more, her future lawyer friend, Natalie made an appearance.

“Maggie texted me saying she’s staying with the frat guy tonight.” Natalie smirked.

 “Huh, I’m not surprised. Guess we’ll get details tomorrow? Ready to go then?”

“Yep.”

As you walked out of the party with Natalie, you didn’t realize that the mysterious-theater guy was still peering at you with curiosity.

After that party, you seemed to be seeing more of this mysterious-theater guy around campus. Either passing him on the way to class or checking your mail at the student center, he happened to be there. You didn’t pay much attention to it considering your school had a relatively small campus where you would see the same people several times a day. Occasionally you two would run into each other at some event, but the only interaction being a simple ‘hey, can you pass me a beer?”

It was soon time for the last finals of undergrad therefore you saw less of the mysterious theater guy, and decided to let it go, focusing on finishing up strong instead. Soon after, graduation approached and, of course, the graduation parties.

Maggie led your group of friends straight to the bar and ordered gin and tonics for the group. Then promptly launched into a conversation about her boyfriend, the frat boy. You, only half listening, examined the room. Most graduates were there- playing pool, engaging in conversations with their former professors, or dancing. A group of theater guys stood off to the side, downing beers like their lives depended on it.  

You wondered where THE theater guy was. Usually he would have been at the bar already, asking you, or in this case the real bartender for a beer. Speaking of, you haven’t seen him since the grad ceremony.

“Hey, who are you looking for?” Natalie asked, sipping her gin and tonic, her brown eyes wide with mischief.

“U-uh, no-one. W-why?” You stuttered. Were you being that obvious?

Natalie rolled her eyes.

“Please, you’ve been gawking at that group theater guys since we got here. I didn’t know they were your type. But hey, who am I to judge. Just tell me. You haven’t been on an actual date since September junior year!”  

“I have! This past January I went out with that engineering guy.”

“Jeremy?! Y/N, someone who was NOT a complete dumbass.” Natalie ranted to her friend.

“Oh.” You shuddered at the thought. It had actually been one of your worst dates. He wasn’t bad looking but too self absorbed and oblivious. No wonder you blocked the guy from your memory.

“So who is it? I’m actually pretty familiar with those group of guys.” Natalie pressed, looking over at the group herself. “Maybe I could set you up! And you guys could double date with me and Mark!”

“Uh well, I don’t know his name. But I think he’s a theater/music double major like Mark, he’s also on the soccer team.”

Natalie’s eyes twinkled with knowledge. “Hm…I think I had a calc class with him once– does he have ever messy hair, dark dreamy eyes, a little shy, never seems to wear matching shoes?”

“I haven’t really noticed his eyes, but yeah, messy hair, mismatched shoes, also likes Bud Light.” You added.

“How would you know if you never spoken to him?”

“I acted as a bartender for him a couple times.”

“AND YOU NEVER ASKED WHAT HIS NAME WAS?!” Natalie shrieked, causing a couple heads to turn. “C’mon Y/N, don’t throw away your shot.” The future lawyer grabbed your free hand and marched over to the group of theater majors.

“Natalieeee!! What’s upp?” A particularly drunk guy slurred, slinging his arm around her.

“I’m not here for you, Mark.” Natalie wiggled out of his grasp, trying to hide her smile. “I wanted to ask where Mr. Lin-Manuel Miranda was?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” One of the more sober guys asked. “He immediately flew out right after graduation, apparently he immediately got some acting gig in LA, that lucky bastard.”  

You couldn’t believe your ears. He had moved across the country–a whole 3,000 miles away doing geeky theater stuff. You didn’t even want to pursue this guy, just intrigued by him.

——————————————————————————————————————

A Year Later

“A medium cappuccino with skim milk and two sugars, please?” You told the barista at the counter.

“That would be $4.25”

You gave her the money and took your drink, then looked around the busy cafe for a spot to sit. After traveling around the world for the past year you needed some time to collect your thoughts, to think about your next steps before flying out again. You noticed one free seat across a familiar mop of dark messy hair hunched over a laptop.

Mysterious-theater- guy? Lin-Manuel? What was he doing here? Even with the nagging from Natalie, you never reached out to him. With the constant traveling and full time career, a boy wouldn’t fit into that equation. You’ve known this since undergrad, but the only available spot was across from him. Taking a deep breath, you walked over to the theater stud not knowing if he would recognize you.

“Well, if it isn’t Bud Light boy.” You queried, trying to sound casual. It has been a while since you’ve seen each other. Lin looked up, facial expression confused for a moment before recognition came.

“Well, if isn’t my old bartender, Y/N right? How’s it going?” Lin asked, closing his laptop.

You never mentioned your name, so must’ve been the work of Natalie? “Work and traveling,” you nonchalantly replied. “What about you, Mr. LA?”

“The name’s Lin actually.” A beginning of a smile forming on the Latino’s lips. “Life’s been hectic, had to come back and visit the parents. Heard you were conquering every continent though?” He asked, then gestured for you to sit. You obliged, taking a sip of your coffee.

“So that’s the word on the street, huh?”

Lin nodded. How come he never had an actual conversation with this girl? Why didn’t he stay a little bit longer near the drinks during those parties? He mentally kicked himself. The only time your name was mentioned to him was when Natalie would talk about her cool journalism major friend who practically lived in the News room. As smart as he was, he never put two and two together.

“From what your friend Natalie has told me, you’re on your way. When’s your next project?”

“May, so in a couple weeks then I’ll be off to Brazil, until Thanksgiving or maybe Christmas.” You explained. “How about you?”

“Sounds like a crazy life you lead. But I have a gig out in LA right now, but also working a play about Washington Heights and growing up there.”  

“Sounds exciting! So I guess you’re trying to be the next Shakespeare?” You teased.

Lin smirked, “nah, I couldn’t be compared to the genius, that’s the goal though.”

You and Lin spent the rest of the afternoon talking: everything from freshman year roommate horror stories to incompetent co-workers. Before you knew it the sun was setting and most of the afternoon crowd had dispersed, Lin was in the middle of a particularly intriguing story about him showing up at an audition with his pants inside out, when you noticed the time.

“I would love to find out if you realized you had your pants on inside out in time but I promised Natalie I’ll meet her for dinner, but it was great catching up with you, Lin.”

“Oh.” Lin’s face visibly fell. “It was fun talking with you too, Y/N. When can we meet up again? So I could tell you if I got the part!”

“Was that an excuse to get my number? Cause I’m assuming you got the part?” You quirked an eyebrow.

The boy feigned shock. “Huh maybe it was, pray tell then, what’s your number?”

You gave him your number and asked for his in return.

“I gotta tell you though, I’m heading back to Cali next Thursday so I hope we can catch up before then?” Lin asked, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“If you’re lucky.”

“Here’s hoping I’m lucky cause you’re one interesting girl, Y/N.” He winked and headed out the shop.

You don’t blush easily but the way this overenthusiastic theater nerd said your name made your cheeks color. As cliche as that sounded.

To Natalie 5:35 pm

I have so much to tell you over dinner!!

————————————————————————————————————————-

Several hours later, when you met Natalie at your favorite restaurant, you recounted what happened earlier that afternoon.

“Y/N, girl, I’ve been telling you for the past year to at least message him on Facebook, but did you listen? Nope.” Natalie exclaimed.

“You’re right, I should’ve, I just have this whole field journalism thing which doesn’t allow me stay in one place for more than a week. Any type of romantic relationship wouldn’t fit into that crazy lifestyle. “

“You should get to know him better! From what you told me he could be interested, it’s the twenty-first century, girls have the right to ask guys to hang out first. And Lin’s a nice guy-unlike Jeremy.”

You took in Natalie’s words. Judging by your conversation, maybe you should ask him to hang out-it couldn’t hurt. Even if nothing comes out of it, you might gain a friend on the West coast. Which might be a way to network, in order to find a more stable job.

“Y/N, what’s going through your head?” Natalie prompted.

“I’m going to text him to meet up before he leaves.” You decided. “Because why the hell not?”

Natalie raised her glass to toast with your’s “Hear, hear.”

To: Playwright Lin 7:10 pm

Hey, about your pants & interview, would you be so kind to tell me about it Tuesday?

From: Playwright Lin 7:11 pm

So you are curious? Tuesday works for me, how about dinner? would 7 work?

To: Playwright Lin 7:12 pm

7s fine. I look forward to hearing the rest of your story, Lin.

From: Playwright Lin 7:14 pm

I look forward to telling it, Y/N!

“Judging by how red your face is, he either responded with something sexual or cute.” Natalie teased. You showed your friend the messages which earned you a ‘see I told you’ look.

—————————————————————————————————————————

As Tuesday evening rolled around, You felt a sort of nervousness that you haven’t felt before– not even during the SATs or first job interview. Get it together! You scolded yourself. It’s just dinner with a guy. After taking a quick shower, you contemplated on what to wear. As if on cue, your phone dinged with several texts from Natalie as you stared blankly into your closet.

From: Natalie 6:00 pm

Since ur my best friend, i know ur freaking out about what to wear…u should wear that sweater im obsessed with and those black jeans. U don’t want to try too hard but still look cute.

Txt if u need me.

(Please don’t need me ;))

U got this!

You grinned and rolled her eyes, feeling the anxiety of going on a one-on-one with a guy disappear. Natalie had a point though, the pink sweater had a flirty flair to it and paired with black jeans gave a seamless look. It was an appropriate outfit for a first date if one can call it that. After grabbing your purse, you stepped out the door.

To: Natalie 6:50 pm

Wish me luck!

The restaurant you agreed on was walking distance from your apartment; so you weren’t too worried about leaving ten minutes before the meeting time. It was a small Italian restaurant that you both happened to enjoy while in college. Lin had agreed on meeting outside the place to avoid either one sitting awkwardly alone.

As you approached the restaurant, you noticed that Lin was already there, tapping away on his phone. You walked up and stood next to him. He didn’t notice.

“You millennials and your Apple phones.” You quipped.

“Guilty” Lin responded, putting his hands up. “Ready to go in and stuff our faces?”

“Ready if you are.”

You and Lin entered the restaurant, where you were immediately greeted by a hostess, who escorted you to your table.

“Here you are, your waiter will be with you shortly.” The hostess said.

“So continue about your audition story,” You said, after sitting down. “You must’ve left quite an impression.”

“You could say that, for once I was on time to something, and realized 15 seconds before my audition that my pants were on wrong. So I rushed to the bathroom, changed, with approximately 2 seconds to spare.”

“There should be an Olympic event for that.” You said, earning a laugh from Lin.

For the rest of dinner, you both listened intently on what the other had to say. Lin spoke animatedly about his upbringing in ‘The Heights’, as he called it, which you were beyond intrigued about. You could listen someone talk about their passions on end, especially from a cute boy with a equally as cute speaking voice. Before you knew it, the hostess had come over to give you the check.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the restaurant’s closing soon, I don’t mean to rush but it’s nearing midnight.” The hostess said.

“Shall we split it?” You asked, reaching for the check. Since it was closer to Lin he quickly grabbed it.

“Nope, my treat.”

“It’ll feel more like a date if we didn’t split it. And I was the one who asked you.” You pointed out.

“You’ve got a point there. But it’s all on me next time.” Lin deadpanned as he slid the check back over so you could look at it.

When will next time be? You wondered. He’s going back to California in less than 48 hours. And you’ll be in Brazil for the next 7-8 months. Maybe it was the wrong decision to go out with someone so charming, smart, and funny. It was only the second ‘date’ and you were already falling for him. The thing that you had been dreading.

“Can I walk you home?” Lin asked.

“Sure, thanks.”

You allowed him to walk you back to your apartment but neither one of you spoke. Each wondering what will come next after tonight, knowing your respective careers were demanding and happened to be on different sides of the world. As you arrived in front of your apartment, Lin was the first to speak.

“Look, I had a great time tonight, but given our circumstances, I don’t know when’ll I’ll see you again.” He whispered, his dark eyes meeting yours.

You sighed, a million things going through your head, you ultimately responded with “Let’s make an effort to stay in touch, and not make the same mistake as in undergrad without getting each other’s information.” You gave him a small smile, in which he returned.

“You can count on it, I’m pretty good with the whole tech thing.”

You leaned in for a hug, thinking a handshake would be too casual while a kiss would probably suggest something more.

“Bye, Lin.” You whispered, as you pulled away. “Have a safe flight.”

“See ya, Y/N.”

With that, you opened the door and disappeared inside your apartment, leaving Lin pining for you already.   

————————————————————————————————————————-

A Year Later

After spending 7 months in Brazil learning about the culture and reporting about different political issues, you returned home knowing your next assignment wouldn’t be for a couple more months.

You needed these couple months to figure out where she stood with Lin. During the first couple months, phone calls and Facebook messages were daily. You had both wanted to Skype but due to the time difference and hard hours, it was hard for you to find a comparable time. In the last couple months, your communication slowed to only a few texts a week and less often phone calls, since apparently Lin was in the process of getting his musical to broadway and working part time. He would still send you pictures of Shiba Inus almost everyday which he knew were your favorite dog breed.

But when you texted Lin saying that you were going back home, you never received a response, which confused you but eventually brushed it off as him being busy. You knew that long distance friendships were hard, especially after college with everyone off doing their own thing.

Not only was only keeping in touch with Lin hard, it was difficult to get through to Natalie, who was swamped with law school work. You had been back for almost four months before being able to find a time to meet up with your lawyer friend.

Finally one day in April, you finally managed to find a time. You decided to go to the bar early and wait there for Natalie finish up at her criminal law class. You had ordered a bud light, picking at the label on the bottle, when you felt the presence of someone taking a spot next to you, before you could say anything, the person spoke.

“A bud light, please.” The person told the bartender.

Your  eyes shot up when she heard the familiar voice. A voice you heard only through the occasional phone call. A person you hadn’t had a real conversation with for the past couple months. A person who ignored your text when you had explicitly said you’ll be back. You looked to the side and there he was, Lin, with his ever messy hair and eye bags, ordering the same type of beer as he did in college.

“Lin.” You breathed.

The actor turned to you, his face lighting up when he saw who had said his name.

“Hey…it’s been a while.”

“What are you doing here?!” You shrieked with a mix of excitement, anger, and shock. How dare he ignore you and then show up? Of all the bars, you run into each other at the same one, giving ‘of all the gin joints’ a true meaning.

“Well to tell you the truth, I quit the acting gig in LA.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, WHAT?”

“Uh, yeah, didn’t want to pursue something that probably wasn’t going anywhere, so I came back here, looking for another opportunity-maybe really focusing on the musical. In all honesty, I wanted to see you, you’ve been on my mind the whole the whole time I was out West. Seeing those Brazil pictures on Facebook was really something. Doing what you love, it’s incredible and inspiring really. I know our paths are extremely different, but I want to make an us happen.”

You stared at him, taking in every word of his confession.You never experienced someone, much less a guy reveal his true feelings to you-willing to quit a job for you. You were only 24, you had your whole life ahead of you, and this wonderful guy just appears and ruins all that by quitting his job and wanting to be with you-travel with you. All of this was absurd. You couldn’t let that happen so you shook your head.

“Listen, Lin, I like you. A lot actually, but we only graduated college less than two years ago, we only gotten to know each other through technology. As much fun as our brief face-to-face interactions were, you can’t give up your dream of being the next Shakespeare, continue with your play and acting–for me. I’m never in one place for long, my office is out there.” You gestured around and continued. “So Lin, do what you love, keep writing, but be you, and you’ll know when the right time for an us is.”  

Lin’s face was unreadable “I guess you’re right, Y/N. See you around.” He sighed, and left the bar.

What you didn’t tell him was your next assignment would be in New York, where you had found a permanent job there, working as an editor for the New York Times.

————————————————————————————————————————-

2 Weeks Later.

“Hello, I am looking for a Lin-Manuel Miranda, I believe he works here?” You asked the concierge at the front desk of an impressive looking New York studio lobby.

“Ah, yes, is he expecting you?” The concierge inquired, looking at an appointment book.

“I’m a friend, tell him… Natalie is here to see him.” You lied.

“OK, give me a moment.”

The concierge pressed a few buttons and said. “Mr. Miranda, a young lady named Natalie is here to see you.” She paused, allowing him to speak, then nodded. “You can go right up, 11th floor.”

“Thank you.”  

The elevator ride up to his office gave you time to think. Of course you were nervous, you haven’t spoken to Lin since that night at the bar 2 weeks ago. Natalie had told you that he was heart broken, but you did the right thing. Lin couldn’t give up his whole career to be with you by dropping everything and wanting to travel with you.

The elevator finally dinged and you stepped out and walked down the hall until she saw the door that read 11C. Under that it read, “Lin-Manuel Miranda” You grinned to herself, so he has his own dressing room, you then hesitantly knocked on the door.

“Come on in!” His voice rang from within.

You turned the door handle with shaking hands.

“Nat-oh, Y/N?” His voice was filled with hurt and confusion when he realized it was you.

“Before you say anything, I came here to admit something: I actually got an editing job in New York, and will be moving here in a couple months. The only reason why I didn’t say anything before was that you took me by surprise, showing up to the bar like that. After not speaking directly for so long took a minute for me to process. I know I’m doing the same to you right now, which is completely unfair but I needed time to think and realize that there should be an us.” You rambled.

“Really? You got a job in New York, to be with someone who happens to be working on a play here? And 2 weeks ago when that same someone asked you, you full on shut them down? Leaving them to reevaluate entire life. Huh. Funny how that works.” Lin said, even with his somewhat scathing tone, you still recognized a playfulness to it.

“We were never good at the whole timing thing.” You confessed, noticing the distance between you two has diminished. “I like you, Lin Manuel.”

“I like you too Y/N,” Lin confirmed, “but I have to ask again, is this the right time for an us?”

“Let’s just give it a shot, bud light boy.” You said, closing the space between you and Lin.

[neven-ebrez]

Hi! Do you really feel that this season is not very deep or "tip of the iceberg" as far as meta material (i.e. your tags about carver era being tip of the iceberg)? Cause as far as what's on my dash, it's been meta after meta after meta, and it all looks diverse and substantial. I was just wondering, what is it that feels different to you? I mean i guess it just depends on personal outlook, i've just been seeing LOADS of stuff.

Pretty much, yeah.  The difference in Dabb era and Carver era is night and day.  And whether you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing is entirely subjective but it most definitely is A THING.  

Season 9, in particular, represents a stark structural contrast to the hot thematic mess of season 12.  In season 9 one theme informed the other, which reflected another, which was given several beautiful visual short-hands, which all unfolded like flower in the morning sun.  I may not have *enjoyed* the smell of said flower (because I’m a bitter Cas fan that is also 1000% done with the Dean tragedy narrative), but to say that it wasn’t a work of art would be an understatement.  Season 12 on the other hand… it feels like season 5 trying to be like season 1 or something.  Going back to Carver era, Amara, visually and symbolically, stood for something in the structure: Dean becoming an adult too fast and the collateral damage the Dean/Sam relationship produces when you only truly care about one person, among other things…  The British Men of Letters?  Lucifer in season 12?  They really don’t symbolize into anything concrete as outlined by the narrative.  They aren’t painting a greater picture of a conflict within our characters (like how S9 dealt with Angels and illustrating Cas’ journey through Hannah into S10).  They are simply there because the story needs some kinda of conflict.  Sam and Dean aren’t currently being given any tension or “problems” with each other, so the antagonists are just *there* reflecting nothing deeper at all.  Sam doesn’t have a plot.  Cas doesn’t have a plot (we can’t even count Lucifer here because the honor of dispatching him went to Sam, who hasn’t had a B plot  with him since 11x09).  Much like Cas, Crowley is vaguely just there, not really worried about Hell, despite it still being shown that demons don’t see him as in charge anymore.  In fact, Dean is the only one with a B plot to another character, that character being Mary.  Sam and Cas are instead regaled to being support for this plot.

Conversely, everyone had their own B plot in season 9.  We saw Cas struggling with his place and that was informed by Dean kicking him out of the bunker due to how we are shown Dean will always put Sam’s life first, regardless of how it damages himself.  Crowley’s arc fed the greater addiction arc and also how Cas struggles with being in the between as well.  All this also reflected the civil wars that went on in Heaven and Hell.  See what I mean?  Every theme and character informs the next, a funhouse of mirrors.  Season 12 has none of that.  The only person driving the story is, well… Mary.  She gives Dean a B plot (but not Sam for some reason) and the theme of “questionable parenting” is the only theme that is really present in all of the 8 episodes thus far.  Lady Toni is given a child and we see her caring side wrapped up in her cold and dignified ruthlessness.  We see the split in her priorities, and she chooses the job first and foremost, otherwise she’d be at home.  We see the John Winchester mirror from 12x03, yet we do not see Mary face this reality in her own sons, the results of such parenting.  Mary then leaves and we see bad parenting again for 12x04 (it is here that you’ll have to forgive me because I really haven’t been paying attention to names this season since noticing the difference in structure).  This time it’s a mirror for the damage done to Sam, a psychic child.  The narrative again hangs John Winchester out to dry but doesn’t make Mary face reality.  How can it with her offscreen?  The next episode also deals in bloodlines and carrying evil.  A descendant of Hitler is needed to bring Hilter back (and omg I was so distracted by the horrible back and forth sway to the camera in several key scenes that I honestly can’t remember what most of this episode detailed, sorry).  At minimum, there’s something about a fate bound by blood that you don’t want there.  So that’s one bad parenting theme for Dean and two for Sam.  We then get to 12x06 and see twins born into the hunting life.  Their father is now dead but they now have the opportunity to bond with a new female family member, one who hated the hunting life but came to respect its calling.  Mary is both in this episode and and present throughout in its themes.  Even when she left the life, she didn’t leave.  She learned to make a life anyway and that it eventually landed in her death, leaving behind two children who become hunters.  This all serves into Dean’s worry over Mary as well.  Dean is worried that Mary will die, as the episode reminds us that all hunters are eventually killed by the life and that even when some learn to have happiness while still hunting, they are all still doomed to this fate.  The title for most well structured episode in Dabb era goes to 12x06 by a mile.  Then we move onto 12x07 and the theme is dropped, unless you want to count Lucifer talking about God’s parenting for a few seconds.  The Lucifer plot, from what I can see up to this point, only exists to explaining the contractual absence of Misha and Mark.  Lucifer is doing stuff just to be doing stuff and it really doesn’t fit anywhere for any good reason.  Then we move onto 12x08 and he finally fits back in as we are back to the parenting plot.  Lucifer, to keep his cover as president and instead of simply giving his assistant implanted sex memories, rapes said assistant and fathers a nephilim with her.  This in itself doesn’t really fit into Mary or John’s parenting history, but it does run along the theme of parenting in general.   And throughout all of this Mary does not once, NOT ONCE, textually confront how John’s parenting messed up Sam or Dean.  Thus, the theme goes literally nowhere and seemingly only exists to tell us what we already know about John.  This might change?  I don’t know?  But so far the season is mostly just a structural wash with its one and only B plot not coming to a head at all.  I’m honestly at a loss.  To be fair, the season ain’t even halfway through yet so my opinion on the structure could easily improve.  It’s just you normally shift beats midseason, text or no text, and Dabb seems to definitely be moving at a different showrunning pace than his predecessors. 

Now… can you write meta on any of the material from this season?  Sure, if you wanna beat the dead “John Winchester sucks” (and the hunting life sucks) horse some more.  Can you write meaningful flowing structural meta on it?   Nah, bruh.  There’s no compound structural foreshadowing that you can write on it at all.  I could not have told you the outcome of 12x08 if I tried this year, not like I called the midseason of S9 from several episodes back.  I suppose there might be a disconnect here with me also for what gets the term “meta”.  I actually can’t tell you the last time I saw or read a honest to Chuck meta essay on the show (because I’m old school meta community and don’t count discussion pieces).  Those to me are simply meandering discussions.  "Meta" to me is essay writing: choosing a solid topic and exploring the topic - writing about its different angles and having some sort of cohesiveness about it that stands on its own.  What a lot of people call “meta” these days doesn’t pass as meta by my understanding of the term when I entered into fandom.  And there’s certainly no one writing structural meta that I’ve seen.  Fluttie wrote season 7 structural meta, Sarah wrote season 8, and I wrote season 9.  I don’t know if anyone wrote anything on seasons 10 or 11 ( @dustydreamsanddirtyscars maybe?  I know Jenny’s wrote a lot of smaller meta pieces on Carver era as a whole), but a piece could be wrote on it… unlike with season 12.  That could change, however, if the parenting theme is brought into text, with Mary confronting and acknowledging John’s bad parenting (and her own unintended absent in facilitating said outcome or guilt therein) in a way that informs Dean’s repression in particular, but as things currently stand I wouldn’t count on it.  The mirrors are too weak and don’t tackle the central issue, just kinda dance around it. 

In Dabb’s defense, Carver has had way more time to tell his story.  Against Dabb tho, it seems Carver always kinda knew what story he wanted to tell. Dabb is almost running this thing like he has no idea what comes next.  And not in the way like how Carver wasn’t sure if Abaddon would possess Dean or if Dean himself would become a demon at the end of season 9, a decision you could tell was made late, but all the while it could be seen that both options were on the table.  Not knowing the route is not the same as not knowing the destination.  And I don’t think Dabb knows his own destination (and with talking to Berens briefly at Burcon this suspicion has only been compounded in my mind).  Up until the Nephilim plot, I thought the general destination was to have Lucifer possess Mary but now that option seems off the table (although I could have sworn I’ve heard Lucifer spoilers for later on in the season?).  And while I can definitely appreciate the dialing back of the world affecting mythos (YMMV), Dabb era has not been (structurally speaking) what I expected at all, especially since Dabb’s episodes under Carver always illustrated Carver’s structure so damn well (forever laughing over 9x20 tbh).  

Carver era felt like it made every move count.  Almost every pop culture reference informed a theme, every “C” plot character (even Cas and Crowley) became a mirror that told one cohesive story in which everyone was involved in. Dabb era?  Not so much.  Or idk… maybe it only seems that way because there’s no meta writer (that I know of) keeping track of it all and documenting it (that I’ve seen) in essay form.  I’m usually still pretty good at seeing it though (even when it’s something I don’t like), and I just don’t see it as things stand.  In fact, the only pop culture reference that has even stuck with me is the whole Beyonce and Agent Z thing, to illustrate Crowley and Cas’ antagonism towards one another.  Also, notably, there is the matter of Wanek’s absence for a good chunk of S12.  While his staff more or less continued with the general look of the show (doing Lucifer 5x16 visual call backs in 12x07 for example), his absence has marked a striking shift in the show’s structural presentation.  I’d say the Destiel B plot has particularly suffered, but tbh, there is currently no Destiel B plot (you can squint and Dean’s annoyance over Cas and Crowley working together maybe counts for .2 seconds and sure they are being defined as a definite team, there are no interspecies or same sex mirrors in sight telling their story).  Just like there is no Dean and Sam B plot for that matter.  A lot of the show’s visual subtext comes from transcribing the key themes between Dean/Sam and Dean/Cas, and without said themes present, there’s just nothing to work with honestly.  You’d think there would be some Dean/Mary stuff to make up for it (besides the pie stuff shifting from a Cas theme to a wholesome family theme I got nothing) but nah (or maybe I’m wrong?  I honestly don’t follow a lot of meta writers anymore because a good deal of them just too willingly disregard the shows more glaring problems or they are otherwise imo too optimistic in their approach to how the show will handle the repression of Dean Winchester as the plot point relates to both him and others for my personal tastes).  

I hope I’ve illustrated my point clearly enough, but I’m kinda rusty with even talking about these kinds of things.  My blog is not really a meta blog at all anymore (and honestly, thank Chuck because I would have nothing but the above criticisms all season long about the structure of the season).  And despite the above criticisms, I actually have enjoyed the season quite a lot (with the exception of 12x05) so I haven’t really felt the need to point out all the structural stuff on a regular basis!  But yeah… there’s just no definitive structure to it and the one theme that is mostly present (the results of absent or bad parenting) is just something that I feel has been talked to death even if it’s through a fresher lens (Mary’s POV in the future) than most.  

[lovemesomesurveys]

On Saturdays, I like to… Do what I do everyday.

Where would you like to be a missionary to? I don’t know.

What’s better — toilet paper rolled over top or underneath? Over the top. It makes more sense.

Which Scooby-Doo character are you most like (Scooby, Shaggy, Daphne, Fred, Velma, the monster, Scrappy?) Shaggy and Scooby because I’m afraid of everything and I’m always hungry.

If you had to endure one natural disaster (i.e. hurricane, tornado, etc), what would you pick and why? Well, I’d rather not pick any of those to have to go through. I’ve never experienced any of those, and I’d like to keep it that way if possible.

What movie or TV show do you take guilty pleasure in watching? Reality TV.

If you had to describe your day as a traffic sign, what would it be? Stop. <<< Same.

What traditional stereotype would you classify yourself as? I’m just me.

What “group” did you belong to in high school? I didn’t belong to any group.

If you wrote a book about yourself…what would it be about? I wouldn’t write a book about myself. If your house were burning down, what would you take and why? My laptop, phone, purse, and anything else I could grab. That would be horrible because I have a ton of giraffe stuffed animals, and one 4ft tall one, and I’d be sad if I couldn’t take them all.

Describe your favorite pair of PJ’s. I don’t have a particular favorite. I like all my pjs, it’s what I pretty much live in.

How many handbags do you own? A few. Whenever I get a new one, I still keep the old one. I don’t know why. I’m just a hoarder and have to hold onto everything.

If this were your last day alive, what would you say to your friends? I really don’t know.

What is your very favorite part of your day? My morning cup of coffee and sleep.

What is your best scar? Tell the story of how you got it. I don’t consider any of my scars to be the “best” one. I don’t look at any of them in a positive way.

You win a million dollars, but you have to give half to a charity. Which charity do you pick, and what do you do with the rest of the money? Cancer research, animal related charities, food shelters and such, education... those are a few.

Describe your dream wedding where money is no option. I don’t know if I will ever get married. It’s not something that I’ve always dreamed of or anything. I seriously can’t imagine it happening for me.

What kind of deodorant do you use? Secret.

If you were a spy what would your alias be? I don’t know.

Do you have a birth mark? Where? Does it look like anything? Yeah, it’s on my right elbow.

You are planning the most awesome dinner party of your life. Which 3 celebrities/historical figures (past or present) would you add to your guest list to keep the dinner talk interesting? Alexander Skarsgård of course. I’ll have to think more about the other two guests.

What is your favorite sport, and which team of that sport do you cheer for? I honestly do not care for sports at all. <<< Me either.

Which would you rather have a kiss or a hug? Why? A kiss if it’s from a certain person. Hugs are nice as well.

If you could be a pair of jeans what style would you be?  Why? Skinny jeans.

You have multiple personalities, describe some of them. I have multiple moods that I experience in a day, but not personalities. I can’t get creative to think of a hypothetical answer for this either.

What is the best thing you have done in your life? I would say getting my bachelor’s degree, which I know isn’t something to sneeze at. It was hard work. I wanted to give up, I was overwhelmed and burnt out. I was dealing with health stuff as well, but I kept going. At the same time, I feel as though I made a mistake and the hard work feels like it was for nothing. My degree is collecting dust on a shelf. I don’t want to pursue a field in psychology anymore. I don’t know what the hell I want to do with my life. I wish I took a break before transferring to UC to get my bachelor’s. I should have reevaluated things and considered my options. I should have really thought about if psychology was something I still wanted to pursue. I just... I had planned on doing that since I was in high school. I felt like I had to keep going. Everyone knew that’s what I was going to do. I guess I kept hoping it would all come into place and I would figure it all out. :/ I also feared if I stopped, I wouldn’t want to go back to school. Then there’s the fact that I have no idea what else I would have pursued if not psychology. I guess it wouldn’t have mattered because I have my degree and I’m still unsure and not doing shit.

If you were blind for the rest of your life… what would you miss seeing the most? Oh man. I don’t know... everything.

What household chore do you hate the most? I’m not fond of any of them. It’s just one of those things.

What is your most disappointing moment in life? What I just explained. I feel like a complete and utter failure. I feel like a disappointment.

When have you laughed the hardest? Cried? Both times that I’ve played Taboo with family in the past couple weeks. I cried the hardest last Monday when I came out and saw that my dog had passed away. I absolutely lost it.

If you had a “theme song” that played whenever you walk into a room full of people, what would it be? I have no idea.

What is the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? General appearance, face. <<<< Yep.

What time period from the past would you most have liked to live in and why? Maybe the 80s.

What is the best reward anyone can give you? Support, love, encouragement.

If you had a band what would you name it? Hm...

Do you like fruit? Vegetables? I like more fruits than vegetables. I don’t eat either one very often, though.

What can someone do to encourage you? I don’t know. Just being there to support me and offer me... encouragement.

If you could be one for just 24 hours, what cereal box cartoon character would you be? Why? Hmm. The Trix bunny cause I’m still a kid at heart and Trix are for kids.

What was the best thing that happened to you this weekend? As much as I wasn’t feeling up to company, it turned out to be nice. We had family over and played a board game that always results in laughter.

What is your favorite animal? List three adjectives to explain your choice. Dogs and giraffes. Dogs: Loving, loyal, protective. Giraffes: Tall, graceful, majestic.

What is your favorite color? List three adjectives to explain your choice. Yellow, teal, and pastels. Nah.

It’s a very hot and muggy day. You desperately want something very cool and refreshing to quench your thirst and revitalize your body. What would you drink — either make your own or store-bought. I guess water.

You discover that the person you’re head-over-heels interested in loves a good homemade & handmade dessert. What will you concoct when you have this person over? Cupcakes. It’s what I bake most often. I’d make their favorite kind.

What would you leave in your will for the person you care about the most? I don’t know.

What do you consider to the most valuable thing you own: when you were a child/teenager/now? As a kid Barbies were my life. As a teenager and now it’s probably my laptop.

What’s the kindest act you have ever seen done? I don’t know.

If you could have any job in the world, which one would you want? One where I’m paid to sleep and fill out surveys. <<< Now there’s something I can do.

What are your best/worst subjects in school and what subjects would you want to learn now? My best was English, and my worst was always math.

What are you most talented at? Nothing.

What is your worst nightmare today? That things are always going to be the way they currently are.

How often do you clean between your toes? Every time I shower.

What is your favorite way to waste time at work without getting caught? I don’t have a job.

If you could have had the starring role in one film already made, which movie would you pick? One with Alexander Skarsgård. One that has some steamy scenes. Ha.

If you were to perform in the circus, what would you do? I don’t want to be apart of a circus. If you could eliminate one thing you do each day in the bathroom so that you never had to do it again, what would it be? Having to go to the bathroom.

You were just given a yacht. What would you name it? I have no clue.

If you could have been told one thing that you weren’t told when you were a teenager, what would you like to have heard? I don’t knowww.

You’ve just been hired to a promotions position at Kellog Co. What would you put in a new breakfast cereal box as a gimmick? I’m sucking at these questions.

Just like “Everybody Wang Chung tonight!”, what action would your name be if it were a verb? Sigh.

Name your favorite song. I don’t have a single favorite song at the moment. <<<< If you were to get a tattoo, what would it say or what would the graphic be? I’ve wanted to get free bird tattooed on me for years.

If you could play any musical instrument, what would it be and why? If you already play an instrument(s), what do you play and why? I just would have kept up with piano and took it more seriously. I wish I would have been more dedicated to it back when I had lessons. I think it’s beautiful and soothing.

When trick-or-treating as a kid, was there any kind of candy that you didn’t like to get? Stuff like Dots.

Why do you live in the Washington DC area? I don’t...

What is your favorite memory of Christmases past? As a kid when I woke up to all the new Barbie stuff Santa brought me.

What is the most outrageous thing you’ve done for God? Nothing outrageous.

If a movie was being made of your life and you could choose the actor/actress to play you, who would you choose and why? There wouldn’t be a movie about my life.

Paper or plastic? Paper. What was the weirdest food you’ve ever eaten? I don’t know. Nothing I consider weird.

What do you keep in the trunk of your car? I don’t have a car.

When you were in grade school, what did you want to be when you grew up? Why? When I was a kid I wanted to be a teacher. My cousins and I played school a lot, and I liked it. I liked helping my cousins and brother with their homework and such.

If you owned a CB radio what would your “handle” be? No idea.

If you were given 24 hrs to live, what would you do? I don’t like questions like this.

If you were in the “Miss America” talent competition, what would your talent be? (Note: both guys & gals have to answer this question) I’ve already said I don’t have any talents.

What do you think the most ultimate gift of the world is? Uhh.

What is your earliest childhood memory? I have some vague memories of preschool. Like little blimps of things.

What was your favorite TV show when you were growing up? I was obsessed with Barney when I was little.

If you had one extra hour of free time a day, how would you use it? I’d waste it like I do with the hours in a day that I do have. An extra hour of sleep would really be nice.

What CD is in your CD player right now? I don’t have a CD player.

The great theologian Andy Warhol stated that everyone gets 15 minutes of fame.  What happened during your 15 minutes? I don’t want that.

Name the most famous person you’ve had a face to face encounter with. I’ve met Jamie Lee Curtis and Drake Bell.

Name your favorite children’s story. Hmm.

If you could spend 15 minutes with any living person, who would it be and why? You guys could probably guess that by now. I’ve mentioned this person a couple times in this survey.

What person in the Bible do you most closely identify with? I’m not familiar enough with the Bible.

What article of clothing most closely describes your personality? A hoodie because you can pull the hood over your head and hide away just like I’ve been doing for a long time.

If you were to write a book what would it be about? I don’t know.

How many rings before you answer the phone? I don’t let it ring a certain number of times, it just depends.

What is the first thing you think of when you wake in the morning? I’m just tired and in a daze until my body wakes up and then everything comes rushing back.

If you won a million dollars, what would you do with it? Donate to charity, pay off my debt, pay of my parents’ bills, buy us a new home, travel, any other thing we might want to get or do... I would also like to put some aside if possible.

If you had to, what part of your body would you get pierced? I’m good.

Who was your favorite teacher and why? My 4th grade teacher. He was just the best. He was really funny, and made everything fun and interesting. Everyone liked him. It was cool because when I got to 8th grade, it just so happened that they had him go from 4th grade to teaching 8th grade math and science, so I got to have him again. My parents got to know him from him being my teacher and they liked him, my brother and two of my cousins had him as well. He’s just really cool.

What makes you feel the most secure? My dog did, and my family.

Who do you admire the most? My mom and grandmother (she passed away ten years ago, but she is still someone I admire).

Have you ever had a reoccurring dream? What was it? I’ve had reoccurring dreams of my teeth falling out, having to go back to elementary or high school, and falling.

What was your nickname growing up? Noodles.

Who was your hero when you were a child, and what did you do to be like them? My mom. She still is.

Peanut or plain? Peanut or plain what?

What is your favorite cartoon character & why? Hmm.

How did you learn to ride a bicycle? I didn’t. I can’t.

Based on something you’ve already done, how might you make it into the Guinness Book of World Records? Doing the most surveys? Ha. I don’t know. I do a lot, but there are a few who do them more often.

What’s the closest you’ve come to becoming a pop star/winning an Oscar? Wtf. Not anywhere close. Not in the same realm. At all.

When was the last time you did something for the first time? What was it? I got a Ninja Coffee Bar for Christmas, so I’ve been making flavored lattes and stuff.

What is your concept of a fruitful day? Getting something done.

What was your favorite thing to play with as a child? Why? Barbiessss.

If you could be any animal in the world for 24 hours, which animal would you be? Why? A dog. I can run around and play and get so happy and animated about everything without a care in the world. Get treats and such.

Have you ever jumped out of a plane? Noooo.

If you could rid the world of one thing, what would it be? Oh man. Just one thing?

What is your best personal characteristic? Not sure.

What is your favorite quote? I don’t have one.

If you could be invisible for a day, what would you do? Get on a plane and travel to Sweden.

What is your favorite weird food combination? I don’t know. Ranch with spaghetti or lasagna? It’s not unusual to eat pizza with ranch, and spaghetti and lasagna aren’t that different.

If you had to be a flower, which one would you like to be and why? A rose just because.

If you were stranded on a desert island, what three books and three people would you take with you? Hmmm. I’d have to really think about that. As for people, I’d want my mom and two people who knew about survival and such and would be helpful in getting us off the island.

My biggest pet peeve is… Eating sounds. I cannot stand loud chewing. Like the smacking, slurping, sucking sounds... NO.

What is your favorite commercial? What commercial annoys you the most? The one with Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head. Mrs. Potato Head is hiding in the pantry grubbing on potato chips, and Mr. Potato Head comes home and finds her in total shock. He’s like, “*GASP* But you’re a potato!” Then he ends up joining her. As for annoying, I’d say the Progressive commercials with that Flo lady. Or ones with jingles that are successful at getting stuck in my head.

What’s the most interesting “Ice Breaker” Question you have ever been asked? I’m not sure.

If you could be an ice cream flavor, what would it be? Why? Not sure.

Name a turning point in your life that makes you smile/cry. A few years ago when a new health thing came about. I’m still dealing with things from that and will for the foreseeable future.

If there were a holiday in your honor what would it celebrate? I don’t know why there would be.

What clubs were you a member of in High School? Are you still interested in any of the same things? The movie club.

If you were to be on a reality TV show which one would you be on and why? I just like to watch them, I don’t want to be on it.

If you could be anything in the world, what would you be and why? Oh, I don’t know. I’m not ambitious. <<< Same.

If someone rented a billboard for you, what would you put on it? I don’t have anything I want to advertise.

If you had to enter a competition for the “Most Uselessly Unique Talent,” what would your talent be? Sigh. I don’t have any damn talents.

If you were a Smurf, what would your name be? Loser Smurf.

What is your worst personality characteristic? I’m just a shitty person.

If you had to be a teacher of something, what would you teach? English.

How would you like to be remembered? Hopefully in a good way.

What is one thing that you constantly think about (other than material things)? My health.

What do you like best about your hometown? The fact my family lives here. If we moved, there wouldn’t be anything I liked about this city. I want to leave.

Something interesting you might not know about me is… I haven’t seen The Notebook. Oh no.

[rebeccahpedersen]

Charging “Entry-Fees” For Pre-Construction Units?

TorontoRealtyBlog

Maybe I didn’t need a question-mark at the end of that title.  An exclamation mark may have been more appropriate.

But part of me just can not believe that this is going on.

At the same time, part of me had expected it all along.

RECO sent out an email to its 100,000++ members on Wednesday, which as usual, is a day late, and without any real “teeth.”  Let’s have a look at their bulletin, and discuss what’s going on in the pre-construction industry…

Oh wow.

One look at that velvet rope, and I’m reminded just how much I love being married…

Back in my youth, before online dating/judgement apps, when people used to naively go out in search of meeting other human beings, I did frequent the odd nightclub.

And toward the end, I hated every minute of it.

It began as a love affair, however.  I started going to downtown Toronto nightclubs when I turned 19, and when I was in my tight-shirt, silver-chain, hoop-earring phase, and when Junior Jack, DJ Jean, and DJ Jurgen were pumping beats.

It wasn’t so much the nightclubs I liked, but rather the maneuvering within.

I couldn’t care less where I was, and who I was with, but rather I liked the challenge of trying to finesse my way in to whatever VIP area, rooftop patio, or members-only space existed.

I was pretty good at it.

Actually, that’s me being modest.  I was a goddam champion.  I could walk inside a nightclub, watch the managers, waitresses, bartenders, doormen, and the clientele, figure out who was who, and come up with a con on the spot.  By the time I was 20, I could con my way into any club without waiting in line, and then scheme my way into their “VIP” area, which evidently, was exactly the same as the rest of the club.

But it didn’t matter.  I was barely an adult, and I loved playing the “game” against both the stakeholders in the establishment, and the masses who were competing against me with the same goals of skipping lines, and going places once inside.

That lasted for a couple of years.

Fast-forward a full decade, and I had completely lost the taste for it, and simply resorted to paying bouncers and doormen to let me go where I wanted.

By the time I had met my now-wife, and we were dating, I absolutely hated going “out.”

There’s a seven-year age gap between Jenna and I, so when was 30-years-old and wanted to stay home on Friday and Saturday nights, she was 23-years-old and wanted to go out. (thankfully now we’re 37 and 30, and we are both old curmudgeons)

I became so cynical, so salty, and so morose, that I couldn’t handle the lineups, the doormen, and the whole process.

I couldn’t stand watching some fingerless-glove-wearing, below-average-intelligence, overweight slouch playing God for 4-hours on Saturday night.  And I as much as told them that, on several occasions.  I couldn’t stand watching the doorman ask a group, “How many are you?” and if the group said, “five,” he would wait a few seconds, pretend to think, and say, “I can only take four.”

It wasn’t unusual for me to hear this, and shout, “That’s the dumbest F****** thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of dumb things,” which would then cause the doorman to tell me to leave, which was great, because I just wanted to get a slice of pizza and go home.  My wife was really, really mad at me for making a scene like that once…

But the whole process bothered me to no end.

And the main reason was because I knew how the rouse worked, and I hated being a pawn.

The lineup outside the club was only there to make the club look busy.

Bouncers would line people up, even though the club was at 40% capacity, and then take them in very small groups, every five minutes.

The key to making people want something, is to make it seem unique, rare, and worthy.

How else do you get somebody to pay $350 for a $30 bottle of booze?  Put them in a “special” area, and give them the privilege to subject themselves to a 1000% markup.

I could go on, but I’ve been on this rant before.  Let me see if I can find an epic rant from a few years ago…………..ah, yes, HERE.  This is from way back in 2010.  King West condos “one day” selling for $700 per square foot, you say?  Nah, that’ll never happen!

In any event, you might be wondering “What does this have to do with pre-construction condo sales,” or you might have already figured it out.

The VIP’s, the velvet ropes, and alas, the greasing of doormen!

I’ve been comparing nightclubs to pre-construction sales centres for the better part of a decade, and now the rest of real estate has finally clued in!

On Wednesday, RECO emailed every licensed agent in the province of Ontario with the following bulletin:

  Charging “Entry Fees” For Pre-Construction Units

The Real Estate Council of Ontario (RECO) has become aware of a potentially unlawful practice regarding pre-construction real estate. It is being alleged that some registrants may be charging “entry fees” or “admission fees” to prospective buyers of pre-sale homes.

These fees supposedly give buyers access to purchase properties before they are available to the public or front-of-the-line status. Media reports have also stated that registrants have asked for cash payments and refused to issue receipts. They may also be sharing the proceeds with the developer’s staff.

There are specific regulations regarding how registrants accept funds from consumers:

Full Disclosure – A document must be presented to potential buyers regarding any funds collected. The document must spell out:

what those funds are for;

how the funds are to be handled;

how the funds will be distributed, such as toward the deposit on a property; and

the conditions for the return of the funds if the consumer does not decide to make a purchase.

Under the Code of Ethics, you are obligated to treat every person you deal with in the course of a trade fairly, honestly and with integrity. And you must promote and protect the best interests of your clients. With that in mind, if a consumer pays an “entry fee” and does not purchase a unit, it is expected that the fee will be returned to the customer.

The buyer should also receive a receipt for any funds they provide.

Trust Accounts – All money provided by a buyer to a registrant must be forwarded to their brokerage. That money must be held in the brokerage’s trust account until such time that it is to be disbursed appropriately.

Seller Permission – “Entry fees” can’t be requested or accepted unless the registrant has received explicit consent of the seller of the property to do so.

It would be permissible to accept certain entry fees, only if the registrant complies with the rules listed above. If you are aware of a registrant breaching these rules, please file a complaint with RECO. If you suspect that employees of builders are improperly requesting or accepting fees without proper disclosure to buyers, you should inform Tarion, the regulator of home builders in the province.

Consumers have the right to know what they are paying for, and what will happen with their money. Transparency and upfront documentation are key to remaining in compliance with the regulations.

Media reports.

Really?

That is how RECO is getting its information?

This is pathetic.

RECO is pathetic.

They make up rules as they go along, honestly.

Crap like this:

“With that in mind, if a consumer pays an “entry fee” and does not purchase a unit, it is expected that the fee will be returned to the customer.”

Says who?  And where?

Where is this written?  I’ll tell you where: nowhere.

This is literally RECO making this up on the spot.

And how about this:

“If you are aware of a registrant breaching these rules, please file a complaint with RECO”

Awesome.

So RECO isn’t going to do anything to regulate, oversee, change, monitor, lead, guide, et al.  They simply want real estate agents to rat each other out, and they’ll take it from there.

In any event, hammering on RECO wasn’t the point of this blog.

The point, is that the pre-construction “game” is out of control.

Paying to get inside the nightclub sales centre ahead of the rest of the pack?  I’ve heard that one before!

With real estate in Toronto as hot as it’s been, and with people willing to blindly purchase pre-construction condos by submitting “offer sheets” for virtually every model suite in the building, it’s no surprise that developers, and their agents, are reverting to these gimmicks.

A colleague of mine who works for Re/Max told me that one of his clients wanted to purchase a pre-construction condo in a particular development.

He called the sales centre, and spoke to the in-house agent, who told him, “We’re completely sold out.”

Five minutes later, my colleague’s buyer-client called the same in-house agent, who told him, “We have twenty-eight units left,” and asked him to set up an appointment.

My colleague called back, and once again, was told that they were sold out.

This is the game that’s being played.

And perhaps we could spin this off to another blog topic, but condo developers are hand-picking the agents they want to work with, and calling them “VIP’s,” when in reality, these agents are simply the ones who will bring their buyers into the sales centre, working in the best interests of the developer, and not providing any real representation.

Think about it: with 40-50% of all pre-construction condo sales falling through during the automatic “10 day cooling off period,” the developer wants the buyer to be represented by an agent who will do everything to ensure that the deal doesn’t fall through.

A typical buyer-agent would insist that the buyer have a lawyer review the thick package of documents that accompanies a pre-construction condo sale.  I spoke to one particular buyer this week, who is absolutely buried in a building on York Street, who said, “My agent told me that the lawyer’s review was a waste of money.”

The poor girl.  Her closing costs were almost 20% of the purchase price.

It’s clear to me that not all, but many of Toronto’s condo developers are only working with a select group of pre-construction condo “experts,” who have sold their soul to the builder community.

I’ve heard from countless buyer-agents that they can’t get in the door, metaphorically or literally, of new condo developments, and that the buyers have to go with the “VIP’s” and “experts.”

And now the media, and RECO, are picking up on the fact that people are greasing doormen paying agents to get inside ahead of the crowd.

I’d love to hear from the “pre-construction experts” on this one.  Sell ten units in a development, win a Mercedes, eh?  Yup, you’re definitely working in the best interest of your buyer!

Oh boy.  I need a drink.

If only I could get into the nightclub.  It’s cold outside, and I didn’t wear a jacket because I’m too cheap to pay for coat-check…

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