#for whatever the fuck happened to fuck up decker's hearing

[mvnces]

" can you hear my voice ? " price for decker

The intense ringing of his ears was enough to make him wince. Everything around him muted and muffled for a good couple of moments that it took for the ringing to lessen. It definitely was not gone but Decker could at least process the words being thrown at him now. Give him a couple more minutes and he would genuinely be able to say yes — Only for the fact that all his attention was shifting to the task at hand and Price crouched down next to him.

"Yeah... Yeah. I'm all good." That was debatable but he was still shoving himself up and onto his feet. (And if he immediately felt unsteady on his feet? That was something that he could just brush off). They could deal with any hearing damage or injuries later.

[itsallyscorner]

I was wondering if you can write something about reader x marvel cast where they go on the tour bus with James Corden. Maybe reader is dating a costar (you can choose who)

💌

We Are Avengers

Pairing: Marvel cast x reader, Sebastian Stan x Fem!reader

Summary: Basically what happens during James Corden’s Star Star Tour😌

Warnings: None :)

Hello darling, thank you for the request! I apologize that it took so long for me to write, but I’ve been busy with school and I’ve been lacking motivation in general. But thank you so much for this request, it gave me the chance to rewatch one of my favorite Marvel cast videos so thank you for that as well, it never fails to make me smile. I hope you don’t mind that I chose Seb as the co-star you’re dating! Also, yes, I know I’ve been writing a lot of headcanons but writing this as a headcanon seems like the best way to write it for me😭 I’m gonna add in some pictures that the cast took with their disposable cameras, so enjoy😉

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(GIF from Pinterest)

✧───── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

When it was mentioned that you and some other members of the Infinity War cast were going to be on James Corden, you were very excited.

You enjoyed making appearances on late night talk shows; Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Kimmel—they were always fun to be on. Though you’ve always loved making appearances on James Corden’s show.

When you first heard about being on The Late Late Show, you were expecting to do a typical interview in the studio that would lead to playing a game later on in the show.

What you didn’t expect was to be led out to the parking lot with the rest of the cast, only to be greeted by a double decker bus with James’ face plastered alongside it.

At first you were all a bit confused but one of the producers came up to you all and explained the segment you were all filming.

Everyone was buzzing with exhilaration waiting to get on the bus. One by one you were called up, you being paired with Sebastian.

Wait, he would make you go up the stairs first so he can stay behind you, making sure you don’t fall. Omg and he would place his hand on your lower back too😭🥺

“Wow—Marvel’s own power couple, it’s such an honor to have you both on here. Thank you for coming!” James greeted the both of you. Partially acting because the cameras were rolling.

You and Sebastian beamed at him, proud of the title the fans and your cast mates have given you both over the years. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, James.”

James gives you both your name tags, pausing mid way while he was handing Seb his. James’ gaze shifts between you and Seb, “I’m sorry, you’re just both so beautiful.”

Seb bashfully thanks him, pulling you towards the seats, as you giggle behind him.

You and Seb sit towards the back, behind Don and Tom.

You all sit tight, talking amongst yourselves as you wait for the bus to start. In the seats were disposable cameras and some Late Late Show merch.

The bus hasn’t started driving yet, but you were all having too much fun with the disposable cameras.

Everyone was just taking pictures of each other. You and Seb took a couple selfies and some stolen shots of the others, mostly Anthony.

You even got a cute shot of Don and Tom:

Yes I know they used disposable cameras but I decided to tie in my ‘Polaroid’ series into this even though they’re not using Polaroids—just go with it😭

Being the more social one in the relationship, you were going up and down the aisle talking to everyone.

Seb stayed towards the back with Anthony and Winston. While you were at the front talking to Lizzie and Chris.

Being sad when you were all told to go sit down because you had to leave Lizzie.

Though it probably wasn’t shown in the video, I just KNOW that the filming for this segment was chaotic as fuck.

Chaotic in a good way.

But the whole bus was loud I just know it.

You could hear Mackie across from you talking loudly and laughing that contagious laugh of his.

You, Lizzie, Pom, and Zoe attempting to talk to each other from different spots on the bus over everyone else’s voice.

Chris and Paul can also be heard laughing all the way from the back.

James feeling like a parent because it felt like he was babysitting a bunch of toddlers.

The whole thing was freaking chaotic from the start, I mean ya’ll started the ‘tour’ with Benedict and Chris rubbing sunscreen on James’ legs.

Everyone passing around the sunscreen after, because it was sunny as hell and no one thought of wearing sunscreen.

Seb being a cheeky asshole and ‘accidentally’ smearing sunscreen across your face.

“Sebastian!” You gasped before a flash of light went off on you. When your eyes recovered from the flash you see Seb holding up a camera at you, snickering to himself.

James began to act as your guide, pointing out things like a coffee shop and explaining what it is.

All of you being childish and pretending to not know what a coffee shop or what a line is.

Laughing at Don when he got out of his seat and took a picture of the coffee shop. Like how he got into an over exaggerated position just to take a picture was funny.

Everyone being childish and acting as actual tourist in Los Angeles. Like pointing things out and asking about them or taking pictures of literally everything you drove by.

When Reggie Watts began that sing along thing everyone joined in, bopping and dancing along to the beat.

Like you guys are just having a really great time, happy to be in each other’s presence.

You could hear Sebby singing along to Reggie beside you, and you couldn’t help but just adore him singing and having fun.

He’d notice your stare, he may have had sunglasses on, but you could see the crinkle of his eyes from behind his sunglasses as he smiled at you.

“Na, na, na, na, na, na!” Seb repeated, leaning towards you to press a kiss on your temple.

Throughout the whole ride, he’d have his arm along the back of your seat or have it across your lap.

After the sing along, James went back to acting as a tour guide. He pointed to a red building—whatever it was—and deemed it as “Barbra Streisand’s holiday home”.

Josh Brolin, who was sat along at the back of the deck, raised his hand. “Excuse me! I—uh don’t mean to interrupt, but I have to use the bathroom. Can I use the bathroom?”

James pretending to cringe and telling him that in order to use the bathroom you have to be in three or more Marvel movies to use the bathroom—end credits don’t count.

Everyone being childish once again and yelling “OHHHHHHH!” Like a bunch of school kids.

James points to Tom, “Tom Hiddleston do you need the bathroom?”

Tom, with his soft voice and a small shrug says, “I’m actually okay!”

James then points to you and Seb, “My lovebirds at the back, Sebastian, (Y/n), do either of you need the bathroom?”

You and Seb glance at each other, “Nah we’re good.” Your boyfriend answers.

“Yeah, I used the bathroom before we came here.” You look behind your shoulder at Josh, a smug expression on your face, “Unlike some people.”

Josh flipping you off while everyone laughs at him.

Since Anthony and Seb aren’t sitting together, I just know that Anthony would be yelling at Seb from across the bus to get his attention.

No seriously, I saw them in the background of the video and even heard Mackie yelling lmao😭😂

“(Y/n) call Sebastian!” Anthony yelled at you from across the bus, pointing to the man beside you with a grin on his face.

You chuckle and nudge Seb, “Your boyfriend’s calling you.”

Seb would shake his head at you and turn his attention to Anthony; who just wanted to take a picture of Seb from his side of the bus.

James trying to get spoilers out of all of you but thankfully you all aren’t Tom Holland or Mark Ruffalo.

“Does anyone on this bus die in the next Avengers?” James asked. Suddenly you were all quiet, not a word coming out of any of you.

Until Paul began to scream his infamous line, “snITCHES END UP IN DITCHES!”

Getting confused when James suddenly asked the bus to stop and ran off the bus.

Next thing you know, you’re all hopping off the bus and walking into a comic store with a Spider-Man statue at the front.

Seb motioned to the statue and looked back and Anthony, “We gotta get a picture with that.”

Anthony instantly agreeing—he was willing to do anything to tease Tom Holland.

Seb’s not that huge with PDA, but he always needs to be touching you. So he’ll be interlocking your hands with his the moment you walk off the bus and all the way into the comic store.

Feeling thrilled to surprise the people who were shopping at the store.

You all walked around, mingled with some fans, taking selfies with them, and signed a few things.

You were looking at some Funko Pops with Lizzie when you felt a small tap on your leg.

You looked down to see a small girl looking up at you with wide eyes full of admiration. In her tiny hands was a Funko Pop of your character.

You and Lizzie instantly coo at the toddler, crouching down to her level so you can talk.

“Hey, sweetheart!” You greet her, taken back when she suddenly wraps her arms around you into a hug. You laugh wrapping your arms around her small figure and hugging her back.

“I love you so much!” She squeals into your ear, arms tightening around you. Your heart swelled as she excitedly babbled about how much she loved your character and how you were her favorite.

“I love you too! Oh my gosh, you’re so cute!” You decide to carry the toddler, who you later learned was named Lila. Her parents scolded her for distracting you from the other fans in the store, but you brushed them off, your attention focused on your tiny fan.

You carried her around while you met other fans and signed more comic books and merch.

You even introduced her to your other cast mates.

Sebastian’s heart absolutely melting at the sight of you with a baby.

Homie wants to wife you up one day and seeing you with a baby made his baby fever sky rocket.

“Lila, this is Sebastian! You know who he plays right?” You ask the toddler in your arms. Sebastian ducking a bit so he could hear her over the commotion in the store.

“Yeah, he’s the wiener soldier!” She replied. Both you and Seb had to hold back your laughs at her answer.

Lila bragging about how she loves you more than Sebastian.

Seb having to agree because he doesn’t wanna make a toddler cry.

Before you all left, you took pictures with Lila and her parents and signed a bunch of her merch.

^ the boys got their picture.

You guys get back on the bus only to come back to rolls of paper under your seats.

You all sang the “Avengers” song, singing screaming the lyrics dramatically.

Don and Anthony bringing on the vocals.

Before you guys get off the bus you all take a selfie together.

Leaving Chris Hemsworth on the bus and walking off the bus with your heart all warm and fuzzy because you had an amazing time with your boyfriend and your friends :)

This is so long holy shit

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🏷 Tags ↴

*if there’s a line through your username, Tumbr won’t let me tag you*

Marvel Cast/ Avengers Tags

↪︎ @ximaginx @lozzypoz321 @sunwardsss @pokemonbong @pjokotlcmarvel201 @whoslili @111111111111111sblog @marvel-is-a-mood @blckyungblood @astroponyo @universemarvel @imthebadguyyy @roseke @bi-myself-forever @httpscarletwitch @millenniumloki @cristin-rjd @swords-are-cool @melaninfalconbucky @deamus-liv @elvish-sky @catsandbooksandsstuff @ellajoy419 @moonlight-babe99

Sebastian Stan Tags

↪︎ @theresnoplatypus @wintersoldierlover @peacelovehobbitness @milea @sunwardsss @thedenimjacket @roserose26

General Tags

↪︎ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney @bi-lmg @rqmanoff @sesamepancakes @stardustofreading @dracoswhore007 @swiftmind

[redstainedsocks]

Rewired

Contents: Just a little betrayal between friends, angst, implied dissociation and light self harm (too-hot shower)

[Previous]

It was easy. It shouldn’t have been that easy. He’d had the phone number for a week, once he decoded the string of numbers he was given, and the burner phone for four days—swiped from a locked drawer when no-one was looking. And now he was about to begin the first of the tasks Decker had planted him within the headquarters to do. And the team seemed oblivious. It made Zach nervous, like he was missing something. The team shouldn’t have let him have this much access, or let him get this close.

They shouldn’t trust him. Maybe they really were blinded by their relief to have him back, maybe his story of escape and loyalty were more believable than he felt they were—perhaps he’d sold it well enough. Too well. It sickened him to his core that before long he’d have to strip them of those notions, that they’d know his loyalty had been bought by someone else. His reasons wouldn’t matter, it would still crush them. But he couldn’t think about it now. 

The room was dark save for the blue-white glow from the screen in front of him and the flicker of orange and green LEDs on the surrounding machines and servers. His leg bounced and he couldn’t stop it. He bit the inside of his lip until it stung as he twisted the cord between his fingers. One last glance, one last listen, straining to hear if anyone was coming near. And then he stopped thinking and started calling.

“I’m in, I have access.”

The voice at the other end of the line wasn’t familiar but it didn’t matter. Decker would make sure he was talking to the correct person. “Great, connect me and then follow the instructions that come up on screen.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. Shouldn’t be more than half an hour for the programme to embed itself.”

It seemed too good to be true, he’d held out a tiny bit of hope that it wouldn’t work. That he’d fail. Why couldn’t he fail at this like he’d failed at so many other things? Watching Lacey input her password that morning and committing it to memory; swiping a pass to get access to the room from someone who left it carelessly lying on the break room table; feigning sleep until the building was silent and empty in the pre-dawn hours. Easy, easy, easy. And now a little counter ticked slowly towards completion as Decker’s hacker wormed their way in to find whatever it was they were looking for tonight.

Zach rocked back on his chair and chewed on a thumbnail. His free hand snaked around his neck, pressing firmly like a collar, the thing it still felt weird to be without. At Decker’s insistence he’d do this, and before long he’d get back to not having anything to worry about. It would be like a bad dream. All he had to do was obey and everything would be fine. No-one had to get hurt. 

(No one except him)

The files and the hacker did their thing and it took twenty seven minutes. His gut churned the whole time, head twisting at every tiny click and every perceived movement in the shadows. But nothing happened, and the call was about to end. 

“Should I do anything else?” He asked.

“Like what?”

“Umm, well, what’s my next set of instructions?”

“Not a fucking clue mate, that’s between you and our mutual friend. Better ask him.”

And just like that the line went dead and Zach’s heart plummeted. He would ask Decker, if he had a way, but every line of instruction had come from someone else. He hadn’t heard Decker’s voice since the day he was deposited in an alleyway for the team to find. It ached, somewhere inside, like a scab he kept picking at. The more he tried to examine the absence and learn how to navigate without that point of reassurance, without that smooth voice and cruel-kind words in his ear, the more he realised that he wasn’t sure he performed well enough without its presence.

He left the server room, hot around the neck of his shirt, everything feeling too tight. His skin pulled taut over all his joints like it might snap if he moved wrong. What was he supposed to do? What had he just done? It was the first real betrayal, the first attack on those who’d taken him back in. And Decker wasn’t there to tell him he’d done well, to prove that he’d hold to his word if Zach did what he was told. 

He was going to be sick. It was wrong, all of this was wrong, and usually when he was wrong he got hurt. That always made things clearer. He drifted through the halls like a ghost, barely seeing, feet moving of their own accord. Fingertips brushed the walls until they felt the smooth, cold touch of tile. He moved through the motions in a dream state, until he closed his eyes and let the water wash over him.

Hot. Too hot. But that was okay. It was all right that it hurt. That’s what he was here for.

[kaunis-sielu]

A Favor

“Auntie!” Anya says the second you answer your phone, “I need your help!”

“What’s wrong?” You’d learned quickly that her version of an emergency and yours were very different.

“My principal wants to talk to my parents!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sick of Ted Cramer being a bully so I punched him.”

“Okay, so why are you calling me?”

“My parents are out on a mission!”

“Oh.” Keeping who Anya’s parents are a secret is the only thing keeping her in normal school, which was something both agents had wanted for their daughter. “I’ll grab one of your uncles and come in.”

“Not uncle Bucky okay?”

“Why not?”

“Um, last time he was here the principal called him a terror or something and uncle Bucky got really sad.”

“Okay, not Bucky. Are you in the office now honey?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell the principal we’ll be there soon.”

“Um, could you just say you’re my parents? They haven’t met them and you don’t travel as much as my parents do, and you look a lot like me. Since you work behind the scenes people won’t know.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please!” She begs, “otherwise they’re just gonna demand my parents come in and then they’re gonna be recognized and I’ll have to leave all my friends!” She sounds so upset that you cave,

“Okay fine.”

“Thank you! Okay I gotta go, I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon honey.” You hang up then and grab your purse to head out and find one of the boys. You know that Bucky, Steve, Scott and Bruce are all home. Bucky is already out and you don’t think Scott is around enough to be a good Clint substitute. You round one of the corners and nearly crash into Steve, “ah!” You cry startled at the sudden appearance of the Captain.

“Sorry, you okay?” He asks and you nod.

“Hey, I need a favor. Well, actually Anya needs a favor.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yea, just in trouble and needs two people to come to the school.”

“Let me get changed.” You haven’t told him all the information yet but he’s already ready to jump in and help Anya. It’s one of the reasons you adore the man, always ready to help his family.

“Oh, okay I’ll meet you downstairs?” He nods then disappears into his room, you make your way down to one of the cars and as you’re walking up he appears out of the stairwell. He’s in a black shirt, jeans and a grey jacket that either belongs to him, Sam or Bucky, you’ve seen all three men wear it so you’re not sure who it belongs to.

“You want me to drive or do you wanna?” He asks and you pull open the passenger side door in response. “Alright.” He chuckles then gets into the car and heads for Anya’s school.

“So just a heads up she’s asked me to pretend to be Natasha, well actually Natalie Rushman.”

“Why?”

“Nat and Clint are gone so often and since I don’t go out on missions to fight I’m home more than anyone. If Anya needs someone to come in again I’m the best option, I’m not a familiar Avenger. You might be more of a problem, having to explain how I know Captain America.”

“I wear a mask and I’ve got my undercover hat in the back.” He tells you with a grin and you laugh softly.

“Alright, if asked I’ll just say I work for Stark.” You say as he pulls into the parking lot. You climb out of the car and make your way into the school, Steve’s hat is low and somehow it does make him look less like Captain America and more like suburban dad.

“Hi, how can I help you?” The woman sitting at the front desk asks, it was too easy to get into the school, you glance up at Steve and see a small frown on his face. He must be thinking the same thing.

“Hi-“

“Mom! Dad!” Anya cries rushing you and Steve who you share a surprised look with Steve as Anya wraps her arms around your waist and buried her face in your stomach.

“You must be Anya’s parents, I’ll let Principal Decker know you’re here.”

“Thank you.” You tell her and the second she turns away you conjure rings for your and Steve’s fingers.

“Good thinkin’ Sweetheart.” He mutters into your hair.

“Anya, can you tell us a little more about why we were called in here?”

“Ted Cramer wouldn’t leave me alone, he keeps pulling my hair and poking my side and taking my stuff. When I told Mr. Sanders he just told me to ignore it so when Ted grabbed me at recess I punched him.” She looks up at you and that’s when you see the forming bruise around her eye.

“Anya who hit you?” Steve asks, his voice low.

“Nick Sanders. He’s best friends with Ted.”

“So why are you the only one in the office?” You ask, irritation building.

“Because the boys are in with the nurse.” A male voice says and you look up to see a man in a suit standing in front of you. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Rushman. Principal Decker.” He reaches a hand out for Steve’s and he shakes it coldly.

“Bradley actually, Clark Bradley. My wife kept her last name and since she did all the work we decided to give Anya her last name.”

“My apologies, let’s move this to my office?” He offers and when he goes to touch you to guide you into his office you shy away, Steve wraps a protective arm around your shoulder and when Principal Decker gestures for you to sit Steve stands behind your chair arms folded tightly.

“So you’ve called the other children’s parents?” You ask hoping that he isn’t going to disappoint you but considering he’s already pretty much ignored you you don’t have a whole lot of hope.

“Considering Anya is the one who started the fight we’re a little more concerned with dealing with her behavior first.”

“That’s not the story we heard.” You tell him, glancing over at Anya who looks furious.

“Well, you can’t always believe everything children say.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says through gritted teeth, “did you just call our daughter a liar?”

“No, no, I just think it’s unwise to just assume you’re getting the whole story.”

“I told them the whole story!”

“Anya if you can’t be respectful then I’m going to ask you to sit in the office.” Principal Decker warns and she folds her arms tightly over her chest, that’s when you notice the rip in her shirt.

“Anya, turn around please.” You tell her and there’s a large tear in the back of her shirt. “Did this happen when you were defending yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Fighting Mrs. Rushman.” Principal Decker interrupts.

“Maybe Anya should go out into the hallway.” Steve growls and you reach behind you to take his hand.

“No,” you counter, “Anya needs to be here to hear this just as much as Principal Decker does.” Your voice is steady, calm, “we have taught Anya to defend herself if someone has touched her when she has asked them not to. Ted Cramer has been an issues all school year, I know because I’ve already emailed Mr. Sanders about it.” Not a lie, as her godmother Natasha has you in their parent email so that you can step in if needed. He opens his mouth to speak but you hold up a hand, “I am not finished.” His mouth closes again, “We won’t be pressing charges against the school for allowing sexual harassment to continue,”

“Sexual harassment? Hold on a minute, they’re 10!”

“He has been pulling her hair, touching her and taking her things all year.”

“Little boys do that when they like little girls! He just has a crush.”

“I see you’re married Principal Decker,” You say gesturing at his ring, “do you poke your wife? Do you pick on her? Take her things? Touch her when she asks you to stop? Because if you do you’re an abuser.” His mouth drops open. “Am I pleased that Anya felt her only course of action was to hit someone to get them to leave her alone? No, I’m furious that her teacher and principal did not listen to her and made her feel like she had to defend herself. Now, how long will she be out of school? My husband and I have jobs to do and frankly you’re an ass.”

“Mrs. Rushman!” He sputters but you stand and hold out a hand for Anya’s.

“How long Principal Decker?”

“Three days.”

“Very well. Anya go get your things.” You turn then and make your way out of the principal’s office Steve behind you.

“Damn Sweetheart.” He mutters and you give his hand a little squeeze. Then he disappears with Anya to gather her things. You head out for the car, leaning against the sleek black thing in the sunshine. Hopefully Clint and Nat won’t be too upset with how you and Steve handled this.

“You! Are you that little Rushman bitch’s mom?”

“Excuse me?” You ask standing up straight as a woman comes storming toward you.

“You heard me. I’m gonna kick your ass.” She takes a swing at you that you see coming a mile away. You duck under her arm, step behind her and throw and elbow into her shoulder blade throwing her off balance. She stumbles forward and you turn to face her again as she whips around.

“My daughter took on three boys and only had a black eye and a ripped shirt. Where do you think she learned to fight?” You ask calmly as the woman rushes you again, you wait and shove her away as you sidestep her again she goes stumbling. Technically it was Natasha but the woman doesn’t need to know that. This time when she rushes you you don’t move, instead you catch her arm and spin her into the car pinning her against the hood.

“Mom?”

“Hi Anya. Clark.”

“Everything alright here Sweetheart?”

“Yea, this is one of the boys mom. She doesn’t seem pleased with how we decided to raise our daughter to not be a passive little thing who lets boys do whatever they want.”

“Fuck you!” The woman screams and you twist her arm painfully.

“Language. You’re at an elementary school.” You say coolly, “Anya honey get in the car please.”

“Anything you need from me Sweetheart?”

“Mm, her husband doesn’t seem too pleased.”

“Let go of my wife you fucking bitch!” He roars his truck squealing to a stop behind your car. He comes bolting out of the car and Steve sighs.

“Honestly. Who do they think taught our kid to kick ass?” Steve grumbles placing himself between you and the large tatted man.

“He’s gonna kill you!” His wife says from where you still have her pinned to your car.

“Friday, are police on their way?” You ask your watch.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” You say before a loud crash happens behind you.

“I told you to calm down.” Steve says and when you glance behind you you see the other man groaning against his car, a body shaped dent in the hood.

“Mick! Mick! Do something!” The woman yells struggling against you as the police roll up.

“I don’t think Mick is gonna be getting up anytime soon.” Steve says with a sigh. The two police officers come up and she starts screaming about how you’d attacked her. The police take her from you and when they attempt to cuff you too Steve speaks up.

“You probably shouldn’t do that.”

“Are you threatening us sir?”

“No, but she does work for Stark and the whole thing was caught on that camera so maybe check the security camera before you go slapping cuffs on people.”

The two officers call for an ambulance to check on Mick then one goes inside to see what was caught on the camera. When he comes out with a flash drive you’re free to go.

“Thanks Auntie. Thanks uncle Steve.” Anya says from the backseat as Steve pulls out of the school parking lot.

“Don’t thank us quite yet. You still have to tell your parents that you were suspended.” Anya groans loudly before pulling her phone from her pocket. “On speaker please.” You instruct, she’s a tricky thing.

“What? Don’t you trust me?”

“Considering I just played your mom and Steve your dad, no I do not.” She groans but does as you ask and calls her mom on speakerphone.

It’s not the worst conversation and you’re glad that Nat and Clint found that you and Steve played them entertaining. You make sure to tell them that you’ll make sure she gets her schoolwork done before she goes back next week.

“So, I was thinking we deserve ice cream.” Steve says once Anya hangs up with her parents.

“I think that sounds like a great idea. What do you think Anya?”

“I love ice cream. Uncle Steve you should ask Auntie out.”

“Oh, um.” Steve stutters and you glance over your shoulder at Anya.

“Anya you don’t just get to decide things like that for people.”

“But he likes you, and you like him Auntie.” Before you can say anything else Steve chuckles,

“Well she’s not wrong.” Steve says and your gaze whips over to him.

“What?”

“I do like you. So, what do you say? First date at an ice cream parlor with our niece?”

“That sounds perfect.”

[forasecondtherewedwon]

The Halftime of It

Fandom: Ted Lasso Pairing: Roy Kent/Keeley Jones Rating: E Word Count: 2814

Summary: Roy turns up to coach AFC Richmond. At halftime, Keeley commends him on his choice.

“You disappointed they didn’t start up the ol’ Roy Kent cheer when you walked in? Is that what this face is?” Ted guesses.

Roy maintains his scowl, staring out at the pitch, though maybe the skin around his eyes tightens a little in annoyance. He fucking came here to watch, not be watched.

“No,” he says gruffly.

“I reckon there just wasn’t time before the start of the match to squeeze it in,” Ted says, apparently choosing to go ahead and console him anyway.

“That’s fine.”

“Well, they’ll get to it though. These folks love the heck outta you. Our old pal Jamie wasn’t anywhere near as much of a hit when he came back to play for us, but soon enough this stadium was ringing with ‘Jay-mee Tartt, do do—’”

“FUCK!” Roy roars.

“Let it out,” Coach Beard mutters from Ted’s other side.

Nate jumps and tries to cover it by looking stern, like that’s fucking fooling anybody.

“I forgot I was going to hear that fucking song all the time,” Roy explains. “I’ve changed my mind. I resign.”

“Oh no,” Ted counters, having the fucking nerve to chuckle, “you’re back, baby. I’ve got a few witnesses.”

He points around at the fans currently yelling their heads off as Sheffield Wednesday make a dash for Richmond’s goal only to be met by Dani Rojas’ lightning-quick sliding tackle.

From where Roy stands, the ref’s body language suggests he’s about to award a free kick to fucking Sheffield Wednesday.

“OI!” he yells out. “IT WAS A CLEAN FUCKING TACKLE! GET YOUR FUCKING EYES TESTED!”

“You know,” says Ted, “that is a great reminder. I’ve been over here how long now? And I haven’t made the time to find myself an optometrist. Now, that’s a little shortsighted of me, dontcha think?”

Grinning, he bumps his elbow into Roy’s arm. Roy growls under his breath.

But he says, “I met a shitload of optometrists on Sexy Christmas. I’ll get you some numbers.”

“Optometrists? I would be just fascinated to know how that fit into y’all’s plans, but I’ll let you keep that between Keeley and yourself.”

“It was only because we couldn’t find a fucking dentist.”

Roy sees Ted open his mouth to respond to that, so he fully puts his back to him to concentrate downfield. Looks like either the ref got his head out of his backside or heard Roy’s voice, remembered the legendary Roy Kent anger, and decided to live another day. To override whatever that prick may have said to Dani, Roy calls out, “NICE TACKLE BACK THERE, ROJAS!” the next time play halts for a throw-in. Dani beams.

“Way to support your players there, Coach,” Ted says.

Roy turns so they’re side by side again and crosses his arms.

“Just feels right, havin’ you back,” Ted goes on uninvited as Roy observes his team’s passing pattern. “Like the cherry on the top of a triple-decker sundae. ’Cept I don’t really like those cherries they put on sundaes. They look so gooey. Blech. Hey, Coach, what’d be a better fruit to top a sundae with?”

“Chocolate-covered strawberry,” Roy answers instantly.

His mention of Sexy Christmas brought a few of Keeley’s special touches to the front of his mind—the strawberries, the martinis, the sheer fucking dress thing she was wearing. He releases a heavy breath. Sure enough, that outfit made a reappearance on December 28th, but that doesn’t mean Keeley’s out of his system. She’ll probably never be out of his system, and Roy’s alright with that.

“Chocolate-covered strawberry!” Ted says in excited agreement. “Boy, to quote that review you wrote on your signed picture at the kebab shop, ‘Yum.’”

Roy jerks his gaze away from the pitch, which really hurts him because Jamie’s just gone down after what looked like an accidental kneeing in the balls. (He doesn’t bear that knobhead any ill will, but he’s just got to enjoy shit like this when it happens. Wouldn’t be human not to.)

“How the fuck do you know what my picture says?”

“I went back and ate there again. Like I said at the time, best I ever had. What was I supposed to do, not go back?”

“Yes.”

Looks as though Jamie’s now attempting to talk the ref into red-carding the player who kneed him. Roy, rolling his eyes, has no interest in that; he doesn’t mind taking his focus off the match for a few seconds when his phone vibrates inside his jacket pocket.

It’s a text from Keeley.

Um hi? First of all, proud of you. Second, you look delicious in that suit. Come to my office at the half.

Delicious. At least she didn’t say yum.

What for? he texts back.

I think you know what for, gorgeous.

With a flustered huff, Roy tucks his phone away. Why the hell would she do that to him? It’s his first fucking match as a coach. How’s he supposed to focus now?

“Who was that?” Ted asks.

“No one.”

“Ah, so you were just pretending to text. I get it. People do that sometimes, when they’re feeling nervous. Helps ’em avoid talking to somebody they don’t wanna talk to, or confronting their own loneliness in a roomful of strangers. But just so you know, everybody in here’s your fr—”

“I’m not fucking nervous.”

Ted blinks expectantly and Roy stares hard back at him for as long as he can stand, but Ted’s not giving up.

“It’s one of the assholes from Sky Sports. Contract stuff.”

Ted laughs.

“I gotta call your bluff there, Roy. You’re looking forward now. I don’t think you’re gonna give the people at your old job the time of day until Keeley twists your arm about it. You heard the term ‘ghosting’?”

When Roy ignores him, Ted pushes.

“Who was it really? Was it Keeley? I think it’ll be real nice, the two of you working in the same building…”

Roy allows Ted to prattle because getting him to stop would take too much energy. He’s going to have to get used to this again.

At halftime, the boys march off the pitch, eyebrows raising and smiles widening as they approach Roy. Who turns on his heel and wrenches open the door between the stands.

“I think he’s just a little overcome with emotion right now,” Roy hears Ted telling the team before the door shuts behind him.

He takes a few controlled breaths, like he learned to do in yoga, and walks quickly in the direction of Keeley’s office. When he arrives, the door’s open and she’s inside, pulling her desk forward.

“You need help?” he offers, striding forward.

“Nah, you’re alright,” Keeley promises with a big smile. “You could close the door though.”

Roy hesitates.

“Babe. We don’t have long.” He twitches his sleeve up to consult his watch. “No more than ten minutes. I’ve gotta get back before the half’s up.”

“You will,” Keeley says sweetly.

She goes to the door herself, closing it securely, then running her hand across his chest on her way back. A little tug on his tie and he’s already going rigid in his pants. She rounds her desk, stands with her arm draped along the top of her chair. And how the fuck is he meant to turn this down?

All business, Roy exhales and shucks his suit jacket.

“You better get good and wet for me, ’cause I’m gonna be rubbing your clit so fast my hand cramps if I’m gonna get you off in time,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves.

It’s wonderful how Keeley can let her mouth drop open and still be smiling.

“I think I just came from that imagery alone. But you’ve misunderstood.”

“’Course I haven’t. Sit down.”

He nods at the chair she’s framing, but Keeley coyly shakes her head and moves away, motioning for him to sit instead.

Roy takes the seat, holding his arms away from his body; he expects his girlfriend to climb onto his lap any second. That’s what has his heart thumping so fucking hard.

Only, she sneaks around to the chairs she has for visitors and grabs a pillow that has the look and texture of a dyed and sheared poodle. Dangling the pink thing from one hand, Keeley circles around and tosses it at his feet. Then she kneels on it.

“Fuuuck,” Roy growls, and it’s not a damn thing like the growl he gave Ted.

“Mmm,” Keeley hums in agreement.

Eyes locked on his, she reaches for his belt. It’s no fucking accident that her hand skims over his crotch on the way.

“Do you know what I was watching before the match?” she asks.

Roy shakes his head, then clears his throat to answer.

“No.”

“Come on, you do.”

“Me quitting the pundit job you talked me into?”

“Yep,” Keeley says. He feels good when she tells him he guessed right. He feels really fucking good when she unzips his trousers and roughly yanks his shirttail free.

“But you’re not mad. Clearly.” His girlfriend smiles and grips the waist of his trousers. He feels the dull edges of her nails and then she’s hooking her fingers around the band of his underwear as well, scratching softly at his bare skin. She negotiates the elastic over the head of his erection and he lifts up from the chair so she can bring his clothes down past his knees. “You said you were proud of me.”

She nods, kneading the tops of his naked thighs with both hands, and then leaning forward to kiss the inside of his left one.

“I am,” she says. “I think you’ll be a brilliant coach.”

He shifts, uncomfortable with the compliment and restless with her mouth so close to his straining cock.

“Don’t see why it isn’t you up here and me between your legs,” he says, meaning it, even when her hands slide higher and Keeley wraps him in the loose, warm hold of her fingers.

“Because of what I saw on that broadcast.”

“Me quitting?”

Keeley scoffs and grips him more firmly, working up and down his full length in sure strokes.

“Guess again.”

“Me getting emotional,” Roy says.

His girlfriend beams and scoots closer. Her hand drops to encircle the base of his cock while her tongue slicks the head. To stay sane, he focuses on how the thick hoop of her gold earring swings against her jaw.

“Me caring about the team,” he chokes out as Keeley’s other hand comes up to cradle his balls, her thumb massaging him. “About my job and my future. Me being… fuck.” He can feel her lips parting, dragging over him, probably getting a smudge of shiny lipstick on his cock. He’s no longer giving any thought to the time, but it doesn’t matter—he won’t take long.

“Me being passionate,” Roy says when he can get the words out.

Keeley’s head sinks over his lap and, after that, all he says is a whole lot of nonsense.

“Any tips, Coach?” his girlfriend checks cheekily, lifting off of him a couple minutes later while her hands continue to work. His jaw is clenched, maybe too clenched to speak.

“You’ve never…” he ventures when he can. “…needed any.”

“Alright. Well, just don’t mess up my hair.”

Roy looks at the tight blonde swirl on top of her head and smiles. He knows better than that; his hands have been clasped around the sides of the chair since she dropped the fucking pillow.

“Feel like a bit of an idiot,” he grunts, as Keeley’s lifting his shirt to kiss his abdomen, palm smearing precum around the head of his cock until—hopefully—her mouth returns to wet him properly.

“How come?”

That hot breath on his skin. He can tell she’s panting. Fuck, he gets the same way when he’s doing this for her, tongue or fingers buried inside her, totally caught up in her pleasure.

“I thought ten minutes wouldn’t be enough time.”

“Oh.” Keeley pulls back and grins. “You gonna come? You gonna have an orgasm because I’m on my knees for you?”

Roy closes his eyes, head falling back.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“You want me to keep going or you want me to help you last longer? Just tell me which one, babe. We can do this however you want.”

He nods as he thinks, then tips forward to look at her. Cheeks flushed, lipstick gone. Heat surges to his groin and he pulses in the fist she quickly slackens.

“Help me last,” Roy gasps. “Please.”

Keeley nods seriously and says, “The other reason you’re up there and I’m down here is that you put on a damn good show, but I could tell your injury was killing you when you turned up. No way am I letting you get down on your shit knee.”

Her bluntness makes him smile.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“You know I am gonna be on my knees for you as soon as it feels better though, right?” he says. “I plan on making Sexy Christmas up to you for the rest of the year.”

“Until next Sexy Christmas?” she asks, eyes bright. There’s something painfully hopeful in there too that makes his fucking chest squeeze with how much he adores her.

“Maybe tonight. Even if it’s only… fucking… Sexy Saturday.”

“Sexy Saturday has a pretty nice ring to it,” Keeley points out.

To show her praise is genuine, he guesses, she takes him deep into her mouth. So much for helping him last. He swears and shouts, counting on the team making enough noise down in the locker room and the fans chatting at full volume in the stadium to essentially render his girlfriend’s office soundproof. Hand cupped around the back of her neck, he rolls his hips gently to the pace set by her eager tongue.

His free hand isn’t free for long—it locates hers to link their fingers, the soft back of Keeley’s hand resting on his thigh when the muscle goes taut. He’s so close he can fucking taste it. She knows too, her hand doing short, quick pumps low on his shaft. When she emits this devastating, brain-shaking moan, mouth full of him and eyelashes fluttering, Roy loses it, locking their hands together. His gaze floats to the white ceiling, then his eyes roll back at the feel of Keeley swallowing around him.

He loves her, he loves her, he probably tells her somewhere in all his mid-bliss babbling.

Sitting there as he gets his breath back, with his shit knee and his bare ass on her chair, Roy turns tender eyes on Keeley. She rises and winks at him, backhanding her lower lip. Fluffing the pillow back into shape, she returns it to its chair. She comes back to his side of the desk and opens a drawer. Once she’s extracted a mirror and a tube of lip gloss, she dabs shimmery pink dots across her lips before smoothing them with the applicator. He wheels up behind her and hugs her around the waist, forehead pressed to her back.

“You gonna get dressed?” she asks.

“In a minute. Do I have time to hold you?”

Keeley must have brought her phone with her, but she plucks his arm, tilting it—presumably inspecting his watch.

“Not really,” she says.

“I’ll run.”

The discomfort’ll be worth a little more time with her, he thinks, sighing in contentment and inhaling his girlfriend’s perfume.

“You will not,” she informs him. “I’ve got a better idea.”

So after he’s swiped a few tissues from the box on her desk, and righted his suit—with Keeley playfully fighting to leave him at least a little disheveled (“No.”)—and scowled at the Roy Kent decal stuck to her wall (“Prick gets to spend all day with you.”), and accepted the kiss she gives him when she sees he’s jealous (“I’m not jealous.”), he yields to this “better idea” of Keeley’s.

Which ends up being to have him remain seated in her chair while she pushes, running full tilt in her heels and giggling madly.

He should make her stop when they get to the first closed door.

He lets her do it until they’re right outside the locker room.

Standing, he straightens and rebuttons his jacket. Keeley bites her lip, grinning, and pulls the chair away. She steps close and wiggles the knot of his tie into place. Roy breathes, preparing to go in and catch the end of Ted’s halftime pep talk. At the last second, Keeley grabs his arm, stretches up, and plants a sticky kiss on his neck.

Roy gives her a wry look, eyebrow cocked, then strides into the locker room. He has his head held high when his team spot the pink print of Keeley’s lips and start OOOHing their fucking heads off.

[rose-blooms-red]

Significant Others/troopers under their command react to Edee's latest volley of obnoxious gifts :D

Did I start this 3 months ago? Yes. Did I also write over 2k of it Today? Also yes. Productivity is a Relative Term. 

[read on ao3]

Fox twitches as he reads the clearly handmade voucher. Says, pleasant as anything, “I’m going to fucking murder him.”

Ponds hums, looking over Fox’s shoulder, “It’s sweet. Probably.”

Fox makes a noise in the back of his throat that isn’t entirely describable by any known language. 

Does he still have that clock he found during that one shopping trip? The one with that awful fucking peach, mustard, and grey-blue combination that spat out an eeopie’s mating call every half hour? He’d been planning on saving it he remembers but—

“Telling you to take a break like that,” Ponds continues, like he can’t hear the way Fox’s higher reasoning is currently dying a slow painful death, “very considerate.”

Fox grits his teeth. Needs must, and Fox needs to crush the little fucker’s spirit thoroughly under heel. He’ll have to take it out of storage tomorrow.

“No.”

Ponds giggles, “I’m sure it’ll be entertaining at least.”

“Hondo,” Fox reiterates, digging his elbow back into Ponds’ stomach. 

Ponds drapes himself over Fox’s back, knocks the side of his head against Fox’s, “As I said,” he simpers, “entertaining.”

Fox makes a disgusted sound, sneers down at the offending…. Gift.

‘All expense-paid cruise on the Hondo Ohkana ‘Sights of The Galaxy’ tour!!!!!!’ It proclaims in neon colours and excessive exclamation marks, ‘Very Romantic and Exciting!’

“When’s it say it’s good for?” Ponds asks, like he’s actually contemplating it.

“No.”

Ponds snatches the voucher out of his hands anyway, “Oh good! We aren’t busy that ten-day.”

Fox’s hand twitches, “I am not getting on a fucking ship with fucking Hondo Ohkana, Ponds.”

“Mhm, ‘course not Fox.” Ponds responds absentmindedly, pats his arm lightly in the way that means they are definitely getting on the fucking ship with fucking Hondo Ohkana, “We’ve got a ten-day to pack and get everything in order, that should be enough.” He nods to himself, breezes out of the room with a vague sense of purpose as he flits around the house, presumably for things to take on a ‘very romantic and exciting’ trip.

Fox is going to murder somebody, preferably Hondo, or Neyo. 

He hears the sound of Ponds grabbing the DC-15A’s and he grimaces, ugh, time to find the fucking holdout blasters, those things haven’t been serviced in at least a ten-day, and he needs to check on the blaster packs for the DC-17’s. He can’t remember if he restocked the things after the last time he used them. 

If they’re going on the fucking trip, they’re gonna be well fucking stocked.

(Fox manages not to murder Hondo, but it’s a very near fucking thing.

He does come back from the trip in a much better mood though, other than the twitch he’s developed from listening to Hondo all day. Ponds is annoyingly amused and smug about it. Fox ignores it, like he does every other fucking annoyance in his life. 

He shuts down the talk of another trip like it happening any time in this fucking century before Ponds even opens his mouth to respond. Once was fucking enough thank you.)

__________

Colt closes his eyes, casts a net about his mind for a sliver of patience and finds his supply has dwindled something awful.

When he opens his eyes again both nuisance and potted plant are still there. Gree smiles winningly and Colt smells danger. 

Or maybe he just smells the plant, because that is the thing overwhelming everything else right now. He glares down at it, it looks harmless, mostly, in it’s large pot but already Colt can hear the sounds of flies swarming around.

“That is not a houseplant,” Colt says, relatively tamely in his opinion, given that the overwhelming smell it emits is decay, “that is the type of plant one shoots and hopes doesn't survive the encounter.”

“It’s a very rare and endangered plant,” Gree lies, grin earnest and eyes bright with humour.

“It’s a pile of banthashit dressed up in vegitive form.”

“It’s an Amorphophallus titanum,” Gree corrects, “and it’s very rare, it’s one of the largest unbranched inflorescence in the galaxy that isn’t also carnivorous in any shape or form.”

Colt gives the plant a dubious look, “I’ll believe that when it doesn’t smell like it just ate and digested something.”

Gree shrugs, “It’s possible it’s a type of carrion flower…. but in the name of protecting it from extinction there’s no one I’d trust more than you.”

Colt twitches, he has no clue what a carrion flower is or how that accounts for the way it smells like Colt has a pile of corpses rotting away on his front step, but he does not like it at all.

The worst part is that he can’t actually tell whether this is Gree being serious or him pulling a shithead move. Because this is exactly the type of thing Gree would genuinely do and also the type of thing Gree would do just to fuck with him.

Behind him someone gags and Colt twitches.

“Fine,” he grits out, and Gree’s smile tries for sunshine and comes up partly cloudy and fully shiteating.

“Wonderful, thanks Colt.”

“Please leave.” 

Gree laughs as he leaves and Colt closes the door with a sigh.

“It smells like someone died over there,” Blitz calls out and Colt groans.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Havoc sniggers, “It really does sir, we might have to keep the Little’s away for a few days, wouldn’t want one of ‘em puking.”

Colt winces, that image does enough to convince him of the necessity, the only thing that could be worse right now is over a dozen Little’s sicking up from the smell. “Might be for the best.”

Blitz hums, looking at the now closed door in interest, “How likely is it that he was pulling your leg?”

Colt slumps into his chair, “50/50” he admits and Blitz raises his eyebrows.

“That is almost more concerning. What the kriff did they put in your batch.”

“Mistakes,” Colt grumbles back. This is why he’s the oldest, he’s the only one in the entire batch who managed to wrangle any sense out of his tube and keep it all the way through.

Havoc laughs and Blitz snorts, then looks like he immediately regrets it, “Ugh, Colt your batch is full of sadists I’m not gonna get the smell out of my nose for weeks.”

“It’s probably seeped into the clothes at this point,” Havoc agrees and Colt groans.

(When Shaak comes home she takes one look at the plant and can’t seem to decide whether to grimace or smile.

“Apparently,” he drawls, “it’s a very endangered plant that’s been entrusted to my care.”

A burst of laughter ripples out into the room and Shaak smiles, hand covering her lips as her shoulders shake minutely, Colt forgets about the death plant for a second as he looks up at her, heart stopping for a moment in the split second it takes her to swallow her laughter back down and he wants nothing more than to pull that sound out from her again.

It takes him a minute to realize that at some point he’d started smiling. He can’t seem to stop it, but there are worse things to find himself unable to stop doing.

“It’s commonly known as a type of carrion flower,” she tells him finally, laughter lacing her tone, “otherwise known as a corpse flower for the smells they produce. It is not endangered, though there are those who agree that it might not be too much of a loss if it was.”

Colt groans. Shaak giggles and Colt finds himself forgetting for a second to plot his revenge.

Maybe Gree will get off a bit lighter this time, if only because Colt got to hear that bright laughter. 

He hums, “Plant it far, far, far away from the house?” Shaak smiles, presses a kiss to his forehead.

“That, my dear Colt, sounds like a brilliant plan.”)

__________

Gree gives the box a look of suspicious distrust that makes Barriss giggle and Decker snicker. 

It’s a big box, about the size of his torso and Gree has seen that bland, even smile too many times before to trust the contents of the box.

“Fox,” he warns and Fox’s grin goes sickeningly sweet.

“Gree, Baby Brother Dearest,” he drawls and Gree can hear the capital letters what the fuck, “I put my heart and soul into this you know, I’m hurt, really I am.”

That, Gree thinks sourly, is the worst load of banthashit he’s ever heard, and he’s had to listen to ‘scientific lectures’ given by people who read maybe one Edupad and then promptly forgot all of the information in the Edupad and decided whatever half-remembered thing left was Fact and Truth and refused to listen to Reason…. or sources and cited works.

Gree was very annoyed about that one, he’d put Effort into that paper thank you very much and he’d taken the class to learn things, not whatever that had been.

Fox wiggles the box in his hands around, expression pleasant and smile sharp.

Gree sighs. At least, he assures himself as he takes the box, it won’t be as bad as whatever happened after Fox and Ponds had come back from Neyo’s…… Gift.

Maybe.

The box is squishy. Boxes are not supposed to be squishy.

Gree has a Bad Feeling about this. He raises an eyebrow, Fox doesn’t even twitch.

Behind him Barriss is watching the exchange with wide, mirth filled eyes and a hand covering her mouth. Decker has long since lost the battle of keeping his snickering quiet and the rest of Gree’s so called loyal troopers of Green company watch with rapt attention.

He sighs again, loud and long-suffering, Fox’s smile never shrinks a shade less than serial killer pleased.

Gree unwraps the wrapping flimsi with ease, and then stares with distant horror at the plasti-cling underneath it. Not a box, no, plasti-cling.

It’s layered.

Gree twitches and reaches for one of his vibroblades.

“It’s very delicate,” Fox informs him, just as he gets the vibroblade out of it’s holder.

“Oh?” Gree asks, really quite pleasantly given the plasti-cling is so layered he can’t see a damn thing through it.

“Extremely,” Fox confirms, deadpan. Behind him Barriss giggles uncontrollably and Decker is flushed with laughter and gasping for air and the others aren’t much better. 

“Do they always do this?” one of them whispers incredibly poorly, Gree twitches, Fox eyes him with that malicious amusement that cements his place as youngest forever in Gree’s head.

“Always,” Barriss whispers back, giggling still and Gree’s heart warms for a second before his impending humiliation via gift settles in again.

“I knew the Commander wasn’t only, you know, learny, but I always thought he was sane.”

“Oh he’s sane,” Cooker reassures, “far as we can tell their entire batch is just, Like That.”

“But this is Torrent lev—” Fox’s face gives an unpleasant twitch that Gree sympathizes with.

Torrent, ugh.

“Shhhh,” the rest of Green hisses and Barriss hides her head in her hands as she laughs.

“We don’t compare them to Torrent, makes them touchy,” Draa mutters, as if he isn't half the reason Gree goes into interactions with Torrent prepared to have engineering go on another crazed building spree. He has a hunch that they feed on each other, the engineers, and it's their own special kind of crazy that Gree is half fascinated by and half resigned to.

“My point stands.” 

Gree grits his teeth, narrows his eyes at Green Company as a whole to no avail, turns a raised eyebrow to Barriss in a last attempt at gaining control of a situation he’d lost all hold over the moment Fox had walked up to him with a ‘gift from the bottom of my heart, Gree’.

His cold dead heart maybe. Gree is plotting his revenge already.

He puts the blade back with mechanical motions, feels around for the beginning of the despised plasti-cling, seriously who made it Gree has complaints for them, and begins the arduous task of unwrapping it all.

Who let Fox have this much plasti-cling.

(Over 10 hours of nonstop focus later the last of the plasti-cling has finally been ripped away and Gree stares at the new puzzle cube. Ugly and about the size of his palm. Much, much smaller than the wrapping he’d been given, nearly the size of his torso.

Gree makes a strangled sound that he will forever deny, Draa. 

The plasti-cling sits around him tauntingly, viciously victorious in all it’s piled glory.

It takes 3 days for Green Company to stop laughing about it. It does not take 3 days for them to stop sharing the holopics and vids they took, that takes much longer.

Barriss is Gree’s favourite now, everyone else is awful and everything they say is lies, and Fox has been demoted to all the way to being the baby.)

__________

Neyo tilts his head, grin bordering manic, “That, is the ugliest piece of garbage I’ve ever seen.”

Colt smiles, “It’s high class art.”

“It looks like someone took cans of paint and dumped them on the nearest patch of dirt they found.” 

“The texture adds value.”

“It’s chunks of dirt and grass.” Neyo hisses in delighted outrage. 

Colt waves a hand, voice disinterested and all ‘above all this nonsense’ like, “Very classy. Made with only the best of intentions.”

Neyo giggles, “It looks like actual manure, I hate it.”

“I got it just for you,” Colt simpers, like the little shit no one ever believes he is, “I saw it and just knew you’d connect to it.”

Neyo cackles, “This is awful, you’re awful, I’m hanging it on the wall and telling everyone you painted it.”

Colt raises an eyebrow, “No one will believe you.”

He’s right, it’s awful. Neyo pouts, “I could convince them.”

No he can’t, but that’s besides the point.

Colt hums, “mhm, I’m sure you could kih’vod.”

Neyo flicks at Colt’s wrist and wilts, “This is harassment.”

“Whatever you say Ney’ika.”

“You’re a bully.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe anyone thinks you’re responsible.”

“That is because I am.” Colt says, putting Neyo in a headlock, they both ignore the way Neyo tenses up for a fraction of a second before he relaxes, sulks, digging his elbow into Colt’s side.

It’s the first time Colt has given him such a blatantly awful gift. Neyo cackles and something shakes loose in his chest. His throat feels grossly tight and the stupid shitty canvas covered in dirt and paint sits leaning against the wall innocently.

Colt makes the same even face he uses on the Little’s when they’re being hilarious and he can’t afford to tell them or when he’s about to say something completely karking stupid because no matter how much he likes to tell everyone he’s the oldest he totally isn’t. 

Neyo slips out of the headlock, giggles through the knot in his throat and rolls his eyes.

“You’re deluding yourself and everyone around you.” he tells Colt. Colt has only ever been responsible by necessity, and never once in all of Neyo’s memories of him, has he been anything less than an absolute shithead just like the rest of them when there was no necessity.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I’m not arguing with you like a first-cycle.”

“Are too.”

“Neyo.”

“You’re the one who gave me the shitty painting.”

“It’s high class art you bastard.”

Neyo preens, “Thank you, still the worst thing I’ve ever seen though. Might hang it up in the front room, just to really bring it all together.”

Colt sighs, aggrieved. Neyo has no sympathy for him, really if you’re gonna play the game you gotta be in it to win it. It’s not Neyo’s fault that the trashy, awful, horrible dirt, grass, paint mixture splattered onto canvas happens to be horrifyingly tasteless. Neyo loves it. It’s gonna make Fox so mad.

(“Neyo,” Vaughn asks, staring at the wall, “why is there a, what even is that, dirt? On canvas?”

Neyo straightens up, grins wide, “Colt painted it. Out of the love in his heart and the limited talents he was decanted with.”

Vaughn raises an eyebrow, “That’s lovely and everything, why is it hanging in our front room.”

“It is horrifically awful and I love it and Fox and Ponds are coming over tomorrow.”

Vaughn laughs.

The next day, Ponds takes one look at it and giggles, “Fox, Fox come here, you’re gonna hate it.”

Fox takes one look at it and walks right back out of the house, Neyo cackles the entire time.)

[wearevillaneve]

Hi! Recently I've been analyzing the scene where Eve puts the heart against her ear, listening to Villanelle's voice in s3 ep3, and would love to hear your take on it as well since I love to read your Tumblr posts. Do you think it was the first time Eve actually gave in to the feeling or just the first time the audience got to see it?

Suzanne Heathcote’s approach to Killing Eve was very much “tell-don’t-show,” so it was not a shock that the impression the viewers were left with was this was the first time Eve was actually owning up to how intense her feelings for Villanelle were. Except it wasn’t.   Not even close.   We got that moment back in Season 2 with “Wide Awake” where over a few short minutes Eve is as honest and revealing with the psychologist Martin as she has been with anyone in the entire show. 

Eve never tells Martin she’s in love with Villanelle. She hasn't even told Villanelle, but it hardly matters.  She is in love with this woman, and she can’t stop thinking about her.   It could not be more obvious. This is a good thing, because under Heathcote’s tender mercies, Eve is just kinda doing stuff to be doing it.   The rhyme or reason of it doesn’t matter anymore.   It’s only important for her to go dumpster diving for cake boxes and running around Scotland stomping old ladies to death.  Motivations be damned and pretty much all Eve's previous character development as well. In Season 3, Eve never acknowledges out loud how deep under her skin Villanelle has gotten until they are on the bridge where she says she can’t envision a future without her in it.   That’s good,  but coming off of everything that came after the Rome fiasco, where is this coming from, Eve?    Are you just so weary of the pointless snipe hunt that was the “Who Killed Kenny?” story arc or how your personality turned on a damn dime from obsessing over getting back with your husband to obsessing over getting back with your girlfriend? It would be a revelation for someone to ask Sandra Oh, “At what point in Season 3 does Eve fall back in love/lust with Villanelle, and better yet, WHY does she?”

“Admit it, Eve.  You wish I was here.”   It’s a great scene.  No lie.  At first Eve’s flustered and then frustrated and a little pissed by that familiar voice coming out of that goofy toy.  Then as she tears the heart out of it, she-can’t-stop-listening-to-it.   Eve's loneliness is matched by her longing for Villanelle. Obsession truly doesn't die even when the objects of obsession keep trying to murder one another.  

What the talking bear doesn’t say is, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”   Villanelle needs to maintain some distance between her true feelings for Eve and her pride and the admission that she misses Eve would be showing weakness.  A swaggering Roman centurion-turned Emperor in a oversized grey suit facing off on a double-decker bus with an old foe who once hurt “him” greatly cannot be so vulnerable and soft (and what the fuck was up with that Roman centurion/smells like power bullshit, anyway?). Villanelle was weird that whole episode.   The opening kills with the Infinity Tuning Fork was weird.  Baby-snatching the baby in order to play with it, right up until the kid starts crying or pooping, then the fun’s over, and she cackles with malicious glee when Dasha drops the little shitbird in the trash.   Struts around London to select a new customized perfume, buy and customize a toy for Eve, break into Eve’s dump of an apartment, follow her to the bus, change clothes and bust a cap in The Twelve’s accountant while scaring the hell out of Carolyn and Mo, finally returning to a hotel for a shower and a little telly before calling it a night as she and Eve nurse their matching bruises. That’s a pretty full and totally weird day for Villanelle.  In the meantime, Eve gets a restless night tossing and turning all night as she keeps replaying V’s message until the battery dies or she climaxes.  Whatever comes first.

Yeah, @dayyneee, I love the scene as much as you do as it comes in my favorite episode of my least favorite season.  What bugs me most about it is it has really no effect on the following episodes.  Eve never mentions it again and Villanelle doesn’t even ask if she liked it.  Uh--why is that, Killing Eve writers?   Seemed like you went out of the way to make a point of the stuffed bear’s heart being a mighty big thing at the time, but after that it swirls down the memory hole never to be referenced again?  What’s up with that? Eve could have referred to the talking heart which would have given Villanelle a chance to ask how she liked her birthday cake and the postcard from Amsterdam intercepted by Carolyn in Season 2.   Some might dismiss this as “fan service,” but I call it tying up loose threads that like so many other things on Killing Eve happen and are never heard from again. If Laura Neal is doing a rewatch of the show, she’s filling up a pad with notes of things that need tidying up before the curtain comes down.   What about “the heart?” is not the least of them. 

[dontshootmespence]

Not One Bit

Summary: When he calls, you answer. Even if it’s in the middle of the work day.

Words: 1,137

Warnings: Sex in the office, blowjob, hair pulling, grinding, D/s dynamic. It’s PornWithoutPlot :D

A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo​ run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt. This fills my lawyer!au square.

Aaron wanted to see you in his office.

Standing up from your desk, you could feel all eyes fixed on you. It was unspoken that you and Aaron were an item, but you assumed most of your colleagues knew. What they didn’t know was just how kinky their boss was, though they might’ve had an inclination about you. 

Feeling the slick pool in your panties, you headed inside, mind wandering to all the different things Aaron could want you to do.

As you knocked on the door, you smoothed out your skirt and waited for him to answer. “Hello?” 

“It’s Y/N. You wanted to see me, Sir?”

You could hear the smile in his voice. “Yes. Come in, Y/N.”

He was a no-nonsense businessman, so in front of others it was always strictly professional. You shut the door and went to lock it. “No, don’t,” he said cheekily, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

Intrigued, you spun around. “Sir? Why did you want to see me?”

“Because I need you now and I don’t think I should have to wait until we get home.”

Being wanted, needed by him was more heady a feeling that anything else in the world. “How can I help, Sir?” You walked towards him, slowly hiking up your skirt when he grabbed your hands and smoothed the material back down. 

“No need for that just yet.” His right hand traveled up the length of your torso, gliding across your neck until his pointer and middle fingers hung at the entrance to your mouth. “You’ll be using this first.”

You licked your lips and dropped to your knees, maneuvering yourself under the desk while simultaneously unzipping his pants and pulling his cock free from his boxers. With a hitch of your breath, you asked for permission and he gave it, swiftly returning to his work. 

Chipping away at the professional exterior was one of your favorite pastimes. He was so controlled, so precise at all times that hearing him moan, feeling him twitch beneath you was intoxicating. Slowly, you flattened your tongue and ran it up the length of his shaft before taking the head into your mouth. Using saliva, you began to pump your hands at the base of him, watching for any signs that the walls had fallen. 

A knock at the door stopped you in your tracks.

“Did I say to stop?”

“No, Sir.”

“I’ll answer whoever it is and you’ll continue as instructed.” If it was possible to be sitting in a pool of your own arousal, you were there. He answered the door. It was the other partner in the firm. The only one who although brilliant was fairly dense on the social front and didn’t have a clue that his esteemed partner was sleeping with the budding attorney. “Decker? Come in.”

You scooted your legs underneath you, crunched up a little more than was comfortable just so Decker wouldn’t catch a glimpse of your legs from under the desk. As they discussed the upcoming case, you did your best to keep quiet but stifling a moan with the thickness of his cock in your mouth was nearly impossible. 

Here and there you heard names that you recognized, but you zeroed in on making this the best blowjob you’d ever given. Taking him into your mouth, you swirled your tongue around the head before swallowing him down as far as you could. You reached into his boxers and massaged his balls, feeling them tighten at the touch, his foot twitching underneath the desk. 

Stifling a slight gag, you removed him from your mouth and stroked him, looking up to see the straight-laced attorney biting his lip. “You ready, Decker?”

“Absolutely. We’ve got this.”

“I think so too,” he laughed, mentioning going out for drinks in the near future. When the door closed, Aaron pulled your head out from underneath the desk and pulled you in for a kiss, sloppy and desperate. “Get up and lock the door.”

You eagerly popped up from your position and did as he commanded before returning and awaiting his instruction. “Unbutton your shirt, remove your skirt and keep your panties on.”

“Yes, Sir.

The instant the material left your body, he pulled you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his now bare waist. On top, he was still composed, minus a simple sheen of sweat, but if you looked down, he had his pants and boxers around his ankles. 

As his hands snaked underneath your bra, fingers tightening around your nipples, he told you to grind against him. No need to ask for permission, no need to do anything in particular for him. All he wanted was to watch you lose control. 

He easily slipped his cock into you, pressing against your lower back with his hand to force your closer despite the fact that you were already grinding against him, desperate for release at any cost. The pressure built fairly quickly and you stifled your whimpers in his neck, your fingernails scraping against the opposite side. “Can’t leave on marks, love. Sit up straight.”

You continued writhing against him and pulled back, allowing him access to whatever he wanted. Pulling the cups below your breasts, he took a nipple into his mouth and you moaned. It wasn’t too loud, but it was enough for him to bring his hand up to cover your mouth.

With one hand on your mouth and the other tangled in your hair, he pulled it back, arching you against him, pleasure mixing with pain as he growled for you to move faster and take what you needed. If the chair wasn’t damaged after this, you’d be amazed. 

Your legs began to shake as the pressure built and peaked quickly, leaving you quaking against him as he came himself. “Good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He kissed up the side of your neck as he arranged your bra back into place and buttoned up your shirt. “Now, I need you to clean me up. You can clean up your legs, but nothing else. I want you to feel everything that just happened when you sit back down outside.”

A delicious shiver rolled up your spine. You hopped happily into the bathroom next to his office and grabbed some tissues to clean him and yourself (as much as you were allowed) before pulling your skirt back on. “Do I look okay, Sir?”

“Thoroughly fucked,” he said softly.

You blushed, lips pursed. “Appropriate to go outside?

“Just tuck your shirt back into your skirt because that’s how you came in.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes. Underneath me this time.”

You attempted to wipe the smile off your face and returned outside. All eyes on you once again. You should’ve cared...but you didn’t. Not one bit.

[smallestclowninthecircus]

Season 4 notes

Ep 121: mmmm tape recorder turning on without them knowing goes brrr. AAAhjhdsjfhjdf "do you mind if i call you jon" its like "can i call you elias?" is this the dream guy with the tendrils? who wants to bet the boat is captained by peter lukas? big man if it killed yall how are you still here. oh boy the tape is doin that thing. who do we think it is? did he wake up? hmm. ep 122: lol jon. 6 months!?!? bruh quit movin big man. he just Knows things sometimes you know how it is. nah b/c i can relate to feeling like other ppl/ things arent real, thats the biggest mood BUT i think it is kinda pretentious to entertain the idea that youre the only Real person. If you dont see a body dont believe it. i'll hold out hope for a bit. theres not a new archivist is there? surely i wouldve heard about that. oh god peter what changes did you make. ep 123: web development. hope its about spiders. she blames him. bruh why. if they hadnt done anything the world would've ended piss off melanie. why are ppl acting like he chose to be in a coma for 6 months. we know this they just appear. no longer "head archivist of the magnus institute, london" now he's just "the archivist" covered in spiders? cuz ik the spider has to do with controlling what youre doing and all this stuff but i cant think of how this connects to that. ep 124: ugh vertigo. is michael crew an old man? oooh. fairchild. how did he know it was martin? hmm. GRR I LOST MY NOTES AGAIN. FROM EPISODE 125 - part of 131. ep 131: bruh he's so hard to understand big man ur voice is so low. Jared Hotworth. the boneturner. "the ones i helped find their proper bodies" name a better top surgeon? our favorite trans ally? ep 132: woo field trip into the coffin! static lol. he says "chill out im just poppin in for a quick recall mission" is the rib thing actually gonna work? bruh it feels so odd and contrived but he's an odd man with some odd powers so idk. rip that archivist ayyy statement time. voices? recordings? are those tape recorders? was it the tape recorders? did they pull him back? i hope so b/c if the rib thing actually worked im gonna be so disappointed. ep 133: predicting the lonely? tundra. like the lukases. hmm. sanikova! like sanikov land. so its the hunt? i suppose? yeah. so daisy's clearly rejecting the hunt, which makes sense cuz she doesnt seem to like the entities that much. wait so are we just not gonna talk abt all the tapes playing on the ground?? no? ep 134: not an archival assistant anymore? Adelard Decker (or however you spell it) i recognize that name. 15th power. i was right there are 15. the extinction? im trying to remember what ive heard. oooh spooky. no i gotta be real i dont understand this fear but i'll believe you that its a thing. ew lukas is so squealy. lukas can turn invisible? oh boy. oooh martin put the tape recorders there. lol lukas is worried he's gonna be an avatar of the eye. ep 135: yoo its the third Daedalus statement! maxwell rayner (reiner? reigner?) i dont know who that is but ik its somebody. is he the cult leader guy? church of the divine host? 4 people?? what? did they kidnap somebody and keep them up there?? oh dear jon are you dying? did he try to See or Know or whatever? why does everyone call basira detective lol. ep 136: he was the one from the spider movie that ate ppl right? the special effects artist? is it annabelle cane? "its a joke jon" lol. hmm they wanted to record the therapy session with melanie? i wonder who that is. i almost wanna guess annabelle cane but im not sure. ep 137: this is the one! he went to the other place and read the war statement but it wasnt the one she took. not the music again. sounds like the slaughter. who the heck is eric lol. "the watcher's crown" like the crown of eyes we saw in the piccrew ep 138: oh boy Robert Smirk time. is that elias? as unhelpful as usual. if new powers can be "born" can others die out? did jonah magnus wear the watchers crown? maybe they were born from our fear or maybe our fears were born from them. ceaseless watcher does ceaselessly watch so. idk what you want

big man. yeah jonah for sure did something. ep 139: agnes!! lol that one dude threw off all their plans thats so funny. BUT this does tell us something. the tree in the backyard of the hilltop house? not made by her. it going down didnt kill agnes. im guessing gertrude tied agnes to the house using the tree? u good jon? cuz every time you try to Know smth intentionally it seems like it causes you great pain. how come he can do it accidentally with no problem but the second he wants to know smth of plot relevance he gets a headache or whatever ep 140: lol pagan exultation. classic. "oh thats my rib" lmaoo. ppl are always so mad at jon and his Eye powers except when it benefits them. they're like "oh you shouldnt do that its not right" and then all of a sudden they want to know something and its all "oh cmon jon its the only way" ep 142: oh god jon what did you do. its interesting she's giving her statement in the way that they do when jon Asks. did he see her in the Coffin? and so he's following her? ok cmon jon you're supposed to let them come to you. lmao ikr martin. "start to hear the blood" "suure." lmao ep 143: lol that awkward moment when gertrude is already dead. big J if you die im gonna kill you. bruh. ayo helen? i guess it worked? ep 144: lol this reminds me of that one edgar allan poe story where he kills the old dude with the weird eye. spooky music stuff. lol thats my favorite symptom of a heart attack its hilarious. so its smth abt the location probably? bro i feel like you should write down the numbers idk. 162830165049 564846474827. seems like the distortion? like the kinda thing that causes you to go crazy because of the numbers. oh boy is it the extinction again. bro what?? im?? his dad just died and he's like eh. martin dont be mean. he's being all lonely again. big man ur pushing ppl away. oh god its fucking squealy boy. ep 145: that almost sounds like breekon/hope... Arthur? agnes. aah was he from the lightless flame cult. a tree. lol he's just ranting rn. hehehe fuck landlords amirite. yay someone tells jon outright to go to therapy. now do it big man. ep 146: oh great! the distortion! i'm making a spiral themed building in mc right now! jon maybe accept you did a bad? nah this goes back to what i said before. they're fine with him compelling ppl when its convenient for them but otherwise its "no jon you cant, youre a monster jon" the tapes didnt turn on. i spose that means its not important? i agree with daisy, this seems unecessarily dangerous. ep 147: is that a tape? the first tape? well that went better than i expected tbh. BAHAKJASHDJKF she did the "can i call you jon" like nikola says "elias, can i call you elias?" damn annabelle is such a girlboss. oh! the one thing from the picrew. its been a while since ive connected smth to that. lol all the other avatars always talk abt their patron so lovingly and the jon just. absolutely hates the eye. ep 148: lol thats the most elias thing. "i just like the way it sounds" ep 149: did he disappear? bruhh. ur lonely powers are popping off i guess. oops i accidentally deleted my notes for 150 - 152 ep 153: thats the cult right? yeah. it doesnt sound like the church of the divine host? idk. if it is the church of the divine host then they worship the dark right? so is the eleventh the dark star or wtvr? it almost sounds like the corruption b/c of the oil or grease or whatever. oh dear what happened. oh its the hunters. theyre so annyoing. not an "it" he has a name. he's a person. is this a page from the skin book? ep 154: oh shit this is gerry's dad! oh shit he quit! oh dear god. jon don't you do it. haha martin. yeahhhh... is he gonna tell the others? cuz you know theyre gonna get mad if he doesnt. oh also picrew connection! the bandages over the eyes? yeah thats this im guessing. ep 155: oh good he told them. oh my god what did you do. lol i have no mouth and i must scream. nah you get none of my sympathy you're straight up murdering ppl. its like the desolation, destroying lives to sustain your own. ok but taking their statements doesnt

kill them. oh... bye melanie. ep 156: lmao imagine if the tape recorder spoke back. oh boy decker! i swear we got a statement from him already. oh god mirrors scary. They're gonna eat the body arent they. Yup... sounds like the flesh or the slaughter, but I'm not sure. Could be the extinction for sure. Smth at the center! Like Helen mentioned. God Peter you dick. Ep 157: peter's just so :/ another decker statement i see. a statement about the corruption? hmm. maybe its not abt the corruption. the extinction. lol pandemics. topical. John Amherst. helen? lol i can hear admiral purring in the background. oh cmon helen dont be like that. im trying real hard to like you but you make it so difficult. ep 158: did they fucking free the stranger? im gonna lose it. you absolute dumbass. im sorry who is that? jonah magnus? my guy. peter. you absolute dickhead. that's elias. (im p sure i had this spoiled for me that elias is jonah) oh dear this is her death. god peter you prick. i hope this is a pop off martin moment and not a "martin you idiot" moment. i hope the hunters kill the stranger entity. or she kills them. furry daisy pop off! yeah fuck you peter martin can make his own decisions. you know that clip from Twisted where jafar says "ok what the fuck was that" martin D: ok like i know its gonna work but still D: D: ep 159: peter you bitchboy. because if im alone i cant hurt anyone else. imnotgonnacryimnotgonnacryimnotgonnacry do it do it do it do it. pop off jon. ok its a pretty good idea for a ritual i gotta be honest. she didnt even have to blow it up lol. oh dear that was certainly a noise. "he gets you" did he not have jon already? he's back! our boy is back! awwww thats so cute. ep 160: oh right this is the thing in the safe house. i love him. "obviously im going to tell you if i see any good cows" martin my beloved <3 :)) oh boy who is this. fuckin. people. jonah you dick. gahh. you can tell he's trying to resist so hard lol. ohh. hehe keep an *eye* on him. altho if the extinction is a real thing he needs to be marked by that right? lol he sounds so intense im sorry- i want martin to just burst in and be like "look at this cow i saw!" its so dramatic and for why.

[weltonreject]

an evening with night.

|| quick study in boris’s pov. ended up being his view of theo’s ptsd while they’re living together in new york, years after Everything. he just wants to help. || ao3

It was seven at night and Boris had hot soup and sandwiches from Theo’s favorite deli tucked under his arm. It was a bit late for dinner, but Boris also knew Theo never ate without him. It wasn’t an agreed upon or even announced rule, just something Boris noticed. Even if Theo did eat without him, when Boris was horrifically late as he sometimes was, Theo would still sit down and pick at Boris’s food, having an echo of his meal.

There was no need to rush, but Boris found he had no patience that day for any sidewalk traffic. He weaved around evening walkers and giggling couples. He ducked around scaffolding over the block before their apartment building. That morning when he’d left, he’d waved up to the workers-- three of them having previously worked for him on a Job. Nice men, all of them. By then though, no one was working. It was dark out and the entire city seemed to be tucking in early.

The lobby was slightly less empty than the street-- somehow-- a few other tenants milling in from outside and heading up to their beds. Boris waved to the two men at the front desk-- and one of them waved him over.

“Mister Decker! Good evening, how are you?” The man-- boy, really-- smiled. His face was covered in hormonal acne and his voice cracked as he incorrectly said Boris’s last name. It was the name all their mail was addressed to because Boris was very tired of things being sent back because dumb Americans couldn’t spell his name. He understood why the boy (Antony perhaps?) called him by Theo’s last name. It also wasn’t really a bad thing. Not at all a bad thing.

“Very good-- have dinner and am very hungry. And you? Busy day? Excitement at all?” Boris liked making small talk. It made people feel good-- and that was also never a bad thing.

"We’re alright, Boris, we’re doing alright.” The other man said before turning and looking at the mail shelves behind him. Jean Paul was Boris’s favorite of the two-- he always laughed at Boris’s jokes and was the first to put Theo at ease whenever they walked into the building together-- which was still something Theo stumbled through uncomfortably. “Got a package for you. Thought I’d give it to Theo when he came by after work but, never showed.”

“Theo is not back from work?” Boris tried to remember if there was a phone chime he had forgotten to answer.

“Never left today.” Antony added, typing something out on the desk computer in front of him. Boris was glad he wasn’t looking at him, he didn’t want the boy to see the moment of confused panic on his face; it could worry him, someone so young.

“Hm. Maybe he is feeling ill today. I will go up and see. Thank you, thank you. Have good night, both of you, yes?” Boris grabbed the package with his free hand and started off for the elevator. Jean Paul and Antony waved as the doors closed over.

It took Boris five minutes just to get a hand free enough to get his keys out-- only to find that the door was unlocked. He slid the package in with his foot as he stepped inside, kicking the door closed.

“Potter?” Boris kicked off his shoes and padded into the kitchen first. He placed the food down on the counter and poked around to the small dining room. The curtains were still closed by the table, their home shut out from acknowledging the day-- well, night by then. “Potter, where are you? Everything okay?”

Finally, a slow answer. “The couch.”

“Theo!” Boris backed through the kitchen and looked through the cut-out over the sink. He saw Theo slowly propping himself up and turning to find his voice. “Are here! Men downstairs had said you were not at work-- did not see you leave! Did you stay here all day?”

Boris spoke, almost, with a kind of excitement. Not because he wanted Theo to be in a poor mood, but because he was excited to turn it around with the surprise quart of matzo ball soup and sausage and pepper grinder. Theo had never said it was his favorite, but Boris could tell whenever they went to the deli for lunch, he had a certain joy waiting for his food. Boris wanted to hand over the food and see that joy appear suddenly.

Instead though, he saw that Theo was not just feeling poorly. He looked it too. Theo was still wearing what he wore to bed: a ripped, old gray shirt from their Vegas years (it was so old Boris didn’t even know who’s it was by then) and his plain, blue boxers. His hair was poking out in different directions as if he’d been restlessly rolling around all day. Which he probably was. There were crease marks on Theo’s face where he’d been pressed against the pillows for hours. His eyes were on Boris, but they weren’t looking at him.

“Theo, what is wrong? You look very bad.”

“Thanks.” Theo ducked his head. His neck cracked audibly. Boris winced and walked around to the couch.

“Why are you like this? What are you on? Drinking? Take something?” Boris wasn’t sure what was in the house except maybe some Xanax. They had cut out the harder stuff in the past three years. They wanted to see the other live a long time-- which of course meant they both had to stop. Fair was fair. “Who did you buy from?”

“I’m not... I’m not high, Boris.” Theo swatted in front of him, despite Boris not coming into his personal space. “I’m just tired.”

“What has happened?” Boris sat on the edge of the couch. “Potter?”

Theo sighed and closed his eyes. He clenched his jaw, muscles all the way up to his temples tensing. “The construction... It... I heard them this morning.”

“Keep you awake? Oh, I will talk to them then! I know half of the group there. Very understanding men! If I tell them--”

“No.” Theo opened his eyes but he didn’t look up at Boris again. “I heard the construction when I was sleeping and... it woke me up and.. it sounded.” Another sigh. “It sounded like an explosion.”

Boris reached for Theo’s hand, hesitating to counteract Theo’s own involuntary retraction from the touch. After a moment, their two hands slotted together. Theo stared at their fingers, tangling them.

“You are upset. Reminded of... before. Have had long day, yes? All alone, in here? That is long day, very hard on you, Potter. I am sorry mother is gone and ghost of fear will not leave you. Very sorry... But I am here now! Not alone now.” Boris smiled and lowered his head to fit into Theo’s distracted eye-line. “I brought you food, Potter. You need good meal-- and then we take bath! Oh, yes. We sit and relax you and--”

“I’m not hungry.” Theo said curtly. He pulled his hand away from Boris’s and laid back down. He rolled over and faced the back of the couch. “Eat without me.”

“But Theo--”

“I said eat without me. I don’t want any.” Theo’s voice was muffled, He rested a hand over his face, just under his glasses.

“Is your favorite though. Called in before I left to make sure was ready when I got there. Your soup, hot sandwich, both.” Boris shook Theo gently, resting his hands on his waist. “Potter, have to eat with me. I can hear stomach grumbling. Hungry, very hungry.”

“Boris, please, I’m not in the fucking mood today.” He rolled his head back to look at Boris, exposing his red, bleary eyes and tight, pinched expression. “I spent half the morning thinking I was thirteen I don’t want to play house right now, okay!” He shouted.

Boris wasn’t sure if it was the way Theo shoved him-- or the way he felt the unflattering urge to grab Theo and hold him tightly-- but Boris wanted to hit Theo. He felt a hot tension in his bicep as if he could bring his arm back... but he’d never bring it down on him. Oh god never. They weren’t fifteen anymore. They weren’t shoving each other into dark, under-chlorinated swimming pools. They weren’t deprived of touch. Boris could take Theo and hold him, if he wanted. It was just that, if Boris hit him there could be no room for argument. He could try and make Theo feel the warmth of his skin on his without refusal-- without deprivation.

“Sit up.” Boris said, standing back from the couch. “Potter, sit up. Put feet on the ground. Sit up.” Still, Boris did not touch Theo, but he pointed with enough force Theo slowly pushed himself vertical, his bare feet pressing down on the wood floor. “Will not let you sulk-- feel upset? Yes, cannot stop you. But this... this! Doing more harm than good for you. Will feel worse when morning comes and you are still unfed! No shower! Are not drunk orphans no more, Theo. Have house! Have good life. Let it help you.”

It wasn’t screaming if Boris was desperate to help. It wasn’t raising his voice if he was doing it to get Theo to hear over whatever was in his head. He wasn’t like his father if he kept his hands to himself and yelled only the nice things. Boris couldn’t be like his father if he genuinely loved someone. He got that from his mother.

Theo rolled his wrists and looked at Boris, resigned but not unwilling. “What did you get me? A-And you got yourself something too, right?”

“Pfft, Potter. You insult me.”

Boris walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the deli bag. He ripped a fistful of paper towels to take as place settings-- Theo would not let them eat on the coffee table without any cover-- and ducked down to grab a bottle of wine from under the cabinets. Before Boris emerged again in the living room, or met Theo’s eyes through the wall cut-out, he thought of Theo drinking that night. The heavy slosh in Boris’s hand would only amplified with whatever heavy, thick darkness was in Theo. He’d black out again. He’d start screaming and crying. He’d try and climb out the window-- try and find his mother in a cloud of smoke that had dissipated ten years before.

Boris put the bottle back and hurried out to Theo, smiling and hoping to appear aloof.

“Hungry, yes?”

"Kind of starving.” Theo was exhausted enough to agree.

“Good thing you have kept me around, eh? Boris keeps you fed and happy. Good roommate, no?” Boris sat beside Theo on the couch, nudging his side with obnoxious eagerness. “Good man to have around.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” Theo muttered, cracking the smallest but least reluctant smile. “He’s pretty good to have around-- wait, did you get me soup?”

Boris burst out laughing at Theo’s sudden distraction-- he had to. If he didn’t laugh at it, at how much life and focus was missing from Theo’s face as he came back to reality, Boris would surely get upset.

It was usually a strange sadness; not one that most people spoke about in explorations of their darker moments. Seeing Theo so absent and crumpled, Boris’s felt like he fell backwards into a tunnel. Going and going, falling down down down. He sunk, feeling like he was stomping his way down the street after telling his best friend-- without words-- that he needed him to stay, but left abruptly anyway. He felt helpless by his own doing. When Boris felt upset, he felt like he was stranded on that burning hot asphalt all over again, thinking he’d never have to stop running. That he’d just fall over and drop dead first.

"Is okay? It is warm enough?” Boris cupped the container with his hands.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.” Theo took the soup and sat back on the couch, resting the warmth against his chest. “It’s fine... Thank you.”

"Of course, of course.” Boris leaned back too. He rested his feet on the edge of the coffee table. Tired, but with no need to take off again.

---

Theo had this very strange habit of only existing at night. Not that he wasn’t active or didn’t do anything in daylight, but the Theo that worked with Hobie was a far different one than the one that trudged home after five o’clock. Every memory Boris had of Theo-- of his Theo-- was in the cool, summer darkness. The harsh grey winter night. Three in the morning when they both had to get up at six for errands and work. There was a safety in night, Boris knew. He also knew there was a danger in it, in having the world beyond the flickering reach of a streetlamp fall away completely.

After eating their dinner, Boris knew they had found the safe kind of evening. The bathroom was dimly lit with the runoff street lights streaming through the window. Theo was sitting in their bathtub, arms draped over the sides. Boris was on the floor beside him, recounting his day-- something he was too busy eating to do earlier.

“I tried coffee place you keep telling me about. Went in and asked for tea way I like-- and actually gave it to me! So hot nice woman put it in two cups and little, uh, neck tie.”

“Collar.” Theo said languidly. “It’s a coffee collar, but same thing.”

“Collar! Yes, cup had collar-- and two shirts! HA!” Boris nudged Theo’s arm. His finger lifted as he laughed. “Then had meeting with Misham-- was fire down on west eight-one. Misham knows people who work fire, a few very impressive antiques may have been too burnt to be saved... Boo-hoo, so sad, yes?”

“Hm.” Theo lifted his finger again. He seemed to be trying to match the steaming bath water in terms of similar states of matter. “Wait, what?”

“Nothing. More surprises for you soon, Potter. Few days time.”

“I think we need to investigate your definition of the word ‘surprise’.” Theo said, turning his head to Boris. He’d kept his glasses on, his tired but attentive eyes finding Boris sharply. “Today it was dinner, last week it was one hundred year old whiskey, a month ago you said you almost bought me an entire new set of dishware because I drunkenly said ours was tacky... Boris, these aren’t surprises, they’re ambushes.”

"Ack, do not know what you are talking about. Are nice things.” Boris shifted and recrossed his ankles. “You are hungry, like to drink-- and made big sale last week! You surprise first with good job-- and do not like dishes we have. All important gifts.”

Theo licked his lips and let his head loll back to center. “You’re crazy. You’re just a spendthrift that’s just a bit too romantic for your own taste.” His fingers lifted once more. Boris finally noticed the motion of his hand was not an echo of the water’s slow waves, but a slow search in the open air.

Boris reached up and let Theo’s fingers bump into his own. Theo wrapped his fingers around one of Boris’s, letting his wrist hang loosely in the air. He’d closed his eyes, the blend of moonlight and neon washing over his face. Theo wasn’t quite ready for sunshine, but Boris would take it. He’d soak it in with Theo, leaning his cheek against the porcelain edge.

“Should talk about your day, Potter.” Boris said. “Is no good to sit on it.”

“Right now I’m sitting on my ass in boiling hot water cooking like a crab.” He laughed.

“Theo.”

"I’m fine. I just... Had a nightmare.” A pause. “While I was awake. No big deal. I have them all the time.” A longer pause. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it... What did I ever do before?”

“Try to kill yourself.” Boris said. Theo looked at him out of the corner of his eye; Boris had forgotten to soften his words. “Not best way to deal, is what I mean.”

"Am I supposed to... cope or something?” Theo pulled the rest of Boris’s hand into his own. “Grieve? What the fuck does that even-- I can’t do that.”

"Have not tried.” Listen, Boris may have had to kick a heroine addiction in the past two years, but he was at least half way alright with the fact his mother was dead and his father was probably the same. Is was what they did to Boris when they were alive that kept him up sometimes.

Death? That was the easy part-- for Boris at least.

“I’m trying.”

“Are not.”

“Boris, I fucking swear--” Theo tightened his grip on Boris’s hand. “I... I am trying-- and don’t say to try harder or so help me God, I’ll dunk your head in this water right now.”

It also seemed Theo also had to laugh at it all. His chuckle sounded like phlegm loose in his lungs, coming up with a hoarse cough and sniffle. His head fell back to the side, looking at Boris. The steam from the water had condensed on the cool, exposed porcelain and was slippery enough to slowly let Theo slip further into the water. His legs were bent and he left himself gently wash away.

“The water’s going to be hot for a while. Want to get in?” Theo’s shoulders were fully submerged.

“No, no. Am fine out here. Had very long day, don’t want to ruin bath with-- ack-- dirt.”

“I didn’t ask you because I wanted you to be clean.” Theo said, his chin touching the surface of the water. “I’m asking because I want you to be a little more naked than you are right now.”

Boris laughed again, full and warm. “Potter, do not use me as distraction.”

“I didn’t say I was.” Theo looked out of only one eye, a smirk lifting his cheeks. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” Theo pulled their hands into the water as he dipped under, just up to his nose. Boris reached and grabbed Theo’s glasses with his other hand, holding them still as Theo slipped out from under them.

“Avoiding what I said does nothing, Potter.” Boris placed the glasses on his own head and rested his chin on the edge of the tub. His right arm was nearly up to his elbow in water, his sleeve soaked. He counted the bubbles from Theo’s slow exhale-- or possible laugh-- as they rose to the surface.

It seemed they were both waiting for Theo to seize upward, startled by the pressure of the bath water; it always snuck up on him when he relaxed into it. Boris pulled Theo’s towel closer with his foot, quietly preparing to have to start talking in circles about things that didn’t really matter in order to distract Theo from screaming and thinking he was going to suffocate, despite how much he was hyperventilating.

Under the water, Theo splayed out Boris’s fingers and rested his hand against his chest. The heel of Theo’s palm pressed against the back of Boris’s hand, cracking parts of his fingers accidentally. It wasn’t frantic or desperate, just firmly intentional. Theo should’ve come up already, Boris thought, but he was testing himself-- not for lung capacity, but some other limit that neither really wanted to acknowledge existed in both of them.

They weren’t invincible, and Boris really hated to admit it. They’d treated their bodies and minds as such when they were young, and now they were scared to acknowledge they damage they’d done-- or left festering for ten years. Seeing the evidence so clearly-- even underwater, gripping his hand-- was like seeing a crack in a ceiling. Growing growing growing, right over his head, unless he did something about it. They’d both die in the rubble.

“Actually, Potter.” Boris said loudly, pulling on Theo’s hand. “In I go. Get back.”

“What?” Theo surfaced and spit out water. He wiped his eyes, squinting in the dark. “Did you say something?”

“Sit back, I am getting in.” Boris started pulling his shirt up over his head, not sparing time to unbutton it.

“Well that was fast.” Theo lowered his knees and sat back. He pulled his hands into the water with a soft splash. “Afraid I’m going to drown in here or something?”

Boris had to laugh, again. He wasn’t sure he was as subtle that time, but Theo’s face remained amused-- unaware of the cathartic numbness. “HA! Yes. Or something, Potter. Something.”

[nureyevv]

This job was supposed to be easy. That’s why Buddy had put him out in the field in the first place, right? He wasn’t as experienced as Jet in these things, but they’d said it’d be good practice for when the real work began. They just needed some cushion creds-- it was the perfect opportunity to acclimate him to the life of crime.

It was the exact sort of thing Juno would have normally refused to take part in. He wouldn't steal just to steal, certainly not from innocent people, but it just so happened their mark today was a double decker asshole. The Diamond Dame Casino, just off Saturn, was notorious for attracting the worst kind of people. Juno had never been fond of casinos anyway. He couldn't understand how someone could make a living off of other people’s addictions and still sleep soundly at night. The Diamond Dame was a whole different brand of nasty, though. It was a known location among criminals to make dirty deals without risk of being caught, and at the head of it all was a man by the name of Dallas Olson. He’d inherited the business from his father and had been inadvertently running the place into the ground ever since.

See, the issue with raising a kid around some of the worst spenders this side of Venus was that, more often than not, they don’t shape up to be the best with money. Olson’s bank account said he was in debt to just about every person he’d ever met, and a man like Olson met a lot of dangerous people. Normally, a guy like that would be a thief’s jackpot-- no pun intended. The only issue was that, 90% of the time Olson didn’t even know when he would be making out checks. Most days he tried to put it off until someone pulled a knife on him and he was forced to find some creds then and there. No robber worth his name (or lack thereof) would take a job with that kind of uncertainty.

At least, that was what Nureyev-- or Glass-- had told Juno when he asked why Olson had yet to be robbed blind.

They would have passed Olson by, too, if it wasn’t for the tip Buddy got. It was incredibly vague; all it told them was that Olson was making a repayment today. They didn’t know who he was repaying, how much he owed, or when it would happen. Juno had almost deemed it a lost cause when Vespa had spoke up: “They’re just giving us money at this point, Bud.”

Apparently, when you had a spaceship with four master criminals, a hacker that couldn’t be beat, and an ex-detective, nothing was impossible.

So, they set the stage. Vespa, Rita, and Jet would stay on the ship. Jet would be at the wheel, waiting for one of two orders: get us the fuck out of here or open fire. Rita would handle the tech-- get them into The Diamond Dame’s security system. Vespa would be in charge of monitoring the live footage, watching out for possible threats and keeping the operation in line. Buddy and Pe-- Rex were out in the casino, stationed by each of the exits. When they got word of who it was they’d be robbing, they’d be the ones doing the dirty work.

That was where Juno came in. His role was simple enough: figure out who it was that was walking out with their paycheck.

At least, it sounded simple enough. Then he actually got to the casino, with all its flashing lights and chiming slot machines. Juno could hardly think straight as it was, and there were so many people, more than he’d ever imagined. Being observant, picking one oddity out of a crowd, that was supposed to be his whole thing. He had to at least be decent at it if he was able to make a living off it for all those years, and yet… he had a bad feeling about this.

He couldn’t focus, and if he couldn’t focus there was no way he’d be able to pull this off. Still, he couldn’t tell the rest of them why he was so distracted because his big distraction was one of them. Whatever name he called him, Peter Nureyev, Rex Glass, or tonight’s specialty, Orion Krum, he couldn’t push that man from his mind. They hadn’t talked since their first encounter in the martian desert, not really. Every time Juno tried to catch him alone, to explain or apologize, or something, Nureyev always slipped away in the way only he could. It was obvious he didn’t want anything to do with Juno.

Juno didn’t blame him for it either. He left, and Nureyev moved on, even if Juno couldn’t say the same for himself. Just watch the crowd, Steel.

From his spot at one of the slot machines he examined a few groups. There was one gaggle of wealthy looking women who were far too drunk to be there on official business. Juno crossed them off a mental suspect list. He caught sight of one suspicious looking man dressed in a particularly showy black gown and for a moment he thought he might be onto something.

A moment later another man arrived in a similar sneaking fashion and Juno was right back to square one. The only thing those two were guilty of was an affair. His eyes continued to trace the crowds until he caught sight of that face again.

Stars, that face.

Peter didn’t look like himself tonight. His usual warm colors had been replaced with a deep blue, suit, speckled with silver like the night sky. He wore none of his signature makeup or jewelry, but his expression said he didn’t need it when he had a face like that. He looked like the kind of man that, if Juno had spotted him back on Mars, he would have avoided at all costs: arrogant, rich, and cold.

And, simultaneously, he looked like an undercover thief Juno really wanted to take back to his room after all of this was through.

He shook the thought from his mind almost as soon as it entered. He needed to move. Maybe a new vantage point would show him something he couldn’t see from here, or at least block out someone he very much could--

As he stood up from his machine he only narrowly avoided walking straight into someone. Juno stumbled backwards a few steps and was just about to apologize when he saw the man in front of him. He recognized that blonde hair and pointed nose from Vespa’s lectures. Dallas Olson.

He was young, Juno might have even said handsome if he didn’t dim in comparison to another nearby face. “Apologies, madame,” he said in a thick accent Juno couldn’t quite place, “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Juno inhaled deeply and tried to remember who he was. Tonight, his name was Renee Bruner, a lady with too much free time and enough creds on hand to find plenty of ways to entertain himself. The dress Buddy had provided him made him look the part, long and tight fit, made of a brilliant magenta silk, but he still had to sound like Renee, too.

“No harm done,” he said with a breezy, somewhat bored smile. “You know how it is after you’ve had a few.”

Olson nodded in agreement and extended a hand out to him. Internally, Juno’s stomach dropped. He’d hoped this encounter would be short and sweet. “It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. My names Dallas Olson. I’m the owner of this establishment.”

Juno took his hand and shook it. “Renee. It’s quite the place you got here.”

“Aw, you’re too kind,” he replied with fake humility. “This may seem a bit odd, but I was wondering if you might do me a favor?”

Juno felt the hair on his arms prickle. “I suppose it depends on the request.”

Olson smiled gingerly. “But of course,” he answered with a slick kind of charm Juno only liked on one man. “My hope was that, if you agreed, you could introduce me to that gentleman behind you.”

Juno didn’t need to look to see who Olson was gesturing at. He looked anyway. Sure enough, Nureyev stood there, pretending to be properly entertained. The tenseness in his jaw said he knew he was being watched.

Juno didn’t know how Olson had managed to put together that they knew each other. They’d been so careful, coming in separate entrances and staying away from one another. Had they received bad intel? Was Olson on to them? Should they call a quits now--

“You… do know one another, yes?” asked Olson, and Juno was relieved to hear the doubt in his voice. So he didn’t know anything for sure. They could work with that. “I simply assumed with the way you have been looking at him that you were acquainted. I like to associate myself with all my new guests, and I had not seen your faces before…”

Dammit, he chided himself. He’d given himself away. If he’d been obvious enough that Olson had spotted him then he was sure Nureyev already knew too. Couldn’t he go two seconds without making a fool of himself?

Something about this situation definitely stunk. Olson wanted to talk to them for a reason, and Juno knew it wasn’t just good business practice. He was nervous, that much Juno could tell by the perspiration in their handshake, but he didn’t know why. At least, not yet.

It was time to change his approach. It’d be more suspicious to flat out deny knowing Peter now, and besides, trying to find their mark without a lead wasn’t going anywhere.

“No, no, you’re right. That’s my husband,” he said and braced himself.

“Steel,” he heard Vespa’s voice in his ear, “this is not the plan.”

Near by, Nureyev had heard the exact same conversation. He would just have to make it part of the plan.

Juno smiled and ignored her, keeping his attention on Olson. “I’ll bring you over now, just let me grab my bag.”

“Of course,” nodded Olson.

Juno moved to the side of the machine he’d been sitting at and grabbed a purple purse. Quiet enough Olson wouldn’t hear it, Juno muttered, “Just play along, alright?”

Gesturing at Olson to follow, Juno led him over to Nureyev as Vespa complained. If Peter was caught off guard he didn’t show it. Juno knew this was a role he could play. It was familiar for both of them, and a bit nostalgic. The only thing Juno had severely underestimated was how much it would hurt to pretend to be his again.

“Hello, love,” said Juno a bit awkwardly. He was learning he really hated undercover work. “I want to introduce you to the owner, Mr. Olson.”

Peter, unlike Juno, never let his disguise falter. It amazed Juno, but then again, maybe that was just what twenty years of practice looked like. His eyes were still ice cold, but he quickly adapted to the new information. He slid an arm around Juno’s waist and pulled him close, eyes still glued to Olson. It was protective but not loving. In other words, it was completely in character.

Juno hoped he didn’t notice how he shivered at his touch and seemed to flourish in the safety of Nureyev’s torso. It still felt so natural.

“Orion Krum. I hope my wife hasn’t caused too much trouble,” said Nureyev.

For a reason Juno couldn’t understand, Olson seemed to get more pale the longer he looked at them. “Not at all!” he said with unconvincing enthusiasm, “I had asked him to introduce us. I must say, though, he seems much happier now that he’s with you. His expression earlier was quite distressed.”

What was his game? If he didn’t know who they were, why was he so invested in them? Juno was trying to put the pieces together. They were missing something but he didn’t know what. Olson was scared, but of what? The answer tugged at the back of his mind and Juno tried to pull it free. He almost had it when Nureyev spoke and broke his concentration.

For the first time in the night, Peter, or rather Orion, was looking at him. There was something in his eyes, though, something that hadn’t been there earlier and made Juno’s heart do a somersault. There was something coy about that look that wasn’t like the character he was playing tonight. Peter Nureyev was peaking through. “Is that true? Were you feeling left out?” Then, noticing his error he added a cool: “then don’t wander off next time.”

That smugness… It felt like being teased by the Peter who loved him, all those months ago. Juno was caught off guard. “I, uh, Nur--”

Before he could say something that couldn’t be unsaid, Peter cut him off. Before Juno knew it Peter’s lips were on his and anything he was planning to say was forgotten. It was effective, that’s for sure. A one hit KO that was over almost as soon as it began.

Peter pulled away. It was barely a peck on the lips, just enough to fluster Juno while not being too uncalled for. Afterwards he turned his attention back to their new friend while Juno was left properly flustered. “Well then. We’ve met, my wife has been returned. Now we’ll be on our way, unless you had some further plan for my time.”

The prickly facade was back. Peter Nureyev had been shoved back inside, and while Juno had much preferred it to the emotionless creature he was imitating now, Olson looked… chipper. The color was back in his face and his smile was unsettling to say the least. It looked like they’d just fallen into whatever trap Olson had set, but Juno didn’t know how.

Something was about to go very wrong. He turned to Peter and tried to get a warning out before it was too late. “This isn’t right, we have to--”

Suddenly, Juno was ripped away and Peter’s comforting presence was gone. In its place was blaster and Olson’s iron grip.

Oh, thought Juno. This explains a lot.

One arm was up against his throat, keeping him from escaping. The barrel of the blaster was digging into his skull, and he wasn’t planning on risking his brains in a struggle. He was facing Nureyev, whose face Juno couldn’t read: shock, anger, fear? Or maybe nothing at all.

“Juno!” said Vespa’s stern voice in his head.

“Verona,” called Olson at someone Juno couldn’t quite see. “This kind man here will be providing you your payment.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow in his direction. “And why would I do that?”

The answer was obvious enough, though, at least to Juno. Olson had finally dug himself into a hole he couldn’t climb back out of, but he wasn’t about to give in. He had plenty of unknowing customers with the kind of spending money he needed. Olson was smart enough to find an out and desperate enough to risk it all.

All he had to do was find an unsuspecting soul stupid enough to fall into his trap with something more than money to lose. Leverage. He’d almost done it, too, but their was one big problem. The most expensive thing he or Nureyev had on them was the clothes on their backs. No wonder Juno couldn’t figure out who had the check-- there wasn’t a check to begin with.

“Well, if you’d like to keep your wife’s brain in-tact, I would highly recommend giving Ms. Verona whatever she asks,” drawled Olson. Juno really hoped Peter was as concerned with his safety as Olson thought. Around them, heads turned. A few people looked nervous at the sight of the scene before them, but most just turned a blind eye. Olson let a lot of dirty business slip by unnoticed. It wasn’t difficult to return the favor.

“What makes you think I care about all that?” asked Nureyev with that signature nonchalance. He was playing some kind of angle. That didn’t make it sting any less.

Verona shot Olson a look that said he was supposed to have this under control. Panic flashed over his features but he was quick to compose himself. It seemed like the bullet in Juno’s head wouldn’t be the only shot fired if this deal fell through.

“Don’t play games. It's the money or his life,” growled Olson at Nureyev.

“Glass, Juno,” ordered Vespa, “get out of there!”

Juno thought that was easier said than done when there was a gun to your head. They were at a disadvantage-- even if they might have been able to take Olson and Verona in a fight, any sudden movements and he might end up with a hole in his head. They could try to stall until Buddy arrived, but Juno had no clue where she was or if she’d be able to do anything before Olson lost his patience. They had to act alone.

He looked to Nureyev, equal parts indignant and afraid. To Juno, it was still obvious he was in character. That’s right, he thought, we still have the element of surprise.

Juno didn’t know what his plan was, but he knew Nureyev had one. Nureyev always had a plan. So, without thinking it through, he played along.

“Orion,” he said, voice small, “I’m sorry I wandered off before I won’t do it again-- just, just get me out of here. Please. Just give them what they want.

Nureyev sighed. “Fine. What do you want.”

Verona spoke up now. “Ten thousands creds.”

“You’d have to be a fool to carry that kind of money on you!” Peter protested.

“Then give me the passcode to you fucking bank account, then,” Verona snapped back. She was getting irritated, though not entirely at Nureyev. It seemed she was under the impression Olson had a more reliable way of paying her back.

Peter caught his eyes. Did you see that, they seemed to ask, and of course Juno did. The private eye in him was already putting two and two together. She was the weak link. She was their escape route. “Hurry up, Krum,” said Olson through gritted teeth.

Peter chewed his lip. “I will, but there is a… slight complication.”

“What? What could possibly be the problem now?” demanded Verona.

“I’m a busy man-- I don’t have time to track all my expenses and banking, that’s what having a secretary is for.”

“And?”

Peter looked at her like it was obvious. “I don’t know my passcode.”

Juno nearly laughed. Their plan was to annoy Verona into snapping, and Peter was damn good at it. The mirth was, unfortunately, short lived.

Verona shook with rage. Juno thought it was entirely possible she might just combust then and there, and for a moment Juno was terrified they’d miscalculated. He couldn’t help but fear that, when she lashed out, she’d go straight for Nureyev’s throat.

The idea of it was enough to make him feel like he was going to be ill.

And then Verona spun on Olson. “Dammit, Olson, you said you had the money and you’re gonna get it for me. No more games.”

“I will, just wait, please, a few moments more,” sputtered Olson. “They have the creds we just have to--”

“We?” She cut in. “I don’t have to do anything, understand? You owe me. I said I was done playing. You either have what you owe me or you don’t. So what’s the answer?”

On cue, Juno heard the distinct click of a blaster’s safety being turned off, and he got the impression it wasn’t set to stun. A large man stood behind Olson in all black, eyes fixed on Verona. One word from her and his target would be dead.

This was their chance. In his fear, Olson’s grip loosened and his aim wavered. Juno took the moment to slip away, over to Nureyev. The two of them had been almost completely forgotten.

Nureyev’s hands were on his shoulders, sturdy and strong. Juno might have even thought protective if he didn’t know better. The taller man tried to lead him away from all of this so they could make their escape. They could disappear before anyone even noticed they were gone, but…

“Drop the gun, Olson,” instructed Verona. The blonde man whimpered, reserved to his fate, and tossed it at the floor where it clattered at their feet. At Juno’s feet.

No one was supposed to die here. Not even double decker assholes.

“Juno,” Nureyev said at his side, tugging at him now. “We need to go before people start shooting--”

Juno was moving before he could even think of the consequences. He dove for the blaster and shifted the dial to stun. Around him he heard voices, Verona yelling orders, Vespa shouting in his ear, Peter, the real Peter’s, fearful “Wait--.” He blocked it all out.

They were all close to him, he should have been able to hit them, but without the THEIA he was never one hundred percent sure. Three shots, just three shots.

Bang. The first beam went straight into the armed man’s chest. He crumpled to the floor.

Bang. The second shot was for Verona, and he only barely hit the mark. Just in time, too. By the way her hand had gone for her pocket she’d been looking to grab a blaster of her own. He made contact with her shoulder, and though she tried to stay conscious she followed her minion to ground.

Juno took a breath before firing for the third and last time. Olson gaped at him. “Wh--”

Bang. He didn't get to finish before Juno blasted him in the gut.

People were starting to panic now. Threats were one thing, but actually shooting to host was another. Before the chaos could close in, Nureyev grabbed his hand and they were running.

They busted through the casino doors, the cool night air hitting them like pool water on a summer day. “Your aim is getting quite good, detective.”

Juno glanced up at Peter and was met with a smile. A genuine one, at that. “Ah, well,” he answered, sheepishly. He hoped the darkness would hide his blush.

“Yea, he’s a fuckin’ natural,” growled Vespa over their earpiece. “It’d be awful nice if he was as skilled at following directions.

“Oh, don’t be honorary,” chided Nureyev. How was it that he could keep up this pace and not be at least a bit winded. “This job would have failed no matter what Juno did. No reason to place blame.”

“But Glass, I’d hardly call it a failure.” The voice speaking them now belonged to Buddy. Juno had almost forgotten she’d been in the casino all together.

“That so?” he asked between strained breaths. “Where did you go during all that? I nearly died!”

“Spare me the dramatics, Juno, you two had it completely under control. I figured if we weren’t going to get our creds from Olson I might as well tamper with the machines a bit. You wouldn’t believe what kind of money people put in those things.”

At his side, Nureyev’s grin widened at the thought of their loot. “Very clever, as always, Ms. Aurinko. I believe I see you now. You’ll have to show us what you picked up when we get there.”

Sure enough, they’d crested a hill and below, at the very bottom of the incline, was the ship. It was only then that Nureyev slowed his pace.

He met Juno’s eyes, lifted a hand to his ear, and shut off his communication device. Juno didn’t know why, exactly, but he repeated the motion anyway.

Nureyev seemed to blend into the night, his skin the only glowing contrast to the deep navy around them. He looked good, but then again, he always looked good.

There was a momentary silence between them, then: “You know, I’d like to believe you meant what you said back there.”

Juno searched his face for hints but found none. He had said a lot of things in the casino, most of them in the hopes of not getting killed. He didn’t have the slightest idea which one Peter was referencing now.

“I’m… not sure I follow.”

The dark haired man nodded, as if he’d expected that. “You said you wouldn’t wander off again, Juno. I hope that’s the truth this time. I hate to admit it, but each time I lose you I find it a bit more difficult to move on.”

The smile was still present on Peter’s face, but it was distant and sad. His gaze was somewhere else entirely. The ice from the evening’s alias had melted away and Juno was left with someone he recognized. Someone he loved.

“Yea… Yea I think I know how you feel,” answered Juno, “but, if it means anything, I think it is. True, I mean. At least, I want it to be.”

They were close now, and there were still a million unsaid things between them. Peter only said one of them, though.

“I suppose I’ll just have to trust you, then.”

And really, Juno couldn’t have imagined anything better than that.

[alyseofwonderland]

Alyse Reads The Goldfinch, Part 2

What follows is my best attempt at liveblogging. I had the books as an audiobook in hopes that I could keep it from taking even more of my life from me. This was perhaps a mistake. I think I broke Siri trying to make notes. The notes that are rambly are the ones I dictated.

I entirely blame @rollono​ for my suffering. But I am also aware that it seems to give her joy. 

Every time I reference Tara, I am talking about @wellntruly​ who’s own live blog of the book was the only roadmap I had to follow in this waterlogged wasteland of a novel.

Part 1

I thought Tara was making up the Camel-hair coat bit but APPARENTLY NOT.

Architecture has that much to do with the city and or northern Europe, really? I mean, “whitewash” doesn't everybody do that?

Nina ( @proud-librarian​ ) is going to have a lot to say about their descriptions of the Netherlands and Amsterdam in this book. like oh my God!

Theo Deckard doesn't understand how thermostats work.

This isn't satire? I don't understand we're like three minutes in and it has to be satire. right. right?

Who the hell says my mother and I didn't like my father much? like what.... what is this? what am I reading? what is happening? what.... I don't understand.... okay maybe fine whatever

This feels like it should be... I don't know.... satire is the word I'm looking for again. I don't want to just repeat what Tara, said but Jesus. the start of the story is he is rich enough to have a Doorman but not rich enough to afford the fancy private school, and him and his friends break into vacation homes in the Hamptons. what is this? what is this? I just... just.... just write a Jane Austen or Lord Byron novel if that's what you want to do just do that. do that.

My audiobook app just turned itself off in the middle of a passage because it decided I didn't need to listen to Theo talk about whatever he was talking about.

Curse you, Donna Tartt, for also being in the "all things coconut smell like suntan lotion" club. I did not want to have this in common with you.

I am laughing so hard it turns silent into my steering wheel because the audiobook reader makes Tom Cable sound like a surfer dude from the 70s,  and I. cannot. handle. that.

"I like to think of myself as a perceptive person" is basically the way that I know that Theo has about Harry Potter level skills of observation when it comes to the people around him.

Y'all this book would be so much better if Theo actually thought like a 13-year-old that he is supposed to be in the intro part. That would just be peak comedy, which is really what I'm looking for.

Audrey Decker and the Laura Moon from American gods are now the two people that I have ever known to call men "puppy" which I still find alarming, in both cases. Surprisingly they also both die, so I guess more things they have in common.

The longer this book goes on the more clear it is that I am not bougie enough for its contents. ( timestamp 30 minutes)

(GIF BY @rollono​ BY MY REQUEST FOR EVERY TIME THIS BOOK MAKES ME FEEL POOR)

I just can't suspend my disbelief enough to think that a 13-year-old would know this much about their parent's job and be able to ask questions. I'm trying to think of what my dad was doing when I was 13, and I mean I know where he worked, and I know who his boss was, but if you tried to ask me daily issues or me giving advice... oh my gosh. I just can't. nobody talks like this.

I’m making a face akin to Kermit the frog. 

I threw up in my mouth a little at the description of Pippa walking past in the museum.

Did we just describe a 12-year-old girl's arms as marble? is that what just happened? did I just have to listen to that?

Theo has given me a lot of like “Golden State killer” vibes right now with his desire to poke around through all these people's homes and stuff. like this is clearly the Visalia ransacker's motivation in the 70s. I know too much about true crime, that's what's happening right now.

The true-crime serial killer alarms keep going off in my brain.

I know Tara already mentioned how ridiculous the Murphys bed story is but it really is incredibly ridiculous and breaks the tension of the entire scene that is occurring at the time (laughed uncontrollably to the point that Siri typed nonsense)

I get it, Donna, you know things. You do not have list every fire truck to prove it.

Let's take a child to a dinner at 3 am. Really Donna?

Why does Donna insist on giving me the text of signs around whats going on? Why did I just listen to the smoothie specials while an emotional scene is occurring?

Donna, did you just call Mrs. Barough a weasel?  [afronted gasp]

OI!  (me shouting when Donna says that Andy was weird for being lactose intolerant.)

Pukes in my mouth a little at the term 'high verbal'. I get it, Donna, you think you are smarter than all of us stop being a dick.

Donna Tartt would make it to r/iamverysmart in like a minute if she understood how the internet worked.

WHO TAUGHT HER ABOUT FMA?

Okay, so either Donna Tartt knows someone who lost a parent and basing this off them or like went through it herself because I am white-knuckling through the grief bits trying not to have my own trauma response to the situation. Or she wrote Theo with like the exact grief I had. Her incessant need to list things in a room is the only thing between me and a spiral of remembering my dad's death.

ANDY IS A RAY OF LIGHT AND DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE IN THIS FAMILY OR IN THIS BOOK!

Five whole hours before the first sight of Hobie. Like Jesus.

I miss Terry Pratchett.

Hobie thank you for making this book interesting again.

Hobie is now my main squeeze and I won't hear a word against him.

POE DIDN'T INVENT SCIENCE FICTION FUCKING MARY SHELLY DID. DONNA WHAT THE FUCK.

The Hobie part of the story just makes me more sure that a version of the movie should have been without the Baroughers (sp?) and only included Hobie and Pippa.

Any is a murderino. I love this baby boy.

Aw, I love Hobie so so much.

Donna if you call Andy annoying one more time you are gonna catch my hands. (She just referred to his voice as annoying twice in a conversation and I swear to god I will rip this character out of her snobbish clutches she doesn't deserve him.)

Theo on this we agree, I too enjoy Hobie.

Hobie is the only person who belongs in this novel and he's a god damn delight.

SEVEN HOURS AND THE PAINTING HAS COME UP AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN LITERAL HOURS.

Theo straight up using Spanish to fuck over his father is just *chef's kiss.

I can see how much contempt Donna has for Xandra is longer and deeper than this book will ever be.

I am going to suplex Larry Decker I swear to god. (i have a very particular trigger to spouses bad-mouthing the dead one due to personal experience.)

Necco wafers are no one's favorite candy Donna. You can't just say shit like that and expect anyone to believe you.

I have just realized that Donna Tartt has never been to a public library. How do I know? Witchcraft books are never on the shelves. Ask any librarian. They are stolen pretty much the moment we buy them.

I am standing dead in the tea aisle at the store because Theo just thought it would be “gay” to tell the doormen he has known almost his whole life he is gonna miss them.  (hours later I realize this is her backtracking in edits going "shit shit shit I have to add the repression in somewhere for those dumb readers that don't understand art" and I hate it more.)

Mrs. B is ready to physically fight Larry and I would pay real money to see it.

WHY DOES DONNA KNOW ABOUT DRAGON BALL Z?!? Step away from the things I love Donna I don't trust you near my media. (Also why she does reference it she clearly has NO concept of what DBZ hair would even look like to expect me to believe any child could achieve it.)

oh my god, Boris. I'm so happy to see you.

I am happy to report the audiobook narrator does not do an Australian accent for Boris. Thank the lord.

I knew I was going to love Boris but like a few minutes in I adore him.

It's interesting to me that Theo and Boris seem to have received similar amounts of attention/affection from non-parent adults, but while Theo finds it uncomfortable Boris soaks it in.

The Australian part of Boris's accent seems impossible.

*sobbing audibly into my keyboard* Popchyck

Boris you sweet like socialist.

Comrade Boris we need you in this election.

I'm sad he (Boris) doesn't get to go to college and like piss off every yuppie and hippie, and just make Philosophy 100 and Government 250 absolute hell for everyone.

Drunk Boris at Thanksgiving is a gift.

Me listening to this book before Boris: half paying attention, fucking around on my computer, doing chores. Me after Boris shows up: staring at the middle distance determined to listen to every fucking word because this prison sentence of a novel is finally interesting.

James: you said the author is a snob and you aren't enjoying the main character.  Me: yeah James: then stop reading it. Me: No, then Donna and her Anna Wintour knock off hair cut will win. James, frowning and backing out of the room: k sweetie.

6:30 am is too early to hear Theo Decker describe his bed as "our bed"

I WAS RIGHT. Boris belongs in college making every American white kid absolutely furious in every Poli-sci.

Larry Decker calling Theo and Boris his "kids" made my heart skip a beat.

So the nurse notices they don't have vitamins and smell but doesn't call child services. I mean I know that I learned that school nurses are less likely to call CFS on white kids than they are on black kids but like god damn.

The sheer salt of Theo refusing to learn the name of Boris’s girlfriend is so hilarious.

Now *this* is gay.

The truth is Theo is ready to cut a bitch.

Fellas is it gay to do shots while your boyfriend talks about his girlfriend?

Theo trying to set up Boris with like a nice polite girl who won't fuck him is fucking hilarious. This poor baby gay.

Theo (and Donna cuz she writes him) have never heard of learning disabilities and I will legit throw down.

LARRY IS A SCORPIO IN CANON?! I thought that was something from the fan fics. omg Ally hates this.

No one wears white sport coats Donna stop trying to make it happen.

Boris totally knows what's going on with Larry and he's just trying to look out for Theo because he loves Theo but oh my gosh Boris why do you make me feel so many feelings!

Please, Donna, I am begging you to stop telling me what the light from the sun looks like at different times of the day. I just can't take it anymore. Every scene of Theo in Xandra's house does not need the qualifier of what type of sunlight he is seeing. Some times fine. But every time?

My entire stomach just dropped when I realized what Boris has done, and I'm just I'm so sad. this is not how I wanna start my commute to work today.

I have just had my first moments of being very proud of Donna's writing, because long long time ago, in the same chapter, she had the bit about how Xandra will say "apparently" when she's being bitchy with Theo and now in a conversation where Theo isn't paying attention to her she says "apparently" to Larry and I just had to stop and say this, this is the writing I'm looking for Donna. This is clever and interesting and I LIKED IT. Stop making lists and do more of this.

Friendship ended with Book Boris, Movie Boris is my best friend now.

I don't understand how the director and the screenwriter of the film could move who said those lines and then not make it gay. Like, commit to your choice.

My mom: You finish that book yet? Me, angrily: No. My mom slightly worried: do you like it? Me: unclear.

NEW CHAPTER!

Theo, I need you calm all the way down when you are looking at Pippa.

Love this lawyer. I want to be his friend.

God poor Pippa. All the shit she goes through and she still has to put up with Theo's weird obsession.

Theo, you slid right back into the serial killer habits in a second and I want you to stop it.

Oh god, I feel that in my soul. Like "no sir you have it wrong I look more like the parent I like best." (also I do look more like my dad. like way more like him)

I am begging someone to get Theo some kind of hobby or help or something so he stops acting like a victorian ghost.

I am gonna have to get the actual book so I can see what weird spelling is going on with the text messages. I just know its weird. The narrator does it in such a weird voice.

We spent so much time dealing with emotional issues and other whatnot that going back to the bit about the painting feels like a huge tonal shift in the book. I'm like staggering around confused.

Literally no one uses strawberry shampoo.

Love that Theo ‘s final plan is the one Andy purposed an eon ago.

Salty that Theo is getting the cool college experience that Boris would have crushed.  I would have paid good money to watch him make the philosophy department cry.

[kermit in the car gif]

Yo! Theo struggling to deal with school is like exactly my semester after my dad died.  

The adults attempting to force him into different living arrangements is so what we dealt with post my dad’s death.

Grisha! (Russians the only people I trust atm)

Tara was right, Andy's death comes off like a joke!

I gotta say, Crime Theo is my favorite Theo so far.

I don't know which serial killer Donna was channeling to write the parts about Theo being obsessed with Pippa, but it is just so intensely a serial killer vibe I cannot even begin to describe the look on my face; the feelings I'm having. I'm just like this man is going to kill someone. he's going to kill a lot of people. not only that it's going to be a lot of women because he doesn't view them as people. that's what I'm getting from this it's. Theo doesn't think women are people.

If Theo was on reddit he would be part of r/niceguys and r/iamverysmart.

If I have to listen to him drone on about his fantasies of Pippa for one more minute I will kill myself in the baking aisle of Aldis.

HES HOARDING HER HAIR?! HER UNWASHED CLOTHES?!? Please someone put him in jail.

[the sound of me throwing up in the frozen food section as Theo describes Kitsey]

Donna don’t try to act like you didn’t add that foreshadowing yourself about Andy. You crack me up you relentlessly snob.

How is Theo just The Worst all the time?

Theo freaking out because two gay guys know what’s up with him is just *chef’s kiss

Me having seen only the movie: Theo and Boris should get redemption and a romance run away. Me now: [ gif of “Ive had enough of this guy” from IASIP]

I mean I understand that John Crawley was a coward in so many of his directorial choices, but the fact that he didn't put the second meeting of Theo and this Lucius guy into a crowded weird restaurant where they're both getting hit by the waiters as they go past is just the weakest move you could've made. because this makes it so much funnier.

I'm with Hobie.

honestly this book should've just been 20 hours of art crime and like to shave off a good 10 hours of LISTS because that's what 10 hours is. give me 20 hours of art crime. I would love to watch each sale happen that would've been riveting to read but instead.... this.

Bish, you like those earrings or I will cut you.

Theo salty, while Kitsey picks out new china, is so fucking hilarious.

him just like "why are we buying new plates when my job is literally to find plates that were made by craftsmen?!?!” but being too fucking repressed in his bullshit to say anything, so he just making some poor sales lady suffer.

my friend Ally: “Theo’s repression makes everyone suffer is a good summary of the book.”

Alternative version of this book that would have been 8 million times better: Theo gets into art crimes but is also a serial killer. We don't know the second bit but it begins to start dawning on us as women seem to disappear from his social circles and weird hints of thoughts about blood and rivers.  Bonus points if it ends with him on the run from the law with his only vaguely criminal (by comparison to serial killer Theo) boyfriend. We are left to wonder if they will be gunned down in the chase or if perhaps there will be one more body to great the river.

Theo's textbook serial killer nonsense is only comparable to the sheer petty gay energy he gives off.

The power trip he gets from being like "hahaha yes I have bagged the ice princess who wanted nothing to do with me when we were kids" is just so gross and hilarious.

Theo realizing he is not the only sociopath in the room is just *chef's kiss.

Boris, did you really send some guy to just watch your ex?

Boris, I am begging you. You have made Grisha so upset.

Donna shying away from describing Boris comes off, if you don't know who we are talking about, as weird and slightly racist.

You have the internet Theo, you can look up when movies are going to start. You are not living on the moors.

HOW IS THIS BOOK NOT A SATIRE OF AMERICAN PYSCHO FOR PEOPLE THAT HAVE BONERS FOR ANTIQUES?!?

Boris returns. I have almost forgiven him for what he put me through.

Maybe "fuck you" can be our always.

*tries not to cry when I realize that Boris' friends have heard about Theo

bless Aneurin for everything he did for this reunion in the movie.

Why is Boris such a slut? Why will I forgive him for anything?

Is it gay to think about the guy you used to jack off as handsome when you meet each other again?

Genetics means those kids can't be Boris' unless his mother was blonde. (Theo kind of agrees.)

My soul has left my body at the concept of Boris having a wife and kids.

I'm not saying I endorse crime, I'm just saying a mobster front with a pun in the name is really on-brand for me.

Knowing what I Know. That Boris thinks Theo is gonna try to kill him when they go for the "surprise" just makes the whole thing so tragic and sad.

Boris and his dog REUNITED AT LAST. I'm not crying. I'm fine.

Interesting that the next story we hear is about Gyuri's dead "brother" right after Boris says that Theo is "blood of his heart, his brother". Like. I might not be the biggest history buff in the world but I know gay code when I see it.

I mean I knew this was gonna happen, but I can't help but feel personally betrayed by Boris once again.

Donna, stay away from stuff about computers. Your attempts to use them make me, a technology expert, cringe.

Boris like "you don't deserve this dog. I deserve this dog."

"Babe I get that you are a WASP at heart but I need you to fight with me like a Russian now." - Boris to his disaster husband

"Did I lie?" "YES" (me laughing so hard I'm practically crying)

why does no one in this book appear to exchange numbers or like airdrop contact info.

Does Donna think that people only have iPhones?

Ally who is CTRL F reading this book "'Every few hundred pages she's like 'oh yeah, it's modern times...they're texting and there's emojis!' Seriously, there was the mention of emoji's and my soul escaped my body for a minute because it had no tether to time or space" @aces-low​

Off the top of my head, the name that Donna is not saying for this Horace to guy is Volkswagen.

Instead of being in the mob Boris should run an animal shelter.

Boris being Bitchy and jelly when Theo is talking to the German guy is just so cute. You two deserve each other with your weird shit.

If Donna wasn't a coward this book would have had Theo just getting eyeballs deep in art crime with Boris and his associates.

Adding a sin for making me listen to whatever that just was.

Things Donna forgot to list in "girl food": chicken wings, bread, rolls, other types of bread, garlic bread, a bit more bread, maybe cookies, eight more cookies, 20 more cookies, every type of chocolate humanly imaginable, jam, and barbecue ribs.

What do ankles have to do with being attractive?!?!?! this isn't the Victorian age! 

(from Ally re this comment: “I'm now convinced that every day Donna sat down to write this book she spun a wheel with different years on it, and that's the year the book was set that day”)

I didn't mind Kitsey cheating on Theo, because he doesn't even really like her. Until just now, when I realized that Mrs. B knows about it and she's keeping it from Theo, and my heart broke into 1 trillion pieces. she is the closest thing he has to a mother and he realized that she kept it from him, and I should not be crying in my car before my special Valentine night dinner.

James just walked in during a part describing Pippa and goes "Men writing women, huh?" and I had to pause the book, turn to him and say "a woman wrote this" and he just looks at me like 0_0

Mrs. B clutching Theo's hand so he won't leave her alone with Smalltalk-old-man is honestly the cutest thing in this entire book.

Hobie being able to be spotted from a distance at all times! I have a friend who is 6'5" and we can find him in crowds so easily!

Perhaps the funniest moment of this book is Theo saying "if girls loved assholes then Pippa would love me". buddy I'm going to post this entire book to r/niceguys

I WANT MORE ART CRIME! Why did you make me listen to 15 hours of boring nonsense when we could have had ART CRIME!

I deeply enjoy Boris's commitment to being a dramatic goofball, falling to his knees just be annoying.

Movie Boris appears in a dramatic way. Book Boris is just like there and also shoving food in his face and walking out of the party still eating all the food he just put in his cheeks like a chipmunk.

Hobie just like "if you want to run off with your gay love i'll cover."

Theodor Decker you get back in there and make sure that thief stays away from Nicole Kidman she has been through enough already!

Theo, I know that you don't actually have brains for anything besides drugs, crimes, being weird about women, and your own ass, but you could at least listen when people speak.

Theo is such a mess. He doesn't belong in modern times. He deserves to be Jack the Ripper.

I know the narrator is saying croissant the "correct" way. But every single time it happens I'm so fucking confused because who just leans into a french accent that hard for a single word?

Theo offers an actual good idea that Boris is going to use later and they all look at him like he's crazy.

I know "my brand" is "man holding gun" but listening to Boris assemble a gun I'm like "oh goodness I need to lay down". *fans self

Theo suddenly "I have made a huge mistake"

It's interesting to me how reluctant Boris is to make Theo a larger part of the heist. Theo reads it as frustrating but I read it like a kind of care and affection. He doesn't want his friend mixed up in something he can't handle, despite the fact that he wants Theo close so he can get him the painting back.

I see now why the heist in the movie was so fucking confusing. You need the Horst stuff and like a bunch of other nonsense that does not translate well to screen unless you re-write all the connections, which John Crowley was not willing to do.

Really love the "women drop their mark the first time" bit.

me: Theo I swear to god stop being high and sick in your room and go get some actual clothes and medication or at least don't make me listen to so much of it

this book is not 30 hours long. its 15 hours of a book and 15 hours of Donna going "gotta get that word count up or people with think I'm weak". Please, Donna. I don't need to hear this one thing happen for so long. It adds nothing to the tone, the themes, the plot, or the ambiance. You are just writing words for words sake.

The first suicide note was so well crafted that I honestly want Theo to kill himself now. If he can manage to write the others pretty okay I will be happy with this ending.

Don’t think I didn’t notice that the ghost of a dead loved one appeared on Christmas Eve.

I'm sorry who doesn't respond to "didn't you get my text?" with "my phone was dead" instantly?

me listening to Theo throw a tantrum at Boris because neither of them is capable of explaining themselves and like speaking as normal humans do: "It would have been better if Theo died"

Why must I be forced to listen to Donna make these scenes longer because these people don't talk like people?

Thud by Terry Pratchett does a much much better job of asking the question "can we trust our hearts and be the person we want to be?" And it honestly gives a better answer. And has you know, clever writing.

I thought it was like Over. I did. I was like "oh this is it wrapping up" ONLY THERE IS 30 MORE MINUTES AND I WANT TO SCREAM!

Me certain the book is over: i mean maybe this is a good ending

Me seeing i still have 30 more minutes: this is the worst book ever

This book held me fucking captive for over a week and all it left me with was like a few good lines, burning hatred for the main character, and the desire to go into Donna's home and rearrange all her stuff. 

also, I now hate antiques. out of spite.

don't read The Goldfinch. it's not worth it y’all.    

[theasstour]

0106. Adagio non molto.

Monday, 5 January 2015

FIC PAGE | CHAPTER SYMPHONY | WORD COUNT: 5.7k

NB: explicit language, internalised homophobia

A/N: THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO VOTED FOR SOY IN THE 1D ROOFTOP AWARDS 💐🌸💛 forever in awe at all of you and the love and support my fics receive! ilysm, and enjoy this chapter! x

When Y/N pictured herself in university, this was not how she saw herself ending up. Throughout the whole Christmas break, she had been miserable. Every single day she had thought about the different ways she could have changed the outcome of the exam, what she could have done differently, and how she could have handled the situation. She had passed, but only just barely with a 48%. Anything under 40% and you failed, and above that you passed. 70% and above was the best grade you could get, and anything in between was okay. 70% and above was a 1 (a first), 69%-60% was a 2.1 (upper second class), 59%-50% a 2.2 (lower second class), 49%-40% a 3 (a third), and anything below was a fail. When getting graded, you would always aim for a 2.1 or better, even though a 2.2 was okay, and 3 well enough. But all her life, Y/N had had this weird inner competition with herself to always be the best at everything she ever did. A competition she never seemed to win.

Their Messenger chat was open, the cursor blinking behind a message Y/N had tried to construct for 30 minutes now. She never thought she’d come to this; never thought she’d be this type of person. But as she laid in her bed the week before going back to London, Edward’s loud laugh from downstairs wafting through the small slit at the bottom of her door, Y/N was looking at Archie Poole’s Facebook picture.

Y/N Hi, are you the head of the LGBTQ+ Society at Battersea uni?

Swallowing hard, she clicked send, closing her phone right away and looking nervously around the room. Archie Poole was the head of the LGBTQ+ Society at Battersea University. Y/N had known his name alone all first semester, but never talked to him or even seen his face. Now, however, she needed someone to talk to. It wasn’t that she didn’t have anyone. She knew Tiana would listen, so would Annie, Finn, Edward, her parents, and maybe even Harry if she wanted him to. But she hated asking that of people, hated asking for attention because she didn’t want to ask for anyone’s time because it wasn’t hers to take.

Her phone vibrated.

Archie Hi yea. Why?

Y/N took a deep breath, knowing that whatever she was to say would probably sound incredibly stupid.  

Y/N Was wondering when you have meetings. Been meaning to check it out.

Archie was on the chat, typing right away. Watching the three dots move like a wave as she waited, biting her lip so intensely she it surprised her she hadn’t bitten through it.

Archie Oh! You’re LGBT? We usually meet up Wednesdays and just chill. I’ll meet up with you beforehand if you want.

Y/N typed out the next message, feeling her shoulders rise a bit as she stared at it, dread forming in the very pit of her stomach.

Y/N I’m bi. That’d be nice! I’ll be back in London in about a week.

Archie saw the message and started typing right away. He had read her message. Oh God, oh God, oh God. He had read her message. He knew. What was he going to say? The dread Y/N had felt was swirling around, like a witch stood inside her stomach stirring a pot filled with a poisonous potion.

Archie Wicked! When’s best for you? I’m from London so I’m available whenever.

It felt like the biggest weight had lifted off Y/N’s chest and shoulders. In fact, her whole bloody body felt lighter after that text. It wasn’t much, Y/N wasn’t even sure if he had much cared to know her exact preferred term of labelling, but to her it had meant something. Only one person before Archie had known. Only one other person Y/N had opened up to about her sexuality. And now, with Archie knowing, someone who knew how she was feeling and someone she actually was on speaking terms with it seemed, the future didn’t seem so daunting. She hadn’t imagined it to feel so liberating for someone to know, like paying with card for drinks on a night out when you’re unsure how much money is on your card and having the transaction be accepted, only it was magnified. And so much bigger. So much more important. She felt the same as waking up from a good night’s sleep feeling totally and utterly rested.

Y/N I’ll be back on Friday. Could either do then or Saturday, Sunday.

Archie Sunday 12pm at Costa across campus?

Y/N Sounds good!

Archie See ya then, Y/N.

Closing her phone, Y/N laid it on her chest and looked up at the ceiling of her bedroom. It was completely dark, the rain outside hitting her window harshly and the wind blowing around the house viciously. This last month, Y/N had spent most of her time outside helping her dad with the farm. New Christmas trees needed to be sown, the cows needed to be milked, and the hens needed tending to. It was loads to do, just how she liked it. However much time she spent with George, she had never willingly started talking to him about something that had been on her heart for years. She could hear her family talking downstairs, knew that they would ask her what she was doing in her room for an hour. Without a shadow of a doubt, Y/N trusted her family more than she trusted anyone. She knew they would love and support her no matter what; no matter what she did, said, believed or thought. But there was a difference between trusting and letting someone see a part of you only you knew of. A difference between confessing and opening yourself up completely.

A difference between revealing something and shaking someone’s only reality to the core. Because, at the end of the day, no matter how much someone loved you, no one liked change. Especially a kind of permanent change that may or may not be welcomed. And no matter how much Y/N loved her family, she was not ready to have them shift their view and love for her. She did not want anything to change. And so, in her family’s eyes, she would make sure nothing would. No matter how unhappy that made her, because there was no way she would risk not having her family in her life anymore. They were happy now, she’d continue on letting them be. She had hid this part of herself all her life, what’s to say she couldn’t hide it forever.

Thursday, 15 January 2015

“Jesus Christ,” Tiana groaned as they walked out of another flat building in Wimbledon, a double-decker and a horde of cars whooshing by as the three of them started on their walk towards the tube. “How the fuck is it possible that we have found all the dodgy flats in London? There isn’t a single bloody place we have looked at that hasn’t made me want to tickle my uvula.”

Y/N snorted. “We’re late looking at places. Literally everyone in the flat have found somewhere.”

“Brilliant.” Tiana sighed. “Saw loads of four-bed houses around Clapham Common, so I’m going to try and ask around my course again. Someone’s got to not have someplace, yea?”

“People are either moving in groups of three or five-six.” Annie said. “That’s why most of those are gone.”

“And there are next to no two-beds, hence why we couldn’t find somewhere together.” Y/N chimed in, walking down the stairs to Wimbledon Park Underground Station.

“Why does the universe hate us?” Tiana groaned, getting her Oyster card out.

“Must have other plans for us, I guess.” Y/N said, taking hers out of her purse as well. “Still not very considerate to make us go to five house viewings and not find a single decent place.”

“It’s getting ridiculous.” Annie said, beeping herself in and walking through the ticket barrier.

“I just want to find a place!” Tiana came through last and the three girls took the escalator down to jump on the District Line. “I know we won’t get anywhere close to uni now, but…” She sighed. “I’m going to keep my hopes up.”

“Probably not the best idea.” Y/N said, scrunching her nose. “Keeping your hopes up.”

“But I will anyway.” Tiana crossed her arms. “I live to be disappointed.”

Annie giggled.

“Also, I never got to ask you.” Tiana looked down at Y/N. “What happened with Harry that night when he came over?”

Looking away, Y/N answered, “What night?”

Tiana gasped. “Playing the ‘I don’t think I remember that’ card, are we?”

“A little more complex than that.”

“What is?”

“The… whole situation.”

“Mate,” Tiana huffed. “Becky was bloody fuming.”

Y/N jumped off the escalator and, once the other girls had caught up, walked toward the District line toward Wimbledon Station. “Why would she be raging?”

Tiana raised her eyebrows, shoving her hands into the pockets of her Y/Net. “Think you know.”

Y/N kept quiet, only clearing her throat and dragging a hand through her hair. They got onboard the tube, holding onto the same pole as they were getting off at the next stop anyway.

“She’s wanted a shag since Freshers and has set her eyes on Harry since then. Sorry, babes, but she won’t waver till she’s got his cock so far up her arse she can give him a blowie.”

“Tiana!” Y/N hissed, brows furrowed. “We’re on the tube!”

“What?” Tiana frowned right back. “Need to paint the picture, don’t I?”

“Not that vividly.” Y/N looked around, hiding her face in her scarf.

“It’s either in full detail or not at all.”

“There’s never ‘not at all’, so always everything in full detail.” Annie said, putting her phone in her back pocket.

“And that’s why you love me.” Tiana smiled at both of them, but eyes landed on Y/N as she continued talking. “Just warning you, gorge, because Becky will try it on with Harry again soon.”

“You think?” Y/N bit her lip.

Tiana nodded, sighing. “She’s relentless that one.”

“But she’s got to understand Harry isn’t interested.” Annie said. “He’s obviously into Y/N.”

Y/N lifter her purple scarf higher up so it could cover more of her flustered self. “He’s not.”

“Oh, shut up, he’s making it pretty bloody obvious.” Tiana rolled her eyes at Y/N before turning to Annie. “She’s just that kind of person, you know? Has a thing for a lad for a while and doesn’t stop till she’s decided if he’s a good fuck or not.”

“Still on the tube, Ti.”

“And I still don’t care, Y/N.”

“So,” Annie shrugged her shoulders. “She’s just going to continue till they’ve slept together? That won’t happen.”

“Not for as long as Y/N’s still interested in him back, no.”

“I’m standing right here.”

“Y/N,” Tiana looked over at her friend. “I know you’re trying to deny your feelings toward Harry because you’d like to keep them to yourself, and as cute as that is, I really don’t think it’s the right move.”

Y/N frowned.

“Because Becky needs to back off. Harry is your man.”

“He’s not, though. He’s really not.” Y/N shook her head, looking at the ground as the speaker overhead announced their arrival at Wimbledon. They walked out and toward the South Western Railway toward London Waterloo, their last trip that would end at Clapham Junction where they would stroll to campus for their lectures and then back to Westbridge. “We barely talked during Christmas break.”

“But you have each other’s numbers, yea?” Tiana asked, frowning a bit.

“Yea, but…” Y/N sighed. “I don’t like being pushy, because I don’t like… I don’t want him to think I’m waiting around for him to talk to me, you know what I mean? He’s been so nice and I don’t want to push him away by talking to him when he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Did you talk at all?”

“He wished me a happy Christmas over text, but that’s it.” Y/N explained. “I said it back, and he sent me the Santa emoji.”

“And you didn’t answer?” Tiana seemed a little shocked, which Y/N thought was odd.

“No.”

“Oh, my days.” She smiled, laughing at Y/N. “You gormless git.”

“What?!”

“He wanted to keep the conversation going! He sent you an emoji!”

“How do you answer to an emoji?”

“Sending an emoji right back! Like the Christmas tree one!” Tiana said, shaking her head. “If you sent the Christmas tree one, he might even have asked about your father’s Christmas trees and how that’s going, and boom.” Tiana clapped her hands together. “You two would’ve been talking.”

“But I have no idea how to talk to people.” Y/N confessed. “I don’t know how to make someone talk to me, don’t know what to say, or how to sound interesting.”

“Must’ve done something right at least, because Harry Styles seems to be very interested.” Tiana walked into the escalator. “Pretty sure still fancies you, though. But,” Tiana pointed a finger at Y/N. “Remember what we’ve talked about now.”

“What?”

“Becky, you sod.” Tiana said. “How she’s not going to give up on Harry. You gotta show her she can’t have him.”

“But I don’t own him, he’s not mine.”

Tiana raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think he’ll mind if he is, babes.”

New semester meant new modules, and new modules meant new classes. Luckily for Y/N, Teresa was in her Composing I: Capturing Ideas class, so at least they had each other in that one. She had Studio Production with Finn, which only made her sit alone in Professional Development, and Y/N could live with that. Well, at least she told herself that, but she knew she’d hate every little second of that seminar. She opened the door into the Antonin Artaud Building, Teresa smiling at her from the other side of the room. She met Y/N halfway, giving her a huge hug as they hadn’t seen each other since the exam in Ensemble. They had talked loads over Snapchat, but it wasn’t the same as being together like this in real life.

“You alright?” Teresa asked as she pulled away, smiling broadly. “Christmas treat you nice?”

Y/N nodded. “Been a wet one.”

“Very.” Teresa sighed. “Can’t even remember last time it was somewhat white in London. Sometimes I wish I was born up North just so I could get some snow. Have never made a snow angel, and I think that’s very rude of… the weather.”

Y/N laughed. “Think I managed to once, but I could feel the grass poking up through the snow. So it wasn’t very successful.”

“I mean,” Teresa shrugged. “If it does end up snowing and settling in Southern England, I think it’ll be because climate change is doing its thing, and we should not appreciate that.”

“Very true. Would be a tad bit worried if it did end up settling for more than a week.”

“I won’t say no to snow.” Teresa confessed. “But I don’t want to die because of climate change either.”

Y/N laughed and then the two walked toward their new seminar room for Composing I. It was a very chilled atmosphere in the Composing I class. The teacher, Mrs Wells, was young and knew how to talk to students without overwhelming them. Y/N found herself incredibly relaxed in her presence, which was surprising as university had been nothing but stress so far. In the back of the seminar room, Y/N sat writing down all the important dates for assignments and due dates, the different texts to read and the things they would focus on and learn. Maybe, Y/N thought, this second semester would be better than the first one. Maybe this semester, she would find a way through struggling and relax into uni a little more. She had to find her place somehow, and maybe this was it. Winter and spring 2015 would bring wonders, Y/N hoped.

“What were you doing before you came here then?” Teresa asked. “Like what other plans?”

“Went to a house viewing in Wimbledon.” Y/N explained, putting the cork back on her pen. “Not impressive.”

“Elaborate.”

“It was…” She scrunched her nose up, looking around the room at all the other students to see if she recognised someone else from the previous semester or any of the other seminars earlier in the week. “It was dodgy.”

“Most student houses are, though.”

Y/N nodded. “Tiana, Annie and I have been to five house viewings for three-bedroom flats and it’s a pain to find somewhere. You have to think so far in advance, loads have already found somewhere for next year.”

“I haven’t.”

“You haven’t?”

“No, me and the girls in my flat are trying to, but they’re not really stressing about it, to be fair.” Teresa took the elastic band off her wrist, putting her curly hair up in a bun. “Me, on the other hand…” Teresa crossed her arms. “Am.”

“You’re stressed?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you found somewhere?”

“Well, we haven’t really been looking.” Teresa sighed, adjusting her bun. “I’ve tried to, but it’s so hard when you don’t really know what the other ones want in a flat, you know?”

Y/N nodded, feeling sorry for her friend. They looked ahead as Mrs Wells announced the end of their 15-minute break, started talking about something Y/N didn’t seem to be focusing on. After today, her little gang had another viewing tomorrow for a three-bed flat, though this one looked even worse than the one they looked at today. It had never even crossed Y/N’s mind when she started in September that she would have to look for a place to live the rest of her time at uni. The thought of moving in somewhere, having to pay bills and clean and be responsible, had never crossed her mind because the scariness of uni had blurred everything else. But now that the list of options her, Annie and Tiana had was shrinking, Y/N was starting to wonder what it’d be like to commute back and forth between Hawkley and Battersea for the next two years. Sure, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world as she got to live back home with her family again, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure she ever could properly live at home again after having moved out. During Christmas it had felt good to be home the first week, and then she started realising that she would really like to just lay in bed, watch some YouTube videos and to absolutely nothing without having her mum shout at her to come downstairs and help make dinner, or her father dragging her outside because he needed help with something. It was fine, she loved helping out, but she – to her own surprise – preferred controlling everything in her little room in Westbridge Halls.

Suddenly, a thought struck Y/N and she had to stop herself from gasping loudly. She had been so massively stupid for not having thought about this before, for only just now realising that this would be an amazing idea. So, turning her head toward Teresa who was watching Mrs Wells, Y/N asked in a hushed tone, “Do you want to move in with me and my flatmates instead of yours?”

Teresa whipped her head in Y/N’s direction. “What?”

“You said yourself you were stressing about all of this, and I just wanted to let you know, if you don’t want to wait till last minute finding a house for next year, the option is there.” Y/N gave Teresa a smile, knowing if anyone had asked her this, she would’ve wanted the confirmation that the person asking was doing so because they actually wanted to, and not out of pity.

Teresa’s mouth hung open as she considered this. “And your flatmates would be fine with that? Me moving in with you lot?”

“Well, I haven’t asked them yet, but I don’t see why not.” Y/N admitted, shrugging her shoulders a little. “There are loads more four-bedroom house than three-bed. Most that are left in the Battersea and Clapham area are four-bed. It would be incredibly convenient for us because we would find a house soon that way, and you’d also have secured yourself a place to live next year.”

With a small smile on her face, Teresa watched Y/N. “Are you sure you want my annoying self living wit you next year?”

Y/N giggled. “I’ll survive.”

Teresa’s smile widened. “Do ask your flatmates when you get home, but yes, I’d very much like to live with you next year if you and your gang will have me.”

Leaning over, Y/N pulled Teresa into another hug, both of them giggling as the thought of possibly being flatmates next year was a possibility. Y/N knew Teresa wasn’t someone she’d be annoyed living with; in fact, she might be the complete opposite. Though Teresa was loud, she was also very quiet at times and stuck to herself most of the time, meaning there was little drama with her. Tiana and Teresa would get on well, Y/N thought, while Annie might spend most of her time in her own room, but that was fine, too. It would be a nice place to come home to if all of her closest friends at uni lived under the same roof.

The rest of their 3-hour seminar they weren’t able to pay attention. Discussing the different films they had to watch together in their new living room, the thousands of dishes they had to make as a flat, and how they would decorate the place for different occasions. Y/N knew both Tiana and Annie would be fine with Teresa living with them, because by this point the girls just wanted to know that they were living somewhere next year. So, the first Composing seminar flew by, and before they knew it, they were walking out of the classroom and toward the loo. Teresa waited for Y/N, all the while checking herself in the mirror. Y/N did the same when her booth was free for Teresa to use. The blue floral frill trim mesh tee shirt she was wearing with a white top underneath, bright blue acid wash jeans that reach her hip were surprisingly comfortable, as well were her white trainers. She put her cream teddy Borg pocket coat on, her burgundy leather gloved outside it and the scarf around her neck. Teresa came out, put her jacket and scarf on and then the two of them walked toward the exit of the Arts building together. Still chatting about everything they would have to do next year, Y/N didn’t even see the person leaning against the wall by the entrance to the corridor leading to her seminar room.

“Y/N.”

It had been so long since she had heard that voice that Y/N almost tripped over her own feet in a short second of weakness. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Harry standing there, the same smile on his face and his hair a curly mess as per. Beside her, Teresa’s mouth fell open, the sight of Harry as well as him calling out for Y/N shocked her a little too much to not have visible reaction. As always, Harry was dressed incredibly. With grey and orange checked skinny trousers – a chain hanging from the hoops where his belt would’ve gone - and a dark red turtle neck tucked into it, his black coat on and black boots, he looked incredible. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, though, and Y/N found herself missing them resting on the bridge of his nose. They looked at each other for a while, taking each other in after well over a month apart. They hadn’t seen each other since that morning after he had slept over at hers, since the night he had kipped at hers.

Teresa leaned into Y/N, whispering in her ear, “I’ll leave you two to it.” And so, their plans of walking back together were suddenly cancelled. Y/N watched Teresa leave, turning back to Harry once she was out the door. Pushing off the wall, Harry walked over to her, still smiling that lopsided smile she for some reason hadn’t been able to not think about everyday of the Christmas break.

“Thought I might find you here.” He said, looking smug as he always did.

“How’d you know I had a lecture here and now?” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrows. He had known where her Ensemble seminar usually was held, but that had been last semester, and she now had a new timetable.

Harry let stuck his tongue out against his bottom lip, wetting it before pressing his lips together, resulting in a warm pink colour once he l was done rubbing them against one another. It was hard for Y/N not to look at his lips. She wanted to so bad. “I don’t kiss and tell, darling.”

Y/N felt like screaming. He knew what he was doing, knew he played dirty, and yet he didn’t give enough teabags to care. There wasn’t any doubt that he knew how to get a reaction; that he knew what Y/N was thinking and how bad he wanted her to give in to her own competitiveness and just look at his lips. However, Y/N just looked at him, daring him to tell her how he knew her timetable.

“Fine, I asked Finn.”

Y/N frowned.

Harry frowned back. “What?”

“Why’d you ask Finn?”

Harry smiled a little at that. “Because I wanted to meet you.”

“Sooo,” Y/N said, smiling a little back. “Instead of texting me you asked Finn for my timetable?”

“Yea.” Harry cocked his head to the side, biting his bottom lip. “Aren’t I the cutest?”

Y/N giggled, resting her gloved hands in the pockets of her coat. “Why did you have to go through all that trouble?”

“Because I just felt like it, you know?” Harry shrugged. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise me?”

“Yea.” He grinned. “Think it’s quite fascinating the look on your pretty face when you turn around and look at me.”

Y/N bit her lip, and she swore Harry’s green eyes fell down on them, savouring the look of them, before his eyes met hers again.

“Wanted to see you.”

Eyes wide with interest as Harry took a step closer, Y/N bit down harder on her lip.

“See how you were.”

It was incredibly rude, Y/N thought, how he wasn’t even trying to be discreet as his eyes traced along the swell of her lips. Moving along them like following the graceful rise and fall of a wave; a wave he wanted to immerse himself in, to get lost in, and drown at the hands of. Letting her lips fall from between her teeth, Y/N watched Harry’s open slightly, a small puff of air leaving them. Now it was her turn to look at his without him noticing, and she hated that she took a small step forward at the sight of them. A sense of hunger she had never really felt before took over; sprouting somewhere in her chest like a flower in early spring. Looking up, she noticed Harry staring back at her, eyes as green as the grass after a storm. She didn’t know how she was going to get it across that she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to press his lips against hers all soft, maybe rest his hand at the nape of her neck where no one ever touched her. About to walk all the way up to her, Harry stopped when his phone started ringing.

Closing his eyes for a short second before bringing his phone out, Harry stopped moving for a second. Y/N watched him with a slight furrow to her brows, not knowing Harry to be startled by anything. He always seemed to be one step ahead, always having full control of himself and any situation he found himself in.

“I, uh…” He stopped himself, not taking his eyes off his vibrating phone. “I need to go. See you around, Y/N.”

And with that, Harry stormed off. Huge strides, he made his way toward the exit of the building, phone to his ear as he reached to open the door for himself.

“What?” He said into the phone, a tone in his voice Y/N wasn’t sure she was able to decipher. There was a coldness to it she’d never heard; a distance from his heart and his vocals that seemed unreal. She watched him till he was out of sight, and only then did she walked away herself, not being able to think and ponder on anything but who Harry would’ve been talking to.

Harry Sorry for storming off there. Meant to ask you and your flat if you wanted to come out and celebrate my birthday Friday feb 6th? Finn said he’d come, but I wanted to ask you.

Y/N knocked on Tiana’s door, grinning as she opened it and walked in with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her pyjamas on. Tiana was sitting in her robe on herbed, giving herself a pedicure and only looking up to see Y/N smiling big before going back to her toe nails. The radio was playing softly in the background, a pop song wafting from Tiana’s speakers that Y/N had never really bothered to know the name of. Taking Tiana’s chair, she dragged it over to her bed and sat down, putting her feet on the bed.

“Want me to do yours, babes?” Tiana asked, motioning with her head at Y/N’s feet that were currently safely tucked into a pair of very comfy slippers.

“I’m good, thank you.” Y/N said, looking at her phone.

Over dinner, Y/N had told Annie and Tiana of her conversation with Teresa. The two girls had been over the moon, and Tiana had made a groupchat with the four of them right away, more than ready to finally get going and find a decent four-bedroom house in close vicinity to the university. While Y/N did their washing up, Annie and Tiana looked at possible houses to view on Tiana’s laptop, Y/N walking over to check it out before they were sent in the groupchat for Teresa to take a look at. Everything seemed to be falling a little into place. Y/N still felt bummed out over the exam, but she kept telling herself that at least she had passed, at least she didn’t have to take the whole module over again. But once they found a house to live in, Y/N was sure almost everything would feel right. Once she was back from the seminar she had applied to some more jobs with her father’s help, done some uni work, and played some on her violin. She felt incredibly productive and positive for a change.

“Guess who sent me a text?”

Tiana looked up at Y/N again. “Shut up.”

Y/N nodded.

“Shut. Up!” Tiana screwed the cork back on her red nail varnish and reached for Y/N’s phone. “Let me see. Let me see. Let me see.”

Y/N let Tiana take her phone, a smile on her face as Tiana read over Harry’s text to her. Clearly reading it over and over again, because it took a while before she gave the phone back to Y/N. Her face wasn’t as excited as Y/N had anticipated it to be, which scared her a little. Tiana loved a party.

“We’re going out with flat 8?”

Y/N nodded.

“No, no, no, no.” Tiana shook her head, getting up from where she sat in her bed. “No. No way.”

Y/N frowned, watching as Tiana walked over to her sink to get her foot cream. “What’s going on? Why don’t you want to?”

Tiana sighed, looking at herself in the mirror for a bit before her eyes felt to her hands nervously fiddling with the foot cream tube in her hands.

“Tiana?” Y/N sat up straighter, feet falling to the floor. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to meet Danny.”

Y/N saw the hurt in Tiana’s eyes as she turned around. There was no doubt that whatever had happened between her and Danny had cut way deeper than Y/N had realised at first. Sitting down in her bed again, Tiana sighed before she started rubbing the cream into her foot.

“I just… don’t.”

Y/N nodded, closing her phone. “Want to talk about it?”

Tiana inhaled sharply. “Not tonight.”

Y/N wrapped her blanket tighter around herself, letting Harry’s text be unanswered for the time being. Right no Y/N needed to talk to Tiana.

“You won’t come and celebrate Harry then?”

“Think I’ll pass on this one. Sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N nodded, looking away. “There’s still some time if you change your mind. You don’t have to talk to Danny.”

Tiana didn’t say anything, eyes fixed on her feet as she switched to rub cream on the other foot.

“What did he do, Ti?”

Tiana shook her head. “Nothing. He’s just…” Tiana looked up at Y/N, and for the first time in a while, tears were in them again. “He’s just a fucking knobhead.”

Y/N sat down in Tiana’s bed as she started crying, holding onto her as she shook with sobs. Y/N had never seen Tiana this upset, never felt her shake as she cried. Danny had really broken her; whatever he had done or said really ripped Tiana’s heart apart. And it seemed she was having problems stitching it back together, and though Y/N didn’t know how to sow, she would help Tiana all she could.

TAGLIST

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Fall Anime 2018 Watchlist

We’re about halfway into the season so this is probably kinda pointless by now, but here’s a quick rundown of the stuff I’m watching this season.

Dropped

Jingaisan no Yome: This is a 3 minute show and I won’t spend longer than that writing about it (I’m timing myself). I didn’t know it was a short going in. I’m not really into shorts, Saiki kun being the only exception and the story was less MahoYome and more... i don’t even have an apt comparison, it just was maybe more serious about the “marriage” thing than something with a giant floofball character should be.

Tokyo Ghoul: Re 2: It’s simple. I watched episode 1 and realized I had no fucking clue of how any of this related to the ending of the first season, no idea of who half the characters were and where did they allegiances lie and what is Kaneki even trying to do. Although not loyal to the manga, the first two seasons of Tokyo Ghoul had a story that could be followed and made sense, this, however, is just jumping over plot points with no rhyme or reason and there’s nothing but confusion.

Bloom Into You: There’s nothing actually wrong with this show and I was kind of looking forward to a yuri romance that wasn’t rapey or incesty bullshit, but something about this one just didn’t click with me. Like Touko fell in love with Yuu too quickly, and given Yuu’s ace/aro identity, it would feel weird for her to do a 180 and suddenly fall in love with Touko. I kind of want more fun and emotions in my romance stories and this one didn’t have much of either.

Chopping Block

Given a few things the past two weeks that didn’t go according to plan, I fell behind on my anime watching after keeping it in control for the first third of the season and i’m quite annoyed. And because of this, and my upcoming research trip to Japan at the end of the month, I might end up having to drop a couple of series.

Bakumatsu: Objectively speaking, this show is really bad. The production values are poop, the story is a wacky mess that takes itself a bit too seriously and the characters are flat and uninteresting, the villain is egregiously boring. This show also has Matsuo Basho as a secret tive traveling ninja, and that puts me at quite the predicament. I want to see more of this utterly bonkers historical reinterpretation, but boy do I wish they could make it more exciting.

SAO Alicization:  The only reason I, a notorious SAO hater, is watching SAO is because I hate myself. With that out of the way, boy is this SAO boring. We’re four episodes in and the only thing that’s happened is they cut an old tree because nothing can stop Kirito and his new friend, Yellow Kirito. This show needs to start getting offensive and/or stupid soon or i’ll die of boredom.

Karakuri Circus: I hear this one’s from the same mangaka as UshiTora? I love UshiTora and I can see the resemblance between giant guy whose name I can’t remember and Tora. His character and his schtick are so far the most interesting thing to me, with the kuudere puppet girl whose main purpose seems to be to get paired with him  having yet to make an impression on me. I’m also still not really certain what the overall plot is. I do love stories about found families, so hopefully I can stick with this one

Hinomaru Sumou: If my watching schedule were normal, this wouldn’t be in this section. Whilst not the best sports show of the season, and chock full of some of the most eyeroll worthy aspects of sports shonen *cough cough* toxic *cough cough* masculinity *cough cough*, Hinomaru Sumou has the fire and passion for an underrepresented sport that’s usually enough to hook me. I just don’t have time, and if push comes to shove, I’ll prioritize other shows over this one.

Banana Fish: Yo, okay, before you lynch me for being a hater or whatever, let me tell you I have zero issues with Banana Fish. I don’t hate it, I don’t think it’s Bad Representation(TM) whatever the fuck that means, I definitely don’t think it’s fujobait or just another BL. It just doesn’t make me happy. This probably doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I’ve never been a fan of tragedy. It’s also part of the reason I’m dropping Tokyo Ghoul. I don’t like hopeless stories and tragic romances. I’m somewhat spoiled on how the manga ends and each time I find myself less and less inclined to watch the newer episodes because the descent into misery is just not enjoyable for me. It’s not the show’s wrongdoing, it’s just not the kind of story I like. I’m probably too far along to drop it at this point, but also I kinda wish I could drop it because I get so little joy out of it. Also, my main hook is of course Ash and Eiji’s relationship, but 15 episodes in (I’m behind, as is evident) the time they’ve spent together is so minimal, I can’t even appreciate that a whole lot.

I guess I’m watching this? 

Dakaichi: Me: Man I really want a yuri anime without rapey bullshit. Also me: watches BL anime with rapey bullshit. I have literally no excuse. I think the basic setup lends itself really well for a romcom and Takato is a very likable character, it’s a shame it’s the same old rapey bullshit. In my defense, episode two was really sweet and I’ve been hoping for more stories along that line, even though the show has failed to deliver them since. Episode 5 may have pushed the line even beyond what I’m willing to tolerate, but it’s unclear. I might end up unexpectedly dropping it after episode 6. HEY JAPAN WOULD IT KILL YOU TO MAKE A BL ANIME THAT WASN’T RAPEY BULLSHIT? JUST ONE?

(honestly, Takato deserves better)

wao episode 6 was maji disgusting i might drop it after all

Fairy Tail Final: I just want closure man. This adaptation retains all the worst attributes of the previous season, terribly slow pacing (what for?! the manga is over!!) minimal animation, recapalooza. The color palette is slightly brighter than before, which I appreciate. Fairy Tail’s last arc wasn’t as bad as Bleach’s, but it was still pretty bad in the manga; still I hope seeing it animated will make it feel less messy and slightly more coherent. The FT anime has also in the past filled in some blanks that existed in the manga, so hopefully they can make the best out of it here.

(Erza is still my wife)

Tsurune: No, this isn’t the best sports anime of this season either. Although that’s hard to judge given how it’s barely on its second (third, i’m behind) episode. Technically, I feel more compelled to drop this than Hinomaru, but also I want to give it a fair chance. That said, the first episode was.... profoundly underwhelming and borderline upsetting, with how everyone put Minato on the spot in spite of his having an actual psychologic condition that drove him away from kyudo. I’m all in for stories about growing and surpassing your own obstacles, but I hope they go about it in a less mean-spirited way. Also, the characters feel pretty shallow so far. I’m not even gonna pretend the main reason I want to keep watching isn’t gorgeous guy with the ponytail-san, because I’m now old enough that I immediately gravitate towards the senseis rather than the teenage protags.

i am so weak to long hair  _(:3」∠)_

welp he cut his hair right next episode, thanks for nothing kyoani

In spite of everything, Anime is, in fact, Good

Golden Kamuy: Like with many split-cours, there’s nothing much to say beyond “if you liked the first one, you’ll like this one”. The production values are still tragic, but I think the pace has improved, and the dynamics between the different factions are so fluid and constantly changing they make the story very enthralling. It also continues to have the Best Reaction Faces.

Gakuen Basara: Listen, listen. You all knew I was gonna watch this. And I love Basara so much I still think this show is a masterpiece even when it’s objectively atrocious. I do not reccommend it to anyone who isn’t already a fan (and I mean a blind fan willing to consume anything from this franchise, even in its cheapest, dumbest, worst looking incarnation). That said there are a couple of interesting things, namely the power rivalry between Hideyoshi and Nobunaga, this never happened in the original series because Nobunaga died before Hideyoshi was introduced. Anyway, just shoot that Masamune x Kojuuro fanservice straight into my veins please and thank you

Zombieland Saga: One of the two biggest surprises of the season and one that was nowhere near my radar. An original production by studio MAPPA with perhaps the wildest premiere episode of the season that’s somehow making me like idols?! It’s also giving us the most Miyano Mamoru has ever Miyano’d and it’s amazing and histerical. The characters are also very charming, specially bikegang leader Saki and the always legendary Yamada Tae and the show isn’t scared of letting its cute idols get gross and silly and dirty. There’s also a feeling of mystery that I find very appealing. Definitely didn’t expect this one to be one of the highlights of my week, yet here we are.

SSSS Gridman: Just when I’d vowed a giant fuck you to Studio Trigger, in they come with one of their most quiet productions yet, with characters that speak their lines in soft, leveled voices, tragedies that feel palpable, emotionally climactic battle scenes and a sense of tension and mystery that makes it impossible to take your eyes away. It does have the caveat of oversexualizing the female characters, specially the villain, and not giving Rikka virtually anything to do, but past that, it’s been a very pleasant and intriguing surprise. Also of note, I have no background knowledge of the Gridman tokusatsu series but that hasn’t really been an impediment to enjoy this series.

Double Decker: Doug & Kirill: A spinoff to the 2010 superhero hit Tiger & Bunny, we have a less superpowery buddycop comedy with a cool and diverse cast, whose main character wants to BRING DOWN CAPITALISM, okay, put an end to economic inequality and classes, but that’s basically the same thing. The show is pretty far along because it premiered early for some reason, and so far it’s been mostly one-shot stories very thinly connected to the distribution of the illegal drug Anthem, with our main plot having only come up two episodes ago with the fantastic Zabel and Bamboo Man twist. The dynamics between the main duo are great and Kirill is a riot as a protagonist. 

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru: Or Run with the Wind. Now THIS is the best sports anime of the season. Brought to you by the studio behind Haikyu, based on a novel by the author of Fune wo Amu. Firstly I love that it’s set in university, because it gives the cast a lot more variety in their interests, ages and personalities, their goals, their baggage, and it makes the process of bringing this team of misfits together even more interesting to watch. The characters feel very human in the way they speak, their worries, their relationships, their actions. The show’s done a great job so far in building the characters and making them worth cheering for. Also Ouji is my spirit animal. If you ever wanted a show to motivate you into running, this is what you’ve been waiting for! Another great surprise of this season for sure.

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo: Finally part Five is here! And in it we get perhaps the most interesting Jojo protagonist right off the bat, with troubled Giorno and his difficult past and his wonderful Stand ability. His new set of allies is also quite eccentric and interesting and every scene and dialogue has that special Jojo flavor of crazy and ridiculous and always a load of fun. This one will have 39 episodes, so we’re barely getting started and I’m already loving all of it.

Thunderbolt Fantasy 2: Urobutcher’s favorite puppets are back with a vengeance! Every bit as fun, insane, cool and over-the-top as the first season, with the added value of the rapport between the characters, evidenced by how brilliant the few scenes in which Shang and Lin share the screen are. With a brand new story that expands the world of our favorite puppets, and even more new gorgeous puppets added to the mix to make Shang’s life a mess, this show is definitely my favorite this season and potentially of the year. Let Urobuchi keep doing puppets for as long as he wants!

ooof i’m finally done. It’s midseason so probably nobody cares but do hmu with your favorite shows of the season and if there’s anything worth hatewatching that I may be missing ;)

[voidselfshipp]

Highschool au! Pt2

Part one

Jerico taps her nails against the desk, hearing the teacher talk.

Someone sits besides her, she looks at the person.

-Octavio!, what are you doing here-

-o oh nothing!, just uh didnt want to sit alone?-

-Octavio Silva!, to your place!-

Jeri giggles and grabs Octavio's hand, he blushes and bolts back his place.

The boy looks at the New girl, he has his eyes half-lided , smiling like an idiot.

'Es tan hermosa...' he thinks as his hand mindlessly copies whats on the board,sobieski's hand slaps him out of his trance.

Break time is here , and every kid rans to the patio , except for jhon and Octavio, they help jerico organize her stuff and Grab her food.

-You can hang out with my Friends if youd like to!-tavi ( octavio) says with enthusiasm trying to hide the blush on his cheeks.

The patio is almost divided by Groups, but both boys friendgroups arent around...instead they are...hanging out with the weird kids?..

-rev! Wait!- jerico says grabbing Isaac's hand-what happened?-Revenant says nothing and looks down, jeri's chest burns with anger, and looks at the 'sport team Group'-listen here , whatever the fuck y'all said to him was wrong, you wonder why the hell your school is so divided , well look at this shit!-

All the boys around her stay astounded and they try to muster excuses.

A clanking of shoes echo around the now silent patio, its cereza.

-thank you honey for standing up for my friend Isaac, now you - cereza turns her head to the sport team-something to say ?-

Sobieski and decker look at eachother.

-I do have an idea-jerico says, looking at cere with a smug grin- why dont we all hang out, to get to know all of us better?-

Both Groups nodd, cereza Is intimidating,and so is jerico.

-You have such passion- blitzwing says-I im blitz by the vay, its nice to meet you-as he says that the Tones and ways to speak change- I im sorry I just so happen zo have zhree personalities inside me!- he cackles.

At first jeri is reluctant to say something, but her gaze softens and scoots closer to him.

-Nice to meet you blitz, I think the three of hou are quite nice,it must be wild right?-

Blitz nodds but smiles.

-i have it under control but sometimes I cant help it!-

-Its okay, I wont judge you -

The two Groups talk and even laugh togheter, there seems like they share a lot more than they thought.

-Did you know that the taipan snake is one of the most venomous of its race?, I can tell you a lot of stuff about it-alexander says with a poker face as revenant nodds excitedly

-Well,breaktime Is over, ill see you all later!-jerico says.

-Well, ryad, me, Eliott and cereza have chemistry now-Alex says- let me guide you- chemistry is one of my favourite subjects, all the possibilities, and all the reactions I hope to be a chemist one day-

-Im sure youll accomplish It Alex, ive heard you are very Smart- jeri exclaims as they walk.

-Oh something I forgot to tell you honey, we have a Group asigment now, the five of us are in it-

-Hell yeah!-eliott chimes in- as long as it doesnt explode like the last time!, that would be rid ridic...dumb-

-ridiculous?- jerico asks.

-Yeah...sorry im dumb...-

-Dont say that!- the girl grabs Eliotts hand and looks at him in the eye-my main language isnt english and I dont know some words either!, you are not dumb for not know them!-

The boys eye water and hug her tightly, he starts to giggle as they enter the classroom.

-That why I like you jeri!-he kisses her cheek and the five of them go to their desk full of chemicals.

《♡》

-Hey ryad?, where are you going?- jerico asks, you'd say nobody was going to be at your home until late midnight-

-Yeah...sorry I just , I have nowhere to go-ryad says.

-Well all of us are going to jeri's house, she says there is this big attic that we can hang out in!-octane says.

-Yeah come on buddy, what do you have to lose?- sobieski says, with an arm around decker, and the otherone around blitz.

All of them start to chant for him to come with them,he eventually caves in and nodds, they talk and tell jokes.

All of them share feeling towards her.

Little do they know...she feels the same.

《♡》

[exnvhilo]

━━  ❛ ☆  KATIE MCGRATH  /  CISFEMALE  /  SHE&HER. anytime i hear queen of peace by florence + the machine i think of alexandra decker. the thirty-two year old has been living in hollywood as a director. since then they’ve built the reputation for being ingenious & cavalier. if you were to ask them if they were hades from greek mythos they’d probably say no.

wow i’m late as fuck. sorry guys ! i was making this extremely pointless & unnecessary template and procrastinating. i’m truly sorry. btw ! i’m ron. i’m 23 years old and a huge Heaux for mythology. any kind of mythology, ya know??? but my mom is a history teacher and she always loved greek myths so i kinda inherited that from her. i live in the gmt -3 timezone, & my pronouns are she/her. i also read like 2 issues of wick + divine and it’s so fucking good so i had to join this. but hennyways. let’s get to the Flavor, shall we?? 

--------------- THE PAST

i. for some unknown reason, perhaps a trick played by the fates or a plan from the titans themselves, the king of the underworld, feared & respected ( not particularly loved ) incarnated on a child in the middle of the desert of nevada in 1986. alexandra decker’s parents were simple, reserved & owners of a funeral and embalming business ( i know, i’m so smart ). growing up with death around her never really phazed alexandra. other kids might have been squeamish within the line of empty, soulless eyes, but not her. it was almost like an enigma to alexandra. what makes a soul, anyway? and why is the human body just flesh once its gone?

ii. although never an emotional child, it could be said that alexandra loved her parents. in a way that you love a bird, understanding that life itself is limited and extremely fragile. but they were good people. on sundays, after mass, they would eat breakfast food at a diner and take her to the latest showing of whatever was on in the small town’s movie theater. alexandra loved it, especially the movies of old hollywood. the glamour and opulence. and how it inevitably these gods of the screen ended up just like the mortals on the other side. decadent in the twilight of their lives. ( not the movie twilight ya know?? although thats an idea )

iii. greek tragedy follows the master of death, and alexandra got a taste of what loss feels like when you’re in mortal skin. at eleven years old, the decker funeral home crumbled under an unexplained fire. alexandra was at school at the time, returning to only the ashes of her parents. it was notable, however, that she didn’t cry ------- not even once. to what the child psychologists attributed to shock. her destiny was now foster care. with black hair, fair, smooth skin & icy green eyes, every prospect of parent was instantly fond of the girl. she was quiet but intelligent, extremely mature for her age. an elderly couple, the montgomerys, loved the girl from the moment they saw her. they were older than alexandra’s biological parents, but educated & comprehensive. and they made sure alex didn’t have to change her last name if she didn’t want to.

iv. growing up with the montgomerys was wildly different than what alexandra was accostumed to. they were old money as old money comes. terribly inclined to art and music and everything alexandra believed transcended the mortal experience. they coaxed her out of her shell, turning the intelligent but shy girl into an well-rounded, outspoken woman. gone were the days of embalming and smelling formaldehyde in the basement, and in with art history & piano classes in a lavish mansion in beverly hills. always draped in expensive clothing, always balanced. it was a life that suited alexandra, although she still felt weirdly drawn to death. feeling as if, somehow, for a weird twist of destiny, it was her own fault that her parents died.

--------------- THE PRESENT

i. alexandra’s first feature film was a homage to her favorite movies. the old hollywood glamour, somehow an homage to the deckers in their small, burned down funeral home. it was a goodbye of sorts to alexandra, an omen of things to come. and they did come. the first movie was a success, and soon enough the young director was the talk of the cinematic industry. over ten years have passed and now, alexandra is a well-known director, with over twenty movies under her belt and a few flashy awards to show for it.

ii. fame suits her well. she’s outspoken, educated & the owner of an acerbic wit. the secret is never taking herself too seriously, or so she likes to say, since we’re all just dirt in the end. the reminder of death has been constant in alexandra’s life. the montgomerys are long gone, with alex being the sole heiress of their fortune. mr. montgomery died when she turned eighteen, with mrs. montgomery following suit when alexandra was twenty-four. over the next few years lovers & friends all met their unrevokable end, and though alexandra was never involved in any of it ------ it seemed like she only brought death to those she was close to loving.

iii. that particular trait has left her a bit hesitant to get too close to people, fearing that somehow her strange luck will bring on their demise. she has colleagues & even friends that she keeps at arm’s length. she’s had companions but mostly sexual, never truly settling down or getting too close. but she is extremely charismatic & alluring, an irony of destiny ------ being so inviting but never letting anyone in.

iv. extremely educated due to the montgomerys, speaks five languages, plays the piano and the violin and paints. really artistic although her heart really resides in filmmaking. she is also known to fool around with hollywood heartthrobs, having an especial preference for the women.

v. overall, not a terrible person though she can be a bit obnoxious sometimes due to her upbringing. years of accolades have sort of gone to her head and she believes she’s the best thing since méliès happened to cinema. loves dogs ( and i think its bc of cerberus ok ), has an extremely expensive taste & gives people inappropriately expensive gifts because no one has ever told her you’re not supposed to do that. occasionally a bit on the brooding side, but she likes to be where the people are, so you’ll probably find her in reserved booths of exclusive clubs around l.a.

wow, this got really long & i’m truly sorry. really i made her sound v serious but she’s kind of a lonely sweetheart bc we love hades in this household. so if you’d like to plot smth juicy pls pls like this or quietly say ‘can i sing for u’ & i’ll hear u & come for plots. thank u so much if you’ve read thus far u r great i love u. also if you’d like to plot thru d*scord, i’m lil d pression#2978 over there. thank u