#i still feel like i might have girlbossed a little to close to the sun in getting this new job

[indynerdgirl]

Hello, my lovely followers! I hope you're all having a good Monday so far. 😊

I just wanted to let you all know that starting tomorrow, I won't be as active on here during the day as I currently am because I'm starting a new job tomorrow that has much stricter internet use policies on work computers than my current job. Because of that, I expect my active Tumblr hours will shift to the last afternoon/evening (I'm in EST if that helps!).

While I'm super excited for this new chapter in my life to start, I am kinda disappointed that I won't be able to use Tumblr as my daily brain breaks like I currently do and I'll also miss being able to chat via messages.

Anyways, wish me luck and say some prayers for me because I still feel like an imposter. 🙃😆

[frozenjokes]

making my aus more and more niche day by day. it’s pirates smp but it’s boatem too and they’re dead (scar girlbossed a little too close to the sun) (murder)

this is the only context you’re getting I don’t know how to summarize this shit (they kissed)

***

Scar took the ouija board from the shelf, setting it gently on the ground. Fear bubbled up in his stomach, and he didn’t know anymore if his shaking hands were solely caused by weakness and pain. Mumbo sat across from him, gesturing for Scar to begin. Scar put his hands on the planchette.

“Right then. What do you want?” His voice failed when he tried to force any ounce of authority through it. As Mumbo’s hands slid over his, he felt them, solid and real. Mumbo seemed surprised as well, letting out a small gasp of shock. A gasp Scar heard.

Scar yelled, scrambling backwards from the ouija board. His heart raced- his heart- he was alive. He was okay. Mumbo looked up with wide eyes, hands still resting on the planchette. When he spoke, Scar couldn’t hear him. Ah. Good..

“You can touch me.”

Mumbo gave him an exasperated look, nodding. Scar didn’t need to hear him to know what he wanted. ‘Now come back.’

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. But desire to ease the fire in his back outweighed any amount of fear he felt. Scar scooted back across from Mumbo, who moved his hands so Scar could place his own down first. Mumbo’s were solid. Cold. It was a cold that crept all the way up his body, from his fingers to the tips of his hair. As it washed over his back, he felt a deep relief. The pain wasn’t gone, no, but it didn’t feel important anymore, like it had suddenly been placed into the background of his senses.

“This is weird,” Scar managed, closing his eyes. His own voice sounded distant as well, but the fear that had gripped him had been washed away with his pain. He was relaxed. For the first time since he reached the faction isles, he didn’t feel the looming threat of vengeful ghosts. Ironic, considering he was sitting across from one of them. He opened his eyes again when Mumbo squeezed his hands, and startled when he saw him speaking. No sound.

“What? Why can’t I hear you?” Scar said, squinting.

“I don’t know!”

Both of them paused, staring.

“What’s happening?” Scar’s voice was flat. Mumbo looked just as confused. He opened his mouth as a test, speaking slowly, as if the ability might be taken from him at any moment.

“I think.. you have to ask me questions. Makes sense with the ouija board I guess. We might be able to touch each other because of our connection? This definitely didn’t happen with Pearl and Kyle.. not that she waited very long before trying to maim him..” Mumbo trailed off, closing his eyes, “I feel so warm.”

***

The rest of the fic is in my pinned post I didn’t want to make this too long lol

[aromancy]

Midnight Suns Wish List

I've been playing Marvel's Midnight Suns for the last few weeks (no spoilers, still haven't finished it yet), and I'm super enjoying the game. I know we're probably not going to get any more characters after the current batch of DLC is out, but I have some characters I'd LOVE to meet/play as, and I want to put them somewhere, so here they are.

Dane Whitman - the Black Knight

Mostly because the color palette would fit right in, but Whitman's connection to Arthurian Legend (most notably, his sword, forged by Merlin himself) would make him a perfect thematic fit with the more mystical aspects of Midnight Suns. Plus, the man's struggle with his Ebony Blade gives him a lot of narrative significance in the story. Maybe Midnight Suns could see him finally overcome his old arch-nemesis, the Bloodwraith.

Lorna Dane - Polaris

Yeah, two Danes. Weird, I know. But Polaris is so much more; as the secret third child of Magneto, she has a similar magnet-themed powerset, giving her a unique toolkit we don't see elsewhere in the game. Polaris' status as Wanda's half-sister and occasional X-Men ally would make her a natural fit (although I could also see her in a more antagonistic role, a la Johnny Blaze).

Pietro Maximoff - Quicksilver

And while we're on the subject of Wanda's siblings, I'm not sure if Pietro's still alive in Midnight Suns canon, but if he is, it's really strange to me how we never actually see him. Pietro and Wanda are really close, and I think a super-speedster like him has a lot of room for creative design. I'm envisioning a suite of Quick cards that let him perform crazy combos every turn.

Jean Grey - Phoenix

Midnight Suns deals a lot with characters struggling with their dark side. Dane Whitman up above has a lot of that, but there's no way we can't discuss the queen of "struggling with your evil impulses" herself, Jean Grey! The Phoenix can be a powerful ally and an even more powerful enemy, her psychic powers an imposing threat even to master telepaths like Charles Xavier.

Viktor Von Doom - Dr. Doom

Screw it, let's get ALL the green people in here! Dr. Doom is a natural fit for the melding of science and magic prevalent in Midnight Suns; his dynamic with Dr. Strange and Tony Stark would doubtless be hilarious as three brilliant and egotistical men butt heads, and he's already gotten a few name drops in the game, like a book authored by him and a mention in Deadpool's side story! Plus, I just really like him, okay?

Emma Frost - the White Queen

And as long as we're talking villains, who better than the matriarch of the Hellfire Club herself, the White Queen? Emma Frost might have a little too much overlap with Jean Grey for both of them to make it in, but I couldn't not put the living manifestation of "gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss" on this list now, could I? And anyway, it's not like there's no overlap in power sets elsewhere in Midnight Suns, what with all the magic-users around. Emma Frost has a lot to offer from a narrative standpoint, too much to be overlooked in my opinion.

And that's about it! Feel free to join in with your own hopes for inclusion in the game (or perhaps a potential sequel)! Or else just yell at me for the sexist pics. I swear, I tried to find the ones that framed the women in the best light, they're just all Like That.

[abelunwilling]

26, 31, and 50 for the tbb asks!

tbb ask game // still accepting (why not)

26. Tell me a random headcanon you have about Echo

A terrible wingman--he's just too honest. If you take him to 79's with you he's gonna end up telling every hot babe about that one time you threw up in a situation that, come to think of it, is almost exactly like this one, in fact it was right about now that you started to hey wait where are you going stop come back--

Also not great at typical "flirting", for similar reasons. He's the sort of person who might show he liked someone by fussing over them... but in an overbearing parent way rather than a doting boyfriend way. I think he's very earnest and sweet once you crack that hard shell--and he's funny, which is a plus--but he isn't naturally good at being charming.

31. What is your favorite episode?

I had to reeeeally think about this one. For season 1, I'm gonna be really basic and say "Aftermath", which imo is still THE best pilot episode of ANY of the animated shows and frankly some of the live action ones too. It's just such a great introduction to the team dynamic and perfectly sets up the whole conflict of the story.

For season 2 it would definitely be "The Solitary Clone", for me. Just really great, clever writing for both Crosshair and Cody (who I also love but don't talk about as much)... and I'm sorry, this is super shallow, but Crosshair is just so freaking cool in some of those action sequences. Ever since it was revealed that Crosshair was staying with the Empire, a Cody-Crosshair interaction has been my #1 wish, and they didn't let me down.

Honorable mentions: "Replacements" (which still rips my heart out every time I think about it), "Return to Kamino" (see previous) "Faster" (judge me all you like but I have no shame) & "Tipping Point".

50. How do you hope the series will end (as basic or as detailed as you want)

Hmmm... I'm actually not sure. To be honest, the way season 2 ended, I'm really not sure what's going to happen now and I am really curious and excited to see what's next!

I think the simple answer is I want Omega and the boys to be happy. The complicated answer is that I'm not quite sure what that happiness would look like, or if there is any one kind of happiness that could suit all of them. I would like them to eventually find some sort of peace and settle down... however, for Echo in particular, I don't know if that can really exist until the Empire is defeated. Crosshair, too, is in for a pretty complicated road toward peace.

That's another specific thing I want: Crosshair alive and with his whanau, no redemption through death for this little meow meow, no sir, or I'm putting him back in his cat carrier and going home. >:( Nala Se can be redeemed through death if she likes though. I really like her--sorry, hot take--but she has gaslit gatekept girlbossed her way too close to the sun for too long.

I personally don't want Tech's death to be a fakeout--I mean, obviously I would like him to be alive and happy on a personal level, but on a writing level I would feel kind of cheated if they pulled back on arguably their boldest status quo change so far. So I suppose that, in the last episode, I would really like to see the whole team acknowledge him in some way (maybe they name some landmark after him, or leave his goggles somewhere significant)... and then everyone else hugs and is absolutely fine, forever, no take-backsies! For real, if any more of these pixel men die I will be in crisis. More than I already am, even, and nobody wants that.

[morphogenetic]

Mediaposting 2023, #12: Succession Season 2

i think I like season 2 Overall less than I do with season 1, but when the episodes are bangers (6, 7, 9, 10) they are fucking BANGERS.

i also have literally no idea where season 3 and 4 are gonna go. like other than the one spoiler I know about s4 [which I'm not really surprised happened at this point] and the fact that kendall gets a shaved head eventually....NO idea what happens. at all. other than the repercussions that I'm sure happen after ep 10 lol

more spoilery thoughts under the cut (though tbh they're more about what I think is gonna happen next season)

-I knew about the "can't make a tomlette without breaking a few greggs" line. vaguely. what I did NOT know was that the line was said in THE SENATE

-honestly just so many good tom and greg moments. "we here for you" is still so fucking funny. the water bottle thing. Tom complimenting greg on his blackmailing skills. it's all so toxic and so so good

-speaking of Tom. "i wonder if the sad I'd be without you is bigger than the sad i am with you" is such an augh line and it's phrased in such a tom way. divorce arc so real

-shiv was so real for letting rhea be ceo and then immediately leaving bc of the cruises stuff. she girlbossed too close to the sun in episode 6 but then girlbossed her way back down to earth too

-i REALLY want to see if Roman actually gets therapy or if they just let him suffer like they did w kendall only getting two days of rehab. im also feeling like he might get more attention next season since shiv was more focused on during s2, when kendall was most important for s1, so maybe each season is more focused on one particular character?

-it's also fascinating to me that even though Roman is clearly the comedic relief sibling...he's smarter than he looks. he couches it in a lot of acting like he doesn't know anything - and he doesn't a lot of the time, lol at him buying the wrong soccer team - but like...the piece of episode 10 where he doesn't think the buyout will work? and in a way where his dad won't really get mad at him for it? he's kind of incredible at socially engineering people, in the way that youngest siblings often are. i don't think he'll ever lead the company but he could definitely be a way bigger player next season

-i know the entire point of kendall is that he's incredibly inscrutable and hard to figure out and like, a+ to jeremys acting on this, but he is even more inscrutable than usual this season. which felt weird after season 1 where he was definitely complicated but at least I could understand what the fuck was going on with him. now I'm a little ???? about it. i guess that's what happens when he's more of a background player this season though

-...but the divide between ep 9 and ep 10 kendall is both wild and totally expected. constantly going between defending his dad and treating him like a God and then saying he's a horrible person? on point. 10/10 no notes

-also I didn't really start paying attention to this until near the end of the season but the way that people have conversations in terms of the physical space between them is so important. it stood out to me with Logan and his kids. with Roman and Logan they sit apart but not distant, like business partners. logan and shiv? at first they had business partner spacing, then they had family member spacing. logan and kendall? circling each other like fucking sharks until the very end where kendall kisses his dad on the cheek right before betraying him. God. peak

-(SPEAKING OF THAT. THE PHYSICAL DISTANCE BETWEEN SHIV AND TOM DURING THE THREESOME CONVERSATION USED TO SHOW THE EMOTIONAL DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM. CHEFS KISS)

-ending the season on a boat was perfect after the season ends up being about the cruises drama. so perfect. i know it has the metaphor of pushing someone overboard too but (gestures) Boats

-i feel like I need to rewatch this season specifically when everything ends because a lot of the episodes felt....not pointless, totally, but more filler-y than season 1? like I really don't even remember what happened for most of the season outside of a few specific moments and I literally just watched it. idk. i mean the same is kind of true for season 1 but season 1 felt like it had more defined mini-arcs and I can remember more of what happened in that way

-i could write a whole thing on the pierces bc I think that was the most compelling part of the season outside of eps 9 and 10 but. ill spare you the details

-i like how by the end of the season greg is totally unimpressed by the size of the boat. luxury corruption arc

-tom and greg are absolutely having a screaming match next season about having the documents even after burning them and i cannot fucking WAIT

[strititty]

per my last reblog i decided to ramble in about nerds aint got shit, my most popular fic.

well, ostensibly i’m rambling about that but honestly i have 3 am motormouth and i took an edible so im just in that sort of mood, you know. all philosophical like. more under the cut

i wrote that fic in 2015 for drone season, when i was living in - and i cannot stress this enough - the MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOWHERE, though not as much as i would be the year afterward. my internet was shitty cornfield hotspot net and it was the summer after my first year of college so i had a helluva lot on my mind already.

the original document was just a little notepad file with word wrap turned on cuz that’s how i used to write all my shit, and i’d send people wips via pastebin. can you even imagine? PASTEBIN? i use google docs now but sometimes i wonder if i should go back to notepad lmao. smaller size, less evil google involved. when i was a kid i used word, though i can’t remember when that stopped being a thing. might have been during high school.

since i wrote nerds aint got shit so shortly after i had graduated high school i had a very clear picture of my OWN high school in my head, which probably lends itself to some weird stylistic quirks. my high school was very very small. i shan’t name it, of course, lmao, what am i some sort of fool? but it was tiny as hell and that tends to infect any sort of high school adjacent au i write. rereading it i can so clearly picture MY high school that it’s frankly a little funny.

fortunately my high school only had one creepy teacher and it wasnt the PE teacher + we got his ass fired, but fiction makes for a much more fun place to explore these sorts of ideas for me. idk why i have such a thing about age differences & teacher/student fics but i SURE DO.

i can still remember the summer days writing this fic, kind of, in a hazy way. i remember my phone being the only way i could connect with my friends and loved ones, and the sun beating down, and the way things were far too hot in my little room. my cat had gotten out and gotten pregnant by a farm cat, so i had to cough up money to get her fixed - she should have been already but the people i lived with were less concerned about that sort of thing and i’d been at college so i hadn’t been able to make my case. the kittens were cute but tiny and stunted b/c my cat was very young and small & only two of them survived. i think the third one was stillborn and that my cat ate that one, but since i wasn’t there when they were born i didn’t get a lot of the details.

i still think about this fic sometimes for the memories it draws up and the plans i have to revamp and add on to it--my initial idea was a sort of 7 day format where dave goes back to bro every day of the week, but that was a plot for when i was a more prolific writer with a clearer grasp of smut. now im lucky if i can get a coherent smutty fic down in a few weeks god save me lmao. i don’t know if it’s because i’m older or just a little more burned out.

it was a fun idea though and i do semi frequently consider revisiting it, especially when i get the energy and inspiration to write strider stuff. right now that energy is being conserved for certain other works but hey you never know.

i feel like there’s also a hundred points i could make about how my most popular fic is also my oldest homestuck fic, like. yeah, okay, homestuck was more popular back then, so it makes sense that it would have more kudos and what not. hs fanfic is a much quieter affair now, between the fandom controversy, the natural drop that happens after something ends, and how half of all fandom seems to be girlbossing too close to the hayes code. brodave used to get you 200 kudos and now you get like 20!

and you know i don’t like. hate that. i do post for engagement but i never really expected to be POPULAR you know what i mean? more like sharing this thing i wrote about something i’m interested in-- “i wrote this for me but you can read it too, please enjoy!” energies. but i think that it’s so interesting that something that is now approaching its eighth birthday (What The Fuck) had its biggest surge of participants ages ago. i wonder what they’re doing now and actually whatever theyre doing i hope theyre having fun with it but i don’t need to know because i’ve been burned before okay. ppl turning into fancops or whatever. shitty as hell.

the hour grows late so i shall return to the actual topic at hand:

nerds aint got shit’s ill-begotten romance. that shit was gonna be so toxic. i was definitely gonna write dave growing to sympathize with bro, kind of, with his crush fueled by terror kicked into overdrive. bro’s kind of a sad and pathetic weirdo even though to dave (and this is real, not imagined, dave’s not making it up) he is a significant threat. and dave was going to start to pick up those sad jerk vibes in addition to the horny vibes and start to, in an almost lalondian fashion, romanticize the shit out of it.

in a manner of speaking, anyway. im not sure if that was my full plan or what but there’s also just the gremlin brain breathing heavily going “god this is my favorite dynamic” which back then was fairly true. i had also written almost 20k of original teacher/student fiction so romanticizing that was not a new concept to me. i think there’s a part of me that does want to be in that place, you know, but from a safe distance where it’s also just fun and games.

that’s why fics are fun! that’s why trashy romance is fun :) insert something about ace kink here. i do not want to actually touch it but mentally touching it is ok.

nowadays i don’t write so much teacher/student fic tho im still hells of deep in my love of age differences. more often than not i find myself kind of drawn to a cougar/kid in their late teens dynamic nowadays for original fiction, tho i also love ancient vampire/regular human and just minor age and experience differences.

(jotting down ‘rose lalonde as a cougar’ for a future fic idea thanks)

i think ive grown away from this fic mostly, but it feels like a wild time capsule to me, and maybe one day i will unearth it to add more. maybe in 2025 for the a ten year anniversary.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

a primary walks into a bar...

jennifer x deacon, 12 monkeys. also on ao3.

the first fic i drafted for these two, just a bit of fun set immediately post-canon. jennifer POV. 

(i’ve decided to embrace imperfections instead of holding onto my stories for these two until i feel better acquainted with them. if my later fics are more in character, then at least i’ll have written more fics, which is a net positive.)

“I don’t want to forget the past.” She tried to press meaning into every syllable, tried to gift him their history in code, if only it were possible. “I want to keep the past.”

He nodded, still leaned in close, like he actually cared about what she had to say. Excellent customer service. Five stars, above and beyond.

“But I’m not here to remember it, either. I don’t need a bar, or a drink, for that.” Jennifer grinned at him, the unbalanced scales of her smile a contrast to the sharp edges of his. “I just wish I could do it over again.”

“Don’t we all.” He glanced at the door when the bell above it rang. A new customer, somebody else to focus on, to cater to. He was good at this, Jennifer thought, the way she had every night she visited. It suited him, this destiny, the one he was always meant to have.

Just sucked that hers was meant to be so separate from his.

“But I guess until somebody invents time travel, we’re all stuck with the lives we’ve got, huh?” Deacon asked, and Jennifer’s eyes snapped to his, searching.

What was a Primary, once Time wasn’t broken anymore?

Jennifer could still see it, see it all: how things fit together, how they should run. But now things ran as they should. Parallel tracks, a train she didn’t have to fall in front of. Time didn’t need her, to hold itself together or to make sense.

Nobody needed her, now that the world was saved.

When Time rewound and she waited on that beach for Cole, salt in the air and her lungs, sun making it stick to her skin...most of her was just grateful she could finally rest. Take a breath on the beach. Close her eyes against the sun. Feel what Time was like when it didn’t need her so much.

She was free.

Freedom was lonely. 

People who couldn’t see Time’s motions, those people were leading singular ordinary lives. Though she could visit Cassie and Cole in their happy after, it wasn’t her life to share.

And the small part of Jennifer that missed Deacon, a man who was now a boy who didn’t know her, again--she could live with that part. She could console that part the way she consoled her lonely Daughters when they needed it. This mood will pass, you are better off as you are, everything is as it should be.

So she waited. 

She lived her life.

Jennifer Goines--genius CEO girlboss--had better things to do than spend decades wishing for a reunion with one guy.

She monitored his budding business because she had time to spare, Jennifer told herself. Not because she wanted to see him. Certainly not because she needed to. That cat dying of curiosity was an awfully convenient explanation anyway.

But the need was there. Ignoring it didn’t lessen it--made it worse, in fact. A new voice in her head, one that didn’t sound like her at all, but also not like a Primary calling out across time. 

Just a voice inside, saying, go to him. Saying, it doesn’t matter if he can’t see it, if he doesn’t know you now. 

Go, and there you’ll find home.

************************************

“Forget or remember?”

Jennifer blinked. Time kept on ticking. 

“What?”

It was Deacon asking, and she’d heard him, but her mind had been elsewhere before he spoke. Other than taking her order when she sat down at the bar, he hadn’t spoken to her all night.

Not like she expected him to; not like she was there at Brothers Deacon waiting for long heart-to-hearts with a guy who didn’t know her.

We saved the world together, she thought whenever he looked her way. Sometimes she yelled it internally, raising a voice only she could hear. We saved them all, together, you were there! And now you don’t even know my name.

“Are you drinking to forget, or to remember?” Deacon tried again, more slowly. “I like to ask. I always wonder.”

It was a slow Tuesday evening, which might explain his stab at conversation. Maybe he was curious because she’d come in every night that week--staking her claim as a new regular. An irregular regular, she thought with a snort. 

The other days, he’d left her alone, letting her people-watch and laugh at her own jokes. But now, he noticed her, turning her world around just like he did the first time. 

He was the only one who ever had, who saw her as a person-not-Primary and deemed her worthy of notice. In another life, Jennifer reminded herself, tugging her focus back to this one. 

“Do people drink to remember?” She considered that concept. Not one she’d thought about before, but it sounded plausible. Like the first time she saw a unicorn and thought, I believe it. If that’s not real it should be. Then, of course, it was. Good times.

Deacon offered her an easy grin, relaxed against the bar like they had all the time in the world for a philosophical discussion. There was an intimacy to it that Jennifer wanted to believe came from experience--that some piece of Deacon was linked to some piece of her, no matter what Time had to say about it. 

“Sure they do. Haven’t you ever missed somebody?” 

“Yes.” You, she told him with her eyes. His were mirrors reflecting back; she couldn’t tell if the reflection was one-way. Wrong room for an interrogation. Even worse for ballet. 

She had taken ballet classes as a little girl--Mother’s idea, of course. The funhouse mirrors never blinked, always staring, staring with their watchful eyes. Jennifer switched to tap.

“Well, I can tell you, as a proprietor of this fine establishment, lots of people find it a little bit easier...a little less painful...to lubricate the process. You want to forget the past, you get blind drunk until you can barely stumble home from here. You want to remember it, you nurse rounds slowly; you savor.”

Deacon grinned at her again, that slice of a smile she could feel down to her toes. “I keep myself entertained when it’s not busy, trying to guess which customers are which. Most people are easy, but you--I’m still trying to figure it out.”

She laughed. “Easy is definitely not a word that’s often applied to me.”

All the words that had been still lived inside her like brands, burning hot and painful even then. Murderer. Crazy. Fool. Once upon a time he gave her better ones, ones that sparkled. Sorry. Purpose. Take it.

Deacon didn’t know that, though. She could keep his words in her pockets like gifts but he was not the giver. Jennifer shook her head, cleared it of the past-future. Never was, in this reality.

“Wanna give me a hint?” Theodore of the Brothers Deacon asked, shifting closer so his elbows were resting on the clean bar.

Call it wishful thinking--wouldn’t be the first time, she remembered a pair of otter eyes and a head full of lies--but it almost felt flirtatious, the way he was looking at her and waiting to see what she said.

The tragedy of time was that when they were walking parallel lines, he just kept dying--and now that the world was saved, her line was thirty years too late. Didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun, Jennifer decided. If Deacon had a thing for older women, who was she to argue?

So she curled her fingers into her palms, roots into the earth grounding her where she sat, and told the truth. Wrapped her lips around the words like Jennifer would wrap herself around Deacon again, if she could go back. Time is a snake that only moves forward; no going back, not anymore.

“I don’t want to forget the past.” She tried to press meaning into every syllable, tried to gift him their history in code, if only it were possible. “I want to keep the past.”

He nodded, still leaned in close, like he actually cared about what she had to say. Excellent customer service. Five stars, above and beyond.

“But I’m not here to remember it, either. I don’t need a bar, or a drink, for that.” Jennifer grinned at him, the unbalanced scales of her smile a contrast to the sharp edges of his. “I just wish I could do it over again.”

“Don’t we all.” He glanced at the door when the bell above it rang. A new customer, somebody else to focus on, to cater to. He was good at this, Jennifer thought, the way she had every night she visited. It suited him, this destiny, the one he was always meant to have.

Just sucked that hers was meant to be so separate from his.

“But I guess until somebody invents time travel, we’re all stuck with the lives we’ve got, huh?” Deacon asked, and Jennifer’s eyes snapped to his, searching.

Too good to be true, too easy to hope. Somewhere in there, she wanted to see the man she used to believe in, the one she believed loved her a little.

A little was everything, compared to what she’d had before.

So Jennifer knew better than to believe her lying hopeful heart, coming here to drink and pass the hours and cross her fingers in case today was the day time unfurled again and they’d have to team back up to fix it.

Cole and Cassie were out of the pool, they got their happy future and it was where Time needed them to stay...so if anybody was gonna be called to new adventures, it might as well be her. And if anything else was going to be asked of her, there was no one she would trust by her side more than Deacon.

Excuses, really. It’d been thirty years, and Time was still ticking along, no hiccups. 

And while those two had landed a little bit outside of Time, just enough to remember what happened, most people only seemed to have room for one reality in their heads. Nothing felt more lonely than being Primary in a world where Jones and Hannah didn’t know her...except maybe being Primary in this bar, missing Deacon while he was three feet away.

“Yep,” she told him with a hollow laugh. It was just a coincidence, his comment. She could find needles anywhere with a big enough magnet. What did that prove to the haystack? “I guess we’re all stuck.”

He was already shifting his weight in the direction of the guy who came through the door, ready to move on to other business, but Deacon paused long enough to aim that smile at her a final time.

“How about the next round’s on me.” Well, now. He’d certainly never done that before, offered to pay for her beer.

First time for everything, she thought, wondering what had gotten into him that made the day different from other days. Frequent drinker program nobody told her about? Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to complain. 

Deacon passed the drink to her before crossing to the other side of the bar, tossing his last words over his shoulder--she could barely hear them above the music that filled the space. In every reality, he was still stuck in the 80s.

“Let me know if you need me for anything else, ma’am.”

A part of her bristled at the end of that sentence, annoyed by the way strangers treated her these days with extra years sketched on her face. Everybody likes a good chicken, until it clucks for itself. 

She couldn’t take it personally coming from him, though, Jennifer decided. After all, Deacon called her ma’am when she was his own age, when he barely knew her yet.

Wait.

Something about his use of the word, the glint in his eyes, the ease of his handing her a pint. It tripped that fucking hope again, and she couldn’t help it, her eyes followed him as he worked down the other end of the bar.

Taking folded bills from the new guy, pouring him a shot, then another. Polishing a glass while New Guy knocked them back, nodding when he held up a finger.

Deacon served the only other person sitting in front of him, and Jennifer wondered how long it would take for him to head back in her direction. Would she be able to see it, if there was something in his eyes? Was there any difference in the way he carried himself, now that he wasn’t carrying a lifetime of scars? 

Her head was a magic eight ball brimming with questions, like always. Shake it, you get answers. Or ask again later, seventeen times in a row ‘til you want to smash it against the wall and make the truth come out.

From her vantage point on the stool she couldn’t make guesses about his eyes, and he moved like always--coiled energy, potential for danger. Indoors in winter, nobody but Deacon could list his own scars.

New Guy was talking to him about a football game, and Deacon was making engaged listening noises, though it was obvious he didn’t really care.

She should have known better, of course, Jennifer scolded herself later. Time wasted looking for hints, subtle traces. Of all the things Theodore Deacon is-was-will-forever-be, subtle never made it onto the list.

His customer was a quick drunk--looking to forget, she thought with a twitch of her lips--and he required the barest show of interest. Deacon’s volume grew alongside his, their discussion more spirited, and her eyes were starting to glaze over. 

But Jennifer was still facing their way, and in the end it didn’t matter that she wasn’t actively listening. When it came to Deacon, she was pretty sure she could hear him in a hurricane. 

She could hear him even when he was silent. He was the hurricane.

After he slid New Guy another shot, Deacon glanced Jennifer’s way. His carelessly friendly expression faded, replaced by an unblinking intensity.

The bar wasn’t packed, but it held noise and people enough to entertain her on a slow night. She shouldn’t have been able to sense the room closing in, a narrowing tunnel and a ringing in her ears. 

Among the noise and the oblivious customers, Deacon was staring at her like they were the only two people left on Earth, and Jennifer felt the kind of shiver she hadn’t in thirty years, because nobody looked at her that way anymore. 

Nobody else ever had, swallowing hard across a table like his words were bees that would sting them both if they escaped. Jennifer wasn’t allergic to bees; she still wondered what they might have spelled out in the sky if he’d let them fly.

Sometimes after Time took what it was owed, it gave a little something back. She’d assumed that gift was reserved for Cole alone, but maybe Time had generosity left for its favorite cog in the wheel. Maybe it took pity on her fall from Primary grace to ordinary human living on a barstool. 

The reason didn’t really matter, did it? Not when the horse was there, to keep its mouth closed and unexamined?

Sometimes, Jennifer remembered as Deacon’s eyes stayed on hers, Time understood that it owed you, too. 

She’d already set her drink down, knew her mouth was gaping a little, didn’t care if she looked like a moron. Deacon tipped back his own beer before he smiled at her again, and she let the shiver repeat, run through her. 

Maybe hope wasn’t dead, a man on his knees in a crowd filled with blades. Maybe hope had been hibernating.

Deacon pointed at her beer, raised his eyebrows like he was asking if she wanted another, and she nodded, answering whatever question might’ve been buried beneath that one.

He took his time getting to her with it, dusting off a shelf and straightening a handful of vodka bottles along the way.

“Here you go,” he said when he arrived, the click of his tongue a punctuation mark and a memory.

Deacon set the fresh beer down in front of her, leaned against the back wall of his bar, and winked.