#in fandom spaces i usually go by Izzy now!

[nineyellowgirl]

I'm alive!!!

Hello in 2024. Easter Sunday has always been my Simmer's Return time for some reason. Holy shit my bio still says I'm 19.

I'm not even sure if anyone still follows this blog anymore. I MISSED the community so badly, I missed sims, and I missed writing sim stories. This blog turns 11 in June and it's so surreal to realise this, honestly.

Where have I been? Well, mostly sinking the past 4 years into the terrible, terrible game known as Destiny 2 over at @flowers-of-io and writing fics for it on AO3. I'm 23 now, BA of Journalism & Media Studies, and I work in a newspaper. This is my rags (13 yo Simmer with broken English) to riches (well, still below minimum wage, but at least they PAY ME for WRITING!!!!) story.

I'm happy! I think it's important to say, because over my time in this community and running this blog I've gone through some of the darkest periods of my life, and I want to make a statement that Things Change and Hope Exists. I'm in a long-term relationship, living on my own, doing a job that I love, and pursuing therapy that helps me immensely. And I write every day. I'm happy.

Am I back? Maybe; that depends if my TS2 gets a grip and stops crashing randomly every now and then, because I've given up on trying to battle with my laptop to stop overheating when I so much as open TS3. Am I going to finish Postcards from Nowhere? I'd love to, but we'll see about that as well. I'm incredibly emotional to be posting here again if I'm being honest. This blog has been with me for almost half of my life and it's so odd to be coming back having left it half-desolate, feeling almost like a stranger in my own home. I truly hope anyone is still here.

And even if not, it's good to be back. I missed you.

[bloomeng]

i made the joke earlier about how steddyhands fans tend to like edstede the least of all the pairs, and i just wanted to elaborate bc actually i do have more to say about this

when i first watched the show i didn't really participate in the fandom (so i don't know pre-s2 fandom drama), i was neutral about izzy and i suppose i liked edstede the most simply by default. in general in season 1 i thought their relationship was charming back when the show was still firmly in the realm of a comedy. then s2 happened...

i wouldn't say that s2 ruined edstede for me permanently because i still like them, but i will say that it definitely reshaped how i see their relationship. suddenly their relationship was stagnant, going in circles, and generally starting to feel more like active bad influences on each other. which is wild considering how in s1 the whole crux of it was that stede and ed were actively making each other more authentic people. i will say though that i personally feel the reason edstede fell flat to me in s2 was mostly due to ed's behavior and the way stede overlooks it. ed's behavior in s2 will always be one of my biggest complaints of s2 (the rest of the issues are more technical).

recently i've seen the opinion that edstede are now MORE problematic than edizzy, which i don't exactly agree with. i agree with the sentiment that with all the developments in s2 edstede feels worse, but i think that has more to do with the fact that their relationship issues are far more tangible to the majority of the audience. with edizzy their issues stem from an intense bond forged by a deep codependence that is pushed to extremes. simply put their dynamic is rare. (i want to quickly note that this doesn’t make their relationship better narratively; there’s a space for both in story telling and both are equally valuable.) edstede's issues on the other hand are more grounded, to the point where most people have experienced some level of their conflicts in their life whether that be firsthand or secondhand. so it's not that their problems are worse so much as more people have stronger reactions because they can relate directly. not saying people don't relate to edizzy, it's more about the scale to which people relate.

my famous example is breaking bad (spoilers for a decade-old series) but i think one of the reasons people hate skylar so much more than walt (besides the obvious misogyny) is that they can relate to the anger of being cheated on while it's harder to relate to the feeling of your husband secretly being a drug lord. like sure his thing on paper is ten times worse but audiences usually relate strongly to the things they personally relate to.

edizzy will always be worse on paper (the toe incident alone makes sure of that) but edstede now feels worse is what i'm getting at. and sure i know izzy emotionally matured leaps and bounds in s2 but unfortunately that doesn't fix edizzy. in order for it to actually be a healthy relationship they both need to grow, so yeah they're still firmly in the toxi yuri category.

anyway i actually do like them a whole lot, but they also make me angry on izzy and the crew's behalf. and on a personal level, i just tend to prefer non-canon ships because i feel like i have more wiggle room. that and if they're canon i'm usually satisfied with that canon so i don't find myself hyper-fixating as much. hence why i didn't really get into the fandom after s1, despite liking the show more at that point.

this is just my observation but i think a lot of the reasons people are now drifting from edstede and into the safety of non-canon ships is simply because s2 stripped their relationship of some of their whimsy. a lot of people are angry with ed and stede and are seeking refugee amongst ships that don’t feel like they have to confront the glaring holes in their relationship.

but these are just my musings i don’t speak for anyone but myself.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

Hey so idk if you would know this but where did the term canyon in reference to Izzy fans come from? I feel like I just started seeing it like three days ago but everyone seems to already know what it means

lol so disclaimer that this ask has been in my inbox since september 23rd and alsoooo i might not be the best person to ask bc i am belothed by many who consider themselves part of the izzy canyon (which is their right). so if you asked an izzy fan about this you would probably get a different answer. also from what i can tell the term originated on twitter and i don’t go there.

the tl;dr that i heard secondhand from someone who identifies as izzy canyon is that at some point last year (summer or fall-ish i think) a lot of izzy fans were blocking so many people who didn’t like izzy that a lot of them ended up being unaware of general fandom trends and it became a running joke among them that izzy fans were isolated from the rest of the fandom in an "izzy canyon." and then allegedly the term expanded to just mean "if ur not a dick abt ppl liking izzy u can be in the canyon." THAT BEING SAID there are other ppl who had a very different experience with how "the canyon" originated and what kind of fan space it tends to be.

(slightly longer explanation below)

the thing with The Canyon is that to understand its origin and also why some fans have a problem with it, you gotta know two things:

there are annoying puriteen anti types on the internet who think liking certain characters make you a bad person. from what i can tell theyre mostly on twitter and tiktok. these people are annoying but also in my experience they're usually pretty easy to block and ignore.

the popularity of izzy hands is disproportionate to his narrative role in the show, and the popular fanon interpretation of izzy hands casts him not only as a principal character but as a much more sympathetic, righteous character than he is in canon. THIS DOES NOT MEAN I THINK ANYONE IS A BAD PERSON FOR LIKING IZZY. this DOES mean that i think ppl who think ed is izzy's domestic abuser are wrong. and also this is part of an age old fandom trend of fandom favoring a masc white guy who is often a side character and also often an antagonist.

so from what i can tell. in the early days of the ofmd fandom (spring-summer 2022) there was a lot of #1 going around on twitter, screaming about how if you liked izzy hands then you're a racist abuse apologist or something. at one point a throwaway account tweeted a callout for a popular izzy fan and said "we know they live in this area and work for this company, so these are the locations where they might work. everyone should call these numbers and tell their job to fire them. also we're gonna target these izzy fans next" and like, obviously this account was pretty quickly taken down. but it was a pretty scary thing and left a lot of izzy fans pretty paranoid, hence the blocking everyone who didnt like izzy.

(there was also a "izzy hater group chat" twitter account that was literally just a small group of mostly minors posting memes and also abt izzy that got accused of being connected to that whole mess. but afaict those guys have nothing to do with harassment of izzy fans they just dont like izzy)

so the thing is now that all of that has been used to justify shutting down any type of conversation about #2, or writing off anyone who posts meta about izzy that isnt like, "he works so hard and is so unappreciated despite everything he's done for ed" as an "izzy anti." analyzing izzy critically and posting this in the #izzy hands tag on tumblr is likened to genuine harassment.

oh lol and speaking of harrasment: there was also a problem with ppl on tumblr getting anon hate, and izzy fans will tell you that the anon came from an izzy hater who was targeting izzy fans bc the anon messages use "izzy critical rhetoric." however as someone who has posted "izzy critical" metas or whatever, i have actually gotten the same harassing messages accusing me of being an izzy stan and a racist abuse apologist. that's not what a targeted harassment campaign looks like. that's all been less of a problem ever since tumblr made it so you need to be logged in to an account to send anonymous messages.

anyway my stance on all of this:

i don't hate anyone for liking izzy. i am critical of certain comments/behaviors i often see from ppl who identify as izzy fans, but izzy fans are rarely the only ones who have this problem. from what i've seen tho, a lot of it comes from izzy fans.

before i ever saw even a hint of harassment against izzy fans, i saw izzy fans coming onto my posts and to posts by fans of color trying to argue that these posts were contributing to their harassment. from my perspective, it looked a lot like fans of a white character were trying to shut down conversations abt their favorite guy, especially when those conversations were being had by fans of color. i was very skeptical and oftentimes pretty dismissive abt the existence of this harassment.

since then tho ive done a pretty deep dive into the anon harassment on tumblr, and also looked at takes from different perspectives on the whole thing, and my conclusion is that there is harassment of izzy fans, however it is on the same base-level shittiness that most people experience from just... being on the internet. death threats and insults and slurs are literally just part of being on the internet. and yes, it SUCKS and it's wrong and nobody should have to put up with it, but izzy fans are not victims of specific targeted harassment. theyre victims of being on the internet and having to put up with general internet shittiness. and im sympathetic to that up until ppl start using "ive been harassed for being an izzy fan" as an excuse to be incredibly nasty (check out this tumblr acct for examples of what i mean lol). the ofmd fandom is annoying and parts of it are toxic but like, by no means is this the most toxic fandom to ever exist. we're not at "undertale fan giving out cookies with needles in them at a convention" levels just yet.

finally, tangentially related: i am inherently wary of fandom sub-groups that like, name themselves?? in my experience, the more people make being a Type Of Fan part of their identity the more it tends to lead to problems. this goes for fans who label themselves "antis" or "anti-antis" or whatever the fuck. i've personally been called an "izzy anti," an "izzy hater," and an "izzy critical fan" but like, i dont really call myself that?? it just seems weird to me idk. it gets to be very "us vs them" on default with little nuance and ive never found this kind of thing to be like, productive in fandom spaces. but that's just me.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Live Blog/My thoughts scene for scene ish for OFMD S2 Episodes 1-3

FULL SPOILERS FOR S2 EPS 1-3. Including a post credit scene for Episode 3 that includes a teaser for the episodes 4-5 and discussing scenes we haven't seen from the trailer.

My long form stuff usually gets seen by people outside of my circle so before this long post I want to preface with this-

Hi! Izzy is my favorite character. As of right now I have written just under 240k words about this guy and spent most of my time in this fandom in Izzy spaces. If that is a problem for you, this might not be the read.

But I got fed a 5 star meal and already see this season is a love letter to the fans and I am here to appreciate it. 

Please be warned. I personally think this season should have a warning on it for how it handles suicide, suicidal ideation, substance use and relationship abuse. I will be going in depth on this but handle it with respect as someone whose lived shit like this.

My first watch was without subtitles and on a big old tv screen. I I decided to miss a few things my first watch, choosing to turn off subtitles, and get surprised by dialogue and delivery(as I tend to read ahead). This watch is to confirm lines, appreciate delivery, and more. 

I have not read any meta, and this is blind before I see how all my mutuals freak out!!!!

Lines that fucked me up will be bolded. Just know I want to write an essay about them, and would given the chance. (sorry for spelling errors I watched this twice + stayed up for an extra 10 hours😅)

EPISODE 1:

I liked the recap, but I don’t think it’s enough for casual viewers who watched it maybe once ALSO. That Edit of Izzy’s ‘namby-pamby crying for his boyfriend’ IMMEDIATELY into the Toe Scene got a laugh out of me, because OWW. How had we not thought of that? 

I LOVE THE DREAM SCENE. Izzy beating him fair and square, but still losing. The stab in the killing side? THE MELODRAMA. The way this confirms Stede sees Izzy as a ‘big bad’ he needs to defeat to ‘win’ Ed. Him having the most 1 dimensional view of both him, Ed, and Izzy. A view how Stede is still an idiot unable to see nuance in people. Izzy smiling? The way he mutters his last words> God I love Con O’Neill. Let’s watch him maybe die 8 separate times and call it a season. 

It also got a good laugh out of me. Did I predict that that it was a dream when the teaser came out? Yeah. Still funny as shit.

‘Can’t be worse than you moaning Ed, Oh Ed’ FUNNY AS SHIT. 

I liked the ‘customer service’ montage. Swede, you deserve all the love you get. You are in good hands.  I think Stede’s part of this episode was just to lighten the rest of it. Hello to an antagonist of this season, and narrative foil to Stede, Prince Ricky.

I know it doesn’t matter who did Ed’s back tattoo, but the irony of Ed trusting someone enough to get it done is just funny. 

(Wedding Scene) I SQUEALED WHEN WE GOT THE RETURN OF ED’S EVIL THEME. Also, calling his crew the devils ‘kids’ is so fucking funny. HELLO CLASSIC ROCK IVE NEVER HEARD OF??? Welcome to the OFMD playlist. I love the montage of ‘Ed is working everyone to death’. Izzy got to threaten an English sailor. I know he’s happy with that. 

Yes. The wedding thing was absolutely over the line. RIP Ivan, you will be missed. I can’t wait for Frenchie to break down, and congrats to all the people who wrote Frenchie as emotionally distant, you’ve won! 

THE WAY IZZY SOUNDS SO TIRED ‘Yeah. They got cake.’ ALSO. Did I miss the knife throwing scene?? Was that just for the trailer? I think it was in a past edit and they removed it.

‘Can’t do the job? Someone else will’ (Ed to Izzy)- Izzy felt that he mattered to Ed. This one line reframes their entire relationship. This fucks Izzy up. I theorize as the main reason Izzy never did anything was because Ed was his captain. But they were still friends. Close. Trusted partners.  But Izzy is still expendable. Even after all this time. He is nothing. Maybe he knows Ed is doing this so he rebels, and kills him, but maybe he doesn't. Izzy cares about loyalty... we'll see.

Yes. The Izzy scene hurts. But after watching Ep 2, this is nothing. 

‘It is your job to-to follow my fucking orders’ (Izzy to crew) THIS IS NOT HOW I THOUGHT THIS LINE WOULD BE USED. Because he knows. He knows he’s fucked, and he’s struggling to accept the fact that he’s looking down the loaded barrel. He knows that he can’t make these people listen to him, not any more. He’s alone, and now the one thing he can do(be Ed’s first mate) is about to be stripped from him. Hell, it already is.

Spanish Jackie. I love you. I love you so much. Extort those fuckers. Semi clean water and education is a big deal! Also, this season overall is a HUGE win for my fellow Pete fans. Funny bastard. 

I have thoughts about Prince boy, but they can wait until he does something.

Stede’s flaw has always been his naivety, habit of judging once and never really questioning it, and his ego. Prince is able to take advantage of it. I don’t trust him. I think he’s a spy. I also like thinking Spanish Jackie is collecting husbands to certain tasks like it’s Pokémon. Need a bartender? Customer service husband. The books? Math husband. New Swedish husband? Masseuse.

HI IZZY ED SCENE ----

‘Because it’s fuckin’ treasure.’ Izzy. Izzy I fucking love you. God. The way he stiffens up. Knowing them not following orders means he will lose a toe. Fucking god. 

This to me confirms that Ed really wants to get Izzy to kill him in in ep 1. He will tear down every good memory they have just to get Izzy to give in. He doesn’t care about their past, he just wants to die. Izzy is a convenient violent punching bag because he can’t leave. He knows fully well that this crew doesn’t listen, and blames Izzy for a fact he can’t change. It’s fucked that he's shoving Izzy into this corner but he doesn't think there will be consequences. 

Honestly. I think Izzy knows his partner is at this edge, but he can’t do anything. This is why he gets the guts to talk back. Both here and later in front of the crew(more in a second).

The ‘you know me better than anyone has ever known me’ (Izzy to Ed) line kills me. Because it’s honest. For the rest of these episodes Izzy is so fucking honest It hurts. He can’t lie. Not to himself, not anymore. Not to Edward or the crews. He can't take advantage of any situation, or turn the tables. All he has is his words. He knows this, and yet here he is. Facing this abuse, and trying, because he wants to fix it. But he knows he’s not enough to snap Ed out. 

‘I have love for you’ (Izzy to Ed in cabin)Present tense…fucking hell. Izzy tries to pull Ed out by showing his soft center, and we can tell from Ed’s dismissive reaction that he already knows all this. But Ed isn’t talking. Izzy can’t read minds, he wants to help. I know he felt adrenaline spring through him after the confession, and with loose lips, he says just the wrong thing. HI MICROEXPRESSIONS ON CON. FUCKING AHH

‘Hang on Ed- Captain.’ (Izzy to Ed as Ed is marching out to the crew)OW. OUCH. OOF??? IZZY PANICING???? Trying to stop this???

The look on Izzy’s face when Ed holds the gun to himself is not shocked. Hurt, and he immediately closes himself off, like he genuinely thinks Ed would do it.  That’s what hurts. Also, I don’t know if hes doing a high pitch voice to imitate Izzy, but that’s my view of it. 

‘PACK IT IN' (Screamed by Izzy to Ed) THATS MY MAN!!! Stand up to Ed being shitty! GOD. Frenchie’s little head shake. Trying to warn Izzy, to tell him no :((((. But Izzy doesn’t care. He knows he’s not got too long left, so he might as well chew Ed out, to say the things everyone is thinking but are too scared to say. God, the way Ed teases the answer in front of everyone. -Say his name and I will shoot- sitting right there in his eyes, and Izzy GRINS and he says ‘Stede fuckin’ Bonnet’ and that is finally enough of an excuse for Ed to shoot. 

Look at the way Ed nods his head as Izzy says it, not even letting Izzy finish before saying it. He's done. All the other performative versions of violence, of being Blackbeard he does, I see a reason to say 'he's doing this as self hurt' but Idk. It feels like he wanted to, and now he can. So he does. The way everyone reacts hurts me. The way Ed steps over him, the way Ed pushes Frenchie into Izzy’s job. 

I know many fans, and myself before the show aired, thought the leg shooting would be too much. In all honesty. This is how I’d want it written. This entire episode has showcased Edward’s grown resentment to his friend mixed with self destructive impulses. Some might view this as being too much, but given episode 2, this is such a big fucking moment I can’t even comprehend it right now. 

Do I think Izzy’s love confession pushed Ed to this panic- ESPECIALLY after his last confession ended in Stede running away? Maybe. But I think Ed was mentally in a place where he couldn’t react with anything BUT dread. Thus making the Stede call back even worse. But I don’t know. 

That’s one end of the spectrum of how this scene can be interpreted (Ed shooting Izzy’s leg felt unjustified/uncalled for at this point in the story) now lets turn it around (The ‘Izzy deserved it’ fuck heads)

Lets be 100% clear here. 

I view Izzy turning the crew to the English was a catylist, BUT not a cause for them getting captured. Stede was wanted for murder, and would have gotten caught eventually. Hell, the fact Blackbeard was on the ship in S1 was a lucky guess that Chauncy was happy to take advantage of, that IZZY HAD TO SIGN THE ACT OF GRACE to get Ed out of.  

Can Ed hold Izzy responsible instead of taking accountability for his own actions? Yes. This episode shows that’s basically how he sees it. But we as fans are basically shown 5 different ways to view Izzy as sympathetic here. 

Now: Moving back into the episode (after 500 words of that…damn)--------------

Ricky is so dumb…. I don’t know if I love it or not.

I love ‘Susan’ (Zheng Yi Sao) but have some thoughts. I enjoy her, the way she holds herself like Ed did in episode 3, drawing that parallel. That and her Izzy narrative mirror of a first mate. Also, I hope the Swede and Spanish Jackie have a lovely season. I love them so much. 

(Yes! I got to inform the family of the history of the Queen of Pirates. I love what I do. )

One of my favorite crew scenes: Jim and Fang failing to correctly remember the story. I LOVE IT. I agree Archie, Jim trying to help Fang feel better is so fucking GOOD. Mixing the legend of the Monkey’s paw and Pinochio while cleaning up Izzy’s blood is so fucking…much. 

Hi another song I have never heard of??? (The whistle one, you will be going to the Ed Izzy divorce playlist)

Ed is pulling a Stede. Running away from every problem forgetting they dont exist. The second something tries to change he snaps. It hurts looking at Frenchie clearly trying to balance his family and Edward’s lack of empathy. I fucking love this episode, and think it’s up there for my favorites. This is a trend that will continue. 

EPISODE TWO:

Maybe my favorite piece of writing in ages. Can I just say they are Fucking WILD to call the Izzy/Ed episode ‘Red Flags’????? BECAUSE DEAR GOD

I watched the recap. It’s like, 3 scenes of stede, with Izzy geting shot and the final scene of Zheng Yi Sao. 

Classical song in opening: Etude No. 1, Op, 25. Going into the writing playlist. 

Buttons sleeping with his feet up, maybe to be close to the sea?

Now. I am going to use this moment to discuss a large criticism I have. The cutaways to scenes from S1. Now, do they feel fast, and awkward, yes. Should the writers trust their audience to tie the call back together? Yes. But for a casual audience I think these scenes are VERY necessary if you haven’t watched the show. I think they should be taken out, but I get why they’re there. 

‘Run From Me’ by Timber timbre THIS IS A FUCKING ED/IZZY SONG IN THE SHOW?!?!??!. WE DID IT. WE GOT 1! I don’t see any way how you could tie this is Ed/Stede. A song about the fear of hurting others and needing to always push people away. After last episode??? I fucking… I teared up on rewatch, because FUCK. It’s a scene with Ed playing with the dolls, but Izzy’s presence is right THERE. 

OMG OMG OMG- A PIRATE SHIP IS USING THE BELLS SYSTEM TO KEEP TRACK OF SHIFTS????? (Kind of? Not really? She just rang a bell. But just give me this).

Wee john & Buttons, I love you. ‘YES QUEEN!’ I CACKLED! I love the mispronouncing ‘China’ gag. 

‘I decided to take a chance on you…because’ Because they’re allies. Stede taking ‘soft’ as a compliment gives me life. 

LUCIUS!!!!! I FUCKING LOVE THEM!!! THE ‘OH MY GOD’ CALLBACK!!! THE HAPPY CREW SONG RETURNING?? 

I love that Stede is immediately like-*the vibes are off. What happened to my boy.* as soon as he sees him

Can I also say, I love that when we transition over to the Revenge, we see it from the front, sailing into frame. It’s such a good shot. 

I love that Ed is obviously in a manic period, FUCK. WHAT IF HE WAS CRYING OVER KILLING IZZY??? He wouldn't…but other than that, I can’t see specifically what he was crying about. 

‘No more booze, no more drugs, and more importantly, no more Izzy’ WHEN I TELL YOU I GASPED WHEN IT WAS REVEALED IZZY WAS KILLED THE FIRST TIME. God. Not by Ed, because Ed would never, but by FRENCHIE. No wonder they had to edit ‘Stede’ over that in the trailer… 

‘The new first mate always kills the old first mate’ - Okay, this bugs me. It’s not that the first mate is killed because ‘it’s law’. First mates were usually picked by their captain, but the Captain was democratically chosen. The first mate is loyal to the captain, as that is their job. The reason the first mate was killed when replaced was because the new Captain feared the old first mate could start a mutiny, and use the friendships built against a new person in power-

OH SHIT. DOES THIS MEANS ED KNEW IZZY WOULD MUTINY???? SO HE ORDERED FRENCHIE TO KILL HIM??

HOLY FUCK! :0

EDWARD YOU CONNIVING LITTLE BASTARD!!!!!

Hi secret passage :) To all the authors who also wrote them as tiny little hallways in the walls, rip. How did no one notice an extra room.

IZZY!!!! MY BOI

God, Izzy just knowing he’s fucked, and wanting to die now before Ed finds out is so fucking GOOD. ‘We just had him asleep’ JIM he’s a 50 year old man fading in and out of sleep due to an infection, not a toddler. I love that Izzy is just…so done. He didn’t expect the crew to help him out 🙁

HELLO OTHER SCENE IN THIS EPISODE I DIDN’T EXPECT TO LOVE-

God. I think my problem with Lucius in fanon was that he was always treated like he was above it all. The therapist. The loving partner. The jokester. But he has actual depth and Nathan is a brillian actor.

Hi Buttons being a sea god. I love that I wrote him as being creature adjacent ages ago. Bro can read Chinese AND got a fun magical ability. I can’t wait for that to pay off. 

THE OTHER SCENE I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT. Pissed off Ed being so fucking cheery when confronting Frenchy is so unnerving. Ed isn’t dumb. He knows. He knows the moment he caught Frenchie with that box that he was helping keep Izzy alive but he needed it confirmed. Which Frenchie did. 

(This is the point where my bro woke up so I rewatched everything with him)

Dear god. CAN WE CLEAN IZZY? Bandage that leg? ANYTHING?

‘But he’s out dick’ (Jim to Archie about Izzy and why they want to keep him alive) FUCK YEAHHHH!!! I love it, but can we not do this in front of a passed out Izzy?

Oh, the way my gut dropped the first time I saw Ed on the stairway of the secret room. Keep that man away from him.

GOD THE WAY I FUCKING GROANED WHEN OLU MOVED THE SHIPS ON THAT MAP. I am so happy the show is portraying how a flagship of a fleet works!!!

Lucius smocking to relieve stress and sooth his anxiety. All that to not think about what's happened. THAT and Pete being the ‘softer’ partner, gives me life. 

Izzy/Ed scene in the hidden room.

HI IZZY! ‘Up in leg heaven’(Ed to Izzy) Does this line read like bad fic? Yes. Good think I write fic and think it's fucking hilarious.

I fucking CHERISH this scene- 

‘I dreamt you killed me.’ ‘good for you’ (Ed to Izzy, Izzy to Ed)I FUCKING LOVE YOU IZZY- you are so tired of Ed's shit. I would put the entirety of this scene and every micro expression from Izzy if I could. ALSO ‘Eddie????’’ WHY- FUCKING- THAT WAS A FANFIC LINE AND IT'S MAKING ME SAD :0.

We are so getting a flashback next episode, aren't we? Even if we don't I'm so satisfied seeing the past closeness hinted at in these 3 episodes.

‘Clean up your own mess I’ve been doing it my whole life.’ I fucking LOVE HIM!! Even when he's suffering through an infection he won't let Ed walk all over him. Then Ed gives him his gun. LITERALLY TELLING IZZY TO STILL CLEAN UP THE MESS. 

‘I loved you…best I could.’ OH FUCK> OH FUCK!!!!! How did I MISS THAT ON MY FIRST RUN? IZZY/ED CONFIRMED???? THE FUCK???? ED ADMITS THAT HE FUCKING LOVED HIM!!! FUCKING KILL ME. ALSO PAST TENSE! That better be because he thinks Izzy is dead and not that he doesn't love him anymore :((( 

I loved Stede mentoring Lucius in talking btw. 

‘Save the rest for Pete’ (Stede to Lucius) Aw. Stede can’t be the therapist. I also love that Pete got freaked out. It makes me happy. 

I love this whole pre-storm scene. The way we can see Ed adjusting the canon into the mast to blow it down. The general storm vibes. The tension. The way it reads like the fuckery scene in ep 4 with the storm. Ed being steps ahead. But instead of Ed doing something clever he's doing something self destructive.

‘Run From Me’ start playing in the background up again when Lucius' line about being broken and learning to cope. LEADING RIGHT INTO THE STORM SCENE- AHHHH.

The way JIM STOPS ARCHIE FROM FIGHTING. Literally replicating their arc from S1.

THE WAY IZZY SHOOTS ED TO PROTECT THE CREW FROM ED LITGHTING THE CANON WICK. THE FUCKING PAN UP REVEALING IZZY IS ALIVE AND *EMPTY*

‘YOU INDESTRUCTIBLE LITTLE FUCKER’ (Ed to Izzy) THESE TWO I SWEAR TO CHRIST!

GET ‘EM FANG! PROTECT IZZY

God I fucking love this episode. So fucking much. The fact Ed/Izzy divorce has multiple suicide attempts built in makes me feel things. I wouldn’t expect anything else. 

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

EPISODE 3

‘I know, it’s been a day!’ (Zheng Yi Sao to Shadow guy)

I love the scene of her bargaining with the guy and think Zheng Yi Sao is going to build a pirate army to take over the Republic. She’s already taken over China. This is just for pride.

GOD I love the scene of Stede going through the ship. Mainly because it lets us see the hallway, and tells me more of the Ship's anatomy but that's not the point. 

I don't know how the Crew survived the storm, but DAMN. I'm so proud of all of them working together. We were all right to write fic like that.

Izzy just casually being devalued by Stede and how he just IMMEDIATELY looks to Frenchie. OW. FUCKING OW. Also the way Izzy said 'Bonnet' at the start of this scene makes me so happy. 

I ZONED OUT A BIT- FORGOT TO WRITE

Now we’re at the scene of Stede cleaning up the knives. Leading into Izzy and Stede bitching. I love this scene mirroring the one where Izzy tells Stede to ‘plumb the depths’. Because it’s a moment where Izzy tries to be honest to Stede, but it doesn’t work. I FUCKING LOVE THIS SCENE SO MUCH. Izzy holding his tongue just a bit trying to warn Stede. A person he is actively jealous of. Hell, he even takes accountability for his actions. He even tells Izzy a half truth that they didn’t kill Ed. 

IZZY IS FUCKING TRYING. BUT STEDE IS TOO STUBORN!!!! Why does Izzy always need to be the voice of reason, it’s bad for him :( He needs someone to treat him seriously. 

I love that Hornigold has all of Ed’s mannerisms from the start. That and all of Hornigolds memories are what Ed remembers about the things he hated about the man (the crab thing)

Is it sad that Ed is excited to live a normal life, but his gut(Hornigold) tells him not to be so naïve? Yeah. But I’m mad at him, so give me a day. 

I love Izzy in the jail scene. ALSO WHY IS FRENCHY LEANING THAT CLOSE TO IZZY-HELLO?? Izzy crying, closing his eyes. Not able to keep Ed safe because he still tried SO HARD to keep his body semi stable. They think he’s probably dead, and Izzy still keeps his corpse safe. EVEN AFTER ANYTHING. HE STILL LOVES HIM! :D D:

This is where the Pirate Queen isn’t fun anymore for me. I liked her, but then she threatened Olu if he said no?? I don’t like it! Especially as it seems Olu didn't get the hint.

The escape overall is very fucking sweet. Especially Izzy shushing people. I makes me happy :)- Also Buttons being a good first mate and giving orders as soon as they touch deck.  

I’M SORRY- IZZY THNAKING STEDE I saw it the first time, and freaked out, but the second?? DEAR GOD! I fucking love him. Give this man a hug. 

Also! I think the Mermaid scene is my 'Ohh Daddy' from S1. It’s a bit.. .much, I like the metaphor a lot. Eh. I don't know. I think they should have blured out Stede's face a bit with water. Reveal it's REALLY Stede when he gets closer. Hide the budget a but more or do a far away shot vs up close. Pretty but just a bit off.

ALSO: IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED THE Ep 3 POST CREDIT SCENE DO-AS I’M SPOILING IT. As a person who is writing a ‘cured object’ thing for this fandom… watch this undo like, 40k of my own words. Please let Izzy be a bit of a skeptic but he generally follows the vibes cause ‘legends’ ALSO murder lesbians!! ALSO IZZY/STEDE woops, sorry, IZZY & STEDE FRIENDSHIP ARC!!!

SO FINAL THOUGHTS: 

Things I didn’t like:

Dislike how we glosses over the discussion of a poly/open relationship for Oluwande and Jim. They both thought eachother were dead, so it doesn’t give me the ick as I bet some will. But the way Jim joked about it still felt wrong.

Glossing over Lucius’ trauma a bit with the puppet joke. I found it a bit in poor taste. 

The fact Izzy is on the episode ‘cover’ for episode 3 on Max, revealing he didn’t kill himself in ep2. I forgot about it midway in, but remembered it on rewatch. Like? IDK

The lack of content warnings, I get it, but damn the suicidal ideation stuff +mania episode+ abuse hit hard. 

It went by a bit quick, but they wrote themselves in a corner. The slow building dread of Ed being a dick, vs Stede just working at Jackie's to get money. So they started when everything was falling apart. AND they need to get The Queen and the Prince established. Judging by the next few episodes, hopefully it will slow down. I prefer this to skipping those things, obviously. But I was much more interested in Ed’s side of the story than Stede's.

Things I do like/Standouts:

Hi Con O’Neill. Can you start paying rent the way you live in my head? Seriously, every scene Izzy is in he steals it. I assume people are a bit peeved that Izzy is getting more attention than Olu&Frenchie&Jim & whatever other character a person likes. But I really think they sewed it in well. Seriously, it’s heartbreaking, and everything I could have asked for. I Love Every Delivery. I see these episodes as enough to turn people slightly sympathetic if they were haters of Izzy before.

ALSO: IZZY SAVING THE CREW. Putting himself in danger FIRST so he doesn't hurt anyone? Jim immediately seeing this and trusting him in the future. I can’t wait to see friendship bloom between him and the crew. That and Izzy's own self destructive habits get broken down as he learns to respect himself outside of hierarchy and Ed. Yes, even like this I want to fuck that man.

Stede- I enjoy that he seems more comfortable with the crew. Especially Pete and Buttons. I don’t have much to say, but I hope this new Izzy training episode means he’ll learn to trust Izzy. Not too much to say, but that's a good thing! Here soon instead of Ed being the focus of the 'deal with this' stick it will go to Stede 'I'm the captain :(' Bonnet

BUTTONS OH MY GOD- My favorite head canon became canon babes!!! I love it. I’m here for it. He's having a lovely time.

ALSO FRENCHIE!!! Hi babes! I missed you being a clever badass! I'm happy Ed didn't stab you.

Them taking Ed’s issues seriously. We got hints of addiction/abusive behavior last season, but they took that and ran with it. Add that to self destrictive behavior that scales up with every scene. Plus the one line from Lucius about how some people can’t be fixed…good stuff, I like how we're handling mental health. I’m not happy with him, but we have time. Taika clearly had fun. I also see myself in his mania and self-sabotaging behavior (non violent, but still wish washy moods for my part)

That and Izzy/Ed being what it is… I believe that Ed genuinely loves Izzy the only way he can, but it’s not enough. He can’t love Izzy the way he needs. Ed needs to apologize, obviously. I won’t be able to forgive him ‘till then. I don’t think Izzy should until he’s able to pull away from him a bit. 

Let's just say I can't wait till next week when we get lesbians and one of my favorite tropes.

(@ing mutuals I know have seen it that I would love to yell with @gydima @born-on-a-beach-teach @treesofgreen BUT do feel free to shout down below!!!)

[carduelis-carduelis]

Izzy Hands Is Not the Wasp That Stung You

My problem with wasps

When I was very young, maybe three years old, I met a wasp for the first time in my life. Of course I didn’t know what wasps were or what they could do, and by the time my dad had finished saying that I should just stay still, I had already flailed and got stung. It hurt, but that wasn’t the worst thing. The thing that shocked me the most was that there are these unpredictable insects that can just come out of nowhere and sting you, if you don’t stay still.

This incident led to me having two possible reactions when encountering a wasp. My first instinct was ”flight”, meaning that I would do anything it takes to put as much space between me and the wasp. Hearing the buzzing and/or seeing the black-and-yellow stripes was enough to send me running. If this was not a possibility, ”freeze” was the second option. After all, people kept saying that wasps won’t do anything if you don’t aggravate them, so if you stay still, they’ll let you be. But staying still was always the worse option out of the two, because the wasp could decide to land on my face, or just keep circling me and I would have to hear the horrible buzzing and just wait for it to fly away. 

So, usually I ran. One memorable time I jumped into the lake from a rowboat, because there was nowhere else to run. One time I ran, tripped over my own feet and scratched my knees on the pavement. I was over 20 at the time. I’m twice that age now, and I still run whenever a wasp starts to circle me. I can’t help it. Sometimes the buzzing alone is enough to trigger it, even if it’s not a wasp. It can be a horsefly or a bumblebee. Seeing black-and-yellow striped hover flies works similarly. The first reaction is to get away. If I concentrate, I can maybe take in some additional information and assess if there is an actual danger. What’s the pitch of the buzz? What’s the flight pattern? How big is the insect?

Horse flies can just fuck off. They are going to try and take a bite of me, no matter what I do, so there’s no harm in trying to swat them, it won’t aggravate them more.

Bumblebees and honeybees are a different thing, though. Like wasps, they can sting if they feel threatened, so you should avoid swatting at them. But they aren’t as aggressive, and honeybees can’t even sting you more than once. These fuzzy buzzers just want to be left alone. They are important pollinators. Some people even think they are cute. I have friends who go ”awwwww, look at that fluffy little butt” when we walk past some flowers and there are bumblebees doing their work. And I hear the buzzing and see the stripes and quicken my steps. Even when I logically know that bumblebees are generally harmless, it doesn’t stop me from panicking if there’s a bumblebee in my immediate vicinity and I can’t get away from it.

One time, I was on a bus and there was a bumblebee trapped inside. Luckily, it was quite far away from me, so I just tried to breathe steadily, kept my eyes on it to make sure it wasn’t coming too close to me and hoped my stop would come soon. The bumblebee was in the middle of the bus, bonking against the window, trying to find a way out. There was also a group of people standing in the middle of the bus, and one of them went into absolute panic when they spotted the bumblebee. They started sobbing and yelling at their friends that they have to kill it. And I thought ”oh, but it doesn’t want to harm you, it’s just a bumblebee, I get that you are scared, but it’s really not posing you a threat right now.”

 What does this have to do with Izzy? 

There are people in OFMD fandom who interpret Izzy as an abuser and a bully.

The thing with interpretations is that they are extremely subjective. They depend on your personal life experiences. They are not undisputed facts. Everyone is entitled to their own interpretations. Also, those personal life experiences we have, they give us individual triggers.

I understand that there are people who get triggered by Izzy, I really do. He does something that reminds them of some real life abuser. He brings back bad memories. Izzy has black-and-yellow stripes and he is buzzing, therefore he must be swatted with a rolled newspaper. Anyone who tries to say that he’s just a little guy who’s just trying to do his job (and look at his fuzzy little butt!) is clearly just an abuse apologist. There is no difference between Izzy and the Badmintons, they are all stripy buzzing bastards.

I am absolutely in favour of ”get the fuck away from the same space where there are stripy buzzing things” if it triggers you, no matter if they are wasps or just bumblebees. Also, maybe don’t hang out with people who study bees for a living and can’t shut up about them (unless you’re trying to do some exposure therapy). Keep yourself safe and take care of your own wellbeing. 

I am also absolutely against people trying to stop others from studying bees or talking about how fascinating bees are. Just because I got stung by a wasp and that traumatised me doesn’t mean everyone else went through the same thing. Of course there are wasps in the world and they will sting people, but I don’t go around calling people ”wasp apologists” if I see them saying that bumblebees are cute.

Izzy is not the wasp that stung you. Izzy is the worker bee who is trying to get things done and who will defend the hive when needed.

[jobrookekarev]

I Choose You and Our Baby Too

Chapter: 1/1

Words: 3700

Summary: “Are you out of your mind? We're not making a baby,” Jo said as her laughter paused and she smiled. “Because we already made one.” 

‘I Choose You’12x03 AU where Jo is pregnant.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, Stephanie Edwards and Arizona Robbins.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Fix it, AU, Fluff, Babies, Pregnancy.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: This is one of my favorite Jolex episodes!

……………………………………………………………………

“Oh, wow,” Stephanie said, genuinely speechless for the first time that Jo can remember as she reacted to the news of her pregnancy. “When did you find out?”

“This morning,” Jo said as she leaned against the counter, remembering the pregnancy test she had taken before work. 

She had known something was off for the past week and then she didn’t get her period. Jo had tried to ignore it for as long as possible, that’s how she found the papers for Alex and Izzie’s embryos. After that, she couldn't ignore it and took the test. The positive pregnancy test and the papers were a double whammy that left her breathless.

“How do you feel?” Stephanie asked, worried for her in a way she usually wasn't.

“Like I want to puke,” Jo said, looking down at the sink in front of her. Morning sickness she had morning sickness. 

“Are we keeping it, the pregnancy?” Stephanie asked, leaning back a little as she thought Jo might vomit.

“Yes, I want to,” Jo paused, she had asked herself that same question that morning. It wasn’t like last time, she was safe and her baby's father was a good man. She knew that when she told him what she wanted he would step up and be a father, but it was all so soon. 

“So we’re happy about this?”

“I want to be, but it’s so unexpected and I’ve barely had any time to wrap my head around it.”

Stephanie paused and tilted her head. It seems like she had a string of endless questions. “What did Alex say?” 

“I haven't talked to him yet.” Jo sighed as she looked down, thinking she might actually puke now. She told Stephanie first because Stephanie was her best friend, her person and Jo knew that she would know what to do or at least how to help her come to terms with it.

“You have to talk to him, today,” Stephanie insisted, Jo knew that she was right, but telling Alex would just make it all too real.

“Why today?” Jo asked looking back at Stephanie. “It's not like I wanted this to happen.”

“Jo, you have to talk to him,” Stephanie said firmly. 

“I know.” Jo sighed as she turned away from the mirror and grabbed her lab coat before walking out of the bathroom. 

She knew that telling Alex would be a good thing, but the paper gave her more questions than she knew what to do with, she had to know how he felt before she told him and she had to know about the embryos. Jo was so deep in thought as she walked through the halls of the hospital that she jumped when Stephanie locked arms with her. 

“Look, I know I said that if you let Karev throw a baby in there, I would never forgive you,” Stephanie said, referencing their conversation a year ago. “But I do forgive you and I'm here for you.”

“Thank you,” Jo said with a nod, she took a deep breath as they walked forward and Stephanie squeezed her arm.

“Come on, I'll put you on my service today, nothing too hard, Chief's orders,” Stephanie said with a smile as she led them down the hall. 

……………………………………………………………………

“Hey,” Alex said as he got on the elevator and greeted Jo before turning around and looking up at the floor signs. 

“Hey.”

Alex did a double take when he saw her expression. She stared at him, but her eyes were glazed over and her lips were parted in a frown. It was the expression that she had when something was wrong and it always set his alarm bells ringing. 

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing,” Jo said, blinking and shaking her head as she turned to look straight ahead. Alex let it go for a moment, knowing she would talk when she was ready and she did, turning back to face him. “Do you want to have kids?”

“I... I don't, uh... know.” Alex faltered over his words. Her question threw him for a loop and he wasn't sure how to respond. “Uh, yeah. I uh, do you... now?”

“Or ever? I don't know, just is it something that you want?” Jo said with a shrug as she tried to seem apathetic about it, but Alex could tell that she was serious. “Yeah, now, or ever. God, Alex, it's a simple yes or no question.”

“What the hell is going on?” Alex asked, he watched her face go back to that  expression and he regretted being so blunt with her as she got squirrely. 

“Nothing, I just,” Jo sighed, shaking her head. The elevator bell dinged as the doors opened and she walked away. “Nothing.”

Alex knew that she was lying. He had messed up when he floundered with his answer. She wanted something more definite, a yes or no. Alex went to go follow her, but the elevator doors closed in his face. He went to the next floor and then took the stairs back down. Alex looked around and he didn't see Jo, but he did see Stephanie at the nurses’ station.

“Edwards where’s Jo?” Alex asked, putting his hands on his waist.

“She is… not here,” Edwards said slowly and he could tell that she was trying to come up with something he would believe.

“I can see that,” Alex said, before shaking his head and rubbing his hand over his face. “Look, I just want to talk to her.”

“Jo’s not feeling well. I'll probably send her home, but she's in the Residents Lounge right now,” Edwards said as Alex nodded and let her go. 

He considered going to the Residents Lounge and seeing if Jo was okay, but Robbins paged him to the NICU. He decided to give Jo a little bit of space and go home that night to check on her. In the meantime, he went to the NICU to see the twins and to talk to Robbins. She would know why Jo was being all weird about kids. 

……………………………………………………………………

“Little girl's going into renal failure.”

“Boy's lungs are crapping out fast.”

“Maybe we'll get lucky and the parents will be a match,” Arizona said as she grabbed a fresh pair of gloves. 

“Jo hit me up about having kids today out of absolutely nowhere,” Alex said, as he hung the bag of fluids. “Is that what happens? You shack up, and then suddenly your ovaries go into overdrive?”

He didn’t understand it. Things were great, they were in a good place. They just finished the loft. They were establishing their home together. He was happy just the way things were and so was she, or so he thought. He knew that Jo sometimes needed a little extra reassurance about her place in his life, but this wasn’t it. This was baby talk and Alex was nowhere near ready for that.

“Aw, I think you'll be a good dad,” Arizona said with a smile. “Your babies will be so foul-mouthed and dirty and cute.”

Alex smiled and shook his head. Arizona was right, his and Jo’s kids would be cute and foul-mouthed and he did want that, someday. “I just didn't think we were there yet. I don't know if I am. Definitely didn't think she was.”

Arizona gasped, her smile falling as she froze. “Alex.”

“What?”

“What if you're already there?” Alex’s face fell and he looked up as Arizona continued, her voice getting lower as she spoke. “What if she's asking cause she's already knocked up, and she's just testing the waters?”

“Why would you even say that?” Alex said panicking as he thought about it. 

Jo couldn’t be pregnant, could she? They were so careful with contraceptives, Jo was on the pill and they both worked to ensure she took it every day at the same time. He knew there was a chance, a 1% chance, that the pill wouldn't work, but he didn’t think. 

But Jo was tired, she had been sleeping in more the past few days. Her breasts were sore, she had complained when he touched them last night. She was feeling nauseous and had been picking at her food the last few days. Alex knew she was due to get her period this week and had stocked up on her favorite snacks, tampons, and pain meds. He had washed her favorite blanket and the cover for the hot water bottle and she had curled up on the couch with both last night. He thought she just had PMS, but the symptoms also aligned with Jo being pregnant.

“We tested the parents,” Warren said as he and DeLuca walked over to them. “The results are back.”

Alex shook his head. Jo and their potential baby would have to wait while he tried to save the twins. He would go home tonight and talk to her, but in the meantime, he worried. 

……………………………………………………………………

Jo heard Alex put his keys and coat on the hook by the door, but stayed curled up on the couch. She took a deep breath and looked down at her notes. This was it. She knew she had to talk to him tonight.

“Hey,” Alex greeted her with a simple acknowledgment. 

“All nighter?” Jo asked, still looking down at the notebook in her lap. 

“Yeah, and I need to go back. I just need a couple of hours of sleep,” Alex said, as he sat down on the bench at the end of their bed and rubbed his face.

“Can we talk?” Jo asked, she was hesitant as she turned her head to look at him.

Alex dropped his hand from his face and rubbed his hands on his jeans. It was what he did when he wasn’t sure what else to do. “Yeah.”

Jo nodded as she got up and came over to him the piece of paper in her hands.

“Okay, yeah. Are you…”

“I found this,” Jo said, handing him the piece of paper. She had to deal with this first before she told him. She had to know if he had kids, if he wanted kids with her. “I was unpacking, I, uh, wasn't snooping. I know it's kind of none of my business, but I picked it up, and then I just couldn't put it down.”

“Oh, okay, this.” Alex nodded as he read over the paper as if it was nothing.

“You have babies?” Jo asked, she knew he didn't seem like the type of guy that would have a secret family or have kids he didn’t see, but she didn't know what to think when she found the paper.

“No, no, these are embryos,” Alex said with a chuckle. 

“With Izzie?”

“Listen, Izzie wanted to freeze her eggs. She needed them fertilized. I did it, she froze them. That's all.” 

The way Alex talked about the embryos was as if they were nothing more than the piece of paper he was holding, instead of a dozen frozen embryos in a lab somewhere that Izzie could use at any time. It was like a second shoe just waiting to drop and destroy the life that she and Alex had created together.

“That's all?” Jo asked a little astonished at how little he cared about this. 

“Yeah, then she left me. That's all, you can toss it.” Alex said, handing her the paper. 

Jo took the paper back and looked down as Alex took off his other shoe. “So, you wanted to have babies with her?” 

“Yeah, I, I don't, I don't know. I mean, that was, that was a hundred years ago.” 

Jo watched Alex fumble over his words as he looked up at her before going over to the fridge and grabbing a water bottle.

“I'm just asking because when I asked you if you wanted to move in with me, you said that you did and that you could picture a life with me, but you never said anything about babies. You said, maybe we could get a dog,” Jo said as she followed him into the kitchen. 

“Do you want a dog?” Alex asked, looking confused and it killed her.

“No, I want to know what we're doing here.” Jo insisted. She had to know what he wanted, what his intentions were with her before she told him. Because if this wasn’t what he wanted then it changed everything. “I love you, and you love me. I know, but when I look ahead,”

“Why are we looking ahead?” Alex interrupted, but Jo continued.

“If you had or maybe you do have, for all I know, a bunch of Izzie babies walking around with your face on them,” Jo said, closing her eyes for a moment, waving her hand around.

“And why are we doing it now?”

“And, and I'm just the ‘let's get a dog’ girl? I'm wondering what you think we are, what you want.”

“Look, I didn't have babies with Izzie. My role in that whole thing was with a cup and a magazine.”

“But you would have,” Jo stressed, trying to get him to understand her perspective in all this. “You wanted to. She was worth it to you, but when I ask you if you want to have babies, you're all, ‘I don't know, yes, no, maybe, uh…’” 

“She was my wife. We were married,” Alex said, slamming his hand down on the table.

“That's my point,” Jo said, raising her voice. “What am I?”

“She had cancer. She didn't even know if she was gonna be able to after the radiation,” Alex said walking away from her and going to sit down on the bench at the end of their bed.

“No, don't do. What, I have to get sick to figure out if you're gonna go all in with me?” Jo asked, watching him put his shoes back on as she crossed her arms. “And now you're gonna go.”

“Yes, and you're right, it's kind of none of your business,” Alex yelled as he put his coat back on. “And I'm not doing this! I'm not talking about babies that I didn't have with Izzie or may or may not have with you. I have two real babies I'm responsible for at the hospital right now. I have enough kids to take care of.”

Jo put her hand over her mouth as she turned away from the door hearing it slam shut. It hurt to hear Alex say that and to watch him walk away from her. Callie once said that when dating Alex Karev, Jo would always have something to be mad about and she was right. Usually, Jo took her anger out in the OR helping Torres break and fix bones, but her pregnancy left her exhausted. All Jo wanted to do was curl up in bed with Alex. Instead, she was in the Loft all alone. 

She felt like she had more questions and answers about whether he was all in or not because he did have a baby with her. Soon the baby in her belly would be a  baby in her arms and she didn't want to keep fighting with Alex. So she put the paper away and went back to studying. Tomorrow the twins he was taking care of would be in their parents' care and Jo would still be pregnant and she and Alex could talk about it then. 

……………………………………………………………………

After a day like today, the only thing that Alex wanted to do was go home, grab a beer, sit on the couch, and watch whatever sports team was playing. Or at least that’s what he used to do, but now he had Jo. Things were different, a good kind of different. He would go home and they would try not to make a disaster out of dinner. Then he would wrap his arms around Jo and pull her in to sit next to him on the couch. They'd argue over what to watch before they settled on something, but it wouldn’t be long before they started kissing and tearing each other's clothes off. At last, Alex would crawl into bed with her and kiss her one last time before he fell asleep. That was how he loved to end his days and he wanted to spend the rest of his nights like that. 

With how things had ended last night, Alex knew he had to make it right with her. Jo was the best thing in his life and he wanted a life with her. Alex wanted a family and he wanted kids, not with Izzie, with Jo. She was worth fighting for, but he hated fighting with her because it meant he couldn't go home and sleep in her arms. He never wanted to spend another night without her next to him.  This life, this family with Jo was what he wanted. 

Alex opened the door to the Loft and walked over to stand at the end of the bed for a moment thinking of what to say. Jo was studying, monopolizing the whole bed with her books, and notes, and multi-colored pens, that wouldn't all get picked up and would definitely end up poking him at four in the morning.

“You okay?” Jo asked, not looking up from her notes.

“Yeah,” Alex said, waving his hands around and trying not to feel or look like an idiot. “Look, about last night.”

“No,” Jo said interrupting him and cutting him off. “You said it's none of my business, so, it's...”

“Well, it's not,” Alex said, putting his hands on his hips and trying not to fidget with his hands or his words. “And it is, it's. Look, I get mad and, and you get squirrely.”

“I do not,” Jo said, throwing her notebook and pen to the side.

“No, you get squirrely when someone says they're gonna be there, and then you think maybe they won't. That happens. You're allowed.”

“Okay,” Jo said, putting down the rest of her books and leaning forward to listen to him. 

“I'm not going anywhere. And if, if,” Alex trailed off as he struggled with the words, and took a deep breath. “Having a kid is what you want, then I can be ready.”

Jo raised her eyebrows and tilted her head as she looked at him. Alex took this as a sign to keep going and pulled his T-shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants.

“I'm ready. I mean, let's do it,” Alex said as he rushed to undo his belt and his pants, pulling them down and letting them drop to the floor. Standing there in his boxer briefs, his pants around his ankles he smiled at her and tilted up his chin. “Let's make a baby, right now.”

Jo burst out laughing, her hysterics surprised him as he stared at her. Usually, when Alex dropped his pants, Jo would smirk and jump his bones, not laugh at him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jo laughed as she smiled for the first time that day. “We're not making a baby.” 

Despite how happy Alex was to see her smile he was a little confused. He thought this was what she wanted. He thought that this was what she had been alluding to wanting yesterday.

“We're not making a baby,” Jo said as her laughter paused and her smile softened. “Because we already made one.” 

Jo let her words hang in the air as Alex stood there with his pants down, staring at her. He blinked once, then twice before he tried to take a step towards her, only to get caught in his pants and tripped. Alex caught himself and jumped forward until he could jump on the bed and pull Jo towards him. Her smile was gone and she stared at him with her lips slightly parted. It was that  unsure expression again and this time when he saw her face his heart broke.

“We made a baby, you're pregnant?” Alex asked, trying to wrap his head around it. 

At first, he thought she wanted kids, then he thought she was pregnant. Then he thought she was just mad because of the embryos, because she wanted to know what their future would look like, and now she was telling him that she was pregnant. The day had been a roller coaster of emotions, everything with the twins. After saving Emma Kiefer and holding Daniel Kiefer as he died. Alex made a decision, he wanted a family with Jo. Yet here she was, having been carrying their baby all along.

“Yes.” Jo breathed out, her breath hot on his cheeks.

“We made a baby,” Alex smiled as wide as he could. He let the excitement fill his voice as he placed a hand on Jo’s stomach. It was still flat like it always was, but she was pregnant.

“We made a baby, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past few days. I just, I wanted to make sure you wanted one too,” Jo explained, in a whisper, still a little hesitant.

“We made a baby,” Alex said again, still in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Jo said, tilting her head as she watched him take it all in. 

“If we're gonna do this I promise not to get mad if you promise not to get squirrely,” Alex nodded, he knew that he had to do right by Jo and their baby. “And we’re both going to talk things through like adults, no more misunderstandings.”

“I promise,” Jo said, a smile blooming across her face. 

“Okay,” Alex said, smiling as he leaned in to kiss her belly. “Hi baby.”

Jo put her hand on the back of his head running her fingers through his hair and Alex looked up to see her eyes watering as she smiled down at him and he sat up and kissed her lips. This was what he wanted, a life, a family, a baby with Jo. It was all supposed to be with her.

[ashxketchum]

Writer’s Month - 6

So this is a rewrite of a Pokeshipping Week entry I’d written some 3-4 years(?) ago. I try not to look at my older writing because it’s kinda silly, but today’s prompt was begging me to revisit this snippet, especially since I made some changes to my fankids hcs! 

Fandom/Pairing: Pokeani/Pokeshipping 

Prompt: Amnesia (Ash suffers memory loss after he loses Pikachu forever in a difficult battle, but the Ketchum family is managing to continue life as normal, because what is grief if not love persevering? 😏)

~

There were moments he remembered and moments he didn’t. Hazy memories constantly in and out of sight, never appearing in their full glory. Every day he would try to recognize the faces that came and sat in front of him, some of them similar to those in his memories, some not, talking about the time they had spent together, pleading with their silent eyes that he’d suddenly remember something. 

Remember. 

He heard that word countless times in a day, almost always coupled with me in a questioning tone. 

Remember me, Ash? 

Always the same questions, always the same answers, always the same tone… 

It had been going on for about a year now, and he was not sure for how much longer he could survive these daily visits, that mostly felt like interrogations. 

Ash Ketchum. 

That’s what his name was supposed to be, as he had been told when he had first opened his eyes after a long, peaceful slumber.

It was surprising that he didn’t remember his own name when he woke up that fateful day but he remembered the lifeless body of his dear friend, the one he hadn’t been able to save, the one who had saved him in exchange for his life, his best friend and first companion, his Pikachu. 

He’d  overheard the doctors tell his wife that the memory loss was just a coping mechanism he was subconsciously using to deal with the grief and the pain of losing his partner. He had laughed bitterly at that. If that was the case, then why couldn’t he just get rid of the image of Pikachu lying on the ground, completely still, lifeless… why was this the only piece of memory that he wasn��t subconsciously letting go of? 

“Daddy, how are you feeling today?” 

He hadn’t noticed the door open and he was a little surprised to have company so early in the morning. Usually everyone in his house slept in late on Sundays, including him, and he was going to gloat over being the first one up today but it seemed that someone had already beaten him to it. A pair of brown eyes similar to his stared up at him expectantly, a huge smile covered every inch of his daughter’s face as she promptly sat herself down opposite him on the bed, “I helped with breakfast!” she exclaimed. 

“I’m feeling fine, Izzy.” He returned the smile, though not in the same proportion, “I’m looking forward to eating it then.” 

Unlike his daughter’s entry going unnoticed, Ash would never fail to notice the flash of orange hair which was still as bright as the day he had first met her, a memory he had only recently managed to recover. She came in carrying his breakfast, and immediately her eyes fell on their daughter. 

“Izzy, I thought I told you to go wake up your brother,” Misty said as she set the tray of food down in front of Ash and turned to frown at their daughter. 

“I tried, he didn’t budge,” Izzy pouted in reply, trying her best to sway her mother with her cocoa coloured eyes that eerily resembled his. 

“He has a very important training session at the Lab today, please go wake him up sweetheart,” Misty sighed as she nudged Ash to make space for her on his side of the bed. 

“Fine.” Izzy muttered dejectedly as she dragged her feet out of the room slowly, not wanting to see her brother so early in the morning. 

Ash inspected the tray of food lying in front of him as Misty rested her head on his shoulder, four pancakes and sliced fruits, simple and easy to eat just the way he liked it, “Wow, Izzy did all this?” he wondered aloud. 

Misty snorted in reply, “All she did was make that smiley face on the pancake with whipped cream and even that is lopsided.” 

“Tch, Mist,” Ash clicked his tongue as he began to dig in, “Always the perfectionist.” 

Misty didn’t reply, she closed her eyes and tried her best to etch this scene in her head for harder days ahead. The thin rays of sunlight creeping through the curtains on a warm December morning, Izzy’s faint voice floating through the halls as she attempted to wake up AJ, the sweet smell of maple syrup, Ash’s calm, rhythmic heartbeat and his content eyes. A sight she hadn’t gotten used to yet, his unfocused eyes and dazed face was something that had been haunting her in her nightmares since the day she’d cast her eyes upon it. 

She still wasn’t used to him being there. 

First he had gone missing for over three months, then he had been  in a coma for another two, then he had woken up not remembering his own name. 

It had been a difficult year and a half for all of them, but they were getting through it. She was going to get him through it, that’s what she had vowed when they had exchanged wedding rings some  sixteen years ago, that she would forever hold his hand and walk with him through fire if she had to. And while the past year had proven to be exactly that, her determination hadn’t wavered at all. 

Surprisingly, Ash hadn’t either. 

He accepted everything that had happened calmly, a little out of character for the man he used to be before the incident, but his composed attitude was what had managed to keep them afloat through these bad tidings. 

Ash understood that he wouldn’t recover immediately so he didn’t force himself to get better. He didn’t hide anything from her, she was aware of every single thing he felt, all his nightmares, all his pain, he shared everything with her. He didn’t refrain from asking for help, even from the kids. He was working the hardest to get better and not giving up, reminding her every day of the reason she had fallen in love with him in the first place. 

“How’d you know I was up? I thought you slept in the twins’ room last night.” Ash asked, very close to finishing the pancakes. 

“Turns out our daughter is a huge kicker, I barely got any sleep last night trying to avoid her feet,” Misty said, opening her eyes briefly, only to notice that the fruits were completely untouched, “Ash. You have to eat everything on the tray.” 

Ash groaned in reply, “How about we share?” 

“I already ate two hours ago,” she said, stifling a yawn. 

“Wow, you really didn’t sleep at all.” Ash muttered, picking up a tiny grape from the bowl and popping it in his mouth. 

“Uh huh. And I still have to get AJ to his session, so do you really want to put me in a bad mood right now?” Misty lifted her head to glance at Ash, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“For the sake of my son’s safety, I shall eat everything in this bowl,” Ash said, laughing lightly. 

Misty settled her head on his shoulder once more, replaying the sound of his laughter in her mind again and again as it was something she didn’t get to hear often these days. She didn’t realize when she drifted off to sleep, she was surrounded by so much warmth and everything smelled like Ash that she almost didn’t want to wake up. But remembering the big day ahead of her she forced her eyes to open only to see that afternoon had already settled in. 

She reached out her hands to find that the bed next to her was empty which made her sit up immediately. Ash liked to spend Sundays resting inside since that was the only day they didn’t have any visitors so it was a little concerning when he wasn’t in their room. Climbing out of all the blankets that she was sure was the work of her husband, she rushed down the stairs following the voice of her daughter’s laughter and ended up in the kitchen to find Ash and the little devils standing around the stove, inspecting something extremely black. 

Ash noticed her instantly, and put up an apologetic pout, “Misty, I can explain-“

“Dad wanted to cook lunch for you!” Izzy giggled, interrupting her father before he even had the chance to begin. 

“But he really sucks at it,” AJ added, snickering, and immediately Ash lightly smacked his head to get the boy to shut up, his face turning red as Misty just stood in the kitchen doorway, staring blankly at them. 

“I followed Mom’s recipe exactly the way it was written and it still ended up like this,” Ash started again, throwing a scowl in the direction of the pan filled with something that could only be described as stuff, “Honestly, I just wanted to do something nice for you beca-“ He didn’t get to finish again because within seconds Misty covered the distance between them and jumped into his arms, a little surprised he still managed to catch her wrapping his arms safely around her. She answered his confusion by pressing her lips to his and it didn’t take long for Ash to respond. She could hear her son shouting there are kids in this room in the background, but at that moment she decided that she had never been happier. 

[pascal-istheway]

Deep Water - Chapter 5

Originally posted by essenceanddescent

Read it here on Ao3!

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4

 Fandom: Triple Frontier

Warnings: NSFW, smut

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Tags: Smut, NSFW, PTSD, Sex

Word Count: 6.6k

Two Months Later

Your brother had texted you to come over, didn’t really give you much of an explanation as to why but just said the door was unlocked and that you should just come in when you were here. You’d parked in your usual spot out in front of his house, looking out the passenger window up at the small white farmhouse set back from the street. His truck sat in the driveway where it usually did so you assumed he was home.

“Ready to go see Uncle Santi?” you turned back and looked at your bubbly daughter who was giggling back at you as she nodded furiously. She loved her uncle as he loved her - unconditionally.

“Alright let’s go!” you climbed out, grabbing a small bag of her things and then grabbing her from her car seat and tucking her on your hip, planting a small kiss on her forehead as she tucked her head under your chin.

His lawn was freshly mowed, garden pruned, and trimmed. You’d always admired the dedication and care he took to his yard. Wishing you or Frankie had the time to spruce up the front of your own home like this.

You trudge up the front steps and knock on the door, bouncing Isabelle on your hip to shift her higher. No answer, not that you were surprised. He probably couldn’t hear you.

“Santi! You home?” you knock on the door again, knowing he damn well is home since his car is out front. You can barely hear the music coming from the backyard, but it’s enough of a warning that he’s probably not alone. “Santiagooo!” you call in a sing-song voice that makes your daughter giggle in your arms.

The door opens easily as you carry your daughter through the house in search of your brother only to find him and Frankie sitting on the back deck talking. Your feet stop you as you stand there in the kitchen, watching them sit and pass a bottle back and forth between them while they talk. He looks awful, distraught, exhausted. Honestly, he looks how you feel - miserable.

Frankie was normally full of life and laughter so the last few months have been odd that the two of you haven’t been able to move past the night you asked for space. You couldn’t look at him when the words had come from your lips, perhaps out of fear for his reaction, or maybe just that one look at him and you would change your mind and jump into his arms, begging him to forgive you for being so foolish.

Either way, it had been said, and you got what you wanted without a fight. Part of the reason you had asked for space in the first place - there was no fight left in him. He didn’t want you anymore, seemed not to want this marriage anymore even. He had just given up completely on you. And it was so frustrating because you just didn’t know how to communicate properly what was happening to you. You were so trapped inside your own head, drowning in your own trauma and you desperately needed him to hold your hand and pull you to the surface.

So space, you had decided, was the best route. You’d do it on your own. You went back to therapy, found someone who was actually really wonderful, and had slowly begun to heal and process the trauma. The cloudiness was draining from behind your tired eyes. You just wished Frankie was around to see it.

Instead, your schedules rotated around each other. He would avoid you, give you the space you needed. You ate separately, didn’t even use the same bathroom in the house anymore. It was like he was a roommate when he moved into the guest room. You cried yourself to sleep for almost two weeks when he actually did what you’d asked without any hesitation. Your therapist had told you though, that it was you that had asked, and he was just respecting your wishes. If you didn’t actually want space, you’d have to speak up and tell him.

A soft cough brings you back to the two men outside lost in deep conversation. Your name is mentioned and it makes you pause, shifting Isabelle from one hip to the other and listen. It’s not like you to eavesdrop, but considering the situation, you don’t want to interrupt what seems like such an important conversation.

You watch Frankie as he finishes the last of the amber drink in the whiskey bottle, setting it aside. He never gets this drunk or at least you’d never known him to get like this. Seeing him in this state, the echo of sadness in his constricted voice as he speaks, it’s the first crack around your heart that you never even saw coming.

He sniffles and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, “I just know I fucked all of this up man and I don’t know how to fix it? She will always hate me.”

“Look, I know my sister has been through some nasty shit, we all have. And with Isabelle and Tom and everything that happened over there… she’s not like us, she can’t just push things away. When she feels things, she feels them with all of herself. It’s something that’s a gift and a curse I guess,” Santiago handed him another beer from the cooler between them.

“I just can’t help but feel like she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I moved to the guest room because she said she needed space,” his voice was breaking you. “That was like two months ago dude. I can’t sleep without her there next to me, I don’t care if there’s a mile between us in the bed, I need her there, just to listen to her breathe, to know she’s there.”

Santiago nodded, processing the drunken admission from your husband. “Have you tried actually telling her how you feel? Like being honest and saying how fucked up we all were from that trip?” your brother asked casually. “None of us were ok after that. And you had just gotten in the shit with work when I asked you to come, so you had double the shit going on.”

The fact was he hadn’t. You had gone through this awful traumatic experience and Frankie had pushed things away like he always did when he came back from any mission. It’s what he was trained to do - what the military trained him to do. You don’t talk about things, you just shove it down and move on.

Santi was right though about you. You were different from the rest of the guys. Even if you’d been able to “ push things away” it wouldn’t have mattered. You feel everything so deeply and passionately. You experience every moment at one hundred and fifty percent. There was no halfway point with you. And it wasn’t always a bad thing either.

Like when Frankie took you to Arizona on that vacation before Isabelle was born and you saw the Milkyway over the mountains for the first time, it made you cry. Or when you saw a group of ducklings trying to cross the street and one got left behind and you just had to help rescue him. Or how every year you hold a fundraiser for the turtles and get so sad reading about how not all of them make it to the sea each year.

You feel things in every fiber of your being. It’s one of the things Frankie loves about you. He loves seeing your eyes light up when you see a dog or when you get to do a story on something light and fluffy. But he also loved your intensity about life. Your ferociousness for the ones you loved. The fire you had… the one that Lorea dampened.

“Not really. I guess,” he swallowed around a lump in his throat, “I guess I just didn’t realize how much worse it was for her. I mean I know things were scary and awful, but when we got to Lorea’s house and I saw her there on that dirty mattress, half naked and scared for her life,” he paused, swallowing hard and taking a shaky breath, “something broke inside me, Pope. She’s my entire life. She always will be. My life begins and ends with her and when we got back, it was like every time I tried to touch her, she was just so afraid of me. It made me hate myself because even though she was my reason for living, I couldn’t be hers. I wasn’t strong enough to be hers,” he let out a strangled sob and the sound completely shattered any resolve you thought you had.

Your brother put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “you have to talk to her, you guys have to work this out. Not just because you’re my best friend and she’s my sister, but because you two are actually soul mates. You both just have very fucked up souls right now and that’s ok. You’ll find a way back to each other…” he hoped you would at least.

“I can’t breathe without her, Pope. I can’t function without her in my life. She once said we were just existing for Isabelle’s sake but fuck, I can’t do that. I exist for both of them. They are my only reason for existing…” he trailed off, drunkenly taking a swig of his drink.

His admissions were too much for your heart to hear, it was all too much. You had your own tears streaming down your face, makeup streaking your cheeks as you rushed back around through the kitchen. Your bag bumped into something on the counter as you turned sharply and it fell, shattering on the ground at your feet. The glass shards surround your feet and you just stand there a moment, stunned and unable to move.

Both men jumped at the noise, their training and instincts kicking in as they rushed in to see you standing there with a squirming Izzy in your arms, looking tired and broken. Frankie didn’t need to ask to know if you’d heard what he and your brother were talking about, he could see on your face that you knew what he felt, what he had said. And in some ways, his heart jumped and cheered that you knew how he was feeling. That he didn’t actually have to have this conversation with you face to face. But part of that thought made him feel shitty because he knew he owed you better than that.

“Baby…” he whispered at the same time Pope reached out for Isabelle and said, “don’t move. Frankie, the glass?” and pointed at the glass at your feet.

Frankie looked down at the shattered mess and suddenly kicked into overdrive, “oh fuck… baby, don’t move,” he frantically searched for a broom to sweep up the mess as you stood there, tears leaking from your eyes as your heart shattered like the glass on the floor from the conversation you heard.

Your brother just stood there and watched you, “I put Izz in the playpen, here,” he grabbed the bag off your shoulder, “let me take the bag… you don’t have to cry, it’s just a cup, it’ll be fine.” He was looking at you with a confused look. Ok so maybe he hadn’t seen you standing there listening to Frankie spill his guts about how he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you. How he felt that he failed you.

It was hitting you like a freight train, how all of these months, you two were dancing around each other not talking, when one simple conversation could’ve cleared everything up. He thought you hated him. And why shouldn’t he? You didn’t give him any reason to think otherwise. When in reality, you loathed yourself.  

For agreeing to that stupid fucking trip, for begging your crew to go with you and getting them all killed. Frankie thought you were scared of him when in reality you just couldn’t get Lorea off your skin. It had been months and you still never felt clean enough.

Your therapist had been helpful, breaking things down for you and helping you start to heal. But they never prepared you for this. For the possibility that you had been wrong about Frankie. All this time you thought he was ready to leave, to jump ship. He was done with trying to fix you, or waiting for you to fix yourself. He had given up. And it’s what you deserved after what you did to all those innocent people.

The damn broke all at once in Pope’s kitchen, both men standing there as you completely lost it. Hysterical sobs tore through your chest, your hand reaching out towards Frankie as you step towards him, knees collapsing. He caught you like you knew he would. He would always catch you in the end. He loves you.

“F-Frankie…” you sob into his chest, “oh god, I was so… so wrong,” you say between sobs.

Pope just stands there, shaking his head and shrugging at Frankie in confusion. They both share that same familiar unspoken communication as Santi leaves to go play with his niece while you and Frankie attempt to fix what you broke.

You lay there together on your brother's kitchen floor and cry into his chest, Frankie whispering soothing words of love and comfort into your hair which of course just makes you cry harder. He finally shifts, his body becoming uncomfortable underneath you and you realize you’ve been crushing his legs and sit up and wipe your eyes.

“Oh my god, baby I’m so sorry, fuck,” you pull away, wiping your face, “god, don’t look at me,” pushing back you attempt to sit up. He pulls you to him and takes your face in his hands, his own eyes red and rimmed with wet tears.

“Sunshine, what’s going on?” his thumbs swipe at your drying cheeks, pushing away the stray tears.

“Frankie,” your hands come up and cover his own as you rest your forehead against his, breathing in the man your heart has been aching for. “I’ve been so foolish, Frankie,” you admit, pulling back to look at him, and really look at him.

“No, baby, no. You…” he pauses, swallowing the lump in his own throat, “you needed what you needed,” his brows furrowed as he nods, as if he’s accepting the words all over again. I need space.  

“I…” you hesitate, unsure if you should admit you overheard him and Santi outside. You have to fix this. For your own sanity, fuck, for Frankie’s sanity. “I heard you guys talking outside.”

It comes out in a whisper. Barely an acknowledgment of how dirty you feel for listening in to their private conversation. But if you hadn’t heard him admit his own truths, would you ever have known? Would you have just continued along this path of self-torture?

Afraid to look at him and see the hurt on his face, you turn your head and look away, tears starting again. Instead, he pulls your head back to face him as he wipes them away and whispers, “I love you, now, before, always. That will never change. ” His voice is tight and hurting but it’s ringing true. He loves you.

You choke out a half-laugh, half sob. He loves you. “I love you, fucking god, Frankie I love you,” your arms wrap around his neck. He stands, lifting you with him and pulling you to your feet, and dragging you towards the door.

“Pope, watch Izzy for a few hours for us?” he throws over his shoulder as he yanks you out the door towards your car, your brother watching from the door shaking his head with a grin on his face.

He throws open the car door and looks at you to get into the car as you toss him the keys over the roof, his hand reaching out last minute to catch them in mid-air. You speed off together down the road, the three minutes to your house feeling like an eternity but when he pulls up into your driveway and you both eventually find yourself standing there in front of each other in your own bedroom again. The same place where things fell apart.

“We don’t have to do this, we can just talk …” he whispered behind you, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck.

“There will be time for talking,” you turn, your hands slowly reaching out to touch him but just missing the mark. You pull your fingers back as if he’s made from fire and you don’t want to be burned.

His eyes never leave you as he waits patiently for you to tell him what you need. It’s torture. He can almost taste your skin, feel your lips on his… “I miss you,” he whispers, breaking the mesmerizing trance you seemed to be in.

Your eyes meet his, the deep warm pools of brown and gold draw you closer in ways you’d missed. You can’t even imagine what your life would’ve been like if you’d never been able to look into them again. It almost makes you want to scream to think how stupid you’d been.

“I don’t want to waste any more time without you, Frankie,” you admit, moving a step closer. “I’ve waisted the last two months being so fucking foolish, I can’t…” you swallow back around the burning lump that’s grown in your throat, “I can’t live without you.” you choke out.

“I never left you, querida,” his hand came up to your face and brushed a few stray hairs from your cheek, “I will never leave, I’m right where I’ve always been. I’ll always wait for you,” he leaned forward, breath mixing with yours.

You waited for it, the kiss that would take you back in time to that moment on the beach, to the first time in your apartment, to your wedding day, to every single moment in between, but it never came. You open your eyes and see him looking at you, waiting for you to close the gap.

He was waiting for you. He will always wait for you…

You leap forward, pressing your lips into his with a ferocious hunger that only he can satisfy. Frankie surges forward, lips crashing against yours, a brutal charge that takes you by surprise and you taste the desperation, the pent-up anxiety warring inside him as his tongue slips into your mouth with a low pained growl. His chest heaving as his arms reach down and grasp under your thighs, pulling you into his arms, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist as he lifts you off the ground and carries you towards your bed.

Despite the rushedness, the clumsy force of it, your nerves sing with the relief that floods your veins at the familiar taste of him. You missed him with every fiber of your being. And kissing him felt like coming home, over and over again. Frankie felt the same, completely lost within you.

Pushing you back as he moves forward in the eagerness of it all. The force of it knocks your head against the headboard and you hear it more than you feel the collision, not even registering the blunt pain until you hear the panic in Frankie’s voice.

“Fuck! Baby, I’m so sorry!” his hand comes to pull your head back, and you just giggle, mostly with nerves but also with the pure teenage lust you both have at the moment.

“Frankie, it’s fine,” you grasp him by the shirt and pull him down, “don’t stop.”

Your lips press forward again to meet his, this time it’s more calculated, more focused. Slower and passionate. Filled with promises of making things up to each other for the rest of your lives.

“Querida, you’re s’so soft. Jesus Christ, I missed your skin.”

It’s so stupid, it almost makes you want to cry. Now, when you hear the hushed pleas of him against the shell of your ear, it is so obvious just how unwavering he is in his affection. How patiently he’s waited for you to be ready for him again. You just refused to hear and see it. You couldn’t admit that he had tried, in his own ways, in the beginning, to be there, but things were just so raw that you weren’t able to differentiate between your husband and Lorea.

Sensing where your mind was going, his lips pull away from you as he mouthed at your ear. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Frankie asks, the lingering trace of doubt that you might change your mind still there; worried you’d bite his hand if he so much as reached for you. He couldn’t risk losing you again.

Taking his hand in yours, you guide it down between your legs, beneath your thin sundress, skirting the edge of your underwear until he feels the damp spot outside of them. “Do you feel that,” you ask him in a pained whisper, “just how much I want you?”

You can see the exact moment his pupils widen, a low feral moan emitting from deep in his chest and you think you can see the moment that his mind snaps into a different setting, the way that soft brown gaze darkens. His lips find yours again, groans escaping as his teeth nip and pull at your bottom lip.

“Take them off,” he commands. It’s not an ask, not a suggestion, it’s a command.

You smirk, remembering this side of Frankie. This possessive and demanding side. You play with the hem of your dress, teasing him painfully as you stand at the edge of the bed and push him onto his back so you’re standing over him as you slowly lift the fabric over your body. Your legs part just enough for him to see between them, the cotton still covering your sweetest spot that Frankie is so desperate to taste.

He kicks off his own clothes, leaving him in nothing but his briefs to watch you toy with him as you shake your hips from side to side in front of his long legs.

“Enough of that, get over here,” he reaches out for you, one hand taking your wrist and pulling you to straddle over his legs. You climb on top of his hips, feeling the hard length beneath you and grind down on top of him.

A moan escapes your lips, “please Frankie,” you beg. His thumb strokes the outside of your panties, letting your moisture soak through them.

“You look so good like this baby,” he moans, “fuck, just like this. On top of me, looking down at me, just like this,” he sits up so your noses touch and brings his lips to yours, kissing you madly.

“Do you have any idea how much I miss being inside you?” he asks, hand still grinding into your now soaked panties. “Any idea at all? That I touch myself thinking about you, knowing you’re laying in here all alone. That you’ve gone all this time without me?” he bites your ear as he groans while you grind down on his hard cock.

His fingers find their way beneath the cotton, slipping into your warmth and coating themselves between your slick folds. A sharm breath hitches in your throat as his finger brushes over that sensitive little nub and your hips buck forward, grinding down on his fingers.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” he says as his mouth travels down your neck, peppering kisses and bites the whole way down.

“I did too… I mean… I, oh fuck…” you grind your hips again on his palm, feeling the sweet release of pleasure against your clit.

“You what?” he slowed his fingers, waiting for your answer.

You let out a whine, frustrated by the sudden lack of movement, “babyyyy,” you groan.

“Tell me. What did you do?” he pulls his head back to look you in the eyes.

“I touched myself. I thought of you and touched myself,” you felt his fingers move again and your eyes practically rolled in your head.

One of his thick fingers finds your entrance and you feel him slowly sliding his finger in, massaging the walls of your cunt. A high pitched cry escapes you as you move your hips on him, bunching your hands in his shirt to pull him closer at the feeling of his fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, Frankie!” You feel his other hand come to your breast and massage, his mouth finding your nipple and taking it between his lips he rolls it to a hard peak.

“Tell me what you did,” he adds another finger, making you clench around him harder.

“I pictured…” you swallow harshly, “oh fuck… I pictured y-your cock,” you admitted.

His fingers curled, reaching the depths of you and stroked the embers that were just about to die out, igniting them with a full force that you could barely tolerate. Your teeth sank into the thread of his shoulder, biting through a sob as he worked you.

“Baby, I’m going to cum if you- oh fuck… if you don’t s-stop i’m gon… gon-a fuck!” your legs began to shake like they always did before you came, his fingers pumping and stroking relentlessly without holding back. Your back arches up into his mouth, body molding to his as your orgasm rips through you and takes hold of you deep within your core.

Fire shoots through your veins, spreading like a wildfire as stars explode behind your eyes, blinding you completely. You close them, hearing Frankie call your name as he begs you to look at him and when you do, you see fear and lust and worry scattered across his face. His lips find yours, “look at me when you cum baby, please, I-” his tongue dances with yours, “I need you to know it’s me… that we are here in this moment together.” He pulls back and searches your face as your hands come up to each side of his jaw, thumbs mindlessly stroking through his patchy beard as a small tear you weren’t even aware of slips from your eye.

“Baby, I’m here, I’m with you,” you whisper, pulling his face down to yours.

You slide your hand down his chest, feeling his fingers still plunged deep within you, and move your fingers with his, stretching yourself out just a little further than you’d ever been before.

“But I need you to fuck me or else I’m going to lose my mind,” you smile seductively.

His cock pulses on your thigh in response, ready and waiting to be brought into action. As he removes his hand, the wet suction of your pussy trying to keep him rooted within you echoes between you. His cock jumps again, begging to be buried inside you.

“Fuck baby, you…. s’so… so perfect.” he can barely speak.

“Frankie, please,” you whine, squirming under him, “fuck me.”

His eyes darken and his tongue darts out over his bottom lip. You lean forward, grasping him in your palm and squeeze, Frankie responding with a sharp hiss as your hand begins pumping his cock at your entrance. Not that he needed the help, he was throbbing, pulse bouncing within him.

In one motion, your legs instinctually wrap around his waist, pulling him in towards you in a desperate attempt to get him inside you. It doesn’t take much though. It’s obvious how much he wants you, how much he needs you .

It’s a magic moment, the one where his eyes lock on to yours, hands wrapping around your face, as he pulls you in close and guides himself to your entrance. He stills, searching your face for the fraction of hesitation from you and it almost breaks you to see him search your features for the evidence that you didn’t want this - that you didn’t want him anymore.

“Baby,” you whisper, “I’m right here,” your hand strokes his hair away from his face, searching his own eyes.

“Do you-” he pauses, stroking your hair back, “do you want this? Are you positive? Because I can always st-” you cut him off with a slow kiss, shuddering into his lips before pulling back and look at his beautiful face, his eyes pinching in concern. “We don’t have to do this, baby….” he whispered. “If you’re not ready…”

“Frankie…” you whisper, feeling how desperate his cock is for you. “I love you. I want you ,” you emphasize. It breaks your heart seeing him like this. Broken after months of you pushing him, distancing yourself in the worst way. The damage was done, and here you both were, falling back together trying to undo the disaster you’d both found yourself in.

He nods, kissing you deeply as he takes your legs and untangles them from around his hips and spreads them against the soft sheets. His cock barely nudging against your cunt, Frankie is barely holding himself together. It’s torture, complete madness for the two of you. And you’d had enough of it.

Grabbing his ass, you pull him in deep towards you, his cock spreading your folds wide as it forces its way into your incredibly tight hole. Your head rolls back and a moan flies out from your mouth as his hips match up with yours.

Frankie’s head flops forward, feeling this overwhelming urge to collapse and explode right then and there. But he doesn’t, he resolves whatever was brewing within himself and he slowly begins to move. Hips driving into you slowly at first but then picking up to a speed that could only be described as destructive .

“How does that feel?” he asks, setting this incredible pace that you almost can’t keep up with.

He pulls out of you almost entirely, only the solid tip of him resting inside you. The thick drag makes you aware of each inch of him, makes you forget how to breathe and from the breath caught in his own throat, you think he is experiencing the exact same thing.

“God, you’re fucking killing me,” he murmurs, brushing his lip over your shoulder, teeth grazing your fevered skin.

It’s almost too much, the feeling of him stretching you, the moans escaping both of you, the sound of skin on skin. It’s enough to make you want to sing out or cry. His hands explore your body, touching you in ways that you’ve been dreaming about the last few months.

“Fu-fuck… fuck, baby… Fran-Frankie…” you can barely get the words out, “ don’tfuckingstopbaby …” you pant. Frankie pulls you up, a sitting position for the two of you so your noses are right together.

“Ride me, baby. Take control… take me ,” he whispers the last part as your hips start a slow-rolling rotation over him, your arms rest over his shoulders, hands messing in his hair, pulling slightly on the messy curls as you grind down on him, sliding his cock in and out of your hole.

“Fuck baby…” you groan out into his ear, teeth scraping against his earlobe.

The pace starts to pick up, your tits bouncing in his face as he takes one in his mouth and starts sucking, teasing, and playing with you. You toss your head back, the feeling overwhelming as he spears you from below.

But it’s almost over before it starts, his hips come to a slowing halt as Frankie pants heavily, his forehead resting against your collarbone and a crease appears between his brows with a pained expression. His shoulders rising and falling with the heavy breath he’s caressing your skin with.

“Frankie, you ok?” you look at him, concerned.

“Yeah, just give me a second, I just… I need to breathe for a minute” he hugs you closer to him with a shaking breath, laughing slightly. It’s hard not to smile at his reaction, to have a man you’ve been with for most of your life so affected by you as if it’s his very first time.

This man was going to be the death of you, the praise slipping out of your lips, how good he is, how amazing he is being, how perfect of a man he is. And you know he needs to hear it almost as much as he loves to hear the praise. Mostly because the way he captures your mouth in an explosive and yet passion-fueled kiss is enough to drive you over the edge.

You move your hips slightly, feeling him treasuring the slow pull of his lips against yours while he’s inside of you. Then Frankie opens his eyes and just looks at you, brown eyes filled with unguarded warmth. It’s like he’s seeing you again for the first time. Like he’s coming home again and again with each thrust. And in a way, he is, because to him, you are home.

Leaning forward, you roll your hips into him, hands braced over the lean muscles of his thighs, appreciatively. A long, filling stroke inside you, before dropping back down to the beautiful sound of Frankie’s strangled moans as you build up the devastating rhythm of his hips meeting yours at every downstroke.

“Cariño, fuck… are you close?” It’s a rasped ask, and his lips fall to your breast, to the spot right above where your heart is thumping hard and fast. You nod, feeling his hands wrap around your body as he brings you back, moving you in sync together. His thighs flex as he pushes up firmly, causing you to fall forward and cling to his shoulders from the sheer force of his thrusts.

The damp curls from his lower stomach, leading to where you are joined glistens with your arousal as you rock your hips over him, moaning his name into his ear. There’s only the sensation of Frankie completely filling you, the hard thickness of him, and how much you’ve missed this as it takes away the aching emptiness inside you. It’s becoming impossible to have a single coherent thought anymore.

“God... I, fuck.. J’just like that… f-fu” he can barely speak as he thrusts. “S’so perfe-ct,” his body working in slow movements as he starts but then he starts to pick up the pace, moving quicker and quicker, bodies moving together in sync.

You hear skin against skin echoing in your room, the sound of being fucked properly as he grunts and groans through each thrust. He pins your legs open, taking one hand and rubbing his thumb against your bundle of nerves making your head flop back, your fingers sharply digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck - this… this what you needed?” he wheezes, his pace turning ferocious. “I know you needed this, little bird.” he can barely breathe he’s fucking you at such a fast pace. All you can hear is your own screams mixed with the sound of your thighs against his.

Your eyes start to roll as your orgasm barrels through you, “Francisco! Fu-fuck I’m cum-” is all you get out before you gush out all over him, the evidence of your orgasm flowing between the two of you.

It’s possibly the most beautiful thing you’ve seen when he throws his head back as your cunt squeezes him tightly, his lips parting as his lean throat exposes to you as he lets out a growl. Legs trembling, he starts to tense in that all too familiar way, signaling his arrival of his own orgasm. You recognize the strained inhale and hiss of his breath as he stops thrusting, trying to hold back. He grips at you, in an attempt to beg you to still but you can’t, your own orgasm riding through you and his cock drawing it out in waves.

“Fuck! Baby, stop… stop, please… stop,” he pleads, practically whimpering into your chest.

“Baby, please. Don’t stop… please…” you beg him, grinding down on him, “I want you to come inside me,” at your admission, his hand curls tight into your hips, almost hard enough to bruise your already tender skin. A strained whine that escapes from deep in his chest, as one arm locks tightly around your back, pushing you flush up against him when he pushes himself into you sharply, up and into you as far as he can, like he was reaching for your heart with his cock.

“It’s ok. I’ve got you,” you whisper into his ear, running your hand through his soft curly hair.

You feel it as he comes, a shattered sob muffled against your neck, hips pressed impossibly deep into you, the thick pulses as he spills inside of you and it mingles with your own orgasm, and all you can do is hold him against you as he quivers and shakes in your arms. You both sit there for another few minutes, breathing in each other while you come down from this incredible high you just experienced together.

Frankie lays you back, still rooted within you as he kisses you deeply and softly. His hands come to your face as you both stretch out together, tangling under the sheets, embracing in the moment of you finally coming home together - coming home to each other .

He pulls back from you, eyes searching your face as he brushes your hair from your face, “I love you,” he whispers, almost so softly, so sweetly that it breaks you all over again. “I know I didn’t tell you enough, I wasn’t there enough, but you’re my everything… I-” he pauses, “I would be so lost without you and I’m,” he chokes up as you look up into his eyes, seeing the pure raw emotion within his chocolate pools.

“I’m here, Francisco… you have me, all of me,” you assure him, pulling him into a soft hug, holding him as his eyes water up, the realization hitting both of you just how far things had gone between you.

Eventually, you both pull apart, but wrap yourselves in each other and just stay there, breathing in the air mixing between you. It’s an old habit brought back, Frankie’s fingers finding their way to your hair, mindlessly stroking and weaving through your messy, post-sex hair that makes you shiver against him. His lips pressing gentle kisses against your forehead as his other hand strokes gently down your bare back.

“I love you…” he whispers, over and over again, “I will never stop loving you,” he kisses your temple.

You pull back, looking at the man that you had pushed away, that you’d forgotten loved you so deeply and so strongly and you kiss him, remembering all those years ago at the courthouse when you recited the most important words to him. It came out of you, like a renewal of your vows, and it just felt so right. The words were so important, something so sacred. And to start to fix this, to heal you , maybe remembering them was exactly what you needed.

“Frankie, you love me and complete me in ways I never knew possible. From this day forth, I promise to listen to you and learn from you, to support you and accept your support…” you smile, remembering your vows like they were yesterday.

His head comes down to yours, forehead pressed against your own as he recites parts of his own, “Forever with you simply will not be enough, but from this day forward, I vow to make the most of every moment. Let me be the shoulder you lean on and the companion of your life. With this ring,” he takes your hand, planting a kiss on your wedding band, “I promise you that you'll never have to face the world alone.”

[sleepyfan-blog]

*Tired nyoom* I'm tired, stressed, and requesting some angsty Angel's Flower with that thing we discussed in Discord with Ink trying to basically get rid of Venus and take Heelies back home

fandom: Undertale AU

characters and pairing: Ink, Heliotrope, Venus - ocs by @izzy-the-bizzy Angel’s Flower

warnings: attempted murder, kidnapping

word count: 2,116

Summary: Ink is determined to save his poor, brainwashed son from the seductive clutches of Evil. Even if he has to kill to do it.

tagslist: @anxiety-is-married-to-depression @angelofthehalfmoon @trainwreck-of-skeletons @hisame-amadashi​ @therandomskelekey @capisnotonfire

Ink was pacing back and forth, the more that he thought about the argument that he had with Heelies, the more upset that he got.

“You do realize that Venus is Nightmare’s top spy! They are trying to turn you to his side, so that you will fight against us and spread evil!” Ink had pointed out with a growl, not wanting his precious son to be tainted by Nightmare’s darkness.

“Yes, I know that they work for Nightmare! But they would never hurt me, and I love them. They love me.” Heelies snapped back, his generally laid back and easy going demeanor having changed completely. The younger skeleton is glaring at his dad and his fists are balled at his sides.

Ink has never seen his son so aggressive before - further proof that Nightmare and this Venus have been trying and are succeeding in twisting his gentle, naive baby boy into someone dangerous and deadly. “Nightmare is an expert in breaking minds and twisting people to suit his will. I don’t want him to break you and turn you into a parody of who you are, Heelies. I love you dearly, and I want you to be safe.”

“I am safe! And you say that Nightmare is evil and wants to destroy the multiverse. He doesn’t - I’ve seen how he deals with some of the worst timelines I’ve ever seen. He negotiates with their leaders - the human and monster - in exchange for resources or space. Yes, he is interfering with the stories that the timelines are supposed to take… But he seems to be trying to interfere for the better.” Heelies huffed, glaring more at his papa, shaking with anger.

Ink’s eye lights widen, and he whispers just loud enough for his son to hear “By the creators… I was worried that things were bad, but I… I hadn’t thought that Nightmare and that seductive spy of his had twisted your mind so far…” He reached out to his son, but Heelies darted back, the scowl on his face darker than Ink had ever seen it.

“Ven hasn’t twisted my mind, and neither has Mr. Nightmare. Both of them are very different hen who you believe them to be, dad. I… This was exactly the reason why I never wanted to tell you that I was dating someone. I knew that you’d freak out about it, especially since Ven isn’t the sort of person you’d approve of me dating.” Heelies had hissed, hurt and frustrated and unwilling to let Ink reach out and hug the other close, to help him calm down.

“Heelies, please be reasonable. Don’t-” Ink began, trying to placate his son, but the other cut him off abruptly.

“I am being reasonable! You’re the one who won’t listen! I’m leaving and you can’t stop me!” Heliotrope had yelled, teleporting away and though Ink tried to teleport after the other, Heelies had used several portals through a half-dozen AUs, and Ink couldn’t track the other.

Ink had managed to find his wayward, manipulated son. Heliotrope was, of course, in the timeline that Nightmare had set up his main base - or at least one of them. It was the base that Nightmare held Dream hostage on numerous occasions, and trying to get into that timeline was always a pain, as the very magic of the AU seemed to resist his presence entering it. Ink was fairly sure that NIghtmare had somehow woven spells into the base code of the timeline itself so that he couldn’t enter timelines with liquids in them somehow.

But for now, the creative guardian wasn’t wondering how that was fucking possible. He had decided on a course of action. Venus was the one who had stolen his precious’ son’s heart, and as long as they were alive, they would have a pull on his heart, as Heelies was an intensely loyal and caring person (much like his papa, Blue)… So Ink was going to kill Venus and take his son back. He was well aware of the fact that killing them would hurt Heelies, but it would be for the best. Heelies would eventually forgive him, especially after the other forgot about Venus - as Heelies did have some of Ink’s own forgetfulness tendencies, needing to keep a pad of paper and something to write with in his inventory to keep track of important things.

He and Blue had argued about what to do for months and months. But Ink was certain that the longer that they hesitated and delayed, the more deeply brainwashed and darker Heelies would become, and the longer it would take for his son to recover from the awful misery that Nightmare was doubtlessly putting their son through. He wrote a note to Blue and Dream - in case either one of them stopped by the house before he was back.

I’m going to go get Heelies back! And make sure that the one who took him from us is permanently dealt with. See you later! ~Ink

With a roll of his shoulders, Ink concentrated hard on Nightmare’s castle, intending to appear on the roof, rather than inside one of the rooms, where someone could be in and then alert the rest of the castle to his presence. It took a solid ten minutes of focusing, but Ink felt his magic shift and twist.

He activated his eye lights and sure enough, the rust-red sky was overhead, the miserable bare dirt fields that extended in rolling waves all around the spikey, intimidating looking castle. Ink closed his eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips as he sensed Venus’s magic. They were alone from what he could tell. Good, that would make things easier. He teleported directly outside of the younger skeleton’s room, broom in hand. He activated a bit of his magic, the magical paint beginning to drip from the tip of broomy’s brush as he walked in.

Venus turned towards him, the smile on their face falling somewhat as they recognized him “I… Oh… Hello?” They looked a little cautious but confused. “Uhm… Why are you here?”

“To see you and Heelies, of course. It’s been months since I’ve seen my son, and I’m worried about him… You are in possession of his heart. He’s’ a gentle soul. Sweet, cheerful… Oh, he can pretend to be scary and bluster all he likes… But you and I both know that he couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Haha… Yeah. Heelies is such a pacifist. It’s really endearing to see him try to spar against a couple of the others though. He tries really hard. He just… He’s wonderful.” The vile villain hummed, an amused smirk playing on their lips, a cruel parody of a loving tone in their voice. “He misses you and Blue. He won’t admit it easily, but I can sense that he does. He’d be so happy to hear that you’re in the castle ‘cause you want to talk to him.”

“Actually, I wanted to speak to you, first. As I previously stated, you hold my son’s rather fragile soul in your hands… And I just…” Ink sighs, shaking his head as he takes his brush from behind his back, beginning to lean on it, faux-casually “I’m just not convinced that you’re the right person for him. How many have you killed? How many AUs have fallen into NIghtmare’s control because of the intel that you gather? Dozens? Hundreds? I know that your LV is comparable to Dust or Killers, and they’ve both slaughtered their entire timeline - and that was before Nightmare got his hands on them.”

Venus flinched, looking away from him, shifting uncomfortably, their wings partially wrapping around themself in a gesture that would be a subconscious attempt at soothing themself if Ink didn’t know that they were a master manipulator - just like their boss, Nightmare. “I… I’d rather not think about how many people I’ve killed. I-I’ve killed many of them in s-self defense. Besides we’ve… We’ve been doing things differently in the past decade or two. Less murder and more negotiation. It helps that Papa and Sat drop by and visit. Their nagging helps Dad think things through a bit more logically. I… I know that I have blood and dust on my hands… But… Mr. Ink, sir. I… I really, truly love Heelies. He’s the light of my life, and I… I’ve never realized what it was like to be in love until Heelies came crashing into my life. I… I know that I’m not what you’d hope for in a partner for Heelies, but I try to be worthy of him. I… I know that I’ve become a better person, since I’ve gotten to know him.”

Hmmm… Venus had definitely been taught how to persuade others by Nightmare - that same silver tongue… Wait - dad. Papa. Whoever the fuck Sat was. Ink’s eye lights swirl in a chaotic swirl of colors and shapes as something that he’d been just about to connect for a while now finally slid into place “Wait… You’re Nightmare’s child? Not someone who he picked up in a timeline because he found you to be useful?”

“Yes. I’m his oldest child. Saturn is my younger brother… Did you not know that?” Venus responded, a startled frown appearing on their face.

By the creators, that added another layer of twistedness to all of this! It also explained why Dream was so… Strange when it came to Venus. He had a tangled past with Nightmare, and would of course be aware of Venus’s parentage. Why Dream knew so much about Nightmare, the positive guardian never said. But this… Perhaps with Venus’s death, it would give the dark and destructive lord of negativity a bit of pause to grieve, and give him and the other Star Sanses time to breathe and plan how to deal with the other’s charm offensive. “No, I did not. Is Saturn in the castle as well?” Killing both of Nightmare’s children would surely be a benefit to the multiverse - but he’d settle for the one who had stolen his son’s soul for now.

“No, Sat is usually with papa, or hidden away in some timeline that dad and I can’t get to, due to being negative beings. But papa’s gotten better about that as dad’s calmed down and the two of them have started talking instead of just fighting.” Venus responded.

Ink squinted at the other for a moment, before deciding that they were telling him the truth. He knew that Nightmare didn’t lie with every breath, though the creative guardian didn’t trust the bastard at all. He sent the other a warm smile “Well, this has been a very enlightening talk.  It’s just… It’s a pity that you are Nightmare’s child, haha. I was almost convinced that you actually love my son. Goodbye.” He struck as confusion filled the younger being, their movements slowed to the point where Ink was able to strike them down.

Venus had managed to dodge just enough to avoid a completely fatal blow, and the other screamed, their magic reverberating around the castle as a wave of pure negativity hit Ink hard, sending the creative guardian staggering backwards and falling to his knees.

Nightmare himself teleported in, confusion and fear on the other’s face at the gaping, paint-splattered wound, hissing as a couple of tentacles wrapped protectively around his child. “Ink-” The other growled, lunging for the creative guardian.

“Pfhaha… Good luck keeping your child from dusting, Nightmare. Perhaps now you will know the pain that you have inflicted on countless others. Ciao~!” Ink purred, a feral grin on his face as he teleported out of the room, reappearing next to Heelies - who was running towards the dying Venus. “Heeelies, my darling son! Time to come home!” Ink ordered, flicking his magic over his son, even as the other tried and failed to dodge, the other’s form losing cohesion as he turned into a purple puddle, the other’s soul floating on top. He scooped the other up and gently put him in a magically protected mason jar. “You be a good boy now and try not to reform. Papa’s got you. I’ll make sure that you’ll be all better. Besides, the wicked creature who stole your heart won’t be distracting you any more. Papa made sure of that.” With that, he teleported out of the AU, dodging several different bone and blaster attacks from Nightmare’s furious lieutenants.

Heelies was safely ensconced in his arms, bubbling and shifting in the jar in great distress, but the other would settle down soon enough. Ink was sure of that “Shhh… It’s okay… Papa’s got you… Shhh… Things will get better, I promise…”

[actuallyredorchid]

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

*All answers should be about works published in 2017.

1. List of works published this year: 

NON-SHADOWHUNTERS

Adventures in Autumn (jukebox fic)

SHADOWHUNTERS (TV)

Sliding Doors Series

Closed Doors Don’t Lie (started in 2016, completed in 2017)

An Alliance For the Ages

The Spaces in Between

Quid Pro Quo series

A Little Spark of Heart

Canon-remixes, missing scenes and fix-its

Turning the Tide (S02E01)

No Sweeter Victory (S02E06)

Warm in Your Light (S02E07)

Aftermath (S01E12)

Four Mornings Without You (S02E15)

Communication is Key (S02E17)

One-shots

Battle of Runes (co-write with @janoda)

Lighthouse in the Woods (Lydia/Izzy soulmate AU)

Spectre (Halloween angst)

WIPs

Speak No Evil (Speakeasy AU)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why): Adventures in Autumn. I just really, really love that one. I think it’s easily the most creative story I’ve written this year, and it was a really cool writing experience (I was so in the zone, I almost missed a flight). So if you are going to read one fic by me this year, please make it that one. It doesn’t get any hits because it’s not really “in” a fandom, but I’m still going to signal boost it like crazy, because I honestly think it’s better than most other things I’ve written to date.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why): Hmmm... I don’t really have any fics that I’m unhappy with (because those never make it to posting). Possibly Lighthouse or Spectre, because I ran out of time on both of those and had to cut the story short (both of them had much longer stories planned in the outline). 

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing: 

“Oh yes, the ducks are the lost princes of this kingdom,” the Wolf said, reaching for the latch of the cage and opening it. “A wizard enchanted them and stole them away. I’ve been helping the queen to find them. They call me the King of Aquitaine here—mostly as a joke, I must admit—but the name I usually carry is Printemps. Now, forest child, shall we go?” (Adventures in Autumn)

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received: I love when people make guesses about what’s going to happen further on in the story when reading a WIP. My other favourite thing is “live tweet comments”, i.e. when someone writes down their reactions as they read. That is the best thing ever.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard: Writing Clary’s POV in Speak No Evil. It just doesn’t come natural to me, at all.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: My characters always surprise me. That’s what I love the most about writing. Simon is being particularly good at it right now. :)

8. How did you grow as a writer this year: I did GYWO this year, which really helped me get into more of a regular rhythm with my writing.

9. How do you hope to grow next year: Improve that even more.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): I love my betas and cheerleaders. @letswastetimehere, @fanny-toric, @janoda and @only-1-a, you have all been amazing. <3 Also, every single person who has reblogged one of my fics (I read all the tags, and I really appreciate them) or commented on them on AO3. So much love!

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: Always. :)

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Write drunk, edit sober (that one isn’t new, though XD).

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: Lots! I’m looking forward to finishing Speak No Evil (which is seriously so much fun to write). And then I’m doing the SH hiatus bang, with a story I’m really excited about. And then there are a few WIPs I’d like to finish. And then, when S03 starts, I’m sure there’ll be more canon-related fics as well.

Tag writers whose answers you’d like to read. @greenfeelings @maleccrazedauthor @janoda @fanny-toric

[singingwordwright]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Characters: Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane Additional Tags: Angst, Introspection, First Date, Awkwardness Series: Part 3 of A Series of Completely Not Awkward Encounters

When he first opens his eyes, Alec isn’t sure where he is. But the unique amalgamation of renovated industrial space meets old-world bordello quickly places him in Magnus’s loft.

On the sofa. Where he passed out after Magnus fixed him a drink. A glimpse at the end-table shows the glass still sitting there, almost untouched.

Alec twists when he hears a rustle behind him. Magnus is standing at a bookshelf he doesn’t recall being there before, filling it with tomes from a sizeable stack against the wall. Alec squints at them.

“Didn’t I see some of those at Camille’s apartment?”

“Ah, you’re awake!” Magnus deposits the book he’s holding with a flourish and turns to smile at him. He moves with a fluttery, bustling sort of energy that Alec is beginning to suspect happens only when Magnus is trying too hard to keep things light. “And yes. At one time I had left a sizeable portion of my library with Camille and then never reclaimed them because I kept putting off the distasteful task of dealing with her. But since she appears to have flitted off to parts unknown to avoid Raphael as well as whatever unpleasantness Valentine might have in store for us, I figured now was the best opportunity I’d have to get them back. Did you rest well?”

Magnus tosses the question out easily, returning his attention to cataloging books. Nonetheless, Alec feels his face beginning to heat. This was not how he wanted their first date to go. “I—I didn’t mean to—What was in that drink?”

“The drink you barely touched?” Magnus chuckles. “It’s less the contents of the drink than the fact that I got you to sit down to drink it. You were operating much like a bicycle.”

Alec gives him a narrow look. “If this is leading to an innuendo, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Tempting, but too easy.” Magnus’s grin sparkles brighter than all his jewelry. “No, the punchline is just that you could remain upright only so long as you were still in motion.” His smile fades and he leans a shoulder against the bookshelf. The casual pose is just the smallest bit too contrived; Alec has started to see, now, how often Magnus disguises concern behind a blithe façade. “Had I known just how exhausted you were, I might have insisted you stay home and rest.”

Alec sighs and hangs his head, checking his pockets. “Right. Yeah. It’s been—” He breaks off, patting harder when his search comes up empty, an edge of worry creeping in.

“Looking for this?” Magnus waggles his phone in front of him and Alec blinks in surprise, not only at its appearance but at Magnus’s sudden nearness. “Your sister called twice, once to say she and Clary Fairchild were tracking down a possible lead and that she would follow up with you to let you know if it panned out, and then again to inform you that no, it had not.”

Alec takes the phone and sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Damn. Wait. She didn’t wonder why you were answering my phone?”

Magnus drops a cheeky wink. “Oh, I’m sure she had her theories, but rather than leave it to chance, I made certain to inform her that you were sprawled out naked on my bed, sleeping the sleep of the well and truly post-coital.”

Alec chokes on spit and his face ignites. “ What ?” He gawks at Magnus, his eyes watering as he coughs.

Grin broadening, Magnus leans closer, his voice dropping to a timbre that settles somewhere south of Alec’s navel. “Should I have told her the truth?” he purrs. The effect of his tone is so far opposite that of his words that Alec isn’t sure he won’t simply melt down in sheer bewilderment. “Imagine her crushing disappointment if she thought you spent our first date snoring on my couch.”

Torn between crawling under the sofa cushions in mortification and taking advantage of the fact that Magnus is so damned close, Alec slumps against the back of the sofa, closes his eyes, and groans. “Oh God. I’m so, so sorry…”

Magnus continues as though he doesn’t hear the apology, and his voice is so close to Alec’s ear that every nerve ending on that side of his body lights up. “Of course, I’m not entirely certain she believed me. We may have to brainstorm some form of evidence to offer. Souvlaki?”

Alec’s brain stumbles, trying to follow the non-sequitur while simultaneously offering a number of uncensored suggestions relating to the concept of “evidence.” Consequently, words abandon him, leaving him stammering. It happens frequently enough in Magnus’s presence as to be humiliatingly commonplace.

“S-sorry, what?”

A slow smile curls Magnus’s shimmery lips and his eyes twinkle with a humor than Alec suspects would seem mocking on anyone else, but on Magnus it’s just gentle and understanding and fun . “I took the liberty of ordering in, since it seemed like there was a chance we wouldn’t make it to dinner after all. Are you hungry?”

Alec can’t help but smile back. “Yeah, I guess I am. Izzy’s been trying to cook more than usual lately. I think she’s trying to figure out the concept of comfort food.”

Magnus beams and he offers Alec a hand to pull him off the sofa. He accepts without thinking, then grunts as muscles that stiffened during his nap protest.

“Tough patrol last night?” Magnus asks, his head tipping to the side and his eyes narrowing a little as he scans Alec for hints of injury.

“Not exactly.” Alec sighs ruefully, rubbing his ribs as he follows Magnus into the kitchen. “Ever heard the old saying about the most dangerous opponent being the untrained one?”

Magnus’s soft chuckle is almost musical, the mellow, resonant low register of a xylophone gently thrumming along Alec’s spine until the sound finds a home somewhere beneath his sternum. “Ah. Been sparring with the newest addition to your merry Nephilim tribe, I take it?”

“Well, someone has to. Izzy insists that I do it, supposedly because Clary has to learn to fight things that are bigger than she is.” He smiles wryly and takes a seat on a stool at a breakfast bar as Magnus dishes up food for them both. “I don’t buy it. Either she’s trying to avoid injury herself, or she’s trying to broker peace. Good luck with that. We have a common goal now. That doesn’t make us friends.”

There’s something deceptively bland about Magnus’s regard. Alec might have fallen for it if he hadn’t been one the receiving end of a similar stare from Lydia just a few hours ago. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Magnus shakes himself and sets a plate before Alec, conjuring two glasses of wine into being in front of them before hitching himself up onto the other stool. “I just find this tension between you and Clary curious. The two of you have so much in common.”

“Aside from Jace?” Alec gives him a dubious look.

Magnus’s face tightens for a fraction of a second, then smoothes over. Perhaps their first date isn’t a great time to remind him that there’s a small (and continually shrinking) part of Alec still trying to let go of the infatuation he’d nurtured for his parabatai for years. He’s starting to see how ridiculous it was, and that it was mostly born out of a naive belief that life would always be just Alec and Izzy and Jace, together. Other people might come and go on the fringes of that dynamic, but they would never penetrate the center and disrupt it. That made Jace the object of Alec’s yearning by default.

It was a stupid, childish way of thinking...but it’s also hard to let go of something that habitual and deeply ingrained.

Alec clears his throat and moves past that. “I don’t see that we have anything in common, and I don’t think I’d want to. I mean, okay, I guess it’s not totally her fault that she turned absolutely everything upside down from the moment we came across her, but God, it’s been exhausting and she’s just so damned oblivious to what she’s doing to anyone else when she’s got her mind set on something.”

Silence falls for a thoughtful moment.

“What I was actually referring to is your passionate, all-consuming devotion to family.” Magnus’s bright voice has become somewhat muted. “And personally, I don’t think Clary is oblivious at all. She knows very well what she’s done, but she’s had no more choice than you would have in the same situation. Imagine if it had been Isabelle who disappeared the way Jocelyn did. Whose tidy apple-cart of a life would you have scrupled to upset in your quest to get her back?”

The few bites he’s managed to eat settle uncomfortably in Alec’s stomach and he finds himself twiddling idly with a denuded skewer. The tender lamb he slid off it is no longer very flavorful. The harsh words he’s spoken about Clary—even to the point of calling her manhunt for her mother a pointless crusade —don’t sit very well with him when considered in that light. If anyone ever described a hypothetical search for someone Alec loved in such a dismissive way, much less tried to impede Alec’s attempts to find them, he would put them head-first through a wall.

The wave of irritation with himself that swells up and threatens to drown Alec comes as a surprise. It strikes him like a blow, how wrong-headed he’s been lately about so very many things.

What is he doing here? Why does Magnus even want him here? He’s tight-assed and judgmental and he comes from a long line of bigots in a culture full of bigots and he knows now that he has not been entirely immune to the influence of that upbringing. He can barely string together three words in Magnus’s presence, and when he’s managed it, they’ve most often been harsh rebuffs of affectionate overtures. And the rest of the time they’ve been outpourings of concern for the other guy he’s still partially hung-up on.

And then, just to complete his image as a total clod, he goes and falls asleep barely minutes into their first date.

About the only flaw Alec can no longer bludgeon himself with is the cowardice of still being closeted. He wishes he could reclaim the surety he felt in those few instants between striding away from the altar and the completion of the kiss he’d laid on Magnus there in front of everyone. The righteous self-assurance that had led to him looking his parents squarely in the eye and telling them he was going to be with Magnus and they’d better get used to the idea.

He’d liked that version of himself. He wants to figure out how to find that guy again.

Magnus hasn’t spoken again. He’s leaving Alec alone with his thoughts. Not pushing. Waiting for him to process this new perspective.

“Why haven’t you given up on me?” Alec blurts. It sounds pathetic. Like he’s fishing for compliments or reassurance. But he needs to know. “The way I treated you… Some of the things I said… I mean, you tell me how longs it’s been and then you keep putting yourself out there for me and then I accuse you of.. I-I… What I’m saying is, I know it’s not a game to you. That was unfair. And I’m sorry.”

Magnus smiles that sympathetic smile. Glittery and charming, but with an underside of tenderness that Alec feels like a hug. A smile that says Magnus knows all about mistakes because he’s probably made every one that can be made at least twice over, and it’s okay.

“No one is just their confusion or resentment or fear or angst,” he says, his words gentle despite the lightness in his tone. “People have layers.”

Alec squints at him. “You planning to try to tell me Freud said that, too?”

“No, that philosophy is courtesy of an ogre named Shrek.”

Alec blinks, then shakes his head with wry amusement as Magnus grins.

“And there’s the other reason.” Magnus’s hand is as warm as his eyes when it settles along Alec’s jaw, his thumb brushing Alec’s bottom lip where it’s drawn up into a helpless smile. “Like the sun peeking out between clouds on a stormy day.”

Maybe Alec can’t quite seize onto the courage that drove him back down that aisle to plant that desperate kiss on Magnus the first time, but he doesn’t need it. All he needs to do is follow the invitation in that hand back to the person it’s attached to and lay claim to the kiss that’s waiting for him when he arrives.

It’s not quite as terrifying this time, but no less exhilarating. What follows is a long moment filled with breathy gasps and soft moans, of bodies moving unconsciously closer to one another, seeking hands transitioning to encircling arms, fabric rubbing on fabric and fingers carding through silky hair.

When they part, Alec’s heart is knocking hard against his ribs and Magnus’s breath gusts shallowly against his neck. His lips seek Magnus’s jaw like they’re pulled there by gravity, and he slurs his next words against skin that smells like aftershave and herbs.

“So, out of curiosity? Just what were you thinking when you mentioned ‘evidence’...?”

BUY ME A CUP OF COFFEE!!

[madfatty]

the space between - an mmfd fic #22

We find ourselves once again, standing on the front step of 18 Elm Park Road, Stamford, with a six pack of Breezers under our arm and swiping lip gloss from our teeth one last time. This one goes off-script which is not my usual way of doing things at all, but we do end up at the same place eventually, I’ve just chosen an alternate, and some might say arduous, road to get there. I couldn’t sustain the fluff levels of the last one but hopefully you’ll find one or two things to smile at. It’s me though, so you might have to work for them. ;)

I should warn you that my Fizzy love got the better of me and while this is indeed, as they all are and will ever be, about Rae and Finn, this is pretty much a blatant, bold-faced love letter to our Miss Izzy. Chloe however, does not fare as well. I hope you’re okay with that.

I’ve quoted big Willy Shakespeare in this one, again, not my usual way of doing things but, you know, go with it if you can.

The title comes from the Dave Matthews Band song of the same name from the Everyday album. I think I may have used it before for something I wrote in a different fandom, proving that my laziness goes to the bone.

Once again and always, big massive ugly love to @how-ardently because she deserves it, and after my behaviour on this one, wads of stress money, quite frankly.  Writing this has revealed to me something about myself that Erin must have known for ages now; I’m a huge drama queen. I have apologised profusely. How on earth do people write whole books?

Anyway, onwards and inwards (that one’s from the skinny one who plays Marnie in Girls.) Thanks for playing.

the space between

The pervading ooze of over-excited teenagers, spliff, nicotine and booze hangs in a dense low cloud just below the ceiling of all the downstairs rooms, lingers at the bottom of the stairs. It’s so thick she can taste it. She doesn’t know if it’s made its way upstairs but she can wait to find out. She can’t go back up there. Too afraid of who and what she’ll find. Embarrassed and confused, she couldn’t bring herself to go back to her room with all the others in there, scared they’d take the piss; her and Finn, what a joke. So she’d spent the rest of the night wandering aimlessly from room to room, a ghost at the feast. Everywhere there are groups of people she’s never met before, laughing and talking and totally unaware of her existence. It may be her house, but she feels like the intruder.

Even with her friends, she feels separate and strange. Something’s got hold of her tonight, something worrying and familiar and she can’t get past it. Danny’s in the dining room, chatting up Anna and making friends. Archie’s in the front room with Barney and Lizard. Archie’s been a bit besotted since Barney kissed him and they’ve been circling one another, using Lizard as a buffer. Still, Archie looks hopeful. Chop’s been pretty quiet since Izzy kissed him, he hasn’t really spoken to anyone for a while, and now he’s lying in front of the sideboard wrapped in Christmas lights, staring soulfully into space.

She’s not seen Izzy. Or Chloe. Or Finn. Maybe they’re upstairs. Maybe they’ve gone home. She hopes so.

Her act of teenage rebellion has worn her out. It’s late and there are too many people left in her tiny house. She has an overwhelming urge to stand at the front door and call “Time please,” and have them all shuffle out in a quiet and orderly line. Instead she resentfully gathers up all the glasses she can find and heads to the kitchen.

She needs tea and for everyone else to go home. She just wants her house back. She moves about the kitchen mechanically, filling the kettle and then the sink, dumping the dirty glasses into the steaming hot water. She rummages around in the back of the cupboard, pulling her favourite mug from its hiding place and settling in to wait for the kettle to boil.

She catches herself rearranging the fixings - tea, sugar, milk, spoon – in order of size, of application, of expiration date over and over on the worktop. She makes herself look out the window – are they… are those people fucking in her driveway? That’s all she needs, Mrs Dewhurst running over with a bucket of cold water and a policeman by the scruff of the neck with a full written report back to her mother about debauched goings-on in her absence.

She breathes deeply and lowers her hands into the scalding hot water, hissing in satisfaction and relief.

+++++

She hadn’t meant to, but with too many Breezers in her system and all the crying she’d done with Finn and the eternal frustration that was Chop, Izzy had passed out. Spin the bottle had been a complete waste of time, it hadn’t landed on her once and she didn’t want to think about what it meant that Chop was doing the spinning.  Even at the end, when he’d finally kissed her and she showed him up, like he’d done to her at Rutlands, she hadn’t felt vindicated. She just felt lonely and confused. The sourness of the whole evening sits like acid in her belly.

She comes awake slowly, to some kind of noise. Her eyes are gummed shut and her tongue is thick with the sugar from the alcopops but there is definitely a noise. Her first thought is that Finn is crying again. He’d moved to the floor from the bed and fallen asleep on the beanbag. Izzy croaks his name. The noise gets louder; it’s wet and breathy, there’s a groan and it’s making her uncomfortable. Izzy finally prises her eyes open and she squints into the gloom.

The curtains are open and the combination of moonlight and streetlight lend themselves to Izzy being able to make him out lying not far from the edge of the bed. Finn’s shadow looks bigger than it should be. She calls again and she notices the shadow’s moving. There’s a girl, snaked around him, pinning him down. She’s got a handful of his hair, holding him still, her jaw working at his throat. His fingers are flexing at her hip, hitching her dress up high enough to reveal a skimpy pair of knickers. Izzy recognises the dress, if not the knickers.

She watches, horrified, as Chloe trails her other hand over the bare skin of his ribs down to boldly squeeze his cock over his jeans. Finn groans again.

“Oi! I’m in the bloody room, if you don’t mind!” Izzy yells and reaches to switch on the bedside lamp. Her voice sounds excessively loud in the dark and all three of them wince against the volume and the sudden brightness of the light. She’s even less happy now she can see them.

Finn’s discarded t shirt is pooled in a ball on the floor. His lips are swollen and Chloe’s mascara has smudged, the zipper of her dress is open all the way down to her navel. Finn tries to pull the edges of the dress closed before doing up his own fly. There’s no hiding the fact he’s hard.  

“Sorry, Iz.” Finn mumbles into his lap. Embarrassed, he sits up quickly, having to push Chloe off of him to do so. Chloe rolls away, pissed off.  

“I should bloody think so.”

He looks guiltily at Chloe and regretfully at Izzy. “Yeah. I’m gonna go…”

“Good idea,” Izzy grumps and watches him as he hastily heads for the door, hands over his crotch, his shirt forgotten. She turns her steely gaze on Chloe when he’s gone.

Chloe lounges back on her elbows, looking defiant and unrepentant. “Ta very much for that, Izzy. What do you think you were you playing at?”

“What was I playing at?”

“Finn’s a big boy Iz; he can do what he wants.”

“What he wants Chlo, or what you want?”

Chloe doesn’t answer. With a shimmy of her hips, she pulls her dress down to its proper length, such as it is, and pulls the zipper back up almost to where it started out the night. With a roll of her eyes she picks up Finn’s discarded t shirt and follows him out the door.

++++

She’s focused on the hypnotic slow-building bubble and hiss of the kettle working its way to the boil, so Rae doesn’t hear him coming.

“Hey,” he says to her back and his voice makes her jump, brings her back into the room where the radio’s on low and the sink is only half full.  She recovers quickly though, and without looking up from her reddened hands she offers him a quiet “hey.”  

She wants to look up. She wants to smile widely at him and ask about his night but she can’t. She regrets listening to Danny at all, because, surely there comes a point where the person you’re pushing away gets fed up and moves on?

And it is so hard to maintain. What is so bad about smiling when he smiles?  It’s not an admission of anything deeper if she’s nice to him, she doesn’t lose anything by being kind. So she resolves to be both those things, promises herself to be friendlier - until she sees him or hears his voice, there’s a visceral, kneejerk response, overriding her heart and her head and all her good intentions. All her resolutions dissolve and she’s back to spiteful and ungracious. She doesn’t know if it’s still Danny’s voice she can hear or her own fear that’s driving it. No matter how much she wants to let all the bullshit go, she can’t bring herself to just let it be and let it happen. As in all things, she is her own worst enemy.

She keeps her eyes lowered as she feels him walking up behind her. She hears him pick up one of the glasses she must have washed from the draining board. He crowds her, his bare arm cutting across her vision as he reaches for the tap and her reaction is to shy away from him. She closes her eyes and counts under her breath to the sound of the sudden rush of running water filling the glass.  

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice becoming an echo as he takes a mouthful. It’s a harmless, silly question that shouldn’t bother her but it’s exactly the sort of thing that feeds her anger.

“Retiling the bathroom, obviously,” she spits, violently rolling her eyes.

“You don’t need to do that now. We’re going to clean up in the morning.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised you were in charge.”

“We all decided last night that we’re staying, we wouldn’t leave you to clear up on your own. You’d have known that if you’d stuck around a little longer.” He mumbles into the rim of the glass as he takes another sip.  He doesn’t bother to hide the bitter edge to his voice. So, he’s still pissed at her. She can’t really blame him, she supposes, but fuck if it doesn’t get her back up.

“No-one asked for your help, Finn.  I can manage on my own.” She huffs, unable to stop herself.

“Jesus, Rae. I apologised for being a dick. I’m trying really hard, but every little thing still gets turned into an argument. Why is it still like this? Tell me how to fix it.” There’s something sitting along-side the usual annoyed tone he uses when he speaks to her. It’s that same slightly bewildered, slightly hurt voice he’d used in the cupboard earlier. The one that had her doubting the wisdom of heeding Danny’s dating advice, the one that made her momentarily brave enough to hazard a tentative statement of her own.

It’s the one that makes her soften now.  What real harm can it do to be gentler with him?

Rae finally turns to face him, trying to fasten a smile to her lips, something warmer than she’s ever shown him before. He’s not his usual immaculately turned-out self. In fact, he’s decidedly rumpled. His overly fussed-over hair is sticking out at the back. He’s red eyed and red nosed and quiet. There’s an angry bruise beginning to purple the tender skin of his throat and a flaking smear of lip gloss rings his mouth and his normally pale skin is flushed; his face, his neck his chest, his… oh.

He’s not wearing a shirt.

He’s been fucking someone.

In her house.

Someone that isn’t her.

Fuck Danny Two Hats and his stupid advice and fuck her for ever listening to him. And double fuck Finn Nelson for fucking someone who isn’t her in her own house and flaunting it under her nose. She’s a little heartbroken and more than a little pissed off. She pushes down the heartbreak and focuses on the anger.

“Vampires, was it? Lose your shirt in the scuffle?” In her house. Which vampire? She can’t let herself think about it now. She can torture herself with those thoughts later.  She needs for him to leave.

“What?”

She waves her hand in the general vicinity of his throat. He pokes experimentally at his neck and winces when he grazes over the bruise. He has the good grace to look embarrassed.

“Put a shirt on, would you? You’ll have someone’s eye out.” She barks and he immediately folds his arms self-consciously. It only serves to piss her off more. He’s obviously not shy if he’s going to fuck someone who isn’t her in her house. What on earth has he got to be bashful about?

“You can talk.” he mumbles. Even before he’s finished speaking, his eyes and mouth go wide, gaping, his face is incandescent.

They’re talking about bodies. Rae doesn’t talk about bodies, especially her own. She feels that if she doesn’t draw attention to it, then maybe no one will notice she has one. Rae’s own blush seeps into her hairline. She tries to turn it back around on him.

“I’m not the one who’s half naked.”

“Like that would matter.” He thinks he must be having an aneurysm.  Where is this shit coming from? He’s spent most of his life like Silent Sam, couldn’t offer most people a complete sentence if they threatened him at gunpoint and now it seems he’s got lots to say about Rae’s tits. It’s like he can’t help himself. “I… I…” he stammers.

“Seriously, put your nipples away. And wipe your face.” She throws the tea towel that’s draped over her shoulder at him. He snatches it up quickly and ties it round his neck so it hangs like a bib down the front of him, swiping at his face with the bottom of it. He looks ridiculous. He looks like a confused little kid, trying to play at superheroes but not quite sure how the costume’s meant to go. It doesn’t help that there’s a cartoon giraffe eating cake with a monkey on it either.

“Thanks,” He smiles up at her. It’s small and grateful and she marvels at how easily he lets go of the anger. How eager he is for everything to be okay.

“Can I have one of those?” he asks, pointing at the forgotten tea things on the worktop. Just a second ago, she wasn’t anywhere near finished being angry with him, but she’s hit by a sudden wave of fatigue and just like that, she decides to let it go. She does, however, make a very big show of being put upon as she flicks the kettle back on and gets out another mug.

They are a collection of nervous tics in the silence that follows; a therapist’s wet dream.  Both of them a compilation of biting cuticles, tapping fingers and tuneless humming. There are furtive looks at each other and much fidgeting with clothing. She’s anchored herself to the sink with a death grip. He’s hovering at a radius of four feet. It makes her feel claustrophobic.

“No point standing around.” She says finally. A little too loud. “You may as well sit.” She gestures to the breakfast bar at the other end of the kitchen.

“Are you going to…?”

“I have to be hostess…” she waves her hand at the kettle.

“Then it’s okay. I’m good here.” He says and leans back against the counter, randomly picks up the teaspoon from the bench. “Good party?” He asks, fiddling with the spoon.

“The house is still standing and no one called the cops so… I guess not.” It’s more a smirk than a smile, but it’s better than nothing.

“Did I hear right, that those three twats turned up?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“From Friday.”

Friday. She’d wanted to forget all about last Friday. Her tantrum and the dragging ache in her belly and the tidal wave of blood in her knickers and those fuckers catching her outside the chippy, but if she erased all that, she’d have to forget about how Finn had stepped in and stopped it and that was something she would never forget. She’d never seen anyone so angry. She watched the internal battle, the deliberate way he calmed himself. Watched the anger drain from his face, his body still tense, his fists still clenched but his voice almost normal when he asked if she was alright.

“Oh. Yeah.” she mutters. “Those guys.”

“Why didn’t you come get me?” he murmurs, and the hurt on his face stops her short. It feels like an accusation. The truth was he hadn’t even been one of her first ten thoughts. She was frozen in the moment and couldn’t think past getting them away from the house.

“There was no need. Danny had it sorted.” She finally stumbles out.

“Danny?”

“Yeah, Danny.”

“Oh. Right.” There’s an awkward moment of silence that follows, where he looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to start. There have been a lot of moments like that lately and he’s never once said anything, so she’s not really expecting it when he does. “Rae, about last Friday…”

There’s a hollowness shading his big dark eyes and the set of his full wide mouth.

“What about it?” – please don’t ask me what they were saying please don’t ask me why I didn’t stand up for myself please please please.

She knew he’d heard them, he must have.

She’d been so careful to keep it all separate, the constant exhausting battle to hide her real life from her new friends, but now he’d seen it first-hand. She was able to pretend that it didn’t exist in front of the gang. If she was loud enough, if she was funny enough, she could distract them from the truth. She could hide the way she looked if she could hide the way other people treated her, but now he’d heard the ugly words used to describe her and now the ugly thoughts would fill his head; the blinders had come off and he would see her the way the rest of the world did and it would only be a matter of time until he let the others know. How could he not see her through their eyes now that the spell had been broken?

But then he’d done something so totally unexpected; he came to her rescue.

“I’m sorry you saw me like that. I don’t want you to think that I’m like that all the time. It’s just, I couldn’t let them… it weren’t right. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

It had been a long time since he’d hit anyone. He’d come to learn, thanks to his dad and old George down at the gym that fighting was not the way to solve his problems. But when he’d seen her cornered by those bastards, he couldn’t help it. The look on her face had unsettled him. She’d been full of fire in the chippy, fierce and afraid of no one. She’d been something to behold, and then…

He hadn’t understood fully at the time what it meant, he only knew that whatever it was that had done that to her, he wanted to hurt it.

“You didn’t frighten me. Like I said, no one’s ever stood up for me before. I was surprised is all, that it was you.” Rae whispers.

He relaxes a little at that. Some of the tension visibly drops from his shoulders.

“Look,” he starts. His voice is low, and he has her full attention. “What you said in the cupboard, I don’t know what I’ve done… but we are friends, Rae. Well, I’m your friend. I’m always gonna stick up for you.”

It startles her when he pushes off from the counter, straight for her, and she steps aside hurriedly. He drops his empty glass into the cooling washing up water. “Now that you’ve got your head out of your arse. Mostly.” He murmurs over his shoulder as he returns to his spot leaning back against worktop.

Rae blinks rapidly, working her way through what he’s just said, then chokes back a laugh.

“Excuse me?” She reaches forward and flicks at his makeshift backwards cape. “You and your novelty tea towel can fuck off any time you like.” The fact that she’s smiling is a huge relief to him.

“Can’t. I’ve got tea coming.” He says, grinning madly. “Okay, so maybe I had my head up my arse a little bit too. Can we call a truce? Please?”

“Do I have to be nice to you?”

“Well,” he draws the word out. “Some of the time, at least. Birthdays and Christmas. ”

She screws her face up in pained deliberation and he takes great delight in mirroring her expression. “I guess so.” She says dryly.

He looks way too pleased with himself.

“Rae…” Finn starts, his smile beginning to wane.The kettle whistles for a second time.

Before he can finish the thought, Chloe emerges from the hallway. Rae feels every inch of the night hang heavy on her, stale and lank and grimy and Chloe steps into the light like she should be giving lessons in how to be a girl.

The second skin of her yellow dress hugs her gently around her hips, skims the flatness of her belly, and the smooth arc of her arse, its hem hitting her mid-thigh, highlighting the long expanse of well-toned, leg. Her zipper has artfully slipped to reveal the lace edge of her bra and curve of her breasts sitting high and firm above it. Her hair shimmers in the harsh light as does the perfectly applied lip gloss that matches the shade that still clings to the corners of Finn’s mouth.

Oh.

Rae feels all the air leave her body. Chloe arranges herself at Finn’s side, her hip jutting into his. He tenses and slides along the counter away from her, towards Rae who takes a step back herself.  She pours all her attention into pouring tea.

“So this is where you got to. You forgot your shirt.” The shirt hangs from Chloe’s fingers between them like a challenge. “Though this is cute,” she smirks, her fingers tapping on his chest, “you should probably put it on,” she stage-whispers, her eyes raking over him appreciatively. “Rae’s not used to half-naked men, are you babe?”

“Thanks,” he mutters, taking the shirt and hastily slipping it over his head. He pulls the tea towel out from under it and twists it between nervous hands.

“We’re talking. Rae and me. Rae’s making tea.” He murmurs, deliberately moving away from the spot Chloe seems keen to pin him to. He remembers the spoon he’s been fidgeting with and offers it to Rae with a broad smile, an act of solidarity between them.

“Tea and a chat.  Not exactly E’s and Whizz now, is it?  I think it’s safe to say, our Rae’s no party girl.” Chloe turns to offer Rae a half smile. “God, you look done in, babe. Do you feel alright?”

With just a handful of words, Chloe reminds Rae of her place. All tonight’s anxieties are amplified. Deflated, Rae leaves the tea half done and moves towards the door.

“Actually Chlo, I’m not feeling the best. I’m going to turn in. You’re right to finish this, yeah Finn? Night.”

“Night babe,” Chloe purrs.

“Rae.” Finn calls after her.

“Night.” She calls back as she trudges through the toxic teenage haze on her way upstairs.

+++

She thought she wanted to be alone but when she’s sees Izzy lying on the bed, flicking through one of her romance novels, she’s glad for the company. Izzy looks up and smiles that warm Izzy smile and waves the book in front of her.

“This is well hot. Can I borrow it?” and she carefully dog-ears the page she was reading and sits up, putting the book aside. “So how are you gorgeous? How’s your night been?”

Difficult. Anxious. Disappointing. The boy I like likes someone else and I’m tired and sad.  She doesn’t say any of it. What purpose would it serve? Instead, she takes a deep breath and slips on the mask for one more performance.

“It’s definitely been a night.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “You should see the mess downstairs. I’m not looking forward to that.”

“There’s plenty of time tomorrow. We’ll give you a hand, it’s already arranged…” Izzy chirps, waving her hand dismissively.

“So Finn said. That’s really nice of you all.”

“Pfft, nice. Of course we’re going to help. It’s what mates do.” Izzy shifts along the bed to make room for Rae.

“And what about you, Madam? How’d you fare?”

“I could use a cuddle,” Izzy whines, throwing her arms wide. “Know where I can get one?”

“I just might know someone.” Rae grins as she sits down next to Izzy and pulls her into a hug. “This isn’t ‘cause that book’s got you all revved up, is it?” she deadpans, pulling away to look Izzy in the face.

“You wish.”

“Pity,” Rae sighs, and they collapse against each other in a fit of giggles.

“You know what I really need? I need to play with someone’s hair. Lie down here for me Rae.” Izzy orders, patting her outstretched legs.

“Nah, thanks Izzy, I’m good.” It’s not an easy thing for Rae, to be touched. For such a long time it was a cruel thing, so she learned to avoid it.  And now to be touched with such care, and so often, by these people who have taken her in is overwhelming. She can only handle it in small doses.

“Don’t ‘nah, Izzy’ me, Rae Earl. I’m a guest, you can’t say no to me.”

“Are you sure that book didn’t give you any  ideas?”

“Oh, shut up and lie down.” Izzy bosses, as she takes Rae by the shoulders and guides her down to settle in her lap.

“You know if this gets pervy, Chop’ll want to watch.” Her joke earns her a light smack on the arm and a small huff of laughter that doesn’t go all the way to Izzy’s eyes. Rae can’t help think of Chop in his deep meditative state downstairs.

All Rae’s worries about crushing the tiny redhead vanish when Izzy’s slight fingers card slowly through her hair. Her muscles loosen and the anxiety falls away under Izzy’s soothing touch. It feels good. Rae remembers a better time, when she was little and her mum would hold her in her lap and stroke her hair. There’s a sudden pang in her chest and however pissed off she is with her for lying about her dad, she misses her mum.

“You have such pretty hair, Rae.” Izzy murmurs, wistfully. She seems to be enjoying the process almost as much as Rae, but there’s a far off look in her eyes, a soft melancholy that flattens her usual shine.

You sure you’re okay, Iz?” Rae rolls forward and props herself up on her elbows so she can look Izzy in the eye.  

“Hmmm? Yeah. Just thinking about stuff.” She curls her palm around Rae’s shoulder. “Did Finn tell you? His Nan died.”

“What? No. He never said a word.”

“She’d been sick for a while. Finn and Mr Nelson were convinced she’d get better, she had before, so they just thought… but she took a turn for the worse tonight and like that, she was gone.” Izzy’s voice is thick with unshed tears.  “It was very fast in the end but he feels bad he wasn’t there.” She swallows hard and sniffles.

“It was awful. I wanted to take him home but his dad was stuck at the hospital and Finn didn’t want to be by himself. I told him I’d stay with him but he didn’t want to go.  I hope you don’t mind, we grabbed some beers and came up here to hide out. He was so sad. We cried for a bit and then we both got a little drunk and we cried some more, then I put him to bed and we fell asleep.”

“Poor Finn.” Rae says, her own eyes wet. He’s been going through all that, probably for as long as she’s known him and she’d been too caught up in her own stupid feelings to notice.

“When I woke up, Chloe was all over him.” Izzy says it quietly, but the sadness in her tone is replaced with steel.

“Izzy!”

“It’s true, Rae.”

“That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be telling me this. It’s none of my business.” If she were a better person, her reasons for not wanting to know what happened would be because it was none of her business but that’s not the reason and it’s one more thing she can torture herself with later.

“But it does. He’s her friend and she… it’s not right.”

“If it’s what they want…” It’s not how she really feels though. She feels sick. Yet again she loses out to Chloe and it just isn’t fair. Is there nothing that Rae wants that Chloe can’t have?

“That’s the thing, Rae. It’s not. Everyone knows that Finn…” Izzy stops abruptly, as if she’s said too much.

“Everyone knows that Finn what? I know fuck-all about Finn, other than he’d rather I wasn’t around.”

Rae knows that’s bullshit even before she’s finished saying it. It might have been true at one point in the very beginning, but not now. He keeps talking about them being friends and he must mean it if he keeps saying it. But, it was hard enough when she’d decided she’d like more than that, and now she knows that he’s been with Chloe, that he wants Chloe, she can’t stop the negative thoughts. If he and Chloe are going to be together then it might be easier if they weren’t friends. Rae doesn’t think she has that much pretend left in her.

“Don’t be thick, Rae. It really doesn’t suit you.” There’s a tick of annoyance in Izzy’s tone that she quickly reins in. She takes a breath. “Look, he’s sad and his heart hurts and he’s drunk and she took advantage. I’m just looking after him, like he would me.” She pulls Rae back down into her lap and continues to brush her fingers through her hair.

“He’s such a good person Rae. He’s kind and he’s sweet and he cares. I know you two got off on the wrong foot but he’s lovely Rae, if you’ll just give him the chance.”

“The two of you are close, I get that Iz, but it’s not the same thing for him and me. I don’t think it could be.” Rae protests gently.

“I admit he’s said some daft boy things and I’ve wanted to clip him ‘round the earhole a couple of times myself, but I think it’s just because you rattle him. He always talks about you. How funny you are, how clever. He’s always repeating stuff you say, and I’m like “Yeah Finn, I know, I was there.” Izzy laughs softly.

She’s still smiling when she shares this next bit of information, “Archie and I have got this bet going. Every time Finn starts a sentence with “Rae says,” or “Rae thinks,” Archie owes me 10p. I haven’t paid for a drink in the Swan for weeks now!”

Dear, sweet, misguided, got-the-wrong-end-of-the-stick Izzy, looking at life through her rose-tinted granny glasses and seeing nothing but sunshine and rainbows and feelings where there are none. Rae’s about to tell Izzy that she’s lovely but obviously delusional when there’s a tapping at the door. Finn’s head pokes sheepishly around the edge of it.

“Hiya,” he mumbles.

“Look Rae. Look who it is. It’s the lovely Finn. Hello lovely Finn, come sit with us.” Izzy beams, her fingers stilling in Rae’s hair. Rae sits up, reluctant to lose contact with Izzy’s comforting touch.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Never,” Izzy pats the bed next to her. “The more, the merrier,” He hesitates at the door, warily eyeing Rae.  “Come on, come here. We’ve saved you a spot.”

“Are you sure? Are you feeling better, Rae?” Rae gives him a shy, short nod and a weak smile. It’s all the encouragement he needs and he crosses the room, to ease into Izzy’s side.  They bob like boats on the shoreline, trying to get comfortable. Finn fusses with the neckline of his t shirt, tugging at it self-consciously in an attempt to hide the bruise on his neck. Izzy gently pulls his hand away, squeezes his fingers reassuringly.

“I’m sorry about before Iz, I didn’t…” he whispers, the puff of his breath a tickle in her ear.

She turns her face towards him with a finger to her lips, her eyes soft and forgiving. “Shh, quiet now. We’re having a moment.”

The three of them sit against the wall, a tryptic of teenage angst; interlocking pieces of the same beast.  Finn’s head on Izzy’s shoulder, hers resting on top of his. Izzy’s arm slung possessively around Rae, Rae coiled tight into Izzy’s side.

“This is so lovely. Cuddling with two of my favourite people in the whole world.”

“Ha! Everyone’s your favourite.” Finn scoffs quietly.

“I don’t have that many! But the ranking changes with my mood, so watch it you or you’ll drop right out of the top five.”

“Who are you kidding? I’ll always be your number one.” Finn tickles her and Izzy giggles and there’s a sort of contained rolling about, save for the flailing arms, and Rae wriggles out of harm’s way. It continues until Izzy squeals a fervent ‘stop’ and he does. Its clear Izzy has him wrapped around her little finger and he’s more than happy to be there. They collapse into each other, breathless. It’s nice to watch him be light and playful with Izzy. Rae’s never seen that side of him before. The sweetness.  She doesn’t hesitate to re-join them when Izzy pulls her back into their little pile without a word.

“So much for my moment,” Izzy groans. “Okay you two, let me up,” unravelling herself from their tangle of limbs, she scoots to the edge of the bed. “I better go check that awful boy hasn’t set fire to anything downstairs.”

“I should probably come with you…” Rae sighs.

“No. Stay. I can handle Chop. Besides, I need to talk to Chloe.” She stands, but before she can get too far, Finn moves forward, catching her hand and pulling her back.

“Fairy…” the word gets stuck in his throat and he hugs her tightly.

”Hey, it’s what we do, yeah?” Izzy’s arms fall easily around his shoulders. They nestle together for a moment, everyone else forgotten. Izzy has to peel him off her before she can leave the room. “Now, play nice.” She commands as she shuts the door behind her and just like that, they’re alone.

“Little Miss Fix-it.” Rae grins, nodding at the closed bedroom door.

“Bossy little thing, you mean.” Finn counters. “I do love her a lot, though.”

“And why wouldn’t you? She’s fucking amazing.”

“She really is.” He affirms softly. “She takes care of me.”

“She said the same about you.”

“Well, we’re friends. It’s what you do.” He looks up from his hands and shrugs, giving her a rueful smile. It seems to Rae that what Finn and Izzy share goes beyond any friendship Rae’s experienced. The twist of longing is sharp and quick.  

“She said that too.”

“That’s because she steals all my best lines.” This smile is looser, more relaxed.

“Can I ask you something? Does she ever ask to play with your hair?”

“Why? What did she tell you?” He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes narrowed.

“Nothing. It’s just… she was pretty insistent. I wouldn’t want to cross her.” She looks at him conspiratorially. Smiling at him is getting easier.

“I’ve found life is much simpler if I pick my battles. Though she be but little, she is fierce.” Rae’s jaw drops and he can’t help but chuckle. “A little less shock please, if you don’t mind, Mae. You’re not the only one who’s ever cracked a book, you know.”

“Wow. Such hidden depths. I’m well impressed.” And there it is, a proper Rae-smile. He’d seen them before, but he’s never had one directed at him until now. Sometimes, when she’d let go and forgotten she didn’t like him that much, she’d let that wide lipped grin fall on him too, just for a moment, before she remembered who he was and shut it off. Now he’s got one all of his own.

“Relax brainbox, your crown is safe. I got miles to go before I catch up to you.” They laugh quietly together and the next silence is a little easier too.

She turns to look at him, a thought suddenly forming. “Is that why you call her fairy?”

“It started out as Titania, ’cause of the red hair and because she’s so tiny, but I had to stop when Chop kept shortening it to ‘Tits’.” Rae sputters and her eyes go wide. “I used to get a slap every time he said it. ME, not him.  ‘That’s your fault, Finn Nelson.’”  He mimics Izzy’s cranky voice.  “Wasn’t fair.” The more Rae laughs the more animated Finn gets. “Fucking Chop. He’s got no clue about women.”

“He really hasn’t, has he? Poor Izzy.” They share a nod and a knowing look. Finn’s hand goes to his mouth unconsciously, and worries at his thumb. In the quiet that follows, his thoughts turn back to the night. All he’d really wanted was to forget about what was happening with his Nan and to make things up with Rae, but she’d been her normal prickly self and he’d had to get away. He regrets what happened with Chloe; too eager to feel something other than hurt, he’d reached out for something he didn’t want. There’s a sudden wave of guilt at his selfishness, he’s convinced because of it, he’s lost his grandmother. “Finn, Izzy told me about your Nan. I’m so sorry.” Rae’s voice pulls him from his thoughts.  

“Thanks.” he says softly.

“Why didn’t you say something downstairs?”

“I was going to. It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. I’m so, so sorry Finn.” Instinctively, she reaches across the gap between them, stopping short of touching him. She doesn’t know if he’d want that. She’d given him such a hard time; when she thinks about her behaviour she’s mortified by how self-absorbed she really is. Why would anyone want her as a friend?

“Izzy was here.” He shrugs.

“She said you didn’t want to go home.” Rae shifts around to face him and their knees bump momentarily while she adjusts herself on the bed. Finn’s hand drops to rest on his knee, the skin around his thumbnail, red and bleeding.  

“Dad was at the hospital with my Uncle Tony.  Paperwork, arrangements… something. I should be with him I know, but I just can’t.” He looks up at her then, pale and lost, searching her face for a sign that he’s safe. The next words pour out of him fast and low “I… I don’t want to, I’m not ready, but I don’t want to be on my own. That’s horrible, isn’t it? I’m a horrible, selfish fuck.”

“Oh Finn, no. You’re not horrible and it’s not selfish.” She can’t help but cover his hand with her own now as she tries to reassure him. “You need to look after yourself so you can look after your dad. He wouldn’t want you to be alone. You’re welcome to stay here if you want.”

“I’d like that, Rae. Thanks.”

++++

She’s not asleep; her head is too all over the place. Her mum has been pretending to be her dad for years, she’s got a house full of strangers at a completely non-sanctioned sexy-party and Danny’d shown up, AWOL from the hospital, with tall tales of unbridled sexual abandon and pissing out her bathroom window. Now she’s lying in bed with the most beautiful boy she’s ever seen. As weird nights go, this will take some beating, and she’s been sectioned for almost killing herself. Accidentally.

He hadn’t wanted Rae to leave when she’d insisted that he get some sleep. Made her promise to stay right where she was, while he went and collected his sleeping bag from downstairs and hers from the airing cupboard and set them up on Rae’s bed. She said she’d sleep on the beanbag but he was adamant she didn’t.

She’d worried that they wouldn’t fit and he’d said nonsense, as he pressed himself further against the wall and waved his hand over the empty space beside him, look, plenty of room and he smiled up at her, and she couldn’t help it, she smiled back. Turned out there was plenty of room.

He’d talked all about his Nan and his dad, but balked at giving away too much information about his mum. Just that she’d left when he was small and he didn’t see her anymore. Rae didn’t push.

She told him about her mum and her illegal immigrant boyfriend being on the run in Tunisia and the crazy topless neighbour lady across the road, but mostly she just let him talk. Then she let him cry and when he’d finished crying, she let him hold her hand.  Now he’s finally asleep, curled up on his side, snuffling gently into her hair, his lips just an inch from her skin. She could, if she wanted to, just lean over, just a smidge, and he’d be kissing her, but she doesn’t. If he’s ever going to kiss her, she wants it to be because he wants to.

She’s not asleep, but she pretends to be when Chloe sticks her head around the door and watches them for a long time.

[nerdsagainstfandomracism]

It's been one episode and people are already hating on Victor from Shadowhunters. Like I even saw a post that thought he was going to rape easy?!?!?!?

Hi! Mmm, the fandom being grossly racist and antiblack? Quoting Magnus: “Who’s shocked? Show of hands?” © 

Yeah, I‘ve just looked through Victor’s tags, and although most people posting there right now are supporters of the character, I have seen discussions of fans being racist, as usual. And the very first posts in his tag (the liveblog reactions to 2x01) are pretty negative with very thinly veiled underlying racism on the side.

And the thing is that Victor is everything the fandoms claim to love about a character – he’s a handsome cis male antagonist with a British accent. The guy basically hits ALL the universal fandom’s requirements and kinks (including the accent!). He’s not even a villain, he’s just an antagonist (so far).

He hasn’t done anything specifically cruel or horrible, aside from doing his job. Lydia in the same position was loved by the majority of the fandom and was treated almost like the core cast member (all the while Luke was being mostly ignored, despite actually being the core cast memeber).

The (fandom’s) problem is that Nick Sagar isn’t yet another bland white guy, the fandoms love so much. 

If Victor was played by a white guy he definitely wouldn’t have gotten so much hate. Moreover, he’d have been shipped with everyone from the get go – Izzy, Alec, Clary, Jace (idk how but white slash shippers always find ways to ship white dudes even if they don’t share the same screen space). Even Lydia, despite fandom’s sexism, was shipped from the get go with lots of characters, including very gay Alec.

(And before anyone jumps in to say that the white guy antagonist would’ve been treated the same way, I can assure you that is not true. For example a white guy villain Fredkin from Dirk Gently is in the similar position as Victor - an antagonist in power causing trouble for the main heroes, he doesn’t get fandom hate, practically at all. And even after he murdered one of the main characters, he was still  called a “cinnamon roll” by some of his fans).

Thankfully I haven’t seen that post with the rape headcanon (it probably was in the main show tag, and I don’t go there), but yeah, it’s not something new or something that is applied to SH fandom only. For example this “glorious gem” of racism and antiblackness was an acutual theory that some racist TWD fans were spreading during s6. 

Anyway, this meta pretty much covers all I think about this disgusting speculation about Izzy and Victor. It’s 2017; it’s a show with a very diverse cast, and yet some ppl give you the impression that they’ve crawled straight out of 1915, right after watching The Birth of a Nation, while wearing white hoods. They might have never seen or even heard about that film, but those toxic views and ideas are still there, and that is the scary part.

[icymalec]

Dance Me Back To Life

Chapters: 4/6 Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Additional Tags: College AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Abuse, dance Series: Part 2 of The Dance of Two Souls Read on Ao3

Young adult (college) AU, follows on from Angel from above. Magnus POV. Dancer Magnus, family business man Alec. Slow build up of their relationship. Alec helps Magnus deal with his abusive father and mental health issues. Magnus in return helps Alec where he can.

Putting his bag into the locker, Magnus sighs. While he had been looking forward to the contemporary workshop all week, now that it was actually here he was scared. Fear that he was going to struggle to take to the style, that he would make a fool of himself. He had to be on top form for this, he needed it for his assignment. 

As he enters the dance hall, he immediately spots Lorenzo talking to a slightly taller blond man. Lorenzo briefly breaks from his conversation to instruct Magnus to sit at the front of the room. Magnus waits in silence as he is gradually joined by the other seniors. Once everyone is seated Lorenzo claps his hands together and strides to stand in front of them. “I am pleased that you have all seized the opportunity and attended today. Let me introduce you to your teacher for this workshop. He is a world-renowned choreographer, as such I am certain that each of you are familiar with his work. The phenomenal Andrew Underhill.”

Underhill stands next to Lorenzo and shoots them a warm smile. “Today I am going to teach you a mid-level routine that encompasses some of the more iconic moves in contemporary. But before we get into that, with the help of Lorenzo, I am going to show you the reason that I became world known. Now what I wish to perform for you is originally a seven-and-a-half-minute piece; but today you will just be seeing a two-and-a-half-minute snippet.” 

Lorenzo and Underhill move into the centre of the hall. They get into a starting position where Lorenzo is knelt on the floor with Underhill stood behind, his hands gripping Lorenzo’s shoulders. Lorenzo gestures at Elias for him to press play. As the music starts, Magnus’ breath catches in his throat as he immediately recognises the piece as one he had been studying and using for inspiration- Understanding by Evanescence. 

"You hold the answers deep within your own mind. Consciously, you've forgotten it. That's the way the human mind works: whenever something is too unpleasant, to shameful for us to entertain, we reject it. We erase it from our memories. But the imprint is always there."

Underhill immediately begins moving with an air of grace, elegance and purpose. As the lyrics begin Lorenzo is brought to life by the touch of Underhill. They glide across the room with a mixture of intricate movements, ornate balances and breath-taking lifts. It was clear to the students that Lorenzo was a little out of his comfort zone as Underhill raises him effortlessly off of the floor and above his head. Nonetheless, he is able to give a stunning performance. As the sections ends, they are met with applause; Magnus cannot help but to notice as the two men gaze into each other's eyes for a fraction longer than what would necessarily be deemed normal. The glimmer of hope that maybe his sexuality won’t hinder his future is instantly squashed by anxiety and his mind helpfully saying that he’s probably making it up. 

It’s one thing to watch a performance like that recorded, and another entirely different thing to have it performed right in front of you. Even without any costumes, lighting or special effects it still touched Magnus and shook him right to the core. This, this is what I want to achieve one day; I want to create this feeling in others watching my work.

Underhill wastes no time in getting them warmed up and started. Magnus was then paired up with Maia while Cat is paired with Elias for the lifts in the piece. Underhill teaches them choreography to My Immortal by Evanescence with a focus on control, lines and emotion. As the workshop nears its end they are taken to the auditorium. As the seniors enter the stage Magnus spots the choreographers from the previous workshops, alongside Lorenzo,  Underhill and a few other teachers. 

The performance wasn’t perfect, but for once criticism was something Magnus wanted. He needed to be better at the showcase, no matter how much the words stung to hear, everything was going to be taken on board and utilised. As they get dismissed Magnus manages to get one last bit of advice and leaves with his head full of ideas for his lyrical choreography. 

***

 Magnus closes the door behind himself and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his message history with Alec, a small smile gracing his lips. He stops when he finds the address of a hall that Izzy had reserved, his stomach coils with nerves as he double checks the route. Today he was going to meet Alec’s sister. He was grateful that Alec and Izzy had agreed to help him with his lyrical dance; but his anxiety was adamant that it was a bad idea. Besides, Alec was introducing him to his sister, family. Someone Alec cared more about than anything else in the world. What if Izzy made him see that Magnus isn’t good enough, not worth it? 

By the time he reaches the hall his bottom lip has started to bleed from it being worried so much by his teeth on route. He sends Alec a quick text letting him know that he has arrived and begins pacing. He’s brought to an abrupt stop when the metal door swings open and hits the wall with a crash. 

Alec winces, “Sorry, and uh..hi.” Alec runs his hand through his hair and Magnus cannot help but to be drawn in by his concern and apprehension. 

“Hi yourself,” Magnus smiles, anxiety fading at the sight of the other man. He longs to wrap Alec in his arms, hold him close and revel in the moment. 

Alec tentatively reaches for Magnus’ hand, Magnus raises his hand a little to meet Alec’s. As Alec interlocks their fingers Magnus feels his skin tingle, from his hand all the way up his arm. Alec speaks with a quiet voice as he traces his thumb across the back of Magnus’ hand. “Are you sure you’re okay to be doing lift work today?”

Magnus nods and swallows, “yeah I should be fine. The cream you gave me has really helped. I just have to make sure I don’t twist wrong.”

Alec grabs him gently by both shoulders and looks him in the eye, “you promise to tell me if it hurts and you need to stop?”

“I promise.” Alec’s gaze lingers a few seconds longer until convinced that Magnus would let him know. 

Alec’s hand slides down Magnus’ arm, he squeezes Magnus’ hand. “You ready to meet Izzy?” 

Magnus releases a breath and nods, too overcome with anxiety to speak. Alec gently tugs on his hand and leads him to the door, he breaks the hold as he closes the door. As they walk across the hall Izzy turns at the sound of their footsteps and walks to meet them. “You must be Magnus,” before he has a chance to respond he finds himself pulled into a hug. 

As he is released somehow Magnus manages to find his voice, “Isabelle, I want to thank you for agreeing to help me with this.”

She waves off his thanks and cuts straight to the chase “Now Alec has told me that you’re choreographing a lyrical piece to skinny love?”

“Yeah, that’s correct.”

“And that as street is your usual genre you would like some help with lifts in particular?”

Magnus nods, “I recorded our rehearsal yesterday so that I could show you where I’m at and hopefully give you the gist of what I’m after.” He fishes a memory stick out of his pocket as Izzy leads them over to the laptop. 

As they watch the rehearsal Magnus fiddles with his fingers, suddenly worried that they would hate what he had been working on. “Firstly, I think you’re doing great so far. And secondly I definitely have a few lift suggestions that I think would fit perfectly. Izzy turns the laptop more towards herself and accesses her performance archive. She pulls up a few videos and lays one beside the footage of Magnus’ rehearsal before turning the laptop back central so that they could all see is clearly. “So for this first bit here,” she hits play part way through Magnus’ piece, “I think that this lift, providing you can get it right, which I’m sure you can, will be perfect.” She hits play on one of her own. For a brief second Magnus’ eyes go wide as he sees the complexity of the lift, Izzy repeats the clip of the lift a few times in order to allow Magnus to properly assess the viability and suitability of it. It would involve him teaching his junior to not only trust him, but to allow their body to get lifted above his head and spun around. He images the part of song in his mind and has no doubt that he would push himself to ensure that this lift made it into the piece. 

Izzy went through a total of ten lift ideas, all of different complexities and skill levels. “So, what do you think?”

“They are all amazing, are you sure that you don’t mind teaching them all to me? Baring in mind that I will need to know how the lift works for both people as I will need to be able to instruct my junior to ensure their safety.”

Izzy grins, “great lets get to it then.” She shrugs off her jacket and moves to the centre of the space. Wordlessly Alec is at her side ready and waiting for instructions. “If we do the lift once at normal speed, then we will slow it down and talk it through step by step as many times as you need to feel confident to give it a try. We’ll start as you being the one doing the lifting and go from there if that’s okay?” 

“Sounds perfect, thank you.”

“Okay so we’ll start with the easiest and work up to the first one that I showed you.” With a nod in agreement from Magnus they effortlessly move into the first lift. 

As they repeat it a second time at half the speed Magnus is not only astounded by the strength in Alec, but also at how it was him that was explaining each step of the lift. Every little position of his hands, how he was planting his feet. 

Once Magnus was easily lifting Isabelle in each of the five techniques, they went back to Alec and Izzy demonstrating but this time it was Isabelle detailing what was needed to be done. Magnus chewed on his bottom lip anxiously as he watched them, worried about forcing Alec into lifting him; his sister was one thing, Magnus on the other hand was considerably heavier and larger, both in height and width. As Izzy takes a step away Magnus looks into Alec’s eyes, “are you sure you’re okay doing this?” he searches for even the smallest hint of doubt. 

Alec nods, “if I can lift Jace, who has as much grace and elegance as a cow on ice. Then I know that I can lift someone as capable and talented as yourself.” 

Izzy chuckles at the comment as Magnus tries to hide his blush but finds no reason to doubt that Alec was being truthful. The first time was anything but graceful, but after the first little hiccup Magnus relaxed into Alec’s hold and focused on his core.

After a couple of goes of each lift Isabelle excuses herself due to having other plans. Magnus heads over to the side to get a drink of water, as he turns back he sees Izzy walking away with a wink. He can’t help but to notice a slight blush creep over Alec’s face. Magnus smirks and raises an eyebrow at him, “seems as though I may have missed something interesting?” 

Alec groans and comes to lean against the wall by Magnus, immediately changing the subject. “We have this booked for another half hour, I am happy to stay here as long as you are. My only other plans for today aren’t until this evening.” 

“If you’re sure you don’t mind then there’s something I would like to try?” Alec nods, “I want to run through the piece and try to slot the lifts in, if you’re alright with that?”

“Sure,” Alec smiles, “just forgive me if I don’t quite get the timing right.”

“How about I say the lift number four counts before the lift is due?” 

“I can work with that,” the beam Alec gives is contagious. Magnus sets the track up with a smile on his face and has to fight it off in order to get into the mood of the song. Alec hits play for him and he begins to work through his choreography, Alec waiting patiently just off to the side ready to step forward at any moment, but not to close as to get in the way of Magnus’ movements. “Two,” Magnus states calmly but clearly, Alec takes four paced steps to meet him and they easily transition into the lift. Once back on the floor Alec steadily backs away again as Magnus continues. Magnus’ next section causes him to travel almost entirely over to the other side of the hall. 

“Ten,” Alec has to stride across the space, the momentum causing the lift to naturally hold more energy and emotion. The start of the end of the lift requires Alec to pause in lowering Magnus whilst he is still held around chest height.  Their eyes lock. Magnus feels his breath catch in his chest, it’s as if the music stills for a few seconds, nothing exists but the depths of Alec’s eyes and his strong arms holding Magnus flush against his chest. But the end of the movement involves Alec sharply letting him go, as Magnus’ feet touch the floor time reverts back to normal. This time Alec moves away with a hand still extended out, he doesn’t get chance to go far before Magnus says the next number, “three.” 

For lift three Magnus wraps his arms around Alec’s neck as he gets spun with his legs held by Alec’s right arm. Their faces are barely an inch apart as Alec stills, as Alec bends his left knee and draws Magnus lower to the ground their noses brush. Electricity shoots through Magnus and with that, the sound of the track floats away as he can resist no more; he slowly moves to close the gap, gaze steadily locked. Tentatively Magnus’ brushes his lips against the other mans, for once his chaotic mind silenced by the sound of his racing heartbeat. As Magnus’ eyes slip shut he feels Alec press his lips more firmly against his own. Carefully he feels Alec lower his legs, they wobble slightly with emotion as his body is pulled flush to Alec’s. 

By the time the kiss ends both men are breathless and clinging onto one another to stay upright. Magnus rests their foreheads together and pants with a grin. Alec breathes out a laugh before quietly speaking, “don’t think I won’t be pissed if I hear about you doing that with your actual dance partner.”

Magnus chuckles, “jealous already?” he teases with a serious look. As the look breaks both find themselves falling into laughter. As it subsides Magnus feels his anxiety bubble back, “but seriously though, you have no worries about that. There’s no one else that I want to be doing that with.” 

“Good,” Alec beams, “I would hate to have to fight someone off for your affections.” he winks. This causes them to fall back into laughter. 

Once they manage to regain composure Magnus returns to work mode, “one last run through with me?” Alec agrees. 

This time they managed to get through the content without getting distracted, the suspense wasn’t so intense now that they had shared that one special moment together. But Magnus longed to just quit practising and pin Alec against the wall. He wanted to just lose himself like that for eternity. One run through of restraint came pretty easy for Magnus though, after all he was a master of controlling himself, body and emotions alike. 

As they grab their stuff and leave the hall Magnus makes the mistake of checking his phone. Any ideas he had at spending more time with Alec diminished. Magnus reads through a string of texts he had received from Ragnor, Raphael and Cat and realised that there was no way he would be able to turn them down. Not without them causing him a headache over it for months to come. He turns to Alec with an apologetic smile, “looks like I’ve got to go. Apparently there’s some big drama happening with my friends.” he rolls his eyes theatrically. “Can I walk you anywhere first?” 

“Well that surely depends on the general direction that you are headed?” 

Magnus vaguely points towards the right, “that general direction. Yourself?”

“Alas I’m heading home which is more of that kind of direction,” he copies Magnus’ vague gesture but points more in front of their current position. “So I guess this is goodbye then.”

Magnus tries not to show his sadness at that, “thank you so much for today. You and Isabelle have been incredible. I am very lucky to have your help.”

Alec smiles, “you’re welcome, just don’t ever tell Jace about it. Can’t have him thinking that I actually enjoyed helping in a dance rehearsal.” 

Magnus lights up a little, “so you enjoyed it then?”

“Yeah it was fun,” Magnus watches as Alec’s tongue flits across his lip. “But the pleasure came more from the company than the activity. I wouldn’t want J-Jace to get the-the wrong idea.” Alec moves a step closer as he speaks, the question clear in his eyes. Magnus simply takes hold of his hand and tugs him closer. Unsure where his boldness came from, but sure as hell not complaining as he finds himself making out with Alec.

With one last peck Magnus finds the strength to say goodbye. They reluctantly head their separate ways, Magnus looking back after a few paces still not quite believing that everything between Alec and himself was truly real and happening. 

[poemsfromthealley]

Clary/Izzy 4. …where it hurts.

You know that fandom adage about how answering prompts reveals your true colours? This got pretty close to mine. Wistful girl bonding and the problem of how to protect people you also go to battle with.

(Set after 2.20 in an AU where everything’s the same but Clary and Jace aren’t dating.)

CW: mild hand injury.

Clary x Izzy: “a kiss where it hurts”

a candle at my chest and a hand on her knee

The dull staccato rhythm of a punching bag under assault draws Isabelle to one of the nooks of the training hall, broken off the main area for more private practice. It’s too early in the morning for the trainees, too late for sleepless regulars. The bag chain rattles as one last impact lands. There’s a curse and a hiss of pain.

She drops her eskrima sticks with a clatter and peers over the partition.

Clary’s sat on the floor, shaking her hand as if that’d scatter the pain, her boxing gloves tossed aside. Her breath is rapid and loud in the smaller space.

“You’re up early,” Izzy says, conversational. It’s been a few days of normality since Lake Lyn. Clary seems to be holding up fine. Alec filed a request for her rune ceremony with Alicante, owing a little to her status as a sudden topic of debate in the corridors of power. She’s their hero du jour, of course. The killer of Valentine Morgenstern, the vanquisher of the fanatic. Never mind the light patricide it took for her to earn the title.

“Yeah,” Clary says. Her crooked French braid—self-made, clearly, and in a rush—can’t contain the wispy plenty of her hair. “Think if I put my back into it, I can sweat all the weird dreams out of me?”

“Or paste them on the punching bag and beat them senseless? That sounds more like what you were doing.” Izzy crouches, rocking back on her heels. “Bad dreams? Or just weird ones?”

“Not like the vision kind. No more underwater swords, or wheels of wings or any other angelic stuff.” Clary sounds thoughtful. She makes the sacred sound approachable in a way Izzy doesn’t quite understand but likes. To Izzy, the angels have never seemed to speak in the calcified doctrine of the Clave. If they have voices, they’re the quiet warmth of a right thing accomplished, the clear resonance of a hard choice made well.

There are those dreamy suggestions, and then there’s standing face to face with the angel Raziel. Whatever Clary’s trying to vent at the poor punching bag, she’s entitled to it, as far as Izzy’s concerned.

She might be a little biased. Nobody here to protest it.

Clary curls and uncurls her left index finger, testing its mobility. She smells of fresh sweat and her usual citrusy shampoo, still breathing a little fast. She doesn’t look much like a hero: just a girl, coltish and focused and frustrated.

“Are you gonna fix that? You can borrow my stele if you forgot yours.”

“Oh, this?” Clary looks up, wide-eyed. “I just jarred the knuckle. Bad form. I can see Alec making his frowny face at me.”

“Like he’s got time to come grumble at the trainees anymore. You’re safe.” Izzy tosses her ponytail back over her shoulder.

Not a hundred percent sure why, she waits. Shadowhunters start their training young; Clary’s got a decade of catching up to do, and she’s a fast learner, but it’s about more than weapon skills and tactics. Duty gets hammered in early—Izzy should know, the way she’s both striven endlessly for perfection and railed against parental strictures. Clary grew up a mundane: sheltered, beloved, blind.

It’s her mindset that sometimes makes Izzy want to blinker her to the worst of the Shadow World. The urge passes—to give in to it, especially now, would be to disrespect Clary’s efforts—but it always returns. It creeps over her now in a shade she’s never quite felt before.

I’d stand between you and your dreams if I could.

“I keep telling myself I had to do it.” Clary begins unwinding the wraps around her hands. The wrinkled page where she jotted down Izzy’s instructions on how to do them up lies next to her water bottle in the corner, adorned with sketched diagrams. “Jace—he—” She sniffs, adjusts her course. “Somehow, you know, I never figured it’d come down to me. To take down my father. He manacled me while he summoned Raziel, and I kept thinking, somebody will come. You or Alec or—”

“I’m sorry,” Izzy breathes, a reflex of empathy. Clary gave a report to Alec and then to a succession of Clave officials, portaled in from Alicante, standing like ruffled stormcrows in Alec’s office. Since then she hasn’t said much about the night at Lake Lyn.

“It’s okay. We all got out of there.” Clary’s smile is like the sun through a sheen of cloud, a ghost of warmth.

“But it’s not yet out of your head.” Izzy puts a hand on her knee, light, companionable.

“I don’t regret it,” Clary says at once. There’s steel in her voice. “If I’m ever gonna be an actual Shadowhunter, I can’t regret it.”

“Clary.” Izzy tries not to sound too soft. The line between compassion and condescension is thin here. “Everyone here has nightmares sometimes. Handling the things we see and do out there is part of what makes us good Shadowhunters. Regretting some of them keeps us human. Even when there’s no other choice. Especially then.”

She’s learned this the hard way. Seen her mother almost be consumed by her singular conviction. Seen her brothers struggle between necessity and mercy, both in their way. Felt that tug of war in herself, too. It’s a lesson that goes on.

Clary exhales, tipping her head back, the delicate tendons in her neck moving as she swallows. “Okay.”

She doesn’t understand yet, Izzy knows. The seed’s been planted, and it’ll seek the sun in time.

Clary’s hand is warm in Izzy’s own. New calluses roughen her skin, from staff hafts and dagger hilts rather than a pencil or a brush. Izzy doesn’t squeeze it, mindful of her sprained knuckle. “Does it hurt?”

“A little. I think my head hurts worse, from all the thinking.” Clary puts her good hand on top of Izzy’s, bending into her space. “This made me feel better, though. You do that a lot. I don’t thank you enough.”

Her throat tight, Izzy dips down to rest her nose on the crown of Clary’s head. Her lips touch Clary’s brow, and it’s inexcusably close to a kiss, so, on a dizzying whim, she makes it one, a slow press of her mouth to the salt of Clary’s skin.

“Any time,” she whispers. Curved close, almost to the line of her body, Clary sighs like a weight’s been lifted.